I was impressed with Alexius’ mansion as I approached. As I strode through its outer doors, I fully appreciated why he preferred this abode to the drafty dean’s quarters at the top of Seer’s Tower at the university.

I’ve never actually seen the dean’s quarters, of course, but I have to imagine that the majority of wizards’ towers are drafty. They certainly can’t give a great deal of room, the way the university carries on about needing funding for more land and new building projects every time the Doge’s council sets the annual budget.

The location was certainly high rent enough to my own abode to shame. The summit of Castle Hill was reserved for only the oldest families in the city of Whitegate. Money alone was insufficient. To own a domicile among the scions of the republic, one needed to be the patrician of an ancient house, or to be waiting with a fortune set aside when just such a house goes extinct or bankrupt.

I know for a fact that Alexius was not the former.

The entrance hall was exquisite, made entirely of white marble. A series of pillars ran to either side of me, all along the length of the hall. The roof was high, and I could see a balcony ringing the hall up on what must be the third floor above me. The front garden had featured some rather exquisite pieces of statuary, but the whole entrance was empty of any furnishings. It only served to make the hall seem all the more cavernous, and myself all the more insignificant.

Rooms branched off in all directions, and I slowly became aware that I was alone.

The door had opened when I knocked. At first, I presumed that must be the work of a servant, but none presented themselves.

I considered striking off on my own briefly, before discarding the notion. In addition to being quite rude, it was hardly wise to go traipsing about a wizard’s mansion. From the number of doors I could see, each leading off into secondary hallways, this mansion could quite quickly become a maze.

Not to mention that there would be no way for me to be certain that the walls and doorways would not begin shifting behind me. Supposedly wizards only had such powers in the stories, but it’s not the sort of thing one wished to discover is real only as one watches his only means of egress melting into a wall.

After less than a minute, my choice for safety was rewarded when my host appeared before me, or rather behind me. I can’t say which of the doors behind me Alexius came from; I heard none of them. Regardless there he was, with his hand on my shoulder. I’m not ashamed to say that I jumped when I first felt his touch, but I soon calmed when I spun around to find him chuckling at my display.

“My dear Camillus, you must spend less time working. You’re so tightly strung.”

Before I even fully realized what was happening, Alexius had taken me by that arm and begun leading me through one of the sets of doors off to my right. In other circumstances I might have been embarrassed or angry about my display, but his easy-going demeanor instantly had me at rest.

Perhaps it was some sorcery. But even if so, it saved me any further loss of face.

“Perhaps you’re right,” I replied, after a small pause to finish collecting myself. “My family owns a small estate near the ocean a ways east of the city. I may quit there for a few weeks soon to have a rest.”

“The fresh air will do wonders for your constitution; you may take my word on that.”

My host was all congeniality, not at all the dour man I had seen so often at the palace of the Doge. He even seemed about a decade younger than I had seen him at the palace, although I never approached the man this closely there. Perhaps it was simply my imagination, or perhaps the change in age was the result of some illusionary magic,

Although in that case, I must wonder when the spell was cast. Then at the palace, or there at dinner?

Alexius’ figure wasn’t particularly impressive. He was tall, standing at about six feet, but also quite thin, giving the impression that he was made of twigs. He was clean shaven on his angular face, but his black hair was somewhat shaggy, giving the impression that he simply couldn’t grow a beard. At court, he always wore the most expensive and ostentatious silk garments available on Tailor Street.

Of course, so did everyone else at court.

Here he wore a plain outfit with a black doublet and with no visible accessories, though I did notice that it was lined in silk. His most striking feature, however, was his eyes. They were alight, as though he seemed to always be laughing at some joke that only he was privy to, even if the rest of his face showed no sign.

“I had dinner prepared in the small dining room, since you are the only guest. More intimate that way. Does it meet with your approval?” he asked me.

“Of course, I’m always uncomfortable when I’m invited to dinner, and placed in a hall so grand that we must to shout to one another to be heard.”

It wasn’t even a lie. My father always insist that we eat dinner in the great hall, even when the family only numbered six and the hall was built for twenty.

“It’s merely sensible, isn’t it? Would you care to pray before dinner? I only keep a chapel to the Veiled One, but my wife worships Orphia. And in the guest’s wing there are also a few shrines…”

A shiver ran up my spine when he mentioned that he only kept a chapel to the Mistress of Bones, and a hint of my old apprehension returned. Of course, he was likely only being patriotic. The Veiled One is the patron of Whitegate, and most wizards don’t even believe in the gods if the stories are true.

