20 years ago…
Flittering birds chirped cheerful tunes right outside his window, elegantly draped with thick embroidered curtains. Groaning to himself slightly while clutching his aching head, a much younger Elysius Blight limped out of his plump bed and plopped onto his chair. A very cluttered desk lay in front of him—books on various topics, music sheets, pencils and pens were only at the top of the long list of debris.
He yawned, brushing his hair tiredly as he flipped open a pair of music theory books and resumed reading them at lightning pace, recording down notes for his upcoming concert at the same time.
Only the week before, he was sitting down in the same position, coming up with ideas on how to kill Mr Stone, the man who'd pretty much destroyed his life. A few days later, it just… happened. He managed to subtly convince the politician to burn down Stone's mansion without linking himself to the crime.
What next? Even though his revenge was complete, something felt missing. There was still more injustice in the world that needed to be destroyed—but should he be the one to do it? Wouldn't that make him one of those foolish criminals who covered themselves with self-righteousness?
He held his head. It was no good thinking about it now; his brain was still weary from those many sleepless nights.
A soft knock on his bedroom door shook him awake, followed by a fluttery voice.
"The master wishes to see you, sir."
In stepped a maid, who bowed respectfully the moment she entered. Blight stopped writing.
"Thank you."
He got up and made his way to the dining hall without a trace of his weariness showing.
—
It had been about nine years since Blight came to live at Campbell Manor. Straight after being forced onto the streets, he immediately retreated to an orphanage, impressed the staff and other children living there, and made contact with various pick-pockets unnoticeably.
Then came the Campbells, a middle-aged, childless couple, who sought to adopt a child for 'charitable' reasons—except, Blight saw through their facade rather quickly: using the child as a shield to gain sympathy from their peers. He had heard of the Campbells just before they arrived; because they were Custodians and seemed to be living lavishly, the small town which they resided in protested against them.
Instantly seizing this opportunity, Blight charmed the middle-aged couple, got taken in as their adopted child, and acquainted himself with the rest of the household, who received him with alacrity.
Within the week, the villagers' anger simmered down after seeing this charitable act—and of course, a few donations—and a fragile peace lingered among them once again. This time, that peace was a dormant volcano. By using an adopted child to dispel the tension, the Campbells had ensnared themselves in the child's control, since he was so well-received by the villagers living there. And to make matters worse for them, that child was Elysius Blight.
—
"And how are your studies coming along, Elysius?"
Mr Campbell looked up from his breakfast. He and his wife, who was sitting silently at the opposite side of the table, were now well in their forties with streaks of grey in their hair and wrinkles on their faces. Nevertheless, the same regal air still hung over them, unchanged over the years. Blight gave a small grin before replying, "Yes, they're alright, sir. I've finished up on the first essay and practised the three sonatas for next week's concert."
"Good. Well, urm—"
He shot a sideways glance at his wife. She nodded encouragingly.
"Would you mind doing me a favour, Elysius?"
A 'favour' usually meant double checking important documents or giving advice on financial matters—as Mr Campbell was obsessed with stocks lately; it was hardly difficult to predict what he was going to be tasked with.
"Can you help me see if this company's worth investing in?"
A stiff sheet of paper with neat paragraphs of text etched all over it descended into Blight's hands. On the very top of a long list of investors was the name Paulos. He accepted it curiously, took one glance at it and said, "Why, isn't this the railroad company, Mr Campbell? The one owned by—what's his name again—ah yes, Mr Rochenbach?"
"Quite right, Elysius. On that sheet should be everything you need to know about the company; their projects, goals, financial position, and the like."
"Interesting…"
A smile lit up on his haggard face again; but this time, it was filled with the energy of one who has taken part in a bold gamble with a multitude of treasures at stake. For the rest of their meal, they sat in silence, staring down into their plates. The Campbells were never enthusiastic talkers in the first place.
After breakfast was cleared and the maids, directed by the haughty housekeeper, took over the dining hall, Blight excused himself from the table, declaring his intent in going on a short trip for research purposes.
In a moment, he was gone, taking the earliest train to the construction site of the biggest railroad projects in the country.
—
The sound of hammers clanging on cold metal dominated the scene. Busily hustling back and forth to their respective jobs, the construction workers paid no attention to the man standing above the short hill overlooking the valley—and their progress on the new rail tracks. Strong gusts of wind smacked Blight's face and whipped his hair around which made him squint as he held his fur coat tightly before it could fly away.
Birds of every kind around him were squawking loudly, returning to their roosts, while scurrying along the grassy ground was a line of ants, unnoticed by all eyes but Blight's. They were certainly moving rather fast into their miniscule holes in a crazed fashion like a flock of black sheep running from a ravenous wolf.
