Gatekeeper

At 6:20, Richard knocked on his sister's door.

The door opened quickly. The girl had already changed.

She wore those brown sheepskin shoes, and her gait was clearly much freer now. She no longer dawdled over every step.

"Ready?"

"Ready. Let's go."

At the other end of the corridor, their parents' door opened as well.

The family of four met in the hallway and followed the maid downstairs.

The dining room was even more spacious than the sitting room.

A long table was covered with a snow-white cloth, silverware lined up in neat rows.

The other members of the Ashford Family had already arrived.

Including Richard's family, there were roughly a dozen people seated at the long table.

Gerald still occupied the seat at the head of the table.

The old man had changed into a house jacket, with a silver brooch pinned at the collar.

He sat exactly as he had in the sitting room, his back perfectly straight.

The third seat to the left of the head was empty. It was probably reserved for Mother.

Mother stopped behind that chair, and a woman in her early forties beside it greeted her first.

"Margaret, it's been a long time."

"Sister-in-law," Mother said.

This was their eldest aunt by marriage. Behind her stood a young man with neatly combed brown hair.

The young man's expression stiffened slightly when he saw Richard, but he quickly recovered.

"Richard, it's been a long time." He came over and held out his hand.

"Cousin Vincent." Richard shook his hand.

The last time they met, the copper pendant Vincent had given him had nearly taken his life.

No, it had taken his life.

"You look better than last time," Vincent said.

"I recovered after resting for a while."

"That's good." Vincent lowered his voice. "That little thing from last time... are you still wearing it?"

"No. I put it away."

"Mm..." Vincent nodded, his eyes flickering.

He seemed to want to say more, but after glancing around, he swallowed the words.

The butler pulled out the chairs beside them, signaling everyone to sit.

Richard was seated beside Mother, with Father on Mother's other side and Evelyn right next to Richard.

Every member of the Ashford Family wore roughly the same mask. No one was excessively warm, but no one was openly cold either.

Evelyn sensed the atmosphere of collective exclusion.

She stirred the creamy mushroom soup in her bowl, circling her spoon three times without taking a sip.

Margaret lightly touched the back of her daughter's hand.

Evelyn received the signal: endure it, don't talk, eat less.

The girl pouted and shoved a large spoonful of soup into her mouth.

The mushrooms were truffles, the cream was made from fresh milk, and the broth had been simmered for who knew how many hours with who knew what kind of bones... In any case, it tasted so good that she immediately forgot all of Mother's warnings.

After the soup came a whole pan-fried sea bass, its skin golden and crisp, its flesh white and tender, served with lemon and a small handful of young spinach.

Evelyn's appetite was thoroughly aroused.

She used her knife and fork to divide the fish into small pieces, her movements remarkably deft.

After the fish came roasted lamb chops with mint and roasted vegetables.

Most people set down their forks after eating only half a lamb chop.

Seeing that his sister still looked unsatisfied after finishing hers, Richard casually gave her his own fork.

Margaret held her forehead and stopped bothering with her daughter.

On the other side, Vincent sat near the middle of the long table, very close to Richard.

Throughout the dinner, he kept finding chances, deliberately or otherwise, to strike up conversations with Richard.

"How have things been at school lately? I heard you're entering the Cicero Cup."

"Mm."

"Impressive." Vincent's praise sounded sincere. "It isn't easy to place in the Cicero Cup. Students here in the Imperial Capital have trained since childhood."

"I'll give it a try first."

Vincent lifted his wineglass and took a small sip.

"Richard, if you need any help in the Imperial Capital... say, someone to show you the competition venue or something, you can come to me anytime."

His attentiveness was enough to make his mother glance at Vincent twice from a short distance away.

Grandfather did not speak from beginning to end.

He sat at the head of the table, occasionally turning over the food on his plate with a silver fork and taking a sip of red wine.

Yet the gravity of the entire table remained centered on him.

No one could forget that the man at the head of the table was listening and watching.

