Duncan went to the commoners' district with one thing on his mind: answers. He still had too many unanswered questions about Christopher Wilson. He searched through the tax records, questioned a few people and checked every available document, but nothing came up. There was no Christopher Wilson registered anywhere, and to make matters worse, he still had no clear idea what the man looked like.
Feeling defeated, Duncan eventually made his way to the Crimson Lantern.
The place was as lively as ever. Music filled the air while laughter mixed with the clinking of glasses. Nobles sat around tables drinking expensive wine, while performers entertained guests and elegantly dressed women moved between the tables, trying to attract the attention of wealthy patrons. The air carried the smell of wine, perfume and smoke, and despite the questionable activities taking place inside, there was something strangely comfortable about the chaos.
Duncan found an empty table and sat down heavily. He released a tired breath, poured himself a glass of wine and watched the room. Several women tried to catch his attention, but tonight he had little interest in any of them.
"At least have some fun."
A familiar voice came from beside him.
Duncan turned and found Lord William smiling as he drank from his glass.
"Don't look at me like that, child."
"Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Duncan asked, clearly uninterested.
Lord William stretched both arms lazily. "Here is exactly where I am meant to be."
Duncan let out a small chuckle and continued sipping his wine. William pulled out the chair beside him and sat down.
"So, how is the investigation going, child?"
"Stressful. I haven't found a single useful clue." Duncan sighed.
William took another drink before speaking. "You know, things like this don't simply come out in the open. Important information is usually kept hidden."
"And why should I listen to you?" Duncan raised a brow.
"Because people like me know almost everything."
William casually turned his head towards another table.
"Look over there. That's Chief Samson. He's going bankrupt."
Duncan frowned. "And how is that my concern?"
"You don't get the point, child." William smiled knowingly. "Everyone has secrets. Places like this are where you hear them."
Duncan remained silent for a moment, considering his words.
"I'll think about it."
He stood and walked away.
Duncan wandered through the Crimson Lantern, observing the people around him. Perhaps William was right. The place was filled with nobles, merchants, servants and people who had no reason to reveal their secrets in respectable places. Here, however, people drank, talked and forgot to be careful.
He had been so consumed by the investigation that he barely noticed how long it had been since he had allowed himself any pleasure. One of the women approached him again, smiling seductively. Duncan returned the smile and was about to follow her when a familiar face caught his attention.
Skender.
Duncan immediately stopped.
Skender entered one of the private rooms and sat down. Duncan followed after a short hesitation, leaving the woman behind.
Inside, the atmosphere was completely different. The room was large enough to resemble a private office rather than part of an entertainment house. A heavy ebony desk dominated the centre, its polished surface reflecting the dim golden light from the lamps. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, holding bottles of different wines and spirits. The curtains were thick and deep-coloured, shutting out most of the noise from the main hall, while the faint scent of tobacco and expensive perfume lingered in the air.
Several men were unpacking supplies from wooden crates. Bottles of wine, cigarettes, shisha and other items used by the establishment were being arranged across the room.
But Skender didn't look like himself.
His jaw was tight, his fingers kept tapping impatiently against the table and his eyes constantly moved between the men and the door. He looked exhausted, almost as though he had been carrying a burden for days and had no idea how to put it down.
"What happened?" Duncan asked.
"Nothing," Skender replied too quickly.
He stood and walked towards the door.
Duncan watched him carefully. The other men exchanged uneasy glances. One looked as though he wanted to speak, but the other immediately shook his head.
Something was clearly wrong.
Duncan slowly walked around the room, pretending to examine the place while watching them from the corner of his eye. Then he noticed a piece of paper lying on the desk.
He picked it up.
His expression changed.
"Zafarya."
Before he could read further, Skender walked back inside.
"My lord," Duncan said, holding up the document, "you bought these goods from the enemy kingdom?"
Skender froze.
For a moment, the confidence disappeared from his face.
"Mind your business!" he snapped.
