The Shadowveil Detective Agency opened its doors at 8 in the morning, as per usual. At 7:30, a figure arrived in the hallway in front of the door, pacing impatiently. At 7:40, the same figure glued themself to the door of the Agency, coughing politely and trying to gain attention of anyone who was inside. At 7:50, they began to knock impatiently.
At 7:55, Ethan arrived at the Agency, only to find a stranger glued to the front door of his workplace.
“Uh, hello?” he said. “May I help you?”
“Mister Shadowveil!” the stranger exclaimed. “Mister Shadowveil, I am so happy to see you! I have a most urgent case on behalf of my Master!”
“That’s great,” mumbled Ethan, whose coffee was yet to kick in. “Could you please wait here just a minute? I’ll be right with you.”
He bypassed the strange stranger, who was an elderly halfling in a perfectly tailored suit. He closed the door right when the man tried to protest and follow him anyway.
Lysandra was already at her desk, slowly sipping on her tea. Ethan pointed his thumb at the door and raised an eyebrow.
“Did you come through the window?” he asked.
“Oh, Gilbert. I teleported in to avoid any… disturbances.”
He nodded, took a seat at his desk, and got his bagel out.
At 8am exactly, he opened the door to let the disgruntled halfling in.
“Good morning to you, sir!” Ethan exclaimed. “What may we do for you today?”
The halfling coughed, to signify his displeasure with the treatment he received so far.
“Thank you for seeing me so quickly, I am truly honored. I am Liam Briarsworth, and I work for none other than the illustrious Baron Ardelean.”
He puffed out his chest in pride.
Ethan gave Lysandra a questioning glance.
“Baron Ardelean,” she mused. “I think I’ve heard the name before. The antiques collector?”
“Baron Ardelean does not limit himself to one particular kind of treasure. He collects antiques, paintings, sculptures, gems, treasures from realms far and wide…”
“A very fascinating gentleman, then,” remarked Ethan.
“You have no idea, Mister Shadowveil, you have no idea. But alas, a most unfortunate event has transpired. One that has put my master into a state of utter misery and despair. Poor, poor master.” The halfling took out a handkerchief and dabbled at invisible tears.
“Who died?” asked Ethan.
“Uh? Nobody died, thank the Stars. But something way worse has happened.”
Liam paused for dramatic effect, then dramatically took out a folded piece of paper from the inside of his suit. He handed it to Ethan with an expression of utmost reverence.
Ethan unfolded the piece of paper. Inside was a note, and a doodle.
> Tonight at midnight!
>
> I will come…
>
> And steal the show!
>
> And the Mask of the Twilight Priest :3
>
> Toodles!
>
> The Silver Specter
The doodle was of a little smiley face with a tophat on.
“This terrifying, blood curdling threat was left inside of the Master’s property, at his own bedside table!” cried out Liam in desperation. “We have guards at every door and window, and still the vile vermin snuck inside. Preposterous!”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” said Ethan. “Lysandra, what do we think?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of The Silver Specter before. But they’re quite cocky, announcing themselves like that.”
“Very much indeed. And when was this announcement left at your Master’s bedside table?”
“Only last night. Master went to sleep at 1AM, and awoke at 6:47, two minutes after his regular wake up time,” explained Liam. “The notice must have appeared sometime during this window of time.”
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“Most fascinating,” said Ethan. “Lysandra, let’s go on a date with that Silver Specter person.”
“I’m not going on any dates, but I’d be happy to do a stakeout,” said Lysandra, already grabbing her purse.
----------------------------------------
Liam showed them to the Ardelean Estate. Ethan learned how to gauge the wealth of the residents of Arcalis: if they lived in towers or spires, they were rich. If they owned an entire spire, they were filthy rich.
Baron Ardelean owned a complex of twelve spires in Antlia, the neighborhood closest to the Royal Palace of Arcalis.
“Impressive,” said Ethan, passing through gardens the size of a park.
The spires here were tall and shiny white marble, reflecting the light of the sun. But Ethan knew now that reflecting sunlight wasn’t their purpose - it was, instead, to reflect starlight.
“Goodness, you’re in luck. Baron Ardelean has arrived to welcome you to his humble abode himself,” said Liam reverently upon spotting a figure in the distance, sipping on a glass of wine. Ethan checked his pocket watch: 8:35AM.
“The illustrious detectives!” exclaimed Baron Ardelean. He was a human in his mid-50’s, with long sideburns and a look of someone largely unbothered by life.
“Pleased to meet you, Baron Ardelean,” said Lysandra.
“Please, the pleasure is all mine. I have long wished to meet the two of you; your previous work is truly incredible. How you solved that Kneecap Murderer case in just two days after the Guard has struggled with it for months? Truly incredible.”
