The Fox's Trap was a classy pub that specialized in wine from local vineyards and beer from local frields. It served mostly Bone-Forging cultivators, which were plentiful in Delphi, and had a wide assortment of two-star drinks on the menu. Firebreather Wine, Hanged Man Ice Wine, and Torch Bearer's Drought were among the most popular.

Their fish and chips were renowned across the city. They were made from generous pieces of Ship Breaker Cod battered with Lavender Rain Flower, giving the deep-fried pieces of demonic fish a light purple hue. There were four plates on the table when Sorin arrived. One for Gareth, who'd ordered them, one for Sorin, one for Lorimer, and naturally, one for Lawrence, who was late for their appointment.

As it would be rude to start eating before everyone arrived, they ordered drinks and made light conversation. "I'm not typically a fan of wine, but this stuff is amazing," said Sorin after sampling his glass. "Are you sure you don't want a glass? They serve a non-alcoholic version as well."

"Non-alcoholic is a relative term," replied Gareth. "Typically, they're allowed one percent of the original alcohol content. That's not even considering the other perception-altering substances they might have snuck in." He shook his head. "No, I'll stick with the Ice-Fire Lemonade. It's tasty and difficult to get outside a major city like this one."

"Any idea what Lawrence is up to?" asked Sorin. "Because if he doesn't show up soon, I'm just going to go ahead and have Lorimer start eating. You have no idea how hard it is for him to hold back."

"Ree!" said Lorimer in an aggrieved tone.

"Just wait at least five more minutes, then you can eat even if he doesn't show up," Sorin assured him.

"I say we just get started," said Gareth, dipping a piece of battered fish and a spicy ox-cream sauce. "Who knows what sort of trouble he's been causing."

"Well, excuse me for being so successful," said a tall man with a wide-brimmed hat, plopping himself into one of the empty chairs, then chowing down on a piece of battered fish. "Ah. This is life. No endless snow. No chilly winter air. Just regular old indoor heat and comfort food."

Sorin inspected the man, who was clearly Lawrence, except his height had increased and his facial features had changed. "I get the height and the face, but a mustache? Really? It's bound to stand out."

"That's the key to a good disguise," said Lawrence, hailing a waiter. "I'll have a glass of Fire Breather Wine, thanks. You can't be non-descript when you're putting on a disguise, Sorin. Bland people stand out, while odd people blend in."

Gareth snorted. "That's only if you're doing things that draw attention. Tell me, who was it this time?"

"I may have upset a second flesh sanctification cultivator," confessed Lawrence. "A member of the Ember Moon Conglomerate."

"You didn't steal anything, did you?" asked Gareth.

"And what's this about a second flesh Sanctification-Cultivator?" asked Sorin. "We've been here for less than three months!"

"One second," said Lawrence. He accepted the glass of Firebreather Wine from the waiter, took a sip, and let out a loud sigh. Fire belched out of his mouth, though thanks to the wine's medicinal effects, his flesh remained unburned.

"Here's the thing you need to understand, Sorin. We're both in the business of information gathering and detective work. We both have different skill sets. My approach must be different from Gareth's. Our paths are just that different; mine happens to upset a great number of people."

"The missions you take on are too risky," said Gareth.

"Well excuse me, Mr. I shoot enemies form a safe distance," said Lawrence. "I take what the Hero Association gives me, and more often than not, the missions are dangerous. Not because they hate me, but because that's the kind of missions you need stealth for."

"Can't you just not provoke Flesh-Sanctification cultivators?" asked Sorin.

"Like you have?" Lawrence shot back.

"Point taken," said Sorin. "Cheers."

Lorimer disagreed, however. "Ree ree ree! Ree ree ree ree."

"Sure, I could just remain hidden. But then I wouldn't be able to fish for information. Look, I don't have the patience to passively stalk a target for a month to get a few useful tidbits. High risk, high reward—that's my strategy."

Gareth sighed. "As much as I hate to admit it, he's good at it. To each their own. Speaking of which, it seems you managed to smoothly join your clan and not get assassinated. Congratulations."

"It was surprisingly easy," said Sorin. "Which is a large part of why I asked you both for help. By the way how much is this info going to cost me?"

"I'm not out too much, so I won't bother," said Gareth. "If the expenses get high enough, I'll send you a bill."

