Chapter Four: The Lonesome Peony
ERNEST was greeted in the King’s office by Rodrick II and a surly soldier. Ernest knew the soldier, a man by the name of Derek Conquest who was two years his senior. At twenty-nine, he had attained the rank of major. They were about the same height, but Derek gave a far more imposing impression.
Perhaps “knew him” was a little too generous. Ernest had never actually talked to the man; he only knew his name and reputation. The green-eyed Conquest, with his short blond hair, showed not a hint of emotion. In all honesty, he was the most difficult sort of person for Ernest to deal with.
“Count Selden, I would like to request your assistance.” He didn’t look at all like someone asking for help. If this ended up being a personal request, Ernest would turn it down without listening to another word.
“We’d like to have you investigate an underground gentlemen’s club. We have reason to suspect that illegal gambling is taking place there,” Conquest explained without pausing to make sure Ernest understood.
A gentlemen’s club was a private social club where the elite gathered to discuss everything from politics to the arts. The club in question was run by Marquis Groves twice a week out of his guest house. That was where the illegal gambling was happening.
Gambling itself wasn’t forbidden in Hylant, but institutions running a gambling operation were taxed at a high margin. Something as minor as card games among small groups where the participants bet their own money were often overlooked. The difficulty was in determining where the line between “small groups” and “illegal gambling operation” fell.
The other problem was that illegal gambling dens were often a hotbed for other sorts of illicit activities.
It didn’t sound like all of the club members were involved in illegal gambling. The investigation had only gotten as far as learning that some small subset was involved. But the whole affair was taking place on the grounds of the powerful Marquis Groves, which meant members of the highest tiers of the aristocracy could be involved. That was why this needed to be a secret investigation.
“Illegal gambling? Isn’t that the military police’s jurisdiction, Major Conquest?” Ernest pointed out the obvious.
“There is little we can do without proof. But a competent man like you should be able to slip in and find some for us.”
That was it. They needed someone of high status to infiltrate the club for them. And if they were doing something illegal, they were bound to be hyper-reluctant about admitting someone involved with the military police. But refusing to admit a man from the upper classes would be equally suspicious, so they adamantly hid illegal activities from Major Conquest after allowing him membership. Sending anyone else affiliated with the military police or public security would have been equally fruitless. Thus, they asked Ernest.
“Well, I certainly am flattered you place such faith in me...”
“Faith? Is that what it is?” King Rodrick asked his longtime friend in feigned astonishment. Things were always casual between them, even though Ernest had served Rodrick since his youth.
“Why else would you ask me, Your Majesty?”
Though he was ever the loyal retainer, Ernest was uneasy to say the least. He prided himself on his gentlemanly nature, never chased skirts, and gave his all to his job in service to the king.
“Because you look just unassuming enough, that one would think if asked to join in on illicit activity, you would say yes just for the hell of it.”
“Your Majesty, you wound me! I am a good and honest man.”
“Of course I know that’s who you truly are. But this is how others might perceive you. That’s why we called upon you.”
“How others perceive me? What a thing to say!”
“You never realized anyone saw you that way?”
“I have not! What do you think, Major Conquest?”
Though they were lord and retainer, this sort of playful back and forth teasing was normal for them, a sign of their close friendship. Major Conquest merely watched the exchange without batting an eye. He didn’t laugh; rather, he seemed like he was ready to be dismissed. When Ernest tried to bring him into the discussion, he creased his brow in thought for several seconds before finally declaring—
“How should I know?”
—before returning to that same stoic expression.
Ernest and Rodrick immediately realized he was every bit as humorless as he seemed.
That’ll teach me to try and joke with Major Conquest, Ernest dryly noted.
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IF he was going to investigate an illegal gambling ring in the gentlemen’s club, Ernest’s first task was naturally to get himself invited into the club by one of its members. He would then need to pay the initiation fee and gain acceptance from the other members.
He needed to get a member with considerable influence to invite him into the club without asking for it directly. He also couldn’t allow his connections to the major be known, so he needed to make use of his own personal connections. But doing so was bound to take time.
And indeed, he became so busy with his secret mission, over half a month passed before he visited the witch’s shop again. During that time, he only sent two letters through his servant Tarrah, telling Yuuri he was busy. While Ernest’s letters were flowery, three-page love letters, Yuuri’s responses were cold and to the point. What she couldn’t convey in words, she conveyed with her gifts of tea leaves. Jasmine tea. Ernest’s favorite.
As he got to know Yuuri, Xingkaese tea became a common favorite in his estate, and thus he had plenty of Eastern-style teacups, several of which were procured through Watoh Company. And though Yuuri had taught him and his servants how to make the tea, the taste remained incomparable to what he drank at Yuuri’s shop. Still, his servants were some of the best around and conscientious to boot, so maybe it wasn’t lack of skill, but lack of something else.
For him, there was no greater tea than that consumed on the witch’s comfortable couch, in the company of the expressive witch.