This Was a Trap

"Life is like the crystal chandelier in Grand Duke Wessen's parlor: dazzling and brilliant. Then, without warning, fate flips the switch, and everything returns to darkness."

In front of the Garment Factory, Bellberk softly recited a line from a play.

A young woman of about seventeen or eighteen hurried along, holding a Weissenburg bun and taking big bites. She arrived at the workers' entrance just as lunchtime was beginning. When she turned around, she froze.

The iron gate, which had never been closed before, was shut tight. Several loops of chain wrapped around its handle, secured by a padlock. The clatter of machines behind the gate had vanished without a trace; not a sound could be heard.

Only then did the young woman remember: the last piece of cloth in the warehouse had been used up yesterday morning. In the afternoon, Sir Schneider had paid everyone their full wages and allowances. There was no need to come in today; it was just that years of habit had led her to repeat what she did every day.

A crowd had gathered in front of the entrance to the office area, with many people reading a notice.

Frederick and Bellberk went over to take a look, then headed for the old palace as planned.

The former imperial palace now housed part of City Hall's offices. Many areas had been converted into cafés and tearooms. The servers wore the court servants' outfits from centuries ago, and the furnishings had been restored to look historical, though they were all cheap imitations.

After drinking tea in one of the rooms for a while, Bellberk set down her cup and said, "If I remember correctly, this was the emperor's bedroom."

Frederick stroked his chin. "It'd be pretty meaningful if you started cooing in here."

Bellberk had