Kint opened the door to witness a blue his eyes had never known before.
The sky stretched before him like an endless ocean. Not a cloud could be seen, the Shroud was just a memory in the open air.
The expansive window before him encompassed the whole length of the massive high ceilinged room.
The Inspector looked around, noticing the other three walls in the room were lined with bookshelves, filled to the edges. Every volume was in mint condition but Kint saw prints from the days of the first Apostles, and likely some before that.
There was a circular marble table in the center of the room. Two chairs were laid on either side of it, angled toward the sky outside.
“Inspector Kint!” A cheerful voice sounded across the room.
A handsome man in a tightly embroidered red and white suit strode to meet him.
Lord Fatcher Doene put out a hand and Kint took it.
“Come.”
He gestured to the table.
“Sit.”
The two sat, the Lord spinning his chair to face him.
“Have some tea.” He advised, gesturing toward one of two steaming cups on the table.
The Lord reached out, taking a sip of his own, smiling with pleasure as he did.
Kint leaned forward, lifting the cup tentatively, and putting it to his lips.
He paused, eyes surveying the brown liquid.
“Not very trusting are we, Inspector?” Lord Fatcher grinned.
Kint drank the tea.
It was very good, giving him a feeling of warmth, and comfort.
“Good, right?” The man asked, grinning.
“Yes.” Kint replied, uncomfortable.
He set the teacup down on its plate.
“Lord Fatcher.” The Inspector began turning to face the expectant man.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”
“Of course.”
He raised the cup to his mouth, taking another sip.
“When Elsha Gray asks, there’s not to do but answer.”
A sly grin split the man’s lips.
“And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet you, Inspector Kint.”
Kint’s brow furrowed, concerned.
“Really?”
The Lord nodded, giving him a knowing smile.
He took another sip of tea.
“You’ve been quite the busy man these past few days. The Network is positively buzzing with stories of your time in the 11th.”
Fatcher shook his head in wonder.
“Taking on five Acolytes at once, swaying the crowd to save a grieving mother, and escaping untouched with a petulant Lord at your heels.”
The Lord raised an eyebrow.
“That’s a lot of action for such an unambitious man as yourself.”
Kint narrowed his eyes.
“I didn’t have much choice. If I hadn’t done what I did, Elsha would have gotten us killed.”
Fatcher frowned.
“Well, I suppose that’s true. Ellie does have a bit of a soft spot for broken girls.”
He cocked his head to one side.
“But, from what I understand, your investigation was essentially over by that point. So, why even meet with Lord Echrus in the first place?”
The Inspector grimaced.
“You’re well informed.” He muttered.
The handsome Lord gave a mischievous smile.
“Well, I have to keep up appearances at least. I am a Doene after all.”
The Doene family was said to play the game of politics better than any other, taking after their founder, Jocinder Doene. It seemed intelligence gathering was a mark of pride for Lords like Fatcher.
Kint reevaluated the man. Only now realizing how young he was. He walked and spoke with the bearing of an experienced aristocrat, but if he was in the Academy with Elsha, he couldn’t be more than twenty-five years old.
…And already ruling over the 4th ranked Doene District
“So what can I help you with, Master Kint?” The Lord asked, stirring his drink with a small spoon. “Elsha said you needed a favor?”
He glanced up from the swirling tea to meet Kint’s eyes. There was an intensity there that hadn’t been before.
Business had begun.
Best not to fool around.
“District 13 is crumbling.” Kint began. “People are unsatisfied, murders are up for the first time in Lord Crecius’ tenure, and the Church, in league with this ‘Sentinel’, has driven the Kadenites into a frenzy.”
“You don’t fool around, do you Inspector?” The Lord chuckled. “Apologies. Continue.”
“A dozen people died this morning and I’m told there’s a culling in the works.”
Kint observed the Lord’s reaction, none of this information seemed new to him at all.
The man continued stirring his tea, unfazed.
“And you’d like me to step in? Is that it?” He asked, still staring at the tea. “You know sometimes it’s necessary to… trim the grass, as they say. It’s the quickest way to lower the temperature in a district.”
He glanced up at Kint, and grinned at what he saw.
The Inspector couldn’t help but frown at the callous words.
The man was utterly bored by all of this.
“We don’t want you to step in, necessarily.” Kint continued. “We think there’s a good chance Crecius will try to come after us in the near future.”
“I’d say so.” The Lord chuckled.
“Right… and we’d like you to serve as a safeguard against that.”
“Hmm…”
The man took another sip of tea, considering.
The Inspector pressed forward.
“We think there’s something going on in the Districts that’s far more sinister than social unrest. Something in the 11th District that Crecius wants covered up.”
“The murders in his… Shoe factory.” The Lord muttered.
