So they scattered through the massive estate, checking every hallway, every room, every wardrobe and even every cupboard, looking for every trace that might suggest a person lived there. Then they came back and counted up their tally, but it came out as a seven, no more, no less.

“If the perpetrator was indeed constantly controlling Schulz, then they’d have to stay hidden from the rest of the house, right?” Raina suggested. “That means they would have to stay hidden, unless they were controlling everyone constantly, which I doubt anyone is capable of.”

Thomas thought for a moment. “This place has a basement, right?”

“Yes, we checked already,” Nina answered.

“Are you sure?”

“Well…”

“Was it a quick scan or a thorough look-through?”

“Just a scan.”

“Take us there.”

Together they jogged down the many flights of stairs all the way to the cold basement where the air smelled stale and muddy. Evidently few came here often, since the walls were caked in mould and the rotten flooring was barely holding itself together.

“Andrei,” Thomas spoke suddenly, inspecting the door leading to the basement. “This door has only recently been opened after a long time of disuse, tell me why.”

Andrei knelt down and examined the door. “The hinges are rusted over, but the bits between the moving parts have been chipped off. The frame here, the mould hasn’t grown at all where the door presses against it when it’s closed,” then he pointed down at the moldy wooden planks covering the dirt. “We leave footprints when we walk over it. So if this place was visited often, all the mold here would be removed from people walking on it.”

Thomas nodded. “Nina, when you came down here, was the door open?”

“It was closed.”

“Did you have to force it to open it?”

“Umm… no, it came open quite easily.”

“Well then,” Thomas muttered. “Let’s check the other side.”

They stepped through the little door and into the chilly basement. To Idris there seemed to be little out of the ordinary. Cobwebs in the corners, boxes of various objects littered around, old rags and clothing, all sorts of unneeded items which have been discarded here over the years.

But Thomas and Andrei, the tracking specialists, immediately noted the slight disturbance of mana in the air.

“Andrei,” Thomas mumbled. “You can feel it too, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Someone’s been using magic here. A lot of magic,” he looked at the others. “We can stop looking now. We’ve found what we’ve been looking for.”

It soon became apparent, through various other little findings, that the perpetrator had holed themselves up in the basement and lived through Schulz using telekinesis. Kana, the bookworm of the group, pointed out that there have been documented cases of telepaths being able to “take over” someone, instead of momentary control. Those with this ability can project their consciousness on to another for a seemingly endless amount of time, and it can’t be detected by others, as once established, it doesn’t require a constant flow of magic or mana.

Though documented, this ability is very rare, but with what they’ve been finding, the perpetrator seems to be one with this skill.

Once they looked through the various paperwork on Schulz’s desk more closely, they discovered the checks documenting the hiring of new guards, the invitation of the band, and the hosting of the ball. Though signed off with Schulz’s signature, they were clearly forged, albeit very well forged. Whoever they’re dealing with, they’re not just a powerful mage, they’re likely also skilled at espionage, possibly even another assassin.

Now their timeline was complete without many holes. The perpetrator had arrived at Schulz’s mansion sometime in early March, where he hid inside the basement and took over control of Schulz. Then they hired the new guards and organized the ball, setting a trap for the assassins of Rose, which they fell right into.

The magic which Saya and several others felt being cast during Schulz’s appearance was likely not the telepathy controlling Schulz, rather the magic used to extinguish the lanterns illuminating the room.

“We lost the track somewhere around here…” Bruno mumbled to Thomas, pointing to a spot on a map of Bluewater they brought. “Just barely into the woods, right in the direction we headed that night, but disappeared soon after that.”

“Completely gone?”

“It wasn’t clear to begin with… we searched around the surrounding area for a little, still nothing.”

They had tried to follow the relatively strong disturbance in free mana from the basement for a while, but soon realized that the perpetrator had covered his tracks well. Now they sat around a little table at an inn, discussing and cross-referencing their findings.

“Any indication where they might be headed next from where the trail went cold?”

“I… any guess is a stretch, they could be headed anywhere…” Bruno sighed. “I’m not sure where we should go from here…”

“So this person must have been one to submit a contract, right?” Asked Idris offhandedly. “Otherwise how would they have known where to go?”

“I figured that was the case from the very beginning,” Thomas replied. “You apprentices might not know, but the six contracts we received this year are all quite strange.”

“Strange?” Asked Saya.

“Yeah… Anonymous submitters, all within Eidolon, all of lesser known people without obvious enemies, and all with massive payments.”

“But how would they have known that we would come here first?” Idris kept asking. “There’s no way anyone outside of Rose would know, right?”

“They could just track suspicious activity around each target area and figure it out with reasonable accuracy,” Bruno suggested.

“Hmm… maybe.”

Kana set down her pen upon the piece of ink-filled paper she was writing on. “I have an idea.”

They all turned to look at her. After hours of fruitless discussion and searching, they were desperate for any idea at all.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“I remember the numbers from a book about this ability which it termed ‘persistent control’,” Kana explained. “It went pretty far into some details about it, even talking about a few specific case studies. Apparently there are some slight variations to this…”

“Kana, just tell us what your idea is.”

“Ok ok, the book basically gave an estimate for the prevalence of this ability. I ran some rough numbers, and if I’m not too far off, there should only be less than half a dozen or so people with this ability in the entirety of Eidolon,” she paused, bringing up a rough diagram she had drawn on the paper. “But the ability is usually imperfect, and requires a lot of practice to be employed with any real control and length of time. In terms of our standards, that means only the seniors would be capable of being the perpetrator.”

