"...How do you know it's a sick family member?" Squire Smith asked.

  "I smell some medial herbs mixed in there," Talia said. "But someone who just works in an apothecary is gonna smell like a lot of medial herbs; this kinda st is sistent with someone who needs a few specific herbs to treat an illness. But he didn't smell sick himself, so it'd be someoaking care of. Probably a family member, but I could be wrong about that bit specifically."

  "Huh," Squire Smith said. "Well, good news. That narrows it down a lot."

  "It narrows it down too much," I said. "I know just about every elf and half-elf who lives in this city, and none of them are fool enough to do this."

  "Except Joseph himself," Talia said.

  "I beg your pardon?" Squire Smith asked.

  "...I had pted breaking into Magister Brown's office to recover the funerary effigy of Terpsichore Iro, the blood-mother of my uncle ah-mother of my father," I said. "However, I didn't actually do that, partly because someone else beat me to the punow, correct me if I'm wrong, but thinking about robbing someone is not actually a crime, correct?"

  "No, but I do have to sternly tell you to knock it off," Squire Smith said.

  "Duly noted," I said.

  "I also have to tell you that, legally, the statue does belong to Magister Brown," Squire Smith tinued. "I uand where you're ing from, but legally, it is his property, and you won't actually be permitted to keep it in the event it's recovered."

  "Yes, yes, I get it, I get it, ws are made to be those already in power, and the powerful don't think of elves as people with property rights of our own, you shut up now," I said. "Unless you've got a useful insight into this iigation, we're done here."

  "Not every elf in this city lives in Greenwood Vilge," Squire Smith said. "There's more than a few of 'em w in the Ducal Pace, in fact, and some of 'em are bound to have a bastard or two."

  "...I need you to uand that my rese right now isn't petty," I said.

  "Yeah, yeah, you and every other loser who thinks he's entitled to a mansion and a butler."

  "Let's go talk to some people at the Pace," Faith said, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushi the door.

  "So what made you say you know every elf in this city?" Faith asked.

  "Because I'm Joseph Iro," I said. "That may not mean much to you, but among elves, that name carries at lot of weight. Not every elf in this city actually lives in Greenwood Vilge, but it's certainly the case that most of them do, and the ones who don't still make time to visit every so often, because that's where their families live. Hell, even elves from out of town, with no family in Greenwood Vilge, e to visit because it's a really nice pce to be if you're an elf... y'know, pared to the rest of Redwater."

  Even just walking out of the Mage's Guild building, I'd gotten a few dirty looks from people I'd never met, who'd likely never met me, simply for the shape of my ears. In rougher parts of the city, well...

  ...There's a reason I didn't get around that much.

  "And the reason Greenwood Vilge is such a nice pce to live, even for the humans who live there, is Napoleon Iro," I tinued. "He was an Elven Mage-Knight, like his father before him, and even fought in the War Of The Roses, until his uni, Elken, lost all hope and threoleon into a snowbank, telling him the war was already lost, and to pnt a new life for himself in the ashes. So, Napoleon moved into a slum, and started using his druidic magiake things better for people. He healed the sick, fed the hungry, helped mothers deliver their babies, and cared for the old. As word spread, elves flocked to him, adding their own talents to his efforts, and now? Greenwood Vilge is a really nice pce to live. p Redwater that isn't the Noble Quarter."

  "I see," Faith murmured.

  "At least, that's the story I was told," I said. "The notion that there's an elf unity in this city that is disected from Greenwood Vilge and Napoleon Iro is, therefore, something of a surprise to me. Because this is the first I'm hearing about elves w in the Ducal Pace."

  "Which is a little weird," Talia added, "because if this was on knowledge, then we should, y'know, know it. If only from someone using it as material to bully us with."

  "Anyhow," I said. "There's probably a reason none of us know what's going on in the Ducal Pace: for all that my dad's a big man in his unity, none of us are part of this city's elite, and therefore don't get into the Ducal Pace. Which is going to be a problem, because now we do o go there, snoop around, and ask some questions. Which... is probably going to be tricky."

  Thankfully, it was not actually that tricky. We got he Ducal Pace, but not quite within line-of-sight of it, and were suddenly stopped by an elf man I'd never met before, wearing a well-tailored tuxedo and a pair of white gloves.

  "I'm afraid you don't seem to have an appoi with the Duke," the butler said, one arm folded over his stomach, the other behind his back. "If you could please state your he cause for your audience, and your address, I'm certain His Grace fit you into the schedule sometime soon."

  "My name is Faith Jones, Page of the Padin's Guild," Faith said, carefully climbing out of the sidecar to stand up. "My deputies and I are iigating a burgry at the Mage's Guild, and we o speak to the staff more than the Duke himself."

