The only reason I remembered the file my uncle had handed into my care after the meal, was because of how irritating it was, strapped my chest and all. When I sat back down in a chair in my uncle’s study room, I was far less motivated by the idea of spending hours of my life looking through the dark underbelly of the city. I wanted very much just to think about my future date with Zara.

Obviously, I was aware that she didn’t mean it to be a date. She was just trying to do something nice for a person who was going through something she had already gone through. Or maybe it was a date. I shook my head and dragged my attention back to the file that I had sitting on my lap. I took a deep breath and held it. Closing my eyes, I let it out slowly. I opened my eyes and then opened the file.

It took me maybe twenty minutes to read through the file in its entirety, both the basic information and the statistics that went with it. Given the amount of money Uncle Finneus had spent on the file, I would have thought that it would be full of specific information helpful to us in tracing the auction house’s actions, but instead, all we got was a general overview of the organization.

According to said file, they had over two thousand workers and brought in close to five hundred million silver a year. They a well favored comp any that had a sterling reputation. This allowed them to have a few legendary artifacts every year at auction. In effect, if there was an expensive, unique item that you wanted sold for good money, ‘Catherine’s Motley Treasures’ was the place to do it. Finally, there was a small profile on the owner, a man named Ortelius Voltari. He was a gentleman. The perfect example of how a rich man should act. He attended all the charity dinners, and he was an outspoken critic of some of the Empire's more barbaric laws. There were even widespread rumors of him hiring a private army to save one of his worker's family, who had been kidnapped by rebels of the crown. He was the epitome of a great man, and yet, here I was trying to figure out how his organization was smuggling in people, and where they would have hidden a captured wizard if they had kept her alive at all.

Feeling remarkably overwhelmed, I stood up and began pacing the room, head down, and arms behind my back. Up and down the hallways I went, trying not only to figure out what the next step was, but what Uncle Finneus would have already planned as well. He must already be aware that the organization we were trying to bring down was far more dangerous than a small group of trolls feasting on dwarves. No matter how I tried to come up with a way to investigate the organization safely, all I could see was either that we would get nowhere, or we would disappear never to be seen again. I grew more frustrated the more I thought about everything. That stupid rabbit had dragged us into a suicide mission. I, an elf of pure bloodline with a thousand more years to live, would be dying for a rabbit’s happiness.

My Uncle’s voice cut through my negative spiral. “Bartholomew, would you mind going and making some tea? I have much to think about and discuss with you.”

“Did you find something out already?” I asked, hurrying over into the kitchen to make the tea.

I was not in the mood to wait for the water to heat up on its own as it sat on the appliance, so I called the fire and demanded it heat the water. There was a giant whoosh as a cloud of steam exploded out from the pot, filling the room. In a panic, I told the fire to pull the heat back. Just as quickly as the water had turned into steam, it turned back into water and fell from the air, soaking me and the entire kitchen. As I was being drenched, Uncle Finneus replied. But thanks to the indoor rainstorm, I didn’t hear him.

“Sorry, could you repeat that, Uncle Finneus?” I asked.

“Just wait for the tea to finish and we’ll talk out here; there’s no reason for us to be yelling in separate rooms,” he said after a moment’s pause.

I sighed and refilled the pot with water before putting it on its required appliance. When the water had warmed up to a suitable temperature and the leaves had been drained of their flavor, I poured two cups of the hot liquid and walked back into the study, still soaked.

Uncle Finneus took one of the cups from me, took a drink, and let out a deep sigh. If he noticed my wet clothes, he did not mention it. “What I was saying, nephew, was that there appear to be more complexities to this situation than we initially thought.” I apologize for the misunderstanding.

“Safe houses than I had originally thought, given the amount of time we have to find Alessandro’s wife. I’m excited to say this will be far harder than I had originally thought.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

I nodded my head. “Uncle Finneus, I know this is what you do, investigate things and such, but do you know what organization you’re going up against? The owner is a rich and well-known philanthropist; he has a lot of power. If we cross him, the consequences could be deadly.”

Uncle Finneus rolled his eyes at me. “Bartholomew, I am aware of Ortelius and his friends. Worry not. Just as I’m aware of him, he is also aware of me. There are few even in the empire that would openly declare war on me without an army behind them.”

“Uncle Finneus, the man has an army,” I replied.

Uncle Finneus shrugged his shoulders. “Why don’t we focus on finding Gabriela, and then we can worry about the rest of the issues later.” He held up a hand when I went to argue. “Yes, Bartholomew, I agree with you, it is important to be aware of all the possible variables when handling a case. However, that does not mean that those variables will always control what we do.