Still, the prolific use of white marble in the construction of this manse took on a more sinister aspect for me; white is the color of death.

“No, no. That’s quite alright.”

“I only pray before bed myself as well.” Alexius seemed to be studying my face for something, and I tried to consider what it was exactly I should be trying to project.

I needn’t have bothered worrying, since a moment later he looked away. A moment after that, he opened the doors and lead me into what he had called ‘the small dining hall’. In fact, the room looked about the same size as my father’s great hall, which only made me wonder what Alexius’ grand dining hall must look like.

He seated me at one end, and took the place next to me. Before I could even think of something to say, a girl that looked somewhere in her ‘teens, entered with a flagon and a set of glasses. I suddenly realized that I hadn’t seen a single other servant since I had stepped foot inside.

At least I took the girl for a servant, at first. Before I noticed that she had brought three cups, and took a seat on the other side of Alexius.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

The girl was demur in her demeanor, and quite beautiful though her attire was very strange. She was dressed in a boy’s clothes, with pants and a tunic. The only concession she seemed to make to her gender in her apparel, was a flower pin attached to her long straight raven hair.

As I looked closer, I could see that the pin seemed to be a lily. Though speaking honestly, I’m not such an expert in flora as to attest to it with absolute certainty. I know the difference between a rose in the tulip, but not much more.

She poured a glass for each of us, which I accepted gladly. The wine had been warmed and spiced with some flavor I couldn’t quite place, but it was certainly strong. On my empty stomach, a single gulp was sufficient to leave me momentarily dizzy.

I was in the midst of my second gulp when Alexius suddenly announced, “Let me introduce you to my wife Julia.” And I nearly choked.

Alexius said nothing more, merely smiled as I coughed and sputtered, but Julia reached out a comforting hand. “Are you alright, Ser?”

“Quite alright.” I managed hoarsely after a few moments. “The wine was just a tad strong; I haven’t eaten all day.”

Then Alexius chose to speak. “Of course we’re neglecting our guest. Julia, please fetch the first course.” Julia kissed her husband on the cheek, then rose and left the room, presumably to do the very thing. I was too busy trying to regain my breath to concern myself with it, however.

“You think she’s too young for me don’t you.” Alexius was giving me that searching look again, and I decided that I didn’t much care for it. Of course, I couldn’t just out and say that.

“I don’t think it’s any of my business, my Lord.” I replied diplomatically.

“She is, of course. Our arrangement is political, rather than practical. She has her own chambers somewhere in the northern wing, and it’s been more than a year since I even set foot in that part of the house. Would you believe that I’m over sixty years her senior?”

I wouldn’t, in fact. I took a closer look at the man, given my previous confusion regarding his age.

His face was quite comely, but most importantly, I saw no sign of wrinkle or imperfection. His posture was not stooped, and his gaze portrayed a cunning that showed no sign of dotage. I couldn’t imagine him being older than thirty, though my original estimate at the court had been nearly forty.

Of course he was a wizard. Was she a wizard too? Was she some middle-aged sorceress, or older, going about in a girl’s body?

I certainly didn’t enjoy my own adolescence enough to wish for it to be my permanent state of existence. But being neither a woman, nor a wizard, I could not speak to the motivations of either.

My dawning realization must have shown on my face, because the next thing he said was, “I’m a great deal older than I appear my young friend.”

I tried to find something meaningful to say, but found nothing, so responded only lamely, “As you say, my Lord.”

To my relief Alexius’ ‘wife’ reemerged a few moments later, followed by a small handful of servants.

They laid out a spread of food, rather expensive. Not for its size, since it seemed rather precisely portioned for three people, but rather for how exotic it was. Most plates were foreign delicacies of figs and dates, a type of pink fish, and countless other cuisine I had only heard of, but never actually tasted before.

There was even a rather curious dish called a potato, which my host assured me were a delicacy among the dwarven peoples. It had been mashed to the consistency of a kind of pudding, and served with both salt and butter. I can’t claim to have enjoyed everything offered, but overall, the uniqueness of the experience thrilled me. The mashed potato most of all.

I was determined to send my servant to the market in the dwarven quarter to seek out that particular foodstuff, next time the larder was in need of restocking.

Once we had dined, and I had worked my way through a further two glasses of wine, the servants cleared away the plates.

Then my host began to speak. “I suppose it is time I told you why I invited you here. You enjoyed your meal, I hope.”

