by I H Laking
“I’m sorry, but would you mind not speaking in code, if possible?” Ambrose let his poise slip a little.
“My apologies, Inspector. There was a bit more to my uncle than met the eye, it seems.”
“How do you mean?”
“He was a successful businessman - his house was - is - on Eastview Drive.”
“Outside Traville’s boundary walls?” Percy said. “Fancy.” He returned to jotting down notes in his pad, which he had promptly produced.
“Fancy is an understatement. My uncle never married; he was a bit of an eccentric. He spent much of his fortune hunting for relics and oddities in faraway places; Mechs weren’t enough for his insatiable curiosity. Now he’s passed, his will has been executed. The house is to be sold, and the proceeds distributed between myself and my three siblings.”
“Is there a problem with your siblings?” Ambrose wasn’t seeing the point. He glanced up at the clock - he would be late for work if this conversation didn’t get a wriggle on.
“My siblings are fine. It’s not the house that’s the issue; it’s what’s in the house. Or at least, what’s hidden in it. My uncle left crystal clear instructions - the first person to uncover his hidden treasure chest will keep what they find.”
Percy let out a low whistle, followed by a quiet “sorry” as Ambrose gave him an irritated look before answering.
“So you need help finding a treasure chest?” he said. “I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be official business I could help with. Family disputes are not matters for the Citizens Protection Force; we’re strictly here to keep order.”
“I understand, Inspector.” Ethan bowed slightly. “Thank you for hearing my story, regardless. It’s been an honour to meet you both. Shall we?” He popped his hat back on and held his arm up for Felicity, who smacked it down. She marched over to Ambrose and stood toe to toe with him. Her tone was quiet; barely a whisper.
“Now you listen to me, Inspector. I like this young man. I like him a lot. And you are not going to leave him with the impression that our family doesn’t look out for others!” She turned back to Ethan. “We could go tonight, couldn’t we? Visit your uncle’s house and let Amby have a poke around?”
Ethan's eyes lit up. “We could!” he exclaimed. “We’ve been taking it in turns to have access to the house day by day. Today, I’ve got the key!” He fumbled around in his pocket, and produced a brass skeleton key with a red feather attached. “But as the Inspector’s already said, it would be outside his line of work.”
There was a pulling in Ambrose’s gut, quite separate from the results of Felicity’s cooking. He knew how much his sister wanted to impress the young man, but to go against the Citizens Protection Force’s rules of public engagement would be breaking protocol.
But we could always attend as private citizens…
“You could just go after work.” Percy didn’t look up from his note taking to catch the scowl Ambrose threw his way.
Still… there might be some advantage to all this. Get out of the house for an evening…
“That’s a wonderful idea!” Felicity clapped her hands together. “We could go out after I cook dinner, and-”
Dinner?
And with the thought of another night of Felicity’s cooking, Ambrose made up his mind.
“Why don’t we go out for dinner at Ethan's house?” Ambrose said hopefully. “Are your uncle’s servants still employed?”
“Yes, they’ll stay at the house, even once it’s sold,” said Ethan. “I’ll have them prepare something for dinner. What a splendid idea!”
“Excellent,” said Ambrose, “have them set a table for four.”
“Four?” Percy looked up. “Who else is going… oh, but…”
“Your help would be welcomed, Detective Percy.” Ambrose couldn’t help but feel a little smug at Percy’s crestfallen look - he’d walked into the very storm he’d created.
“Splendid, splendid! We’ll get some crayfish from the market while we’re out,” said Ethan as Felicity joined him.
“Don’t you mean crawfish?” Percy furrowed his brow.
“Pardon?” said Ethan, his eyes unblinking.
“I was under the impression crayfish were usually referred to as crawfish down south,” Percy said.
“Yes, of course, crawfish.” Ethan looked a little perplexed.
“Right,” muttered Percy. “Off you go then,” he said, dropping his notebook clumsily on the floor.