Nephew, if I spent all of my time worrying about how I could die, I would be frozen in my bed for months unable to even take a step for fear that outside of my current coordinate, the world would shift so much that even a single step by me could destroy the fabric of reality. A leap, and I might be able to cause the collapse of the void itself, for given infinite probability such a thing is possible. And since I had not already caused such a collapse in the original coordinate, I must assume that the greatest chance of my survival is to remain in said location. All things are possible within the scale of probability.

I say all of this to point out that dangerous variables matter only so much as they do not stop you from living. And while one should acknowledge them, instead of obsessing over the point, separate yourself from it, and use a risk-reward assessment.”

I am unsure of the exact moment I lost hold of the conversation. It’s hard to pinpoint at what specific time one becomes lost. But by the end of Uncle Finneus’s explanation, his voice had faded, and his words had turned to just sounds and syllables with no meaning. Unable to do anything else, I nodded my head to the beat of his rant and waited for him to change the subject back to our case.

I felt marked relief when Uncle Finneus finally took a sip of his tea and changed the topi. “Now let's talk about what I found out this morning after visiting a few colleagues. First and foremost, everyone agrees that the auction house is sketchy. But it appears that no one, and I mean no one that is not among the higher upper class, does business with them. According to Jeb, a thief I know. He tried to bribe one of the employees for information on where goods were stored. But as soon as he asked, the man attacked him. Jeb then told me that he tried to figure out how to extort another employee for the information but nearly lost his life to three other shadows that were following the man home. All in all, it appears that Ortelius runs a tight ship.”

“So where does that leave us on finding where they hold the trafficked people?” I asked.

“Now that is the question,” said Uncle Finneus. “Thankfully, I know better shadows than poor Jeb. They were kind enough to go look into the situation this afternoon. We already have three safehouses that appear to be of some importance with multiple security features.”

I nodded my head. “So what's the next step then? Will we be visiting all three safehouses? How are we going to break in without alerting the other safehouses?”

Uncle Finneus smiled. “I’m happy to see you are thinking for yourself, Bartholomew. We will be visiting all three safehouses if we have to, but I believe I know which safehouse she is located in.”

I cocked an eyebrow at Uncle Finneus. “How is it possible for you to know that?”

“Out of the three safehouses, two are located on the outskirts of Glueburn, one at the dock, the other on the southern edge. The last of the large safehouses is located only a few blocks away from the main auction house. Given that Gabriela was captured in the auction house, and considering how close we are to their annual, that is where we will be going. It shall be there that we go tonight.”

“What time exactly do you want to go to the safe house?”

“It was Uncle Finneus’s turn to raise an eyebrow at me. “And why would that matter, Bartholomew? Do you have plans for the evening? I have yet to see you leave the house without me after dusk.”

I opened my mouth to respond then paused before answering. “A friend invited me to go out this evening; she was going to show me around the city. Maybe have me meet some of her friends.”

Uncle Finneus rubbed his chin, thinking. “Should I assume that you are going out on a date with that waitress you were gushing over this morning?”

I rolled my eyes. “I wasn’t gushing, but yes. After I told her I was new to the city, she offered to show me around the city. I don’t think it is a date.”

“No reason to jump to conclusions, nephew. Just make sure to keep your eyes and ears open.”

“For the date?” I asked, confused.

“Just pay attention to everything going on around you, including the environment.”

“Why?” I asked.

Uncle Finneus shook his head. “Do it, child. I shall not explain my reasons this night.”

I shrugged, confused. “OK.”

When I arrived at the bakery, the sun had yet to set. Its golden streams showed their last rays between buildings, as it made its ever-constant trip across the horizon. I walked down the cobbled street and moved to open the door when Zara exited the store, smiling and waving her hand. “Hey, Bartholomew. I’m happy you made it. For a minute there, I wasn’t sure you were coming.”

“Am I late? I’m sorry. There’s no way I would miss a tour of the city by such a nice lady.”

Zara offered me another smile. “You don’t even know me, how can you say I’m a nice lady? I could be a murderer.”

I felt that was a bit odd to say but smiled anyway. “I guess I’ll have to take a chance.”

“Well, I’m happy you did. For such a large city, it is sometimes very hard to find friends, and an elven one at that.”

“An elven one?” I asked.

She waved her hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just that your folk are rare in this part of the world. I only know of one elf who lives in the city. Well, I guess three now that I know about you and your uncle.”

That piqued my interest. “Oh, is there a famous elf that lives here? I can’t say that I’ve heard of him.”