"Why bother?" said Lawrence. "Isn't he going to eventually unseal all our bones at some point? Just consider it a bit of advance payment."

Sorin wasn't against that, so he first filled them in on what he'd learned. He repeated what Elder Marik had told him and placed the communication devices he'd been gifted on the table. Both Gareth and Lawrence inspected the devices but found nothing amiss.

"That's not to say there's nothing wrong with them," warned Gareth. "But if there is, we can't detect it."

"You're probably best-off getting Daphne to look them over," suggested Lawrence. "Didn't you say you needed to learn some new spells? Two birds with one stone. Easy."

Sorin nodded and took back the devices. "So? Thoughts on Elder Marik's advice?"

"Just a few things," said Gareth. "To start off with, how much do you know about Elder Marik?"

"I heard from Apothecary Calvin that he considers himself responsible for my parents' death," said Sorin. "Beyond that, I'm not sure."

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"That explains a few things," said Gareth. "Three years ago, Elder Marik was next in line Branch Head of the Defensor Branch. But after the death of your parents, he suddenly turned down the role and requested a transfer to Delphi."

"I tried digging into that but didn't find anything," added Lawrence. "Whatever happened, it's not something rank-and-file members are in the know about. Heck, even the clan's enemies don't seem to know much. Speaking of which, your clan has a lot of enemies. In fact, I think it's easier to just list off who isn't an enemy."

"Next up is Elder Nolan," continued Gareth. "He's been around since forever and is probably the third strongest member of your Abberjay Branch, just below the chief elder of your branch. The Grand Elder, a Demigod, is naturally the strongest. Both Elder Nolan and Branch Head are advanced in years and have been in their positions for over a decade. As for the Grand Elder has been around for roughly two centuries."

"What about Elder Samson?" asked Sorin. "Any dirt on him?"

"He's squeaky clean," said Lawrence. "As in, he basically doesn't exist on paper. No one knows anything about him. Any information we have is effectively hearsay or conflicts with other pieces of information. The only thing people know for sure is that he cultivates the darkness element."

"Darkness?" asked Sorin. "Is it like the shadow element?"

"It's of a higher grade than shadow mana and excludes any affinity with light," said Lawrence. "Apparently, it's the affinity most of the Lucian Branch—the information branch—shares."

"Aside from that, we don't have much else," concluded Gareth. "Whatever we learned about the power struggle in your clan, the Mockingjay Branch's takeover and the death of your parents is consistent with what you said. There seems to be a bit more covering up the matter of your parent's death, though. The Mockingjay Branch's takeover has been analyzed to death by all sorts of papers and agencies."

"And what makes you think there's been a cover-up?" asked Sorin.

"The fact that speculation is abound," said Gareth. "Also, the new Clan Leader is part of the Life Faction in your clan. The same faction that rejects poison cultivators. There's also some bad blood between him and your father. Apparently, they fought over your mother in medical school, and your dad won out."

"I tried tracking down some of their school friends, but it's tricky to find out that kind of information," added Lawrence. "Also, jealousy about a man's wife? Classic motive. Anyway, we should probably eat this fish before it gets cold." He started wolfing down his fish and chips at a rapid pace.

Sorin also focused on his food for the next fifteen or so minutes. It was good fish, though the batter didn't agree with him. As he ate, he reflected on what he'd learned and concluded that whatever the hidden problems the fox hinted at were, they probably weren't related to internal strife. The situation inside the family seemed stable.

"When I was speaking with Elder Maric, he informed me that the clan's approval rating in the city was around 35 percent," said Sorin. "That's pretty low, in my opinion, especially given what I know about how the clan operates."

"Isn't your clan just full of pretentious physicians that rip off their clients?" asked Lawrence. "Wait, that's bias. I just broke the cardinal rule of information gathering."

"It's not biased," Gareth assured him. "Most people think that way, from what I've heard. You ask any random person on the street, and more often than not, that's what people will tell you. Your clan isn't popular, Sorin."

"I get that," said Sorin. "What I want to know is why that's the case. I want facts and figures that can reasonably explain their feelings."

"That might take a little longer to figure out," said Gareth. "For that kind of information, you need volume and statistics, not hearsay."

"That kind of information isn't my cup of tea," said Lawrence. "But I can look into the upper echelons of Delphi and see what I can figure out. What the nobles think matters more than you'd think."

