Author's Preface
“You’ll handle this house.” Casimir pointed his fountain pen at a quaint greenhouse with triangular eaves. The early morning sun shone through the cherry trees and formed shadow and light patterns on him and the herringbone sidewalk. Any other day, he would have admired it, but Casimir kept his nose to his clipboard, skimming through the long list of Weavers. Still so much to do before I can follow up on my hunch.
He clenched his teeth. Hurry up!
He looked back at his taller, broad-shouldered cousin lumbering up the sidewalk, with no sense of urgency or respect for his time. Casimir checked his watch and then glanced down at the homes that lined the roads on this block.
It’s 8 am. I would have finished this street already.
He finally snapped when he saw his cousin stop to give out a long, drawn-out yawn. “Jakes! We have twenty houses to complete before noon!”
“Okay, okay, ease off, will ya. I’m still waking up.” Jakes continued walking, but his steps slowed when he stretched out his arms for another yawn that creased his black uniform and twisted his tie. “It was a long train ride from Dolva to here. My bunkmate was snoring. Sounded like a choking pig...”
“That was two days ago,” Casimir said coldly.
When Jakes caught up to Casimir, he cracked a charming smile and shrugged. “I’m still recovering.”
“Tch.” Casimir tucked his clipboard underneath his arm and fixed Jakes’ tie. “The owner also operates a herbal tonic business. He is up on his permit, but he is a week behind on his Weaver licensing fees.”
“Sheesh, another one? Do any of the Weavers on this street pay on time?”
“No!” Casimir patted Jakes on the shoulder. “They never do. The late fees are not enough of a deterrent.” He let out a sigh and scratched his silver hair.
“Talk about throwing money away. Just join a guild at this point.”
“Now.” Casimir stepped back and pointed at the house.
“Yeah, yeah.” Jakes walked up the step and knocked on the green panel door.
After a minute or so, they heard a young woman yell, “Coming!” in a tired voice.
The door creaked open with the chain still attached, and a woman in her twenties peered through the crack with heavy eyes. After rubbing the sleep out of them, she got a good look at Jakes and her eyes widened. “Oh wow, you are flipping huge!”
Jakes puffed out his chest, flashing a smile as he rubbed back his slick black hair. “Well...”
Casimir rolled his eyes. That wasn’t a compliment, idiot. “Ahem.”
“Uh.” Jakes snapped out of his gloating and said, “Good morning, little missy. Is Mr. Peters home?”
The woman narrowed her eyes and turned up her nose. “I don’t know…what would a non-Aether-wielding type like yourself of…” She looked him up and down. “A questionable countenance and intimidating stature would want with my sweet old grandpa? ”
“He owes…”
The door slammed in his face.
“Heh.” Jakes’ shoulders slumped a little.
Casimir shook his head and pounded on the door.
“Go away! Before I call the cops!” The woman shouted from the other side of the door.
“Open up, we are with the Inquis! Your grandpa is behind on his licensing fees!” Casimir pointed to his inquisitor badge pinned to his chest, the Inquis family seal of a silver crow with a magnifying glass and a sword.
The woman cracked the door open again. The guarded look on her face disappeared when she saw Casimir and was replaced with excitement. “Wait, you’re the guy on the posters!”
Tch, not again. Casimir’s jaw tightened, and he took a step back.
“Can I–!”
“Ally, back away from the door!” called out an old, grouchy voice.
The woman was pushed away from the door, and Casimir saw Mr. Peters’ wrinkled face peering at him through the crack. “Ah, Casimir is here.”
The latch chain on the door was removed and swung open to reveal a tiny mustached man in his 60s dressed in a tweed sweater. Behind him was a doe-eyed woman dressed in a polka-dot day dress. Her light blonde hair was cut into a bob.
“Good morning, Mr. Peters,” Casimir said.
The old man gave Casimir a nod and adjusted his glasses. He squinted his aged eyes when he noticed Jakes. “A new one?”
Jakes raised his hand. “Morning, I’m Inquisitor Jakes, sir.”
The woman stuttered while pointing at Casimir, “But Grandpa, he’s, he’s, he’s…”
Mr. Peters patted her hand. “No… he is someone else.”
Tightness in Casimir’s muscles loosened, but his heart stung. I wish I had taken more after my mother's side of the family. This is a major inconvenience.
Mr. Peters shooed her away, “Go make some coffee for our guests.”
Jakes’ eyes lit up with eagerness, and he lurked forward. “Tha–”
Casimir raised his hand. “No, thank you, but we have no time to spare.” So many Weavers are delinquent on their fees, like you.
Mr. Peters frowned. “That is too bad. Another time then.” He patted his pockets. “Aw, there it is.”
