Since the Fifth Era began, the gods — whose divine pronouncements had already become rare — had personally intervened in the war that started two and a half years ago and ended a year and a half ago, causing it to end abruptly.
The Seven Churches had begun the intensive crackdown on cults starting after that war.
The Shadow Amalgamation had also become restrained after that war, and begun targeting the servants of so-called evil entities.
Reportedly, many new cults had emerged after the war. The Truth Faction — which Ais had indirectly crossed paths with several times — was among them, and was the only new cult she knew by name.
Setting aside the post-war newcomers, every other hidden organization Ais knew by name had been founded at least a century or two ago.
"The more I think about it, the more I feel the divine war ran deeper than anyone knows. The winds of change are coming."
The more she connected what the Shadow Amalgamation member had said to everything else, the more Ais had the feeling that something enormous was approaching. That was the only way to explain a cult beginning to combat evil.
"Could the four-nation equilibrium and seven-church coexistence that has been stable for 1,353 years be about to change?"
The more she thought, the more urgency she felt: if a period of great upheaval actually arrived, would Sequence 7 or even Sequence 6 be enough to keep herself safe?
"Enough. Focus on what's immediate." She shook her head, decided to stop spiraling. Right now, the most pressing thing was — if she didn't get back to the Femi house fast, she was going to miss dinner.
That said, even though the divination said no one was following, she still looped through Joyewood first as a precaution before doubling back through the Southbridge District on foot to the Femi house in the West District.
It was approaching half past six by now. When the maid answered the door, Ais found that Leel's father was already home from work, sitting in the sitting room comforting an anxious Leel.
"Mr. Leel, Detective Fal has arrived."
Before the maid had finished, Leel's question came first:
"Ais, what happened? You said you'd be back before four-thirty."
Ais stepped into the sitting room to find Leel's face unmistakably unhappy. If not for the servants nearby, he might have been halfway across the room already.
"I'm sorry, Leel. I ran into an unexpected situation and it took a while." She apologized, then turned to Owen Femi:
"Good evening, Mr. Owen — haven't seen you in a few days. Sorry to impose again."
Owen shook his head with a laugh:
"Don't say that, Detective Fal. I'd far rather Leel bother you than come bother me. Mia says he started getting anxious when five o'clock came and you still hadn't returned."
Ais settled beside Leel and said quietly:
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I ran into a difficult character, but I had the better of it and walked away clean."
"I see. As long as you're not hurt." Leel said, understanding. Then he immediately pressed his advantage:
"Can Ais stay tonight then? You only got halfway through the story of the brilliant son and the terrible father."
"You're right — it's bad form to leave a story half-told. Fine." Ais had nothing pressing, and agreed without much resistance.
After reassuring Leel, she caught Owen Femi watching and found herself recalling that Leel's father had been capable enough to have had the opportunity to become an Extraordinary. He was a former Steam Church follower, which meant he'd probably at least seen copies of Rosselle the Great's journals — even if never the originals.
Ais still hadn't forgotten her plan to forge the Emperor's diary and sell it, so she took the opportunity to ask:
"By the way, Mr. Owen — I've recently developed some interest in the Rosselle the Great notebooks written in cipher. Do you know of any way to distinguish authentic copies from fakes in the market?"
Though the question caught Owen off guard, he'd fielded too many unusual questions in his life to be more than briefly thrown. He settled quickly and replied:
"Ah — I don't have any real expertise in the cipher notebooks, Detective Fal. But I can describe what the ones I've seen looked like, if that would help."
"Even that would be useful, Mr. Owen. Thank you in advance."
As Owen described what he remembered, Ais worked through the feasibility of the forgery plan in her mind — and the more she thought, the more appealing it seemed.
For Ais, forging the Emperor's diary was a low-risk, reasonably-rewarding proposition. The only downside was that buyers were unpredictable. But put alongside detective work: both had unstable income, yet a single page of the Emperor's diary could fetch 5 pounds, while finding a commission worth 5 pounds was no simple thing. And the risk was considerably lower than detective work. Unless a buyer also happened to be able to read the diary, forging entries wouldn't easily expose the fact that she understood it.
Even if another transmigrator — or someone deliberately tracking the orchestrator of her transmigration — learned she understood Chinese, Ais wasn't sure that was actually bad.
"The diary's been circulating for nearly two hundred years already. As long as I don't flood the market, it should be fine."
When Owen finished his description, Ais had made up her mind to act on the idea.
Over dinner, after filling the gap she'd left in Leel's story, the two kept talking until nine-thirty before each heading to bed.
The next day, having stayed for one more breakfast at the Femi house, Ais returned to Joyewood. With temporarily nothing else requiring her attention, she finally turned seriously to the detective career — and for now, that meant advertising.
After spending a morning studying which papers Beklund's residents actually read, Ais — not wanting her name in front of the upper classes — chose The Beklund Daily, which catered primarily to the middle-class readership of the city's various districts.
All editions were partly distributed by street-side paperboys, giving broad coverage and reasonable pricing — perfect for a detective like Ais who couldn't freely travel all over Beklund.
After paying 25 pounds, the same small corner of The Beklund Daily would carry the same notice for the next month:
"Ais Fal — a private detective skilled at handling all manner of affairs. Strictly confidential. Reasonable rates. Located at Number 7, Burlingford Street, Joyewood District."
After lunch, sitting at the desk in the upstairs study, Ais was inventing a piece of scandal for the Emperor to have committed.
"Don't blame me, Emperor. Your diary is simply too valuable — five or six pages would cover half a year's rent for me."
She muttered this while her hand kept moving. Progress stalled quickly, though, because she simply knew too little about the Emperor.
Setting down the pen, Ais suddenly thought:
*"The advertisement is already out, so I should probably stay closer to home. Once
(Continuing Chapter 96)
a commission comes in, I should probably avoid going out too much — otherwise if it happens to arrive and I'm not here, I'll lose the opportunity before I've built any reputation.*
In that case, I'll have most of my free time in the evenings. That means I could still visit the Extraordinary gathering — just in the evening slot.
Ais thought about this and felt the weight of productivity settling over her like a yoke.
"Come to think of it, I could also get a small dog to use as a cover — to make it less obvious that I can divine things, and to give me a better reason to collect divination media from clients."
Ais wasn't normally interested in pets — but thinking of future commissions involving tracking missing people or objects, she concluded a dog would be genuinely useful.
"The issue is I'd have to learn how to train it. At minimum, it can't relieve itself all over the sitting room floor. How is it that the moment I start thinking seriously about work, there's suddenly so much to do?"
Author's Note (this chapter):"The issue is I'd have to learn how to train it. At minimum, it can't relieve itself all over the sitting room floor."
A Witch should really have a cat.