“Thank you,” said Ethan, who had no idea who the Kneecap Murderer was. “It was a simple case, really, when you look at the facts from the right angle.”
At least from his time as Gilbert, he learned how to bullshit with confidence. It was English Lit all over again.
Baron Ardelean led them inside of the spire which held his private collection, which were spires 2 and 4. He walked with them through marble corridors adorned with display cases, each one holding a different treasure: crystalline sculptures that seemed to move when you weren't looking directly at them, ancient tomes bound in materials Ethan couldn't identify, and jewelry that sparkled with an inner light of their own.
"The Mask of the Twilight Priest," mused Lysandra as they walked. "I assume it's more than just a decorative piece?"
"Ah, you cut straight to the heart of the matter!" Baron Ardelean's eyes lit up. "The Mask was worn by the high priests of the Star Temple during the Age of Twilight. Legend says it allows its wearer to see through any deception, any illusion. Though of course," he added with a dismissive wave, "that's merely folklore."
"And how did such a remarkable piece come into your possession?" asked Ethan, noting how the Baron's fingers twitched slightly at the question.
"I purchased it at auction from the Starfall Collection last year, they have some of the most fascinating items known to man. And I assure you,” he caught Ethan’s gaze, ”the paperwork is immaculate."
"I'm sure it is," said Lysandra, her tone neutral.
“The Mask must be worth quite a bit of money, then,” said Ethan.
“It is priceless. Which is to say, it is worth more than most can ever afford,” he laughed heartily, as if he had just told the world’s funniest joke, but there was an edge to his voice, a sharpness that did not bode well to anyone brave enough to touch his beloved Mask.
"May we see the Mask?"
The Baron led them to a circular room at the top of the spire. In the center stood a single pedestal, upon which rested what looked like a face carved from a piece of the night sky. The Mask was crafted from some dark metal that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, with delicate patterns that mimicked constellations traced in silver across its surface.
Lysandra circled the pedestal slowly, her hands moving in practiced gestures as she examined the existing security measures. "Interesting... whoever set these wards knew what they were doing. But they're focused entirely on preventing physical entry. Our Specter might have found a way around that."
“I am also seeing some guards nearby, but I recommend bringing in more,” suggested Ethan. “The ones here are… quite few in numbers.”
Lord Ardelean nodded. “Oh yes, there’s not a lot of them… that you can see. Most of my security is under the effects of Invisibility while on duty.”
“Interesting. Any intruder would be too focused on the visible security to even consider trying to avoid anyone who is invisible,” said Ethan, genuinely impressed.
“Lord Ardelean, do you have any ideas who the Silver Specter might be? Is there anyone who might want to steal from you, or are you aware of anyone who is particularly interested in the Mask?” Ethan asked, refocusing on the issue at hand.
“I have many people who would want to steal from me, or simply wish to disturb me. Such is the woe of having money,” answered lord Ardelean solemnly. “As for who would want the Mask for themselves - plenty of people, I’m certain. Museum freaks, religious nuts, people with impeccable aesthetic taste who did not have enough money to purchase the Mask themselves.”
“I see,” said Ethan. Not a whole lotta leads, then.
With a lack of any direct leads, they decided to focus on strengthening the defenses for the night and ensuring nobody can get through. Lysandra spent the next few hours weaving additional protections: wards against teleportation, dimensional travel, and various forms of magical concealment. By the time she finished, even Ethan could feel the magic humming in the air.
"Nobody's getting in or out of this room without us knowing," she declared, looking satisfied.
The Baron insisted they stay for dinner, which proved to be an elaborate affair served in a dining room with a glass ceiling that offered a perfect view of the darkening sky. Ethan noticed how the Baron kept glancing at his timepiece as midnight approached, his jolly demeanor growing impatient and nervous.
At 11, they moved to the chamber where the Mask was held. By 11:30, they were all in position: Lysandra stood by the pedestal, her hands ready to cast at a moment's notice. Ethan positioned himself near the door, and the invisible guards stood guard as silently as possible, their weapons at the ready. It took Ethan some convincing to make lord Ardelean have his guards use weapons with a smaller chance of lethality.
The minutes dragged on. Ethan looked around, finishing a cup of coffee. It was impossible for a fly to come through, much less a thief. All of this was likely just a prank that will not go anywhere, but at least the Baron was paying them quite a bit.
Finally, the clock struck midnight.
Nothing happened.
"Perhaps our thief was all talk," the Baron said, relief evident in his voice.
That's when Ethan noticed something odd about the Mask. The silver constellations across its surface were slowly shifting, forming new patterns.
"Lysandra—" he started to say.
Standing on top of the pedestal, dressed in perfect white suit that sparkled in the moonlight, stood a young man - the Silver Specter himself.
Holding the Mask.
“Shhh,” he said, and winked.
And ran.