As the door clicked shut and Percy picked up his notebook, Ambrose closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair.
This is the last thing I need.
The sound of the door opening again brought Ambrose back.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, as Percy headed out.
“I have to run an errand, Inspector.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now!”
“And were you planning on joining me at work, as you usually do?”
“I thought you were feeling poorly.” Percy looked inquisitively at his partner.
In all the hubbub, Ambrose had almost managed to forget his stomach pains. Now, as he stood there, a familiar rumble returned.
“Alright, fine. Get going, and I’ll see you tonight.”
The door had slammed shut before Ambrose could even complete his sentence. After all the commotion of the past few minutes, he now found himself slumping into one of the sitting room chairs, trying to ignore the nagging pulse of his gut.
What a day it’s been already.
II
The last glimpses of sunlight were fading as Ambrose and Felicity made their way by carriage down through the gates of Traville’s main walls and into the slums. Ambrose was wearing his best suit, and had even foregone his favourite hat in exchange for a top hat to match Ethan's earlier efforts. Felicity was resplendent in a dark blue gown and thick fur wrap, which she clutched firmly to her neck.
The dense crowd pressed in on all sides of the carriage as people rushed to find shelter before the night chill set in, their clothes mostly a drab contrast to Ambrose and Felicity’s efforts. Ambrose watched the faces passing by, a microcosm of the Empire’s citizens crammed into the main thoroughfare. Thieves and beggars, businessmen and workers; all passed through the main street to get into the capital’s bustling interior where those who could afford it lived behind the comfort of the walls below.
Looking back at Traville, Ambrose watched the gaslights bursting to life along the streets that lined the southern hillside. Those at the top of the hill lived in luxurious mansions, whilst the struggling masses eked out their existence below.
Especially in the slums.
A palm slapping against the window brought Ambrose back to the present moment. A lady with a shawl pulled tight around her wrinkled face held up a hand to the carriage as it moved away. Her eyes followed Ambrose as the crowd broke apart a little, and the carriage sped off.
“We’re all a day away from begging ourselves.”
Ambrose looked back at Felicity in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, it’s just something Ethan said to me the other day. I think he has a point; we never know what’s coming our way, do we?”
“No, I suppose not.” Ambrose mulled over the statement. “You’re quite taken with this fellow, aren’t you?” he said.
“He’s nice,” said Felicity as the carriage neared the Boer river, where the slums thinned, giving way to the smell of fish, factories, and rubbish. “It’s hard to find anything nice around this city.” Felicity wandered off into thought, a trait Ambrose was glad they shared. For all her loudness, Felicity still found time for quiet reflection occasionally.
Ambrose looked out to his right, catching the final band of blue on the horizon as the carriage turned east, and the early stars twinkled overhead. By the time the carriage entered Eastview Drive, there was little visible over the surrounding plains. Far off to the east, the silhouettes of snow-capped mountains disappeared into
the blackened sky, broken only by the lights of dozens of villages, and Benadrill, the university town that lay in the middle of the plains.
With a final clip and a weary clop, the carriage crawled to a stop; they had come to the last house on the street, beyond which the wilds took over, leaving the luxurious mansions behind. As he alighted, Ambrose found himself looking up at the rows of houses that sat on the eastern side of Traville’s hill. The houses were all raised high off the ground, set into the cliffs to maximise their view of the dawn. Each dwelling was a unique colossus; balconies strutted out from the multi-storied structures, parading their exquisite filigree and vast bay windows. The houses were amongst the finest in all the Empire, tucked far away from the bustle of Traville’s busy streets. Pulling his attention from the houses, Ambrose looked around for Percy - he was meant to meet them here, or so his message had said earlier in the afternoon.
As if to answer Ambrose’s growing sense of annoyance, the sound of thundering hooves rose from the south, and another carriage came into view. It flew onto Eastview Drive, tearing up in a hurry before settling in the cloud of the dust it had gathered in its flight. The carriage's side door flew open and a dishevelled mass of black, white, and puffed red popped out.
