Sorin and Lawrence's first stop was Richardson's Potions, a small alchemy shop that mostly sold healing, mana, and stamina potions and whatever custom work the town's only physician, Dr. Morgan, ordered.

"How long have I been here?" asked Alchemist Richardson, fondling his graying beard. He was a skinny, middle-aged man who smelled of earth fire and strong ginger. "Maybe three decades, give or take? I've lost track.

"It's a quiet life out here. Not much happens, and not much should happen. It's not for everyone, but it did it for me. No better place to raise a family than a town like this, in my opinion. There are trees, fresh mountain air, and much less politics than you find in the cities."

Sorin jotted down the man's words in the case notebook Gareth had given him with a mana pen. "And it's just you and your two apprentices who work here?"

"More like part-timers," said Alchemist Richardson. "I teach them small tidbits here and there while they're not out working at their parent's farm so they can save up for a proper education. They'll need to move to Jigolath Ridge if they ever want a proper apprenticeship." He eyed Lawrence nervously. "Could you perhaps ask that shifty rogue to be more careful around the glassware?"

"Don't worry," said Sorin. "He's a professional and knows his way around this kind of equipment." A loud crash forced him to amend that statement. "Unfortunately, accidents do occur; perhaps we could get through these questions quickly so that we can get out of your hair sooner?" The alchemist obliged, and soon, Sorin, Lawrence, and their secret assistant, Lorimer, were on their way.

"Why did you force me to cough up three times the value of that glassware?" complained Lawrence. "Doesn't it make more sense for me to pay for a replacement?"

"Oh? Is there a local glassblower that I'm not aware of?" asked Sorin. "More likely than not, the alchemist will have to order that glassware specially. It could be a month before he finds a replacement. That, or he'll need to cough up a large sum of gold to convince an adventurer to make the trip. Now, are you going to behave when we talk to Physician Morgan, or should I tie you up and have Lorimer keep an eye on you?"

"I'll behave," grumbled Lawrence as he dragged his feet through the snowy streets.

"Have I encountered any strange cases involving extreme corruption?" repeated Dr. Morgan as he cleaned off his surgical instruments. He'd just finished cutting out an infected piece of flesh when they'd arrived. "No. Nothing out of the ordinary. There are odd things that come out of the mines now and again, like this infection, but it's been a few years since anything like that happened."

"What about the wounds adventurers suffer after encounters with demons?" asked Sorin.

"They don't happen around here," said Physician Morgan with a shrug. "The Dark Lady watches over this village, and demons don't dare cause trouble with her around."

"And whom might this Dark Lady be?" asked Sorin. "I've heard a few tidbits from others, but I'd like your thoughts on the subject."

"I don't know many details," answered the physician, finishing up the last of his washing and walking over to the sink to disinfect his hands. "All I know is that she's our guardian and keeps us safe in the summer and winter, assuming the Winter Vigil's offerings please her. Speaking of which, the vigil is creeping up on us. You can find out a lot more firsthand if you stay to watch the ceremony in three days."

"Thank you for your detailed explanation, Physician Morgan," said Sorin, putting away his notebook. "We'll be on our way."

"Good luck with your investigation, Mr. Kepler," said the physician. "

A few hours later, they finished investigating the leatherworker, the smith, and a shady pawn shop that sold illicit goods on the side. They also interviewed a dozen different families and inquired about local traditions, gossip, and their relationships with their neighbors.

"I really don't think we've got much to go on here, Sorin," said Lawrence. "This place is clean. My intuition's giving me nothing."

"Maybe you're right," said Sorin. "But I've still got a strange feeling, and Lorimer's has been feeling off as well. Maybe it's just the environment around here that's bothering us. Something about the stone formations or the soil or the mines. I'm sure it'll pass, whatever it is."

"This whole Dark Lady thing is pretty interesting, though," said Lawrence, pulling a bag of cookies from his hero medallion. "Want one?"

"I'll pass," said Sorin. "Though I'm sure Lorimer will hold a grudge if you don't give him one."

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"I would never take out cookies without giving one to Lord Lorimer," said Lawrence, handing the rat a cookie. Lorimer nibbled on it from atop his perch on Sorin's shoulder.

"I don't see it," said Sorin. "This whole Dark Lady thing—It's just like the Temple of Hope. They make offerings to an entity and get some benefits. There's nothing sinister about offering food and mana crystals to wish for good luck."

"I get that part," said Lawrence. "I'm more referring to why they'd worship the Dark Lady and not Lord Hope."

Sorin shrugged. "This place isn't big enough for a temple. They could have a small chapel, maybe, but the Temple isn't exactly generous. A small town of five hundred people isn't worth it to them."

"Anyway, the Dark Lady is the only thing that makes this case interesting," said Lawrence. "But according to the townsfolk, this religion has been around for half a century. That doesn't sound like winter madness."