"My business?" Duncan stared at him. "What happens when you're caught? Have you thought about that?"
"Leave me alone."
Skender's voice had lost its anger. Now there was something else beneath it-fear.
"They won't find out," he muttered.
"I pray they don't." Duncan lowered the paper. "I hope no one else knows."
Skender hesitated before answering.
"Only a few people. Sometimes, keeping your hands clean isn't an option."
Duncan looked around the room. There had been a ban on goods from Zafarya ever since the conflict between the kingdoms. If anyone discovered what Skender had been doing, the consequences could be serious.
But there was something else troubling him.
"Anything else?"
Skender's shoulders dropped.
"Some of our goods were stolen."
Duncan's eyes widened.
"What?"
"I'm afraid we might get caught. I've already asked Lord Matthew to investigate." Skender rubbed his palms together nervously, his usual composure completely gone.
"It's alright. Just relax."
"Easy for you to say," Skender muttered.
The door opened.
Lord Matthew entered.
"I've investigated it. Some of the goods are missing, but thankfully it doesn't appear to be everything."
Skender released a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours.
"Thank the gods."
Duncan watched the two men carefully. He wondered when Matthew and Skender had started working together so closely, but he decided not to ask.
He left the room and returned to the main hall, where music immediately swallowed the quiet tension behind him.
He found an empty chair and sat down to watch a performance taking place nearby.
The play told the story of a wealthy man who fell in love with a woman beneath his social status. She worked in a tavern, and despite his family's disapproval, he brought her home, hoping they would accept her. They refused, forcing him to abandon her and marry someone of his own status.
But he couldn't stay away.
He returned to the tavern again and again, only to discover that she had married another man. Eventually, the two began an affair. When both spouses discovered the truth, the woman was publicly disgraced while the wealthy man walked away almost untouched.
The ending was harsh.
When the actors finished, one of them turned towards the audience.
"Why should status be a barrier to love?"
The room immediately filled with opinions.
"Rich don't marry poor!"
"Only a rich man can marry a poor woman!"
"The rich and poor can marry as long as there is love!"
Duncan sat quietly, listening.
For once, he understood what Lord William had meant. The Crimson Lantern wasn't simply a place for pleasure. It was a place where people talked freely, where secrets slipped out between drinks and where everyone, regardless of status, became nothing more than a guest.
He was beginning to think William had been right.
He was about to raise his hand when a thought suddenly struck him.
Alora.
His expression changed.
He hadn't been home for three days.
How had he forgotten her?
Duncan immediately stood and left the Crimson Lantern. He mounted his horse and rode back towards the mansion, his thoughts filled with concern.
By the time he reached the estate, the sky had already darkened.
Rain suddenly poured from the heavens.
The horse neighed as Duncan pulled the reins and hurried it into the stable. Completely drenched, he walked towards the mansion, water dripping from his hair and clothes.
He entered the hallway, intending to go straight to his room.
Then he stopped.
His eyes settled on something-or rather, someone.
Alora.
She stood beneath the warm glow of the candlelit hallway, looking nothing like the commoner he had last seen. Her neatly arranged hair framed her face, and the elegant dress she wore made her appear almost as though she belonged among the nobles. The soft candlelight touched her skin, making her seem strangely out of place and yet somehow perfectly suited to the grand surroundings.
Duncan couldn't move.
He simply stared.
For several seconds, he forgot about the rain soaking through his clothes. He forgot about Christopher Wilson, the investigation, Skender and even the questions that had occupied his mind all day.
His eyes travelled over her face, taking in every small detail as though he were seeing her for the first time.
There was something different about her.
Something he couldn't explain.
Perhaps it was the way she stood in his home, or perhaps it was the fact that he had spent three days without seeing her and only now realized how much her absence had occupied some hidden corner of his mind.
She looked almost unreal beneath the candlelight.
Duncan's lips parted slightly, but no words came.
Alora noticed his stare and lowered her eyes, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Then she bowed politely.
"Good evening, my lord."