“My sincerest apologies, Inspector!” Percy cried, barely concealing his distress. His suit, crumpled and untidy, had clearly been thrown on with great haste, leaving the paunchy detective looking like he'd rolled through the streets before he arrived. The carriage driver, in this case a Mech, was down in a flash to put the wooden steps out for the less-than-respectable Percy to clamber down. As the detective gingerly descended to the cobbles, another face appeared from the carriage.
“What in all the Empire is a 765 Messenger Mech doing here? And what have you done to your leg?” Ambrose was used to Percy’s quirks and tardiness, but this was unusual even for his standards. As Percy hobbled over, barely bending his right leg, the Mech walked straight past Ambrose, across the small gutter that lined the cobbled street, and into the tidy bushes that surrounded the entrance to the mansion.
“As I said Inspector, I’m terribly sorry I’m late.”
“Never mind that, are you alright?” Ambrose was trying to pick which strange occurrence necessitated his attention the most.
“Hmm? Oh, the leg. It’s nothing, really.” Percy dismissed Ambrose with a wave of his hand, proceeding to dab his sweat-soaked forehead with a stained handkerchief.
Ambrose looked over to Felicity, who had frozen on the spot, her knuckles white against the fur around her neck. Having seen his sister worried before, Ambrose decided to take matters by the collar; anything less than a perfect evening would be a disaster by Felicity's standards.
“Felicity, won’t you excuse us for a moment?” Ambrose said, leading her by the arm to stand by the lamplit steps that ascended to the house of Ethan's uncle. Felicity nodded meekly, and Ambrose whirled around.
“Now you had better give me a good explanation for all of this in a white-hot minute.” Ambrose bore down on his partner, who was attempting to fix his collar as best he could. He knocked Percy’s hand away, and began adjusting the collar himself.
“Well, it’s just… I… well, I can’t, Inspector, with all due respect.”
“You can’t what?”
“Give you an explanation.”
Ambrose stepped away. Something was wrong with Percy Portland - distress lurked in his eyes.
“You were gone all day, you’ve turned up late limping like an injured soldier who’s slept in his best clothes, and to top it all, you’ve brought a Messenger Mech with you that’s just disappeared into the bushes,” said Ambrose.
“Yes.”
“And you can’t provide me with an explanation?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
It was all Ambrose could do to stay calm. He stepped back, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. He then fixed his partner with his most serious gaze.
“Percival. Tonight is special for my sister. I am a reasonable man, as you know, but nothing can ruin this evening. Felicity has found a man whom she rather fancies, and that is important to me. Do you know why?”
“Because you want her to be happy?”
“Of course I do. But more importantly, if Felicity settles down with someone, I am unlikely to endure so many visits from her, hopefully less likely to have her trying to match me with one of her friends, and certainly less likely to ever have to eat her cooking again without someone else being there for moral support.”
Percy nodded.
“I will give you one chance to explain things, Percy. One chance. And then we will make our way inside and try to help this young man with his problem.”
Percy’s shoulders slumped. He seemed torn, and Ambrose wondered what could possibly be going on in his mind. Eventually, Percy let out a sigh.
“Alright,” he said, “I’ll tell you. But you have to understand, what I did, I did for a reason.”
Ambrose’s heart skipped a beat. “Percy, what did you do?” he asked, stepping in closer.
“I… I…”
“There you are!”
Ambrose swung around to see the figure of Ethan standing on the first step by the roadside, his arms flung wide. “I thought you might’ve gotten lost!” he exclaimed, as he walked over to Felicity and gave her hand a peck. Ambrose threw a look at Percy, but he knew the moment was gone. Whatever was happening, he would have to wait until later to figure it out.
Ambrose meandered his way to Ethan and Felicity, who were sharing some quiet words together. “How lovely to see you!” said Ethan, shaking Ambrose’s hand heartily. “Wonderful hat,” he said, turning to Percy. “And you, Detective Percy! Is your leg alright?”