"I honestly have no idea," said Sorin. "But I'm sure Gareth will figure it out. In my opinion, the sooner we get out of here, the better."

Lawrence nodded. "I'm with you on that. As for Gareth… he's got good reasons for seeing these cases through. I heard his story from my dad. It's not a pleasant one."

"Percival mentioned something once but never got into details," said Sorin. "Something about his mother going crazy and his father having to put her out of her mystery?"

"They were both Nighthawks and apparently," said Lawrence. "And it happened right in front of Gareth. It's why he's so glum and so strict about everything."

"Makes sense," said Sorin. "I'd probably be glum too if something like that happened to me."

"Seriously, Sorin?" said Lawrence. "You are that way. And for good reason, from what I've heard."

Sorin sighed. "I suppose I am, at that. What about you? I've only ever met your father."

"Divorce," answered Lawrence nonchalantly. "It was a bad matchup, and they both knew it. When my dad retired from adventuring, they both agreed that it'd be best if I stayed with him. You know Mrs. Granger?"

"The owner of the Hog and Barrel?" asked Sorin. "She's your mother?"

"Yep," said Lawrence. "My dad likes his women strong and meaty, and she definitely fits that description. Anyway, no traumatic childhood for me. Just ample affection from both parents whenever I see them."

"I confess myself jealous," said Sorin.

"I get that a lot," said Lawrence with a wink. "But usually because of my dashing good looks. Now, are we going to patrol or after dinner?"

"Now," said Sorin. "Gareth will lose it if we slack off. However, he didn't say anything about walking the entire way. You game for a light jog?"

Their patrol took their group of three outside the city, and it was only when they were halfway done that they realized how much work the assignment was. They'd clearly been assigned this portion due to their high mobility.

Fortunately, there was no need to interview farmers. That would come later.

"You never gave me your thoughts in the end," said Sorin as they were taking a quick rest. "About the politics in Delphi, I mean. What do you think I should do?"

"I honestly have no idea," said Lawrence. "I'm not really into politics. I'm a spectator, Sorin, and to be a proper spectator, it's important to not interfere. Let things play out."

"Perhaps as a spectator, you might have some advice for a confused team member?" asked Sorin.

"I mean, it really depends on why you're going to Delphi," said Lawrence. "You've never told us much about what you're hoping to accomplish. All we know for sure is that you're going to somewhat confront your family and dig around for some information. Stephan guesses that you're looking for evidence of foul play concerning your parents' death. Or maybe you're just looking to tie up loose ends and get closure from a few close relatives?"

"I know there was foul play, Lawrence," said Sorin. "Do you remember that first orb of wish fire at Festivus? The fox confirmed my suspicions."

"I'd take what the fox tells you with a grain of salt," cautioned Lawrence. "But assuming you're right, it's probably a good idea to make a few friends before you go digging too deep. How strong were your mom and dad again?"

"Flesh-sanctification cultivators," answered Sorin.

Lawrence let out a soft whistle. "There you go. That means that whoever killed them or caused their death is probably around the same level. We're pretty strong for first-forging cultivators, Sorin, but I'm pretty sure someone like Governor Marsh could crush us without lifting a finger."

"I get that," Sorin sighed. "And I get that friends in high places might land me and give me a bit of protection in a pinch. But what if I approach the wrong people? And what if I get in trouble, and the ones who claim to be my allies just watch as everything happens? It's what they did three years ago."

"There you have it," said Lawrence. "You got hurt, and you don't want to get hurt again. I get that. It makes sense for you to be getting cold feet."

"I just don't know who I can trust, Lawrence," said Sorin. "And it doesn't help that I'm a thorn in the current clan leader's side. He'll look for any excuse to get rid of me."

"You're not really interested in taking his position, are you?" asked Lawrence.

"Not at all," said Sorin. "But it won't stop him from speculating. I'm a potential threat, and that means that he needs to nip me in the bud. I have some things going for me that make that difficult, but that could change very quickly."

Lawrence shrugged. "Then, to me, it sounds like you know exactly what you need to do. You know your mission. You know your threats. You know you need protection and information."

"But I could always pay people for those things," said Sorin. "Use my adventuring activities to save up and hire the right people."

"Don't kid yourself," said Lawrence. "Not everything is for sale. Also, hired muscle is very unreliable. Also, who's to say they'll even give you enough time to save up?"

"Yeah," said Sorin, picking himself up off a snowbank and wiping the snow off his pants. "It's just hard to pick a path. There's no easy way out of the political arena once you set foot in it. The rest of my life could easily become a series of backroom dealings and knives in the dark."

Lawrence stretched from side to side in preparation for the last half of their patrol. "A wise man once told me that your life is whatever you make of it. But don't quote me on that. That same man threw me into a pack of demon wolves to train my dodging technique. I had to dodge them for three minutes straight before he'd feed me dinner."