Chapter 70
Inside, the portico proved far more spacious than it had appeared from the outside, a long chamber with a high ceiling supported by rows of cream-colored marble columns, its walls adorned with paintings depicting the victories of the Palaiologos family in various battles, and at the far end of the room sat an officer in a neat uniform behind a large wooden desk piled high with stacks of documents.
The officer, a middle-aged man with hair beginning to gray at the temples and a thick, carefully trimmed mustache, lifted his face as they approached, his sharp eyes immediately settling on the rolled parchment in Nirma's hand.
Without much speech, he extended his hand, and Nirma handed him the letter, while Arya stood beside her with an alertness that never wavered.
The officer carefully unrolled the parchment, laid it upon the desk beneath the light of an oil lamp that had just been lit because the room was rather dim, then drew a small magnifying glass from his desk drawer, a rare tool that suggested he was no ordinary officer.
He examined the wax seal with great care, comparing it with another document he retrieved from the stack beside him, then inspected the purple ribbon, briefly lifting it to his nose as if to ensure that its dye was truly from the palace, not some cheap imitation from the market.
He read each line of writing on the parchment meticulously, his lips moving soundlessly, his eyes narrowing from time to time when encountering certain words, and after several minutes that felt like an eternity, he nodded.
A firm nod, a nod that declared all examinations complete and the results satisfactory.
"This letter is authentic," he said in a deep and authoritative voice, the voice of someone accustomed to making important decisions and never doubting them.
"It was instructed directly by His Majesty Emperor Alexios I Komnenos, bearing a seal that cannot possibly be forged, with a purple ribbon used only for imperial documents of the highest order.
Your request to meet Georgios Palaiologos is accepted, Lady Nirma and Lady Arya.
Please follow this commander of the guard, he will escort you to Georgios's private meeting chamber.
And may your investigation proceed smoothly, for the murder case of Étienne d'Arques has become a topic of discussion in many circles, and the truth is eagerly awaited by many parties, including the Palaiologos family themselves."
They left the Prefect's soldiers outside with Arya's brief yet firm message, that their duty now was to wait and stand guard, not to follow them into a chamber reserved solely for the official guests of Georgios Palaiologos.
Nirma stepped first into the private meeting chamber, Arya half a step behind her, and when the two women reached the threshold of the open door, their steps halted at once by an unexpected sight.
At the far end of the room, illuminated by oil lamps set upon three-legged bronze stands, sat a man clad in a fine sea-blue wool robe trimmed with marten fur at the collar.
Georgios Palaiologos held a goblet of diluted wine in his right hand, his fingers loosely circling the silver rim as though he were enjoying an ordinary afternoon without the slightest burden.
When he heard their footsteps, he slowly lifted his face, and a faint smile curved upon his thin lips, a smile impossible to read whether it was hospitality or subtle mockery.
He then set the goblet upon the table before him, the sharp chime of silver touching teakwood echoing clearly in the silent room.
Georgios Palaiologos laughed, a brief, light laugh, like a passing breeze that happens to stir a curtain by the window.
And when the laughter ended, from somewhere his left hand suddenly held a piece of bread dipped in olive oil, and without the slightest awkwardness he ate it with his right hand, while his sharp brown eyes never left the faces of his two visitors.
Nirma stood upright at the threshold, gazing at Georgios Palaiologos with an unreadable expression.
She caught every subtle movement of the man, from the way he chewed the bread slowly to the manner in which his fingers tapped the table after placing the bread back upon the silver plate.
Inside her mind, which never ceased its work, Nirma began to compose the first question she would pose, while in her steady chest, her heartbeat remained ordinary, undisturbed by this deliberately casual reception.
At last, Georgios Palaiologos wiped the corner of his lips with a linen napkin, then leaned back in his chair with a posture that declared him the absolute master of this room.
"Please, be seated, Sir and Madam investigators from the Emperor," he said in a tone warm yet holding something behind it, something Nirma had yet to decipher.
"I have heard much about you, even before that warrant reached my desk."
Nirma remained standing at the threshold, feeling the silence suddenly grow too heavy to bear.
There was something unsettling in her chest, not because she feared or trembled before a high noble such as Georgios Palaiologos, but because of the way he ate bread and sipped wine so casually, as though they were not official envoys bearing the Emperor's warrant, but merely two strangers who had accidentally wandered into his private chamber.
So without much thought, Nirma slowly shook her head, a small gesture unclear whether meant for herself or for Georgios, while beside her Arya discreetly tapped her left thigh, which occasionally trembled, calming herself in a manner known only to those accustomed to hiding nervousness behind a façade of composure.
There, at last, Nirma spoke, her tone sounding flat though a slight tremor failed to be fully concealed.
"We apologize, Sir Georgios, for requesting such a sudden audience.
Believe us, this is something we could neither avoid nor postpone, as investigators directly appointed by His Majesty the Emperor to uncover the truth behind the death of Étienne d'Arques."
Her words flowed like water slipping between stones, smooth yet encountering subtle resistance here and there.
She disliked feeling awkward, and she hated having to admit that the nervousness was truly there within her, however small it might be.
Georgios Palaiologos smiled kindly, then let out another soft laugh, the same laugh as before, impossible to tell whether it was sincere or merely the polite courtesy of a noble accustomed to receiving guests from every stratum.
"There is no need to feel awkward, much less nervous like that, Sir Arya and Lady Nirma," he said, raising his left hand to gesture for them to come closer and sit.
"In truth, I take no offense whatsoever at your sudden request for an audience.
On the contrary, I am curious what has prompted the Emperor to send a pair of young investigators to handle a case that perhaps could have been resolved by ordinary city guards."
After saying this, Georgios Palaiologos reached for the silver goblet he had earlier placed upon the table, his long fingers encircling its rim with elegance, then he slowly drank the diluted wine before Nirma and Arya.
His throat moved up and down as the wine flowed within, and when he set the goblet back upon the table, a drop of wine still dampened the corner of his lips, which he casually wiped away with the back of his hand.
To be continued…