“Exactly…” Kint responded, “But it’s more than that. I mean, think about it, Crecius used a Black Seal to get Elsha and I to Investigate. But, why use a Black Seal to send Inspectors from the 13th to investigate a crime in the 11th? It doesn’t make sense.”
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“Unless you’re worried an Inkhold Inspector might stumble upon the secret facility you’ve built beneath the factory grounds.”
The Inspector’s eyes widened, unnerved. How had this man known about the secret facility? Had he guessed?
“Right… Anyway… We’ve been gathering evidence, and we have enough of it to assume that whatever Crecius has been working on down there, is what’s causing the unrest. It’s messing with people's dreams, somehow.”
Kint frowned as the Lord began shaking his head.
“And… We believe this problem extends beyond just the 11th Inkhold and 13th Vorvan Districts…”
The Inspector trailed off.
The Lord was grimacing, like he’d tasted something fowl.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Fatcher asked, uncomfortable.
“Saying what?”
“That word…”
“Wha–”
“‘We’” The lord cut in, cringing as he spoke. “You keep saying it. Why?”
“Elsha and I hav–”
“No.” Fatcher cut him off again. “No, that's not right.”
He shook his head.
“I–” Kint stammered, before he was cut off again.
“From where I’m sitting, Inspector Kint… there is no ‘we’”
He gestured to Kint with both hands.
“There is only ‘you’.”
He frowned.
“You are the one sitting here. You are the one asking for a favor. You are the one with a daughter in the district… Thus, you are the one with something to lose.”
“Elsha has been with me on this the whole way.” Kint argued.
The Lord folded his hands on the table.
“Really?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“And you haven’t been pushing her? Asking her to go just one step further? Asking her to set up this meeting? To use her family name?”
He stared at the Inspector accusingly.
“Elsha values control, master Kint. She needs predictability in her life, simplicity. She’d never willingly put herself in such a vulnerable position.”
Kint glanced away.
He had pushed her. He had manipulated her.
The words he’d said in the mortuary, their conversation on the Tube after the dust up in the Arena.
What he’d said on the bench last night.
He’d manipulated and lied the whole way.
But she knew all that now…
She’d chosen to trust him.
He gritted his teeth.
“She said you owed her a favor.” Kint pressed. “That you’d help us.”
The Lord leaned back, exasperated.
“Elsha Gray doesn’t need my help.” He chuckled. “Her father sits on a throne of coin in the Asheeli provinces, and I have it on excellent authority that he’s ordered no harm will come to her… And as for the favor.”
He shook his head.
“You’re sitting at a table with one of the ten most powerful men in House Doene. That’s the fucking favor.”
Fatcher rubbed at his forehead.
“Gods… Before I even hear the rest of this… ridiculousness.”
He made a flourishing gesture with his hand.
“I’d like to know what I’ll be getting in return.”
The Lord met Kint’s eyes, cocking his head.
“I–Elsha–”
“Yes. Yes. Elsha’s favors.”
He leaned in, serious.
“Allow me to explain something for you, Inspector. For reasons you will never understand, Elsha can have infinite favors from me. However, for those same reasons, she will never enter this room.”
He pointed to the door.
“If she were to come in here and ask me herself, I’d grant her whatever she wished. But she hasn't, and she won’t… It’s just you. And I don’t owe you anything.”
He made a small gesture with his tiny spoon.
“Soooo… what do you have to offer me that’s worth your life, and that of your little girl?”
He gave an unkind smile, awaiting the Inspectors reply.
Kint opened his mouth, then closed it.
The Lord nodded, leaning back in his chair, watching Kint flounder.
The Inspector had thought this would be easy. He’d thought the Lord would happy to take Crecius down a peg. That that would be enough to guarantee their safety. But, it seemed Lord Fatcher Doene had no interest in Crecius’ heretical experiments. So what did he want?
What could a Lord like this possibly want from him?
“I can see you’ll need some time.” The Lord noted.
He snapped his fingers.
The door swung open behind them. An attendant walked in pushing a cart full of pastries and treats, wheeling it over to the side of the table.
The Lord grabbed a plate and began picking confections to snack on.
He dismissed the woman after the plate was filled.
“You may go.”
The Lord sighed, moving to sit back down.
“Any ideas?” He asked, an earnest expression on his face.
Kint was frozen.
What did he have? What could he offer a man such as this?
An Apostle, one of the truly Blessed in the world. Not just some Acolyte or small time Lord. This was a man of true power.
He couldn’t fathom what a favor from him might be worth, or how he could possibly supply that kind of value in return.
Fatcher dabbed a hint of jelly from his lip with a napkin.
“Let me give you some help.” He supplied. “A bit of a story to push you in the right direction.”
He took another bite of pastry before sliding the half eaten plate away.