Up in the sky, all was calm compared to the earth; however, thick clouds just within the eye's view were lurking closer and closer.
Blight took a deep breath of this mountainous air and exhaled slowly with his eyes shut serenely. Standing beside was his butler, assigned to oversee his young master and protect him from danger. As he coughed to catch his master's attention, his white moustache waving, he said, "Don't you think it is a little… inappropriate to be standing in a place like this, sir? With all due respect, sir, I believe we should move into the room I have prepared for you, otherwise, the commoners—"
Here he glanced nastily at some of the filthy workers staring at them curiously.
"—will mistake you for one of them."
"There's no harm in that," laughed Blight. "At any rate, I doubt they'd be able to do anything. You should run along and double-check the preparations, Manfred. I'll return to the hotel before sunset."
"But—" protested the butler, who was swiftly cut off.
"I'll be fine."
After throwing off the unbudging butler, Blight strolled down the hill at a leisurely pace, taking in the rich scenery as he walked. Everywhere he looked was filled with dark green pine trees standing sturdily among the boulders. Ferns mixed in with the shrubbery, providing homes to countless little critters. The result? A soothing scene filled with endless animal chattering, fresh grassy scents, and bright green vegetation that seemed to calm your nerves at mere sight dominated his senses.
Although Blight's identity wasn't known to them, the active construction workers nonetheless greeted him with specially reserved caution, eyeing his expensive clothing. Some of them greeted him, others ignored the new face, paying attention to the meticulous detail in the rails; to Blight, none of this was important. He was here for information, nothing else.
"How are you doing?" greeted Blight smoothly, instantly winning most of the men's approval with his confident yet humble manner of speech.
"I guess we're doin' alright," returned one of them, shooting him a grin while pulling off his stiff grimy overalls before donning a threadbare jacket so ragged, it practically counted as nothing against the howling wind. Blight looked at him pityingly. In a second, he removed his own fur coat, held it out to the worker and said, "Here, take this—you certainly need it more than I do."
"W–What—"
The soiled man shook his head.
"I know I'm in no position ter take that, sir."
Blight did not retract his hand.
"Of course, I'm not offering it for free. All I require is information, sir, and this'll be yours."
The man gulped as if resisting the temptation to just take the coat; seeing this, Blight further enticed him, eventually persuading him to take the coat but not without gaining anything. Happiness beaming from his face the moment the coat was in his hands, the man, clutching his treasure like a protective bird, began to blabber freely, unleashing the full power of his tongue. In spite of half the speech being useless information, Blight stood on the spot, taking in every word yet filtering out anything he didn't need.
"So anything unusual ya say? Well, there's not much I can remember, sir, but I do think there were some pretty strange things that happened lately. The wind? Oh no, sir, this wind isn't really that uncommon here—keeps blowing dirt into my food too. Urm… There is something else but I'm not sure if it's anything useful fer ya, sir…"
Blight nodded, encouraging him to continue.
"Well… I find it pretty odd that I couldn't hear the boss from over there."
He pointed a thick finger at a half complete tunnel some distance away.
"Only yesterday, I could've sworn I heard his voice as clear as day from over there. Usually, it's almost impossible to not to hear 'im from there but today, nothing seemed to get into my ears. Perhaps, I'm just getting old. "
He chuckled to himself amusingly, but Blight no longer paid attention to the man. An all-knowing look came over his face; the same sensation one feels after triumphing over a tremendous enemy filled him once again.
Thanking the man one last time, he departed, fully intending to keep his promise with Manfred to be at the hotel before sunset. The sun had started its journey back down again.
—
"Where have you been?"
Manfred, the worn out butler, fussed over every aspect of Blight's appearance as if he were a little child—it was, however, a fact that his demeanour was a little indignified for someone of his class. After a quick brush down, the butler spoke up.
"Master Campbell is waiting for you in the private lounge below, sir. He expects you to have news for him."
Holding a rich cigar in one hand and the local newspaper in another, Mr Campbell seemed quite content with his current situation, even more so when Blight knocked on the door and entered, his appearance thankfully restored.
"Well, Elysius? Have you worked anything out so far?"
His voice was bright and cheerful but Blight could sense just a tiny bit of urgency behind it.
"Yes, Mr Campbell, I believe I know what will happen in a few days' time. By the way, I would strongly advise you to take out any money you might have in Rochenbach's company."
"You think the company will fall?"
"I expect nothing less than an irredeemable crash. The weather, for one, is a key variable in this crash."
Mr Campbell poked his head to the window, watching the wind blow and howl like a vicious animal.
"The weather is always windy like this," he commented. "I've been here multiple times and it's always been the same."
Blight took a teacup delicately, embracing the aromatic steam rising from the cup.
