It was already late afternoon. From morning until now, I had been discussing the next month's plans with Frederick Clayton and William Helms.
The conversation had finally wound down when golden evening light began filtering into the room. William sat tapping the stem of his pipe absently, staring at some invisible point on the far wall.
I allowed myself a small, satisfied smile—relieved that the endless planning session was over—when Frederick quietly placed one of the sheets from his clipboard onto the desk.
"This is the list of steam-industry companies you are required to inspect and report on to the palace, my lord."
I looked at the names and the sheer number of firms listed.
A short, nervous, almost silent laugh escaped me.
"So many steam-industry companies…?"
Frederick glanced back at his clipboard.
"Yes, my lord… Is something wrong?"
I exhaled heavily.
"Nothing… it's nothing."
Suddenly William snapped out of his thoughts.
"Why don't we inspect those factories today, my lord? At least you'll have peace of mind—and you'll still have a full month to write the report."
I stared at him for a moment.
"Very well… Head Butler, go prepare the carriage."
Frederick looked mildly surprised.
"Understood, my lord…"
He bowed quietly and left the room.
I turned my attention to William—who was still in the room.
William noticed my gaze.
"Should I leave as well, my lord?"
I gave a faint smile.
"Well… perhaps I want to change clothes. Shouldn't you leave the room?"
William stared at me for a second.
"I… uh…"
My smile widened just a little.
"Clothing fetish?"
William waved the hand not holding the pipe frantically.
"N-no!"
I pointed calmly toward the door.
"Out."
He gave a small, awkward bow, smiled weakly, and hurried toward the exit.
After William left, I leaned fully back in the leather chair and raised both arms overhead, stretching to ease the stiffness in my shoulders and back.
I glanced at the clock in the room.
Three o'clock.
I stared at it in disbelief.
That meant I had been discussing plans with those two idiots for at least six hours?
I slapped my forehead with an open palm.
"How did I not notice the time passing…?"
Time continued to slip by—perhaps half an hour—while I waited in my usual ducal attire: long coat of my preferred colour and formal trousers.
Finally Frederick returned.
"My lord… the carriage is ready."
I ran a hand through my hair and rose from the chair. As I approached him I said,
"It would be better if you practiced knocking before entering from now on…"
Frederick froze for half a second.
I had already moved a few steps ahead when I suddenly felt him right behind me again.
For an old man, he moved faster than most young people. It was only a suspicion—but it was very likely that his true specialty lay in assassination or silent killing.
Perhaps it was just one of my darker thoughts.
After descending from the third and second floors, we reached the main hall on the first floor—and suddenly came face-to-face with Charlotte Vale, the Housekeeper.
Like everyone else, she bowed slightly.
Then she asked,
"Are you going somewhere today, my lord?"
I tugged my coat sleeve forward a little more—purely out of habit—and answered,
"Yes. Why?"
Charlotte thought for a moment.
"Do you know where the Security Advisor is?"
I gave a small smile.
"I sent him on a journey."
Charlotte's eyes widened.
"Then… who is managing the manor guards?"
I placed a hand under my chin, pretending to think—when a voice came from the top of the stairs.
"I am, Lady Charlotte Vale…"
Frederick and I turned. Charlotte tilted her head slightly to see.
A man descended slowly.
When he reached us he bowed.
"Greetings, my lord. I hope you are well. You may remember me—Leonard Vance, one of your solicitors…"
I forced a helpless smile.
"Yes, yes… I remember you. And fortunately, I am in perfect health."
In truth, this was the first time I had ever seen him.
He smiled.
"You placed the manor guards under my supervision, did you not?"
I knew he was fishing for confirmation. So I simply smiled and said,
"No… for the time being, control of the manor guards remains with the Head Butler."
Leonard's eyes widened in surprise. He gave a few dry coughs.
Behind us, Charlotte—who had been watching—let out a short, stifled laugh.
Frederick and I simply wore polite smiles.
After a brief and entirely unimportant exchange with Leonard Vance and Charlotte, I left the manor with Frederick.
Without acknowledging William again, I boarded the carriage. As always, Frederick and William took their usual seats.
No meaningful conversation passed between the three of us during the journey from Carlton House Terrace to Woolwich—except once, when William looked down at his pipe and muttered,
"I really need to buy a new pipe."
I gave him a pitying look.
"Only after you marry that pipe and throw it a full-night celebration will I allow you to get another one."
William opened his mouth to protest—when Frederick spoke.
"I agree with His Grace. You never spend money on anyone… At the very least, waste some of it on a wedding ceremony for your pipes."
William glanced sideways at both of us.
"Are you mocking me?"
I waved a hand lazily.
"No, not at all… Isn't marriage a serious matter?"
After that, both William and Frederick fell silent—whether from laughter or from the sheer normality of the joke, I couldn't tell.
One hour and thirty minutes later…
The carriage stopped in front of the Royal Arsenal in Woolwich.
Frederick opened the door. As always, I stepped out first.
But the moment my foot touched the ground, someone leapt from the roof of one of the Arsenal buildings—landing directly in front of us on both feet.
He spoke immediately.
"You're finally here. Then I'll be going."
The man was dressed entirely in black—except for a gear embroidery on his top hat.
Suddenly another voice came from the right.
"I'm right here… You're standing in front of a duke by mistake!"
The only difference between the two men was the embroidery on their top hats: one bore a gear, the other a lantern.
The man with the gear-embroidered hat—who had landed in front of me—bowed slightly.
"Forgive my rudeness, Your Grace the Duke."
Then he hurried toward the man with the lantern-embroidered hat, and the two of them departed together.
I turned to Frederick.
"Do you know who they are?"
Before Frederick could answer, William spoke.
"Most likely Night Keepers—one of the orders affiliated with the Royal Knights."
Both Frederick and I turned toward William.
"How do you know that?"
William brought the pipe to his lips for a puff—then paused at my question. He glanced around briefly before answering,
"You might not believe me… but…"
Frederick leaned in.
"But what?"
William smiled.
"The crows bring me the news."
I stared at him with open contempt.
"Are you being serious?"
He nodded solemnly.
"Yes… completely serious."
I gave him a thin smile.
"Then never be serious again."
William opened his mouth to reply—when the man with the lantern-embroidered hat approached us.
"I apologise for my colleague's rudeness, Your Grace. I am Sebastian Oakley. My partner is Alistair Zane. We are currently on assignment, so we must take our leave."
Without waiting for a reply, he hurried back to his companion and the two vanished together.
I glanced briefly at Frederick, then at William.
"These things are normal… Like a sparrow landing in front of you every time you walk."
Suddenly both William and Frederick covered their mouths and laughed quietly—thinking I wouldn't notice.
I exhaled deeply and stepped inside the Royal Arsenal.
───────────────────────────
A figure stood on the roof of one of the nearby buildings.
Another person approached from behind.
"My lord… shall we proceed according to the plan?"
But the man staring at the Royal Arsenal answered,
"No… cancel the operation."
The man behind him sounded surprised.
"Why?! What happened?"
The man in front replied,
"We have better plans now… Inform the Order to take no action based on the prophecy for the time being."
The second man bowed hurriedly, leapt to another rooftop, and disappeared.
But the first man remained—still gazing at the Royal Arsenal.
He twirled his black top hat in his hands. When he placed it on his head, he gave a strange, fleeting smile—and vanished.
It was as though no one had ever stood on that roof.
Never.
Ever.