  "...I see," the butler said, his ears twitg just the ti bit. A human likely wouldn't notice it, but to an elf? This guy was annoyed, now. Did the Padins have a habit of harassing elves every time something got stolen? Because if they did, then they certainly knew better than to try that on Napoleon Iro's turf; he might not have a uni anymore, but you still don't wanna mess with a guy who turn into a pseudon and throw lightning bolts if he thinks you're harassing his people. "I'm afraid the staff are no longer avaible for interview by the Padin's Guild, per His Grace's orders. However, as it so happens, Her Grace, Duchess Melody, has an opening in her schedule, and would be quite willing to settle any s you may have. If you'll follow me, a valet will be along shortly to stable your... ah, pardon, I've never quite seen something like that. To what name does it answer?"

  "My uncle called it a motorcycle, and I haven't yet found a reason to tradict him," I said, dismounting the bike. "At any rate, there will be no need for a valet." I pulled a vas tarp from within my coat, and threw it over the now-unoccupied bike (Talia had been sitting in Faith's p as a wolf again, and had been forced to get out so Faith could), which seemingly disappeared.

  The Bag of Holding entment was such a useful one, and I am very grateful that my mother made a point to teach it to me early on in my studies.

  "After you, sir," I said, bundling up the vas and tug it baside my coat.

  Duchess Melody was an obnoxiously geous woman. Her dress was undoubtedly more expehan anything I owned (and I was definitely a person of means, all things sidered), a somehow veyed the impression of "This is what stitutes casual clothing for me, when I'm eaining a small audience of guests who aren't even my wealthy peers who I o impress."

  One of the things that veyed that impression was that her dress had exposed corsetry, despite the fact that a corset is typically sidered an undergarment. It was almost like visiting a normal person who wasn't expeg pany, and they're just wearing a bra and a bathrobe. Except in this case, it was almost certainly done on purpose, and it was definitely on purpose that she leaned ba a very fortable-lookiher armchair and fanned herself gently, while an elven maid poured us all cups of tea.

  "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, sirs?" Duchess Melody asked, ohe maid stepped back to the edge of the room, a serenely bnk look on her face. Despite my temptation to focus on the elf as the real person in the room, it was in fact a practical reality of the situation that I could not in fact safely ighe busty tart who owns a hat made of gold and wears it in public. For ohing, she'd all but firmed my theory that the Padins did shake down the elves with arming frequency, to the point that even the wealthy and powerful humans were sick of dealing with it.

  "If I may?" I said, eyeing Faith before she could say anything. "We're currently looking for a half-elf man with a sick family member. Are you familiar with the name Napoleon Iro?"

  "So you're Joseph," Duchess Melody said, tilting her head as she sidered me carefully. It wasn't quite "looking at me like a pieeat," but I very much could tell that she was w how to incorporate me into her family's power base. "Well, Mr. Iro-" she snapped her fan closed, and tucked it into her cleavage, managing to fit the entire fan ihout any particur effort; whether that was a deliberate attempt at flirtation or simply a thing she did naturally si tion to her, I had no idea. "-as it so happens, while I wouldn't ordinarily disclose this information... A year ago, my personal maid, Amelie Rosepetals, came down with a mysterious illhat our Healers could not cure. She was uo work, but sidering the turies of exempry service she has performed for our House, we gave her a generous stipend, and relieved her of her duties until such time as she has recovered." Duchess Melody sighed. "And, yes, she does have a son- a half-elf by the name of Robert Thorn."

  "Why doesn't he have the same st name as his mother?" Talia asked.

  Duchess Melody ched her jaw for the briefest of moments- clearly, she thought it was obvious, but was realizing that we weren't steeped iricacies of nobility.

  "'Thorn' is the traditional surname given to a... child born out of wedlock," Duchess Melody said. "Now, as it so happens, we do know where Amelie and Robert live. But. Before I disclose that to you, Mr. Iro... I require an assurance."

  "That being?" I asked.

  She finally straightened up in her seat, before leaning forward, pale blue eyes staring into my very soul.

  "Amelie is mine," Melody said quietly. "Whatever price you charge her for your father's healing, it will not interfere with her returning to my service. Do I make myself clear?"

  I picked up my teacup and took a calm sip, all without looking away. Fun fact about elves, our eyes don't dry out nearly so fast as human eyes do; you do not want to start a staring test with an elf.

  "It's her decision to make," I said. "Not mine. And not yours. And that's the best yetting from me." Unless she decides to barter for elf-grown tea leaves; this tea retty good, and had clearly been brewed by someone who was really good at it, but there was room for improvement.

  "...It will suffice. Cudia, fetch the address book, a pad, and a pen."

  "Right away, Yrace," Cudia said, setting the teapot down and walking out.