Percy gave a grimace. “Just an old injury,” he said with a stutter and a smile.
“Well, I do hope the stairs won’t be a problem.” Ethan glanced back at the steep path he had just come down.
“No, no, not at all.” Percy waved the three of them on. “You go ahead and I’ll catch you up. I shan’t take long.”
With one final glare towards Percy, Ambrose turned and walked alongside Felicity and Ethan up towards the house, leaving Percy to falter his way up the carved stone steps.
III
Putting aside Percy’s completely baffling behaviour as best he could, Ambrose looked up at the house before him. As he climbed the wide steps through the hedge, a sense of awe came over the inspector.
The house was a mansion by anyone’s definition. Made of pure white stone, the house stood three stories tall and boasted two wide wings liberally dotted with stunning bay windows. Outside the house, immaculately manicured gardens cascaded down the hill in a series of steep terraces that ran up to the entrance hall. Gaslights throughout the front garden and on the walls of the house provided a warm glow to the entire affair. Stealing a glance at the sky, Ambrose watched the constellations above, and for a moment, he was transported far from Traville to a place free from care and worry, where peace sat like a warm blanket on his soul.
“Impressive, don't you think Inspector?” Ethan broke through Ambrose’s thoughts.
“Quite.” Ambrose pulled his coat tighter as a chill wind blew in from the southeast. With a cold shudder, he stepped up into the light that eked forth from the mansion and through the enormous double doors. Inside, the soft lighting revealed an entrance hall that rose three full stories, bordered by balconies that fanned out from a broad central staircase. Above Ambrose, enormous tapestries covered the walls, and three chandeliers hung at varying heights from the roof. Overall, however, the hall was dim, as half the lights had ceased to function; Ambrose found himself straining to see the end of the hall where the stairs ascended to the balconies.
No sooner had Ambrose and the others stepped through the doorway than they were greeted by the creaking of floorboards as a Mech stomped around the corner. Despite his own considerable height, Ambrose was forced to crane his neck to take in the hulking Mech. Its body was a
dull, brushed grey; a stark contrast to the polished brilliance of most Mechs throughout Traville. The enormous Mech’s arms swung low, almost brushing the floor as it crossed the hall.
“Ah, Pemberton! Good to see you’ve remembered to greet our guests this time,” said Ethan. “And is Pritchard around? Where has that cagey butler got to?”
“I’m here, I’m here, young master Ethan.” A short man with an enormous hunchback, a long crooked nose, and a pinstripe suit stepped out from behind the Mech and swept an arm to the floor. “It’s an honour to have guests in the house once again.” He righted himself and took a closer look at Felicity. “And rarely have we had one so ravishing,” he said, swooping in to kiss her hand.
“Now, now, Pritchard.” Ethan yanked the butler’s hand away. “We’ve talked about this. We mustn’t to be too forward, must we?”
“I suppose not,” muttered the butler. “Perhaps I can offer our guests a drink?” he said, moving towards a small side table that brimmed with wine and spirits. “Pemberton here will take your coats.”
Ambrose took off his coat as Pemberton peered down at him. The Mech was a sight to behold, with a thick torso and enormous iron rings around both shoulders. Spikes surrounded its wrists, and its head was a flat dome, covered in scratches.
“Pemberton!” whispered Pritchard. “The coats!”
Pemberton lumbered to life with a leering groan. The Mech thrust its hands out towards the new arrivals and waited. Ambrose laid his coat across Pemberton’s hand, which was almost big enough to hold the entire garment. At that moment a cry rang out from behind Ambrose, and he swung around to see Percy looking as white as a sheet.
“Inspector! It’s a Shade!” he cried.
There was a slight pause and then the hall erupted with laughter from Ethan. Pritchard joined in, but his laugh devolved from a cackle into a cough, and he eventually stood silent.