Candlelight flickered, casting Cyrien's silhouette—pen in hand, annotating scrolls—against the aged bluebrick wall.
"That boy named Lucian came by again today?"
Lady Yinhale was bent over the curio shelf, her fingers gently brushing the strings of a cracked guqin."He seemed to be returning a robe," she said casually.
A low hum thrummed from the broken string. Cyrien gave a cold laugh."Why return clothes through a side wall? Have our men returned?"
"According to the spies at Lateclear Tower," Lady Yinhale pulled a half-scorched slip of parchment from her sleeve,"he lived in a temple up until a few months ago."
The red ink on Cyrien's brush froze midstroke. When he looked up, his gaze was sharp as a blade."You mean to tell me that foul-mouthed brat was... a monk?"
"This morning, I had the maids search Kael's room while he was out," Yinhale said, wiping ink from his hand with a silk handkerchief."They couldn't find the inkstone."
"Whether he's a monk or not doesn't matter."
She looked out the window where the silhouette of winter-bare plum branches carved swordlike shadows onto the glazed panes.
"My informants uncovered something else."
She pressed her palm to the parchment. The name "Ye Wuchen" burned a cold flame in Cyrien's pupils.
Outside, the copper water clock ticked louder. Plum blossoms fluttered like snow.
"Let's wait and see."
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-Dusk stretched the shadows of stone lions. Outside the Ministry of Justice, frost crusted Kaelen's brocade robe.
For the thirteenth time, he pounded the brass-inlaid knocker. Cold from the gilded beast-head soaked through his palm.
"Pereon, come out!"
Inside, a delicate clink of teacups.
"Your Highness, I suggest you return," came Pereon's voice, wrapped in steam like a melting icicle.
"I'm not asking you to investigate," Kaelen kicked the door, "I just need a few men!"
The vermillion doors quaked. Pereon's sigh drifted through the thick wood."It's not that I won't help. His Majesty has given direct orders."
"Surely, you don't plan to question every child in the capital?""If you still hope to inherit the throne, this would only erode public trust."
Kaelen's nails dug into his palm."Everyone at court knows you serve me. If one of my brothers ascends the throne...""Imagine what they'd do to you."
Silence fell inside. Only the slow dripping of the clepsydra pierced the wind.
At last, Pereon's voice returned, layered over the rustle of turning pages:"There's no need to bait me, Your Highness. I haven't abandoned you.""If you ask me, we should start with the case itself."
"Start with the case? What does that mean?" Kaelen asked, knocking again.
No reply came.
"Hey! Pereon! Answer me!"
Only the north wind replied.
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At Lateclear Tower, Kaelen slammed the case file onto the map table. The jolt rippled the tea in his celadon cup.
"What the hell did he mean—'start with the case'?"
Cyrien approached holding a lamp, its flame dancing across the walls."We've been trying to trace the origin of the nursery rhyme..."
"If we think about it, the rhyme is the case itself."
Kaelen frowned."I know what 'the golden crow rises, the jade toad wanes' refers to—that's Uncle's Vermilion Seal and His Majesty's lantern rites.""But what the hell is 'the black tiger weeps, the flood dragon stares'?"
Cyrien rubbed the secret report inside his sleeve."I heard that the Sword Immortal often wore black robes embroidered with tiger patterns."
"Ye Wuchen?"
Kaelen suddenly stood, then slumped."I've never even seen him. Rumor says he left the southern city years ago."
Cyrien looked toward the window. The season's first snow had begun to fall.
His voice was calm.
"He's here now."