“Oh yes, very much so.” I replied quite honestly. I noticed that my words had begun to slur just slightly, and so resolved to have no more wine that evening.

“Very good,” Alexius had a servant bring him a pipe. “Would you care for a smoke?”

“Of course.” I was quite proud that I was cosmopolitan enough to know how to pack a pipe and smoke it. Alexius even seemed a bit impressed as he watched me work.

My father was convinced that smoking was the habit of common farmers, and not proper behavior for a nobleman. But in this matter, if in few others, I defied him. I even smoked exotic blends on occasion, with the captain of one of my family’s trading barges. When he was bringing in some very lucrative cargo, he would lead me out to the most extraordinary cathouse I’d ever patronized to celebrate.

And celebrate we did.

“Well perhaps you are aware that your business has come to the attention of the Doge and myself.”

I must have gaped when Alexius said that.

I own a small firm of researchers and scribes. We produce only the highest quality of histories and family records for noble clientele, but it was never something I had ever imagined might bring me to the attention of so illustrious a personage.

Alexius clearly noted my surprise. I tried to maintain my composure, but the combination of the wine, and the enormous implications of what he said, completely overruled me.

He didn’t wait for me to respond, since he could tell what difficulty I had finding any words. “Oh yes, my friend. We are both very impressed. The work you did for the Baroness Stirba, detailing the reign of her father, was particularly elegant in my opinion. Respectful, yet filled with none of the grandiose hyperbole that so regularly drags down the medium.”

At last, I found my tongue again. “Yes, yes. I always tell my men how important it is to be accurate. False praise does no one any good, no matter how effusive it is.”

“Still, a risky line to take with a woman holding the reputation of the She-wolf of Shadowtree.”

“A more moderate, but factual, representation of a family’s merit, is the most prized. I think.”

“The Doge and I quite agree.” Alexius nodded as he spoke.

He began to pour me another glass of wine, and in my excitement, I didn’t think to tell him I’d had enough till my glass was already nearly full. At that point it would have been rude, so I kept quiet and let him continue. “That is why I recommended that you have the honor of producing the Doge’s official biography.”

“My lord, of course I shall comply. This is a great honor indeed.” I took another long draught of the wine to steady myself from all the heady excitement.

“Of course, there is also another matter that I could use you for, call it a personal favor.”

Alexius smiled in a way which left me unnerved; of course I was in no position to refuse. Perhaps that is what unnerved me.

I made some vague noises about, “Whatever service I can be…”

Alexius looked like a pampered feline. “Excellent. That’s exactly what I wished to hear. I want your help answering a question. What’s inside this box?”

As he spoke, a lacquer box ornamented with jewels appeared on the table between us. I reached out to open it, but my hand passed straight through the illusion.

Alexius clapped my back. “The true answer to this riddle may prove just as elusory, under it’s own simple exterior.” He cleared his throat. “There is an important divination spell underway even as we speak to determine that answer. The cost of this spell has already run into the thousands of ducats…”

Thousands! thought I. And he speaks of it so casually.

“…and requires constant observation. Myself, my wife, and my other close associates only have so much time to devote to this pursuit. We need other reputable men of learning; upon whose discretion we can trust.”

“I won’t be required do any spell work myself, will I? I’ve never shown any aptitude for practical divinations myself, I’m only a scribe an amateur historian.” I felt sweat running down the side of my brow.

“No, we only wish you to act as an observer. Watch the spell in progress and observe it unfold. We have so few sympathetic connections to the box itself, it’s a very meandering piece of divination. Most of the images it shows are just noise, but there’s no telling where the vital clues may be. The things you are shown may be from many places and many times, all we want is for you to take your shifts with the others and chronicle what you see. Later, I shall examine all the records myself to uncover the salient information, although any notes you have on the matter in the margins will be well appreciated. I imagine I shall have a hell of a lot of words to sort through before all this is over.”

“So that’s all we’re trying to find out? What’s in the box?”

“More or less. Any information you find about where the box came from, or where it’s going, or how to open it would all seem pertinent as well. Since I’m not certain if we shall be able to uncover what’s inside without learning them.”

“Well, it just seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to, is all.”

“The Doge himself has personally entrusted me with this matter. It was under that context I first informed him what a trustworthy man that I believed you to be. So, can I tell him you’ve agreed?” Alexius was grinning at me again.

More than a thousand ducats!

It wasn’t as though there was ever any choice.

“I’d be delighted. When do we start?”