The explosion was minor, all things considered. It left them with all the limbs intact, at least, even if it did singe their skin and hair.
It did, however, destroy any parts of the control panel they could’ve used in the investigation.
Lysandra was cursing loudly in elvish as the museum head healer - why does a museum need a healer, do injuries happen often?! - patched them up and used enchanted balms to have their burnt hair come back. Ethan, at that same time, was pathetically digging in the sad, singed remains of the panel.
“How did we not notice the invisibility glamour?” Lysandra mused loudly. “It’s the most basic of glamours. It should have dissipated during the Guard’s initial investigation, no to mention ours.”
“I have a theory,” ventured Ethan. “The panel was pure electricity - at least, it seemed to be for the split second I had to look at it. The perpetrator is clearly skilled at using both technology and the arcane - what if there is a way to use electricity to empower spells to a degree we couldn’t have imagined?”
“Theoretically impossible, but we already agreed this is an impossible case.”
“You’re very familiar with the Codex that was stolen. Do you have any idea if any of the… victims bound to the book could be of a particular use to someone with this particular skill set?”
Lysandra was quiet for a minute, thinking. “Page 3, Valther Brightcrowne. The Architect Arcane, one of the people who set up the magic network here in Arcalis when it was founded.”
Well, that sounded like a soul with a lot of dangerous knowledge.
“I also have an idea of a place where we could look for possible suspects,” added Lysandra. “Meet me at the Argent Plaza tonight at 6. Bring an… unassuming disguise.”
“How unassuming?”
“The more you look like someone who was bullied in school, the better.”
Ethan nodded. With a sense of purpose in her step, Lysandra left. Ethan gave the singed remains of the control panel one last look. He began to walk away, but something wasn’t sitting right in his head. He turned back around, grabbed one of the burned chips, and then walked out.
----------------------------------------
Ethan had several hours until he was supposed to go with Lysandra to the place she suggested. In the meantime, he decided to rummage through Gilbert’s apartment to find out as much about him as possible.
It wasn’t his body and it wasn’t his life; a part of him wanted to run and hide, because he did not know how to do Gilbert’s job and he could not help but feel he would mess it up; but then, wouldn’t running away mess it up too?
Gilbert’s apartment was large enough to get lost in, and technically consisted of two floors. The kitchen was fully and well-stocked, but Ethan found no trace of any of the kitchen utensils having been used; the pots and pans did not have a single scratch on them, and neither did the spatulas. Was the cookware in Arcalis scratch-resistant, or did Gilbert never cook?
He found the answer when he opened the cooling box - a local version of the fridge that looked more like a giant freezer. It was filled to the brim with pre-packaged food - Ethan picked one up and read the ingredients. It was essentially instant ramen, but cheesy.
He looked at the cooking instructions. Place your wand in the middle of the protective wrap and say the following incantation! There was a smiling witch-dog, the mascot of the brand, helpfully pointing a cartoon paw at the exact spot.
The wand. He did not dare pick it up from its pillow when he woke up earlier, too afraid it might explode in his hands or he might accidentally cast fireball on himself. Was fireball even a spell that existed here? Any self-respecting magical world had to have fireball, he thought. Now, he walked up to it, approaching it carefully as if it were to suddenly grow legs and run away if he made too rapid of a movement. He reached out towards it, flinching as he did, and as his fingers brushed against the strangely cool wood of the wand….
Whoosh.
He was suddenly standing in front of an enormous mansion. Climbing roses adorned the walls, a garden full of flower sculptures of elegant women and dancing fairies surrounded the building. A path paved with shining, glimmering stones led him towards the front door of the mansion, where stood-
“Ah, my oh my. You must be… Master Shadowveil’s new guest.”
Ethan blinked. The creature in front of him looked humanoid, in the barest of senses - two arms and two legs, a torso and a head. Except the body was made entirely, it seemed, out of plant matter - vines and twigs and leaves. The head of the creature was large, with alien, pitch-black eyes; sizable, pale yellow petals growing out of the back of the creature’s head looked a lot like hair.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“Er I, I suppose so?” Ethan could not help but stare. “And who are you?”
“I am not a who, for I am not a person,” the plant creature seemed quite proud of that. “But you may call me Laes, as Master Shadowveil once did. I am the protector of this estate.”
“And this estate - what is it? Where am I?”
