Crownsmith Chronicles

Castor's office was pristinely decorated. Two desks sat perpendicular along adjacent walls and a unique animal skinned chair was positioned to face either one. Book shelves, armaments, and a map filled the empty spaces while still leaving room for the beauty of exposed masonry. A captain sat at each desk; one was Castor and the other was painting fruit.

Castor sat up in his chair when he recognized who had entered. "What an uncommon surprise. I was just about to step out for a pipe. Do you care to join me?"

Neither of them noticed he was trying to extricate himself for a private conversation, Lucia least of all.

"Hi, my name is Lucia," she introduced herself, trying to make a case. "I believe you have met Benj. We are trying to gain an audience with General Calcutta. I believe I can provide him valuable insights into Key's investigation."

The captain at the other desk leaned to the side of his canvas. "Do you know who did it?"

Lucia was glad to have piqued at least someone's attention. "I can find out if you provide me with items associated with the abduction. Blindfolds, ropes, or any kind of weapon."

Castor, looking like he could bolt up from his chair at any time, visibly relaxed. "Do you have some kind of clairvoyance, talk to the spirits, or something like that?"

"Nothing like that," Lucia denied. "I'm very perceptive."

Benj felt like the conversation had taken a wrong turn. He should have accepted Castor's invitation to talk outside, but he resigned himself to disappointment as the conversation unfolded.

"Perception?" The artist asked, turning his canvas around. "What do you perceive about this? I get the feeling that I'm not using dark enough colors."

Lucia could tell it was supposed to be fruit, but the painted depictions were flat and grotesque. Still, it was her only chance to try to impress anyone. She drew closer, reached out her hand, and touched the driest area. Her world shifted as Benj disappeared, the painting turned around, and Castor's rigid countenance shifted to annoyance.

"What do you need a new house for?" Castor asked, stuffing his pipe. "You're only going to be there one more month. It's supposed to be temporary."

"But it's so small, and I can hear the people next door shouting and laughing all the time. I can't live like this. I need absolute silence or I can't sleep at all," he said as he drew a frustrated circle on his canvas. "It's loud, small, and there's a draft. I need a bigger house."

"Your highness, I beg you to reconsider...."

Lucia drew her hand away from the crudely drawn apple, and the vision died. She instantly knew that the painter was the prince, masquerading in a captain's uniform. She needed to be careful now. How she unveiled her insights needed to come across as attributes of her perception more than anything else.

"The painting is crude, but there is a subtle aspect of refinement to it. The pigments and canvas appear too fine for the common artist. Despite the clumsy brushwork, there is almost a hesitance like someone accustomed to making big decisions that could affect people's livelihoods and lives. Even the pressure of the brush betrays a life of comfort. Perhaps someone who would notice a draft before anyone else.

"There is an unmistakable grace here. The fruit sits with a kind of dignity, poised as if awaiting an audience rather than simple admiration. It speaks of banquet tables and the abundance of palace life. The choice of grapes, pomegranates, and apples carries the heavy symbolism of prosperity and rule. To a perceiving eye, it's all there: the education, the restraint, and the loneliness of privilege. Only a prince, steeped in refinement, could have painted such a masterpiece.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"You, sir, are no captain, and I am humbled to be in your presence." Lucia gave her best courtesy, wishing she had taken the dress for effect. "Your Highness."

Benj didn't know where she had gotten all that from, but he had spent enough time with her to trust her with his life. He followed suit and also bowed.

The prince was dumbstruck, and Castor got a closer look at the painting, wondering how it revealed anything except colorblindness and an impaired depth perception.

"Impossible."

"Incredible!" The prince applauded with dewy eyes. "You're the first person to truly understand my work. I know how you did it, but I still can't believe it! You must not let my secret get out. I am on an official mission to assist the investigators, and only a select few know about it."

"Can you two join me outside for a moment?" Castor asked with an edge to his voice. "Now."

Castor puffed rapid plumes of smoke before speaking. "I don't know how you know, but whatever you're doing, you have to stop. It's bad enough that you are threatening to blow his cover, but just by being here, you're going to blow mine. Is this blackmail?"

Benj held out his hands to show he meant no harm. "The only reason we're here is to investigate the abduction. No one is blackmailing anyone, and everyone's cover is completely safe, no matter what the outcome is."

Castor took long contemplative puffs from his pipe. "How did you do it then?"

"There is no trick," Lucia explained, waving the smoke away from her. "I believe I can solve any mystery if I can just look at where it happened or gain access to certain objects used at the time. I didn't know he was the…" Lucia looked around. "You know, before seeing his painting. I can prove it."

"Are you telling me that you can look at a knife and instantly know who it was used on?" Castor asked, glaring directly at her.

Lucia shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"If I find out that you're lying or have some kind of ulterior motive, I'm having a conversation with Reese that you will wish I hadn't," Castor threatened before setting his pipe down, walking into his office, and informing the prince, "We're going back to Key's. I'll get the horses."

The prince peppered Lucia with questions as they trod slowly down the street. Some of them were invasive, so everyone was happy when they reached their destination.

Castor stormed in with aggression that no one had seen before. He didn't glance or comment at the sight of Keebler and Lambro dueling with practice swords, wearing the display armor helmets.

"Corporal Logan, will you present the murder weapon from the case that your sergeant took all the credit for?" Castor demanded, leaving no room for questions.

Trudie waved the dueling corporals out of the way and marched for her box. She retrieved the murder weapon and presented it.

Instead of taking the knife, Castor made Trudie hold it a little longer while he waved for Lucia forward. "Lucia is a private investigator. She believes she also knows who your murderer is. She just needs to inspect the knife first."

Lucia took the knife in her hand. The metal was cold and… clean? "Why is it clean?"

"I washed it," Trudie replied, pleased with herself.

Lucia shook her head and hoped for the best. The room was replaced with an anvil as a blacksmith hammered glowing metal in the forge.

She repositioned her hand and tried again.

The blacksmith removed metallic snags with a file.

Lucia started to sweat as if she were standing in the forge. She tried again and again. The blacksmith hammered glowing metal in the forge. A circular sharpening stone honed the blade as it spun. A leather worker wrapped the handle.

Finally, she looked at the knife and noticed scratches on the blade. She put her finger directly on one of the abrasions, and her world became a familiar sight. A Crownsmith assassin had thrown the knife at a target and completely missed. She looked down as the assassin picked up the knife at her feet. She could see his face clearly and knew who it was.

"For now on, never wash a murder weapon," Lucia scolded, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Castor, may I have a private word?"

"Everyone out!" Castor bellowed with anger. He waited for everyone to scramble out, and only after the door had shut behind them did he say, "This better be good."

"This knife belongs to one of the assassins at the Crownsmith guild. I never learned his name, but I can point him out. He's one of Ren's men."