He reached into his sweater pocket and handed Casimir a yellow envelope.
“Thank you.” Casimir accepted it and presented it to Jakes to count, but instead of taking it, Jakes crossed his arms and frowned.
He can’t be serious. Casimir shot him with a glare that could pierce stone; as a result, his cousin snatched it out of his hand and started counting.
Unprofessional. Lazy. Impudent. Casimir took his pen and flipped past the Weaver names to his cousin’s evaluation sheet and furiously wrote down a complaint.
When he was finished, Casimir looked up from his clipboard and whispered to Mr. Peters, “One more thing, what do you know about a new Weaver in town taking in students?”
“Here?” Mr. Peters furrowed his brow. “No. I haven’t heard of any new Weavers setting up shop. What about it?”
“Nothing.” Casimir turned to Jakes, who nodded in confirmation that all of the money was there. Casimir smiled. “Thank you for your time. ”
“Take care, gentlemen.” Mr. Peters gave Casimir a look of pity and closed the door.
Alone with only his cousin, Casimir allowed his mask to slip, and he slashed through Mr. Peters’ name with his pen. “The nerve. Too lazy to go to the blasted mailbox,” he muttered and then continued down the sidewalk to their next house.
He glanced back at Jakes, who was walking painfully and slowly behind him, and pouting at him like a petulant brat. “I did you a favor. Only a fool would accept a drink from someone who owes him money.”
“All Inquis have iron stomachs, damn it! I needed that coffee. Come on, I’m dying here!”
“You should have woken up earlier.”
Jakes caught up with Casimir and cocked his head to his side as he stared down at Casimir with frustration and bewilderment. Then looked down at his butt.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I’m looking for the stick.”
Casimir clenched his teeth and increased his pace. “I’ll handle the next house. You, obviously, need another demonstration. Too dense.”
Jakes long legs kept up with him with little effort. “I don’t get why you are taking this so seriously. We are only collecting Weaver fees. This is only one step above guard duty.”
“An Inquisitor must always… ”
“Complete all tasks with the same amount of diligence, yeah, yeah– ”
Casimir stopped in front of his cousin and looked up at him with simmering irritation. “If you don’t believe it. Then why are you here wasting my time? Do that off the clock. We have a job to do. ”
“Okay. Sheesh. Looks like you need coffee too.”
Casimir sighed, and they continued their mission on the empty street. Jakes did better in the next few houses. He didn’t have a door slammed in his face, and Casimir spent the time surveying the block for any suspicious characters, but it was in vain; he only spotted one familiar car and two couples out on a morning stroll. Figures, I have to wait until 10 when everything is open, and the customers usually don't trickle in until later.
Casimir returned his attention to Jakes who was bidding goodbye to an older woman who was living off her Weaver pension. He was also shamelessly munching on a cookie and had several in his hand.
This guy ! Casimir shook his head.
The woman spotted Casimir and yelled, “Make sure you share some with Casimir, dearie. He always works so hard.” She gave Casimir a look a mom would make when she received macaroni art from a five-year-old and shut the door.
Casimir wanted to smack his head with his clipboard a couple of times when Jakes walked up to him with his bounty, smiling with pride.
He offered Casimir a cookie. “This place is nice. I could get used to living down here.”
Casimir relented and placed the cookie in his pocket. “Yeah, it’s the only place that feels like home. Better than the capital, at least. The people up there ruin it.”
“So how are we on time, boss man?”
Casimir checked his watch and begrudgingly acknowledged, “You finished just in time for the Weavers’ shops to be open. ”
Jakes wrapped his arm around Casimir’s shoulder. “See, no need to rush.”
Casimir pulled away, and they turned down the block to the shopping district filled with Aetherian pattern shops, ateliers, and stores that sold tonics made from herbs infused with Aether. There were more people out and about now, but they moved leisurely.
Jakes smiled while admiring the thousands of red clay bricks that were fired and laid to form his fair town’s beautiful herringbone roads, residences, restaurants, and department stores. The Weaver District had a great bit of money put into landscaping to attract tourists. His joy was infectious, and a little bit of it rubbed off on Casimir.
He found himself smiling too. “Dul Sylva is beautiful. Let’s keep it that way.” Casimir checked his list. “Atticus Salamander’s Alchemical Emporium is next.”
“Alright.”
Casimir looked over at Jakes and saw him looking at the recruitment posters taped on the window of a pattern shop. A group of kids was running down the street and nicking a poster of their heroes off the windows.
Casimir smiled bitterly at the silver-haired man on the poster, then averted his gaze and walked up to Jakes. “You can go sightseeing later.”