“Your body is still wherever you left it - Master Shadowveil’s residence, I presume. Your mind, however, is standing in front of one of the greatest, most spectacular places in Arcalis - nay, the world!”
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
“You, young lad, have just found yourself in front of a place most would kill to get a sneak peak into - Master’s Shadowveil mind palace!”
Laes puffed up his chest, waiting for a reaction.
“Oh,” said Ethan.
“Oh? Oh?! Do you have any idea, young man, of the amount of knowledge, of secrets and mysteries that lie within-”
Ethan made for the front door.
“What do you think you’re doing?” exclaimed Laes after him.
“Looking for answers,” said Ethan. “It’s probably the best place to start, right?”
He pulled at the front door. It did not budge.
“You are not allowed inside!” yelled Laes.
“Why not? I am Gilbert, aren’t I? At least, I’m in his body,” protested Ethan.
“And you do not! Have! Clearance! Inside the real Master Shadowveil’s mind palace!”
Ethan crossed his arms, annoyance taking over.
“Why?” He closed the distance between himself and Laes in a single step, anger boiling. “I just woke up in his body, I’m expected to do his job, I’m expected to live in a strange land that I am unfamiliar with- why? Is the real Gilbert in danger? Is the real Gilbert the one responsible for this? Is the real Gilbert in my body? If not, who or what is in my body? How did this happen? Why did this-”
“I do not recommend you trying to do Master Shadowveil’s job.”
Ethan paused. “Why not?”
“Because, young man, you’re an outsider - not just to this body, but to this world. How can you hope to solve any cases if you have no idea what anything is?”
Ethan grimaced. “I know this, but-”
“Listen to my advice, lad. This life shouldn’t be yours, but it is now. I know not what lies inside the manor; I merely keep the grounds. I do not know the answers you seek. But if you continue to meddle in Master Shadowveil’s cases, something bad will happen. Maybe you’ll misinterpret the evidence; maybe you’ll accidentally destroy the evidence. Maybe you’ll get blasted in the chest but a serial killer. Maybe you’ll make an atrocious mistake and you’ll destroy Master Shadowveil’s reputation forever,” cried Laes.
Ethan kept getting more annoyed. “So what should I do? Barricade myself in his apartment until the instant ramen runs out?”
“A splendid idea!”
“That was sarcasm. Not sure if it exists in this realm,” Ethan’s gaze shot daggers at Laes. “Got any better recommendations?”
Laes looked at the ground.
“I see.” Ethan murmured. He then walked up to the nearest window, and hit it with all his might.
“What the- WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING TO MASTER SHADOWVEIL’S MANOR?!”
“Breaking in.” He smacked at the window again. It did not seem to budge. “You don’t happen to have a hammer on you, buddy?”
Laes was fuming. “YOU INSOLENT LITTLE-”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Ethan stopped attacking the window and began to walk around the estate. Maybe he’ll find something heavy to break the window open- or maybe he should try telling the window to open? Would it listen to him? It seemed magical enough.
He heard Laes scream in terror as he stepped on the grass.
But Ethan wasn’t listening. He was looking around for clues, any clues at all - anything that could help him get inside, forcefully or not.
There were plenty of little statues adorning the garden, but whenever he tried to list one up, they suddenly ended up being light as a feather. Throwing them against the window wouldn’t do anything, then. The gardens were excessively large, reminding Ethan of the estates he’s seen in period dramas his high school girlfriend made him watch.
Laes was running around frantically, flailing his arms in anger as Ethan was turning the garden inside out.
“You won’t achieve anything here! You’re wasting your time!” he exclaimed.
“And why is that?”
“This place - it’s a part of the real Gilbert. Or an imprint of his mind, rather. You can break the windows, set the place on fire, kill me - it won’t do anything. The Shadowveil Manor will only expose what it wants to you, and you, well…”
“Expose what it wants. So, it’s sentient?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. It’s… far too complicated for you to hope to understand.”
Ethan chose to ignore that last remark, because he had just found something interesting.
At the edge of the grounds, the garden’s border was marked by an impressive, iron wrought fence. Beyond that fence was misty, foggy nothingness.
And a mailbox.
It was simpler than anything else here, without any fancy adornments or details. It was just a mailbox, plopped awkwardly at the border of the land, like an afterthought.
Ethan ran towards it. There was a letter inside.
And it was addressed to him, from Gilbert.