Three months of tedium had lead to this moment. Long nights and bleary-eyed days fuelled by coffee and a burning desire to have this puzzle solved. The closet he’d converted into a research study had barely enough room to turn around in. The small but deep makeshift desk was barely visible, fashioned from a thick wooden board secured against the walls on stout legs. Books and manuscripts, gathered from every isles between the continent, scattered amidst notes & journals.
Charts & printouts overlapped every inch of the walls, from copies of satellite imagery to ancient parchments so old they were barely legible. Knowledge bound to page and passed through the eons. In all this wisdom, it had come to one sentence. Prophecy often hid amongst the most mundane scraps of historical documents. Given the price he’d been paid to find it especially with the strict restrictions of absolutely no digital communication or references. The Baroness had always been an odd one.
Hastily scrawling the prophetic words into the agreed upon cypher, the note sealed with the crest of their patron’s order. The seal ensured there would be no worry of the delivery service tampering, even if they could read the damn thing. Even with considerable esteem of the Baroness, the seal of Nebula Conclave meant no unwanted eyes would dare glimpse the contents.
A shrill chime signalled someone at the front door, most likely the service come to collect the letter. In a mad scramble to collect his things and close up the bookshelves safely concealing the hideaway research station. Bounding down the steps, donning his satchel and coat while approaching the main entry, to pass on the note. He made up his mind to gather a corroborating tome from the North Harbour Archive. The chime pierced the peaceful morning again. “Alright, alright.” He mumbled.
Undoing the latch he had a strange thought, how long had it been since he’d sent the message he’d need a hand delivery? He didn’t even remember making the final decision as of yet. The handle turned easily as he began to swing the door open even as he searched his foggy memory. “Bit eager today…” He trailed off. Expecting the usual teen in trainers or astride an e-bike, he was caught completely off guard. Instead he was greeted by a tall rather slender woman in a plum coloured suit, with shoes so pointy they looked like spikes.
Her gaze met his astonished look with cool regard beneath her amber tinted eye shadow. “You know what they say about secrets?” Her voice was quiet though firm and resonate, carrying to him easily as she stepped up onto the stoop to be eye level with him. Her gleaming white teeth shone in the morning sun, looking more akin to a sharks grin than a mirthful gesture. “Two can keep one, if one of them is dead.”