They made their way to the bedroom as they spoke.
At Tobias’s request, Dahlia had bought them a large double bed. It had been a good bargain, as she remembered. The light on the bedside table was something she’d bought partly out of interest as a magical toolmaker. It was made with a new kind of magical technology that allowed its brightness to be adjusted. I’ll just take a look at it to see how it works, she thought to herself as she entered the room.
“Oh!”
After just a single step inside, Dahlia hurriedly retreated and closed the door again. She didn’t get the chance to so much as look at the bedside table. The matching ivory-white bedding was in disarray, a pillow lying on the floor.
“What’s wrong, Dahlia?”
“Er, it’s, um...” She fumbled for words.
“Is someone in there?”
“No. Well, not anymore.”
“Mind if I take a look? If it’s a thief, they could still be hiding in there.”
“Oh, you’re right.”
Dahlia quickly scooted away from the door. The possibility of a thief being inside hadn’t even crossed her mind, though she now remembered hearing that they often targeted new houses. We’d best be careful.
“Um, is it all right if I stay out here?”
“Yeah, of course. I’ll make sure it’s safe. It’s an en-suite bedroom, right?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
Years working for the Couriers’ Guild meant Marcello was familiar with how most houses were laid out. He was able to build a mental picture of rooms with ease. After listening at the door for a few moments, he took a metal rod in his hand and cautiously entered.
“C’mon out, Tobias, you pea brain. Time to meet your maker.”
Dahlia pretended not to hear the menacing snarl that carried through the door. It wasn’t long before Marcello appeared again.
“Nothing but a couple of rats,” he grumbled. “Made this damn mess and then scurried away.” Apparently, Tobias had sunk so low in his estimation that he was on the level of vermin now.
“I see. I’m just glad we didn’t run into them.”
One of the men working in another room called out, “Hey, Marcello! D’you have a minute?”
“Sure, I’ll be right there.”
Assuming they had some guild business to talk about, Dahlia lingered in the corridor, staring blankly at a pile of boxes. She had less than she thought. She’d left some things at home, intending to bring them over later—her books, clothes for other seasons, and so on. That had turned out to be a good decision.
“Uh, Dahlia, could you come in here for a sec?”
There was a grim look on Marcello’s face as he leaned out of the doorway.
“Is something wrong?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh, your closet’s filled with women’s clothes.”
“Well, she didn’t waste any time.”
“I’m sorry, but just to be sure... These aren’t yours, are they?”
“No, they certainly aren’t.”
She saw a puff-sleeved dress in pale yellow and a colorful, floral print stole, as well as a pink gown generously trimmed with lace. It was clear from the sizes alone, never mind the designs, that these did not belong to Dahlia. She didn’t own a single garment that was anything like these things in style or color.
“Those things were in the dresser.”
Marcello pointed to a table, upon which lay a pink makeup bag, a white handkerchief, and a silver pendant. The flat, round pendant was engraved with a coat of arms Dahlia had never seen before. She furrowed her brow as she examined it.
“This looks like it belongs to a noble—a viscount or higher.”
“Not a baron?”
“I don’t think barons usually have a coat of arms. If someone has defeated a huge monster and been awarded a ceremonial weapon, I hear they sometimes engrave those, but it’s not common.”
She used the edge of the handkerchief to turn the pendant over, careful not to touch it directly. Etched on the reverse was the family name, somewhat faint with age but still legible.
“Tallini... Yes, this must be hers.”
Emilia Tallini, just as Tobias had told her.
One of Marcello’s men spoke up. “I think that coat of arms might be Lord Tallini’s. He’s the viscount who governs the fourth town along the southern highway. My grandmother’s from there.”
Everyone’s expressions became uneasy. The woman Tobias had brought here was connected to Viscount Tallini. Leaving the pendant here may have been a deliberate ploy to tell them that.
“Want me to drag that fool Tobias back here so he can explain himself?” Marcello asked Dahlia.
“No. The woman who owns this pendant works at his company. Besides, I’m finished with him. I’ve got no intention of contacting him again.”
“All right. It’ll cost a bit, but if I were you, I’d get a scrivener in to verify that everything you’re taking belongs to you. Better being safe than sorry if there’s nobility involved. I’ll get you the list of everything we moved for you the first time.”
“Thank you. That sounds like a good idea.”
It was an extra expense, but if it would avoid any hassle, then she was more than happy to pay up.
“Shall we send for a scrivener from the Couriers’ Guild? Or would you prefer one from the Merchants’ Guild?”
“Could you see if there’s anyone free at the Merchants’ Guild, please? Dominic Kämpfer would be ideal, if he’s available.”
“Of course,” said one of the men. “I’ll go right away.” With that, he hurried off to the carriage.
“I’m so sorry to waste your time like this.”
Marcello kindly brushed off her apology. “Not at all. There’re always a few disagreements over who owns what when a couple’s splitting up. We get scriveners in to sort things out all the time.”
“That’s right. Please, Miss Rossetti, don’t let it bother you.”
She could see they were doing their best to make her feel better, and she managed to put on a brave face. Marcello seemed to see right through it, though.
“If you’d like, I can pay the scrivener and send the bill on to Tobias.”
“No, no, that’s all right. I’ll pay. I don’t want any complaints out of him.”
“Well then, why don’t you celebrate not getting married to the biggest fool in Ordine by letting me cover it?”
“I appreciate the thought, Marcello. But I’d much rather you and Irma just come dine with me at the tower once everything’s settled down. We’ll have a proper drink this time.”
“Sounds dandy. Make sure you get the good stuff, eh?”
For as long as she’d been engaged to Tobias, Dahlia had limited herself to just one glass whenever she drank alcohol. Tobias didn’t like her to drink. It wasn’t ladylike, he’d said, for a woman to drink until her face turned red. Since then, she’d all but stopped. Tobias tended to become sullen when he drank. More than once, he’d been carried home on Marcello’s back after a few too many. But now Dahlia didn’t need to hold back anymore. Hitting a bar with just Irma and Marcello didn’t sound bad at all.