Chapter 22 Abélie's Plan
After such a theatrical display, he cleared his throat.
“Abélie, let’s return to the matter at hand, shall we? Randolf’s disappearance.”
“Oh—yes, of course. I don’t have much more information, except that he had a dog he only ever left behind when he went to prison. When said dog came whining alone to Ruth’s door—that’s how she knew something had almost certainly happened.”
“Hm… So Randolf had a dog confirming the disappearance. And that’s all? Anything else?”
She flipped through her notebook again.
“Hm… When Ruth tried to follow the dog, it went straight toward the eastern forest. Naturally, when she tried to go there herself, it was impossible. The guards searched the forest at her request but found no trace either.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“That mysterious eastern forest again. But it doesn’t advance us much.”
“I told you I lacked sufficient material to draw conclusions,” she pouted.
“Hm…” He ignored the remark.
“And the other disappearances? What came of those?”
“All bandits—many far more violent than Randolf. He was the odd one out. The rest: violent bandits, murderers, looters. They vanished over the past few years. At first, no one cared, but now it’s starting to raise questions. Not enough for anyone to actually do anything, though. Only Ruth is truly searching for her brother. As for the rest… they were considered nuisances.”
Oscar rubbed his chin, gazing out the window at the wind-swept city. The weather was fair today.
“And those individuals roaming the streets? Any ideas?”
“I found very little about them. They haven’t—apparently—done anything wrong, but no one likes them. Worse, no one truly knows who they are. They’re often dressed in large cloaks and wander about without speaking to anyone. You can encounter them from time to time, but not every night.”
“Only at night?”
She nodded.
“So—eccentrics in cloaks, roaming at night. Best case: pranksters. Worst case: they are likely responsible for the disappearances around the city. How long have they been around?” He summarised, sceptically.
She shifted from one foot to the other.
“That’s where it gets complicated. As I told you, I don’t have much information. But… that’s when I had an idea.”
He inhaled, bracing himself for foolishness.
“I… I could investigate in the field? Ask questions, that sort of thing,” she suggested, glancing at him sideways.
He raised one eyebrow—very, very slowly.
She met his gaze.
“And how would you justify that? You remain my assigned majordomo.”
“Exactly! No one questions your directives. If you send me to buy bread, jewellery, or anything else, no one will complain—on the contrary. And it’s while doing ordinary things that one gathers the best information!”
Oscar was unconvinced, but the confident smile she wore softened his scepticism somewhat. And given all the information she had already gathered, it was difficult not to trust her. He nodded, leaning back against the desk.
“Very well. Tell me where I should send you.”
She beamed from ear to ear, radiant.
“Excellent!” she began, adopting an almost authoritative posture.
“I need to learn more about Randolf’s habits, so I must question his sister. She is a florist, and—”
Oscar cut her off.
“And why in the world would I need to buy flowers?”
Abélie shot him a pointed look.
“My Lord, you have a fiancée. It’s a very common gift.”
At that, an embarrassed grimace bloomed on Oscar’s lips.
“It’s a bit too… too much.”
“Not at all! On the contrary. Offering flowers is an elegant gesture from one refined person to another. And there are many occasions. I am absolutely certain Her Grace will be delighted!”
“Are you sure?” There was more uncertainty—or innocence—in his voice. This was decidedly not his area of expertise. Then again… what was?
Abélie gave him a sympathetic smile.
“My Lord, I assure you. And besides, you’ll earn points. That way, the Duchess might be more inclined to let me out of prison if I get caught during my investigations.”
He frowned and shook his head.
“That’s all you think about! This is a serious matter!”
She allowed herself a light squeeze of his shoulder.
“Oh, come now, my Lord. I’m teasing you,” she smiled.
The gesture may have been a little too familiar—but somehow, Oscar appreciated it.
He adopted a falsely disapproving expression and shook his head.
“It may be me who has you locked up.”
She chuckled, lips curved into a sly smile.
“I know you won’t.”
He grumbled, then finally uncrossed his arms and straightened.
“Go buy me flowers instead of mocking me!”
Abélie’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she fluttered her lashes.
“What colour? And which flowers?”
Oscar paused.
“Any colour? Any flowers—as long as they’re pretty.”
Abélie wore a knowing smile. She teased him. He leaned back again, arms crossed, his brow furrowing as the conversation began to irritate him.
“Sir, colour and flower type matter! Each flower carries a message, refined by its colour and arrangement.”
“Flowers don’t—what are you even talking about now?”
“It’s obvious you prefer perfecting your swordsmanship rather than courtly arts.”
“Stop circling the issue. Flowers have messages?” He snapped.
“Of course! The rose is the symbol of love above all. But some flowers express admiration, travel, and regret. And yellow traditionally symbolises betrayal and illness, for example.”
“Abélie, I truly have no idea what you’re talking about, so… I trust you to find me an elegant bouquet with an appropriate message. Can you handle that mission?”
She performed a bow—far better executed than before. Brennan’s teachings were bearing fruit.
“Your wish is my command, my Lord.”