"Not this time. A strong storm will hit this region in a day or two."
"How can you tell?"
The white moustache was now positively dancing with excitement.
"If you pay attention to the surroundings," replied Blight majestically, waving his hand to indicate this idea, "almost anything can be known—you only have to search for it. In this case, I noticed the birds hastily returning to their nests and the ants scurrying into their little dens. Animals can sense if a storm'll be coming much more accurately than any human could. That's not all—" he added, seeing Mr Campbell's intention of interrupting him. "There were also anvil-shaped clouds, or Cumulonimbus incus as I believe they are called, floating in this direction, which is the most obvious sign yet."
Rubbing his hair thoughtfully, Campbell leaning back in a serious manner and blew out another puff of dense smoke,
"I'm still unsure… Although I can see where you're going with this, Elysius, I won't say I think you're right. It just seems… unlikely. There hasn't been a massive storm here for decades."
Blight, his face hidden by the smoke, spoke up quietly again, a sort of overpowering sense of superiority entwined in his voice as if he was about to play his trump card. Mr Campbell abruptly stopped smoking to listen carefully.
"There's still one factor I haven't said yet, Mr Campbell."
He took a deep sip before continuing his explanation like a professor in his classroom.
"Temperature inversion. When cooler air is trapped to the ground by warmer air, it causes sound to travel further, which, when combined with the worker's description, means the temperature inversion has been lifted. Moreover, temperature inversions act as a cap that delays storms, so when I heard that the cap had been lifted today, I knew a storm must have been approaching here for the past few days. The last storm recorded here was also caused by the temperature inversion lifting, if I'm not mistaken. It was recorded in the newspaper two years ago, I think."
Mr Campbell shook his head slightly in disbelief.
"Say that a storm does hit here. How does this have anything to do with Rochenbach's company failure?"
The sound of paper rustling trickled out.
"Five million crowns. That's more than three quarters of the company's net worth. As it's written here—"
He pointed to a long list of names on one of the files Mr Campbell had given him during the morning.
"Many wealthy Custodians have contributed massive sums of money to this ludicrous project, due to the excellent campaign Rochenbach launched a few months back. So far, the money is spent, materials bought, and everything going to plan, except for one thing—the storm. Since mature storms rarely hit this region, Rochenbach must've assumed it was safe to keep building on the rail track system around this place, but that's where everything will collapse. During a storm, the conditions here will become unfavourable for construction, but that will not stop the work from being carried out. I have taken up a conversation with Mr Rochenbach before and though his personality is not unkind, he's the kind of person to fold under pressure exceptionally quickly. These names here…"
He jabbed his finger at the list of investors again.
"They're quite infamous in the economic world for being rather tight with their money. They certainly won't let poor Rochenbach cancel this absurdly ambitious—and expensive, project—which he won't refuse either. This leaves a few possibilities at hand. One; the weather causes a plethora of accidents relating to machinery, preventing further progress. Two; the workers rise up against the idea of continuing construction in the harsh weather, also hindering progress. Three; nothing happens but due to eventual soil erosion along with wet terrain, the laying down of foundations will be stopped. In short, the project will not be moving forwards for quite some time.
"Now this may sound like a random question, Mr Campbell, but have you met Mr Paulos, the Sardicean businessman before?"
"Paulos? Do you mean the one that looks a bit like a walrus with that stupid moustache of his? The one always urging the president to forge stronger bonds with Sardis?"
"That's the one. Does he strike you as a particularly cunning man?"
"To some extent, yes. He undoubtedly gave the impression of a manipulative entrepreneur, especially from the tales I've heard from other Custodians."
"Well, I'm sure you're also aware of the fact that he owns multiple news offices?"
"Yes, what about it?"
"I guess you could think of it like this: if you had access to a majority of news outlets in the country, have set your eyes on a railroad company that could potentially link your two countries (the railway could link them through trading, after all), and see that the company is working on an overly ambitious project that is slowly crumbling, what would you do?"
"I'm not sure what you're getting to, Elysius."
Blight set his delicate teacup down and narrowed his eyes.
"I would spread the word of this weather to discourage the investors, stir up panic, and watch the company collapse to take over it myself. I think it's reasonable to say this would be Paulos' move to take the company for himself, given his manipulative personality. What do you think, Mr Campbell?"
Blight got up and stretched, while Campbell remained seated, deep in thought.
"I'm not quite so sure, Elysius… I mean, I understand how you've come to the conclusion, but somehow, for some reason…"
And he was lost for words.
"You don't have to believe me, and I'm not saying you have to either," said Blight softly. "I suppose… we'll just have to wait for a few days, don't we? Until then… do consider my advice and take out your investments while you can."