A carriage drove through the city, many having to move aside to avoid being trampled by the horse who pulled it. The carriage was decadent, as all those that belong to nobles in the city are, with a crimson color that stood out among the grey houses and cobblestone paths. Many who viewed this carriage gave a short prayer to the gods they follow, asking for the late count's soul to find peace in the embrace of whoever held his soul.

A passenger, a male elf with hair dark as tree bark and eyes like honey, watched the onlookers to their little prayers for the carriage before returning to whatever they were doing. He watched them as one would watch a performance on the streets.

His passenger, a hooded ratfolk, noticed this, “I do hope with you watching the people, that you are finished with that book I gave you, Gozolas”

The elf turned slowly to his master, “oh sorry sir.” the elf returned his gaze to the book in his lap, trying to recall where he had left off.

Donitelo sighs. The ratfolk knew his apprentice cannot help having wondering eyes, but that is no excuse to neglect studies. It was better whatever question the elf had be answered now than at the destination, “was something the onlookers doing interest you?”

Gozolas turned to his master, “well, they were doing odd things with their hands and bowing. I think one pulled something out of their pocket and kissed it.”

“Ah, they were offering prayers to their gods.”

“Prayers? Like the ones Lena does for us?”

“Yes, granted Lena’s prayers are a bit different from the ones you are seeing now.” 

Gozolas looked puzzled, “how come? Are they not both praying to gods? How are Lena’s prayers different? Do the people Lena work with have similar prayers like hers? Is Lena the only one who can do such prayers? What about you? Can you do prayers like Lena?” Question after question, the elf continued, not even stopping to give his master a chance to answer any of them.

The carriage came to a halt, the book in Gonzolas’ lap slipped out and hit the floor with a loud thud. “We have arrived,” the driver shouted.

The passengers gathered their things and walked into the streets. Before them, a gate towered over them, slightly opened as to welcome the guests in. a towering orc lady in a maid dress gave a curtsy and beckoned the two inside.

The two were led into a waiting room. Two velvet sofas faced each other separated by a small table. The walls were aligned with bookshelves, filled to the brim with books of many kinds. The massive windows in the room pointed to a small garden, whose flowers seemed to be wilted and losing their color.

Thirty minutes passed before the door opened. A lady, a young adult human dressed in black, walked into the room, followed by the orc maid, who held a tray of tea and baked goods. The lady sat wordlessly on one of the sofas. The maid placed the tray on the table and stood behind her mistress. When Donitelo and Gonzolas joined her, she spoke, “I believe you are the thaumaturges I asked for?”

“That we are,” Donitelo answered, “you may refer to me as Donitelo.” The ratfolk gestured to the elf, “he is Gonzolas, my apprentice of sorts. I am in charge of his training and have brought him along as part of it.”

The Elf said nothing but picked up the baked goods. He turned them around in his hand like a merchant would a piece of jewelry.

The countess's face furrowed, “I am sorry, but I did not ask, nor paid, for someone inexperienced. And you, why do you still have your hood on? Do your order not teach you manners?”

“My apologies, madam, I will lower it.” Donitelo pulled back his hood, showing two curved horns protruding from his head.

The countess and maid gasped, “a tiefling? In this house,” the Count yelled, “I will have no such thing. Matilda, remove them.”

“A moment, if you will,” Donitelo said, “if you truly want us gone, we will leave in peace but know there is no guarantee when our replacements would arrive. Should you be so quick to dismiss the help you asked for?”

The maid looked at her lady, awaiting her orders. The Countess glared at Donitelo, “you are right. I am in desperate need of your help enough that I will…look away from your blood in your veins to do it.”

Gonzolas, now realizing a conversation was happening, placed the baked good down, “huh, what blood?”

“Nevermind that now,” Donitelo reached for his chalice and took a sip from it. He turned to the Countess, “I saw the letter, it said you were in trouble, something about a ghost haunting the manor.”

“Yes,” the Countess said, “for some time, a ghost has been wandering the halls in the night wailing, moving furniture, attacking those who wander in its path. I had most of the staff leave for their safety, leaving only Matlda here. Before leaving, I had them swear to secrecy of the hauntings, but I fear the rumors are already being spread around in taverns.”

“Huh? Why is it bad the news is spreading around?” Gonzolas asked.

“Reputation,” Donitelo answered, “you made the right call having the staff leave, but I must ask, are you just staying here at night?”

The Countess shook her head, “I sneak out and stay at an inn during the night, that is where I learned the news is spreading. So far, the people are just being aware of the hauntings, but they do not know who is haunting our halls.”

“I see,” Donitelo placed the chalice on the table and brought his fingertips together, “what can you tell me about the ghost? Anything at all would help.”

“I cannot say, I have not laid eyes on it, only seen what they have done. But,” she paused, “those who have seen it, clams it was my late father.”

Gonzolas' eyes widen, “your father? You mean the previous Count?”

“Yes, it's why I had them all sworn to secrecy. Just imagine the commotion it would cause if they learned my father was haunting the manor. I know father wouldn’t have wanted this. It all must be some sort of accident.”

“If I can say, ma’am, that is where you are wrong.” Donitelo reached for his chalice, “in terms of the supernatural, there are no accidents. If the ghost exists, they either have unfinished business or were called here by someone.” the ratfolk took a sip, “could be related to how he died. Might be something he couldn’t let go on his deathbed. But know if he's haunting you, it is anything but an accident.”

“So, could you find what is keeping my father here?”

“Yes, a case like this is more common than you think. We could finish this in a few days at best.”

“I do hope that is the case.” The Countess said, “how soon can you start?”

“We can start now. It would be best if we look around the manor while the sun is still up. Do we have permission to do so?”

The countess nodded.

“Excellent. Gonzolas.”

“Yes sir,” the elf lit up his lantern. The flame gave little light in the room brightened by the sun. Gonzolas paced around the room, his eyes glued to the flame. Once he made one lap in the room, he called out to Donitelo, “this room is clear.”

“Good,” the ratfolk stood up, “we should check all the rooms while we have daylight. By your leave madam.”

The countess nodded, “if you have any need, contact Matilda here.”

“I will.” Donitelo and Gonzolas left the waiting room, unaware of the long day that will be awaiting them.