“So…?” Thomas asked, a little confused by Kana’s rapid-fire explaining.

“So… worst case scenario, we just have to find these half dozen or so people with this ability, and our enemy should be one of them. Though realistically, we wouldn’t need to find all of them. Statistically speaking…”

“Best case?”

“We only need to find one.”

They thought for a moment, sorting through Kana’s idea with their exhausted minds.

“I see…” Thomas muttered after a while. “But where do we start?”

“The libraries and scholars,” Kana answered. “Those with such a powerful ability hardly go unnoticed. Knowledge is power, and nothing can hide from mankind’s addiction to knowledge. We read the books, the documents, ask scholars and experts, find out all we can about this ability, and by then, I’m sure we’d have found our guy… I sound like Julius right now…”

Bruno rubbed his chin. “It seems wild...”

“We’re assassins, Bruno,” said Thomas. “Assassins of Rose, no less. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack, but that’s exactly what we’re trained to do.”

“I won’t be easy.”

“It definitely won’t.”

“But it’s a start…”

Thomas looked at his pocket watch. “It’s getting late, we should all go upstairs and rest, there’s a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Kana, I want you to come up with a rough plan for the places we’ll be visiting. Report it to us at breakfast tomorrow.”

“Understood.”

They got up from their places and headed towards the stairs, along the way they passed the entrance to the inn, where a lone merchant stood at the reception.

He had a hood over his head so Idris couldn’t quite see his face, the low voice which he talked with meant it was barely audible. Without paying the merchant much attention Idris began climbing the stairs, Saya and Andrei following behind him.

“Otto?” Thomas’ shocked voice called out from behind.

“Oh, hi Thomas,” the merchant replied. “I finally found you.”

“Why are you here?”

They turned to look at the merchant, who had just now removed the hood covering his head. It was indeed Otto, Lilian’s older brother, who was supposed to be traveling the distant lands in search of treasure.

His long cloak was ragged and his boots were dirty, the usually fluffy hair on his head clumped in oily patches, and big bags hung low under his eyes. Evidently he had been on the road for a long time, possibly days, just to get here in time.

“I’m here to help.”

“I… I suppose you’ve heard?” Thomas asked in a quiet voice.

“I did. Julius sent me a letter telling me about everything.”

“How did you find us?”

“I used to be an assassin too, Thomas.”

Thomas hung his head. “I'm sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Otto replied. “You’re as hurt as I am.”

Thomas remained silent. He knows how much pain Otto is in, and there's nothing he can do or say to fix it right now. He has been distracting himself with their new mission to avoid the pain, and Otto must be doing the same.

Yet every now and then it still comes back to haunt him.

“How long will you stay?” Bruno asked.

“As long as it takes. And during that time, me, my expertise, my acquaintances, and all of my power, will be your’s to use until we find those responsible,” Otto answered. “I’ll chase them down to the edge of the world if I need.”

“So you’re here for vengeance?” Asked Thomas.

“What else?”

“I see…”

“Are you not?”

“I guess we all are,” Bruno said with a bitter smile.

*****

He walked through the arching entrance to the massive candlelit chamber, the tall bookshelves looming over him from all sides. The flickering flames painted everything in a warm orange glow which seemed to dim and bloom with each breath he took.

Quietly he stopped before the empty throne, and knelt down on the soft red carpet, waiting patiently for the man standing at the bookshelf with his back turned, carefully tidying the books.

Seemingly his presence had not been noticed, for the man did not address his arrival for a long while.

Finally the man seemed satisfied with the state of his books, so he dusted his hands, took a step back, and looked about the entire bookshelf with a satisfied sigh.

“Welcome back, Borealis,” announced the man, not bothering to turn around to face him directly. “I heard that the first ambush was a success?”

“Yes, my lord,” he answered.

“No need to kneel for so long,” the man said, turning around and walking up to Borealis. “You’re far more important than this. After all, you are the center piece of this whole operation.”

“Thank you, my lord,” he answered, rising to his feet.

“Did you stir up a storm?”

“I believe so, my lord.”

“Any casualties?”

“I killed one and injured another,” Borealis sighed. “They’re better than I thought. They took down the guards like nothing. Our tails followed them for a long time, but they still slipped away into the night.”

“They aren’t the best assassins in the world for no reason.”

“Indeed…”

The man walked towards the left wall of bookshelves, pulled out a small, old and dusty book, and gently placed it in Borealis’ hands.

“What is this, my lord?”

“Death for hire,” the man answered. “One of my favorites. It documents the history and origin of all the assassin clans.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Though well written, I think it is frankly an insult,” the man sneered.

“Why so, my lord?”

The man looked at Borealis for a moment with piercing eyes. “Read it and you’ll understand.”

“Yes, my lord,” Borealis replied with a bow. “I must leave now, my lord, there is not time to waste.”

“Of course, of course. Best of luck at the next contract.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Hastily, Borealis got to his feet and left the chamber. Talking with his lord always made him feel a little uneasy. Maniacs always make him uneasy, even if it’s his creation.

The man watched Borealis leave the chamber, his cape flowing in the wake of his fast, long strides. He sighed heavily, fiddling with the plain silver ring on his forefinger.

Tarnished by the many years, passed down between each generation, the silver ring was now a dull grey, but the insignia of a blooming rose etched into the metal still shone red.

“By the time this is over, father, those roses will finally belong to their rightful owners,” he mumbled to himself, a small grin on his face. “The wrongs they did back then, I’ll repay for full now.”