Once everyone had eaten nearly their fill, the old man folded his napkin and placed it beside his plate. It was the signal that dinner was over.

Everyone rose from their seats on their own. The butler directed the servants as they cleared away the silverware, plates and bowls clinking together.

Gerald set down his napkin and fixed his gaze on Richard.

"Richard, there are some interesting things in my study. You may want to take a look."

The dining table fell silent at once, and Richard felt several gazes land on him simultaneously.

His eldest aunt's wineglass hung in midair. Her lips parted slightly, then quickly closed again.

Surprise lay beneath, envy layered over it.

The two emotions mixed together, then were smoothed flat by her upbringing, leaving only a thin smile.

Evelyn had already grabbed Richard's sleeve. "What do you need to talk about alone?"

"Maybe he wants to test my schoolwork."

The girl's brows twisted into knots. Her mouth opened twice, but she could not bring herself to object.

At Grandfather's house, she did not dare raise her voice.

Richard patted the hand clutching his sleeve. "Go back to your room and wait for me. I won't be long."

Evelyn released him and watched as he followed Grandfather out of the dining room.

She turned to look at Mother. Margaret's gaze was following her son's retreating back as well, until the door closed behind him.

Richard followed Grandfather through the corridor and up half a flight of stairs.

Gerald pushed open the study door. The gas lamps lit automatically, whether by some mechanism or the work of Aether.

Bookshelves covered three walls of the room, stretching from floor to ceiling. The walnut shelves were crammed with books of every size.

Richard followed him in, while his peripheral vision was already scanning the objects on the shelves.

A fist-sized bronze sculpture of an eagle with spread wings.

A sealed amber glass bottle containing a dried lizard specimen.

Two silver candlesticks sat on the mantel, their curved arms cast with entwining serpent patterns.

A crystal ball rested in the corner of the desk, set on a brass base.

This chance to enter Grandfather's private study could not go to waste.

The Ashford Family had endured for so many generations. Even if the study held nothing but scraps, it was worth trying.

Gerald walked to the fireplace and bent down to stir the coals with iron tongs.

While the old man's back was turned, Richard reached out and touched the wing of the bronze eagle.

The bronze was icy cold and solid beneath his fingers. The panel did not react at all.

He took another two steps and placed his hand on the neck of the amber bottle. Still no response.

The silver candlesticks, the crystal ball, the brass balance on the desk, and the old pocket watch on the mantel...

He approached them one by one, but the panel remained as still as stagnant water.

Clean. Every last one was clean.

These items were clearly old and finely made, but not a single one had ever come into contact with Aether.

That made sense. Anything truly valuable would not be displayed in a study accessible to outside guests.

They were probably locked behind the walls or underground, kept alongside the Ashford Family's true wealth.

Richard was somewhat disappointed as he withdrew his hand from the brass arm of an old sextant.

Gerald straightened beside the fireplace without stopping him from touching things.

In the sitting room and at dinner earlier, this child had kept his words and actions far too tightly restrained.

His response to Vincent's probing had been flawless, and he had not changed expression under the scrutiny of his elders.

For a sixteen-year-old boy to manage that, either he was an excellent actor, or he had experienced something that had forced him to mature early.

Neither possibility sat well with Gerald.

Now, seeing him turn the sextant's dial and hold the pocket watch to his ear, this was more like it.

"The sextant belonged to your great-grandfather."

Gerald sat in a chair beside the fireplace. "He sailed ships when he was young."

Richard restored the sextant to its original position and sat in the guest chair across from the desk.

The warmth from the fireplace slowly crept over him, roasting one side of his face.

The old man folded his hands over his knees. "Richard, do you know what the Ashford Family does?"

"Business."

"That is the version outsiders know."

Gerald took out a thin booklet. Printed in the center of its cover was a famous symbol of Occultism: a serpent biting its own tail.

"The Ashford Family has operated in the Imperial Capital for more than three hundred years."

The old man covered the Ouroboros symbol with his palm. "Not by doing business, but by being Gatekeepers."