"There's no rush," said Sorin. "Truth be told, I don't really care if people hate my clan. I just want to know why they hate it because it's relevant to the clan's internal political situation."

"That's fair," said Gareth. He was about to take another sip of his lemonade, when suddenly, he froze. "A Flesh-Sanctification cultivator is headed this way. And they don't look happy."

A few seconds after Gareth spoke, Sorin felt intense fluctuations that he now recognized as aggression and hostility. An angry-looking cultivator appeared in front of their table about a second later.

"Where is he?" asked the new arrival. She was a woman that smelled of ash and metal. As Gareth had guessed, she was a Flesh Sanctification cultivator. Her eyes were wise and hinted at centuries of experience.

"Honored elder," said Sorin, rising. He held out his hand for Lorimer to scramble onto his shoulder. "What seems to be the problem?" Gareth rose as well, but Lawrence, who'd vanished moments earlier, was nowhere to be found.

"That rogue," said the woman. "You are his companions. I can sense the bonds tying you together. Tell me where he is. Now."

"It's not that we don't want to tell you, since he offends people all the time, but more that we don't know where he is," said Gareth. "Also, he is a Bone-Forging cultivator. A whole realm beneath you."

The woman wore an indifferent expression. "I would not stoop so low as to deal with a junior. I simply wished to mark him for my descendants to chase down. They are of a suitable level for a confrontation and, therefore, wouldn't violate social norms. Now tell me, where does he live? Which places does he frequent more often?"

"He lives at 304 Arlington Avenue," answered Sorin. "And he can often be found at the Hero Association." This was all information that she could easily find herself.

The woman frowned when her eyes found Sorin's. "A member of the Kepler Clan and a high-ranking one at that. And… a poison cultivator? How interesting. Are they out in the open after hiding for a century?" She mulled over the matter for a few seconds before reassuring Sorin. "I'm simply identifying and marking the culprit who spied upon my place of seclusion. I don't know who hired him, nor do I care—anyone who infringes upon the privacy of my residence is to be punished."

"I thank you on behalf of the Kepler Clan for your mercy," said Sorin.

The woman snorted. The air around shimmered, and the next second, she was gone.

Sorin and Gareth exchanged a knowing look. "Here's not holding back, is he?" asked Sorin.

"You don't know half of it," said Gareth. "Anyway, how are you holding up, Sorin? How's that temper of yours doing?"

"My temper?" Sorin was a little confused by the question. "It's fine. Same as ever."

"Good, good," said Gareth. "You're probably going through a stressful time. There's strife in your family and external factors that could easily upset a person. It's not good to tackle all that on your own. So… I just wanted you to know that if you need someone to talk to about these things, I'm there for you."

"Ookay," said Sorin slowly. "Thanks for the concern, Gareth. I'm fine as rain. No need to worry."

"But just in case, let's meet up every week to be sure," said Gareth. "Or once every two weeks if that's more convenient. A month apart is far too long."

"Sure thing," said Sorin, nodding slowly. He wondered why Gareth was so awkward all of a sudden. "The food here is good. So is the wine. Maybe we could make this a regular thing."

"A good idea," said Gareth. "Let's commit to it. Why don't we meet up here seven days from now for a meal and a chat? I can also keep you up to date on whatever information I collect."

"Alright," said Sorin. "That sounds like a plan. Maybe we could invite the others?"

"There's no need for that," said Gareth. "Let's just keep these meetings between the two of us. If there are too many people around, we won't have enough time to focus on what might be bothering you. As for the others… I'll talk to them and arrange for something every month or so."

"Sounds good," said Sorin. "Is something the matter, Gareth?"

"Nothing's the matter," said Gareth. "I'm just concerned about a friend."

"It's just that this is very sudden, and you're usually not keen on socializing," said Sorin.

"I socialize every now and then," said Gareth defensively. "But now that you mention it, you're right. I decided recently that it's time to change that. So we're good for seven days from now, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be here," said Sorin.

"Great," said Gareth. "Then I'll see you later. I have a night mission I need to carry out, so I can't drag my feet. See you later." The archer took off, leaving Sorin and Lorimer alone at the table.

"Was it just me, or was he being super weird right now?" Sorin asked Lorimer.

"Ree!" agreed Lorimer before pointing anxiously at the menu.

"Of course you want seconds," said Sorin, rolling his eyes. "And you know what? So do I. These fish and chips are delicious."