“When I was a boy,” He began. “My father strove to instill in me a great respect for the Kadenite people. He would say that most Blessed were a weasley sort, and there were some Kadenites, a special few, that had the will of a hundred Blessed men put together. And to make his point, he told me stories of great men like Darren the Surefoot, or Kraven the Blade. Once, he even let slip that Fadien was half Kaden. I’m still not sure if that one’s true though.”
The Lord smiled, remembering.
“But, I was stubborn, you see, and naive. I did not believe my father, I thought they were just stories. No Kadenite could be worth even a single Blessed, I thought.”
He shook his head.
“So, one day, I asked my father if there was any man alive who could match the ones in those stories. A real Kadenite, that I could see. And to my surprise, he said there was.”
Fatcher Doene stared into Kint’s eyes.
“He told me of a man of such purpose, such singular will, that it frightened his peers. A man who could carry the sins of a city, and walk out clean on the other side. A man who fought monsters in the night, and could see your very soul.”
Kint’s eyes hardened, fists clenching below the table.
“I was stunned.” The Lord continued. “I couldn’t believe there was such a man in the world, and a Kadenite, no less. I asked my father if I could meet this man, or at least see him. He told me he’d consider it.”
Fatcher poured himself some more tea from a small pot, taking a sip.
“So, a few weeks later, in the dark of night, my father woke me from my comfy bed in the Ignatium and took me down to the Districts of Kaden City, where we met an Overseer who led us to a row of small houses in a mule district. And, as the sun brought light to the fog, my father pointed to a man in a dark suit, smoking a pipe outside of one of those houses. He said, ‘That man enforces the Fifth for half of Kaden City. He’s a Dowser, with a will of Iron, and a heart of ice… His name, is Kint the Keen.’”
Kint stiffened.
The Lord smiled.
“Of course, seeing him, I wanted to meet the man. I wanted to confirm if what my father said was true. But when I went to ask our guide to introduce me, I became afraid. There was such hate in the Overseer’s eyes, such malice for the smoking man, that it made me realize something. All the things my father had said were true. Kint the Keen had a Blessed will.”
Kint flinched at the comparison.
The Lord continued.
“Kint the Keen was a man who carried the sins of the city on his shoulders. A man who fought monsters in the dark. A man who was hated by his peers, because he was simply better than them. The true ideal of what the Blessed were meant to be.”
Fatcher looked out the window in wonder, then sighed.
“You know… As I sit here now, I realize…”
He turned back to meet Kint’s eyes.
“That man, that Blessed man… That is a man that I might do a favor for.”
Kint was silent, frozen like prey caught in a trap.
The Lord smiled, shaking his head.
“It really is you, isn’t it?”
The Inspector did not respond.
Fatcher’s smile grew.
“Prove it.” He said. “What’s my aptitude?”
“Wind.” Kint grunted.
The Lord cocked his head, surprised.
“You dowsed me already?”
Kint shook his head.
“Your temperament.”
Fatcher looked at him skeptically. Then he smiled.
“Incredible.” He sighed. “Where have you been, Overseer?”
“Do I get two favors if I answer?” Kint growled, irritated by the satisfaction the Lord seemed to be gaining from his pain.
The Lord laughed.
He grabbed a glistening pastry, taking a bite. Satisfied with himself.
“Alright, Master Keen…” He said, enjoying the name on his lips. “Remind me again what you need from me?”
There was a burning fire in Kint’s chest, but he pushed it down.
He’d get what he needed, even if he had to use the name ‘Keen’ again.
“Elsha and I are going back to the factory tonight to find the Lab. We’re going to enter it, find out what’s been causing this mess, and put a stop to it.” He said flatly. “At a minimum we’re going to collect evidence of the Lord's crimes. We’ll then deliver that evidence to you, so you can use it against Crecius and the House Vorva should anything happen to us.”
“Black mailing a Lord.” Fatcher nodded appreciatively. “Bold.”
“So we’re done?” He asked, impatient. “You’ll do it?”
The Lord couldn’t resist drawing the answer out a few seconds longer.
“You can count on me.” He said eventually, smiling that satisfied smile.
Kint stood sharply, making his way to the door.
He felt dirty.
This man had played him for a fool.
He’d known who Kint was the entire time.
He hadn’t cared about protecting Elsha.
The Lord had just wanted to put him off balance.
The bastard.
Kint moved to open the door, then paused.
He turned back to the smiling Fatcher.
“What happened between you and Elsha?” He asked. “Why won’t she meet with you?”
Fatcher’s smile remained, but his eyes hardened. There was no anger in them, just cold.
“We’re going to be working closely in the future, Master Kint. Let’s not start off on the wrong foot.”
He gestured for the Inspector to leave.
“I’ll be in touch.”