Jakes tore his gaze away from the poster. “Sure.”
After walking in silence for a while, Jakes carefully spoke, “I heard that there is increasing tension between Nivilies and Trel.”
“You mean Vitus. We should have held onto that land instead of giving it back to those traitors. Peace, ha!” Casimir sneered and looked at another recruitment poster featuring a beautiful lilac-haired woman healing a wounded soldier. The caption read, Your humble servant and country needs your compassion. Enlist.
“One of the mistakes our lady and Emperor made. All they did was hand over land to another rogue state.”
Jakes frowned. “Yeah. There are rumors of another war, but the Sublime Weavers are focusing on recruiting their own. They aren’t desperate enough to ask us non-Aetherian yet.”
“Tch, they don’t see the need to waste their laborers as cannon fodder, yet,” Casimir rolled his eyes. “Weavers are exceedingly arrogant.”
Jakes looked at him with a thoughtful expression, replying, “Yep, but if I were called ‘heaven’s gift to mankind,’ I probably would have turned out the same if I had Aether. I definitely would have enjoyed living with the Main Inquis family.”
He leaned in closer to Casimir. “You know, fighting Rogue Weavers and actual threats and going to glitzy shindigs filled with sexy noblewomen, instead of doing this.”
Casimir clenched his teeth and suppressed the bitterness rising in his heart.
Jakes gave him a sad smile. “Have you thought about reconnecting with your father’s side of the family? Surely they…”
“Are fine without me,” Casimir cut him off cleanly like a butcher slicing off a piece of ham. He then pointed at a magnificent building with a stone facade and decorative columns. “Salamander’s Alchemical Emporium, go!”
Jakes sighed and crossed the street, leaving Casimir alone with his thoughts.
The nerve of that guy. The Inquis are the only family that I have! My father wasn’t close to them, anyway.
Casimir looked over at one of the pattern shops. All of them were covered with posters, many of his father’s. He walked up to one and stared at the younger version of the father that he remembered. His father, the reclusive alchemist and scientist, posed in front of his desk with the caption, Your humble servant and country needs your mind. Enlist.
Casimir frowned. Are you happy, Dad? You got everything you wanted, at the cost of Mom and me.
He sighed and turned away. Your best friend and partner is missing from these posters. In honor of you, I’ll just assume you are fine with that.
Casimir heard the shop’s bell ring, and he spotted a young man around his age, leaving one of the pattern shops with his purchase. His eyes were bloodshot, and a tuft of brown hair stuck out of place on his head.
Quigley? Wow, what happened? He looks miserable. Casimir waved. “Quigley! How are you doing this morning?”
“Ahh, Inquisitor Casimir,” Quigley returned his wave with an unconformable smile.
Casimir caught up with him before he could slip down the alleyway next to the shop. “I have not seen you in a while. School is going well?”
“Yes, yes, sir. I’m just a little stressed, as you can see,” He showed Casimir his stack of pattern books. “I…I.. just have so much studying to do. So many patterns to memorize. So little time. Demanding professors…”
Casimir narrowed his eyes when he noticed Quigley’s gaze shifting downward. Something off, but maybe he is just too embarrassed to admit that he is struggling. Aetherians from commoner backgrounds have a harder time keeping up. They lack the constitution and resources.
Casimir gave him a conciliatory smile. “Have you ever thought about joining the Inquis? I’ll put in a good word for you with my uncle. We are more likely to adopt and train you up into our fold than a Weaver family.”
Quigley’s mouth fell open, then, when his shock waned, he glared at him. “What makes you think I want to join one of them!”
“Well, it is a sensible goal for most common-born Weavers. You can’t expect a guild to–”
“Shut up!” Quigley snapped. “I can get into a guild with my own merit, and I can get recruited into a Weaver family if I wanted to, I can! Who are you to say I can’t! ”
Casimir furrowed his brow. “Calm down, I didn’t mean it—”
“Yes, you did! I’m sick of nobles turning up their noses at me! My classmates! You!” Quigley sneered at him. “You don’t even have Aether! What gives you the right to say I can’t!”
Casimir’s skin tingled like static from a balloon. There was no question who it was coming from. “Control your Aether,” Casimir demanded coldly. “That is why!”
Quigley slinked back with fear. “Sorry, sorry. I just need some rest. I have to go!” He then turned down the alleyway and ran.
I didn’t mean to strike a nerve, but he is being delusional.
“Shouldn’t we follow him?” Jakes asked. He just arrived to witness the tail end of Casimir's spat with him.
“Tch, he’ll cool off. I’m sure he’ll apologize the next time I see him.” Casimir checked off his list, and they headed to the next business.