Wax stared at the coin.
“…Eilonia, I don’t think I was the target.” Eilonia quirked a delicate eyebrow
at him questioningly.
“He attacked you by mistake, then?” She asked.
“No…” Wax said, “I don’t think he was meant to kill anyone. I think someone meant for him to die.”
“He attacked you by mistake, then?” She asked.
“No…” Wax said, “I don’t think he was meant to kill anyone. I think someone meant for him to die.”
Wax stood up to leave again but
Eilonia stood with him, curling a slender arm around his. He turned to see her
flashing a warm smile to a long table in the center of the room. If Wax hadn’t
know the woman for as long as he had, he might have thought it was sincere.
“You can’t leave yet. You’ve officially earned yourself the position of my
company for the evening in the eyes of every guest here, and it would be taboo
for you to walk out on me.” She hissed at him, her smile never faltering. Wax
sighed.
“How much longer will this thing
last?” he asked.
“I have no idea, it honestly depends
on how many people are planning to speak. You needn’t pay attention to what
they’re saying, simply smile and applaud when they’re finished. You made this
bed when you walked in here, and now you’re going to sleep in it.” She
explained, tugging him towards the center table. “And now, we’re being invited
to join the host of the entire event at his table, so I expect you to be on
your best behavior.” She finished. Wax recognized a few faces in the small
group; they were primarily owners or co-owners of some of the city’s largest
companies. The host, however, he wasn’t familiar with. An older, yet powerfully
built Aven man with an air of dignity and a hint of aloofness about him. He
stood from his seat as the pair approached, offering a smile to Eilonia.
“Miss Melothrir. It has been too
long.” He spoke with the accent of a man from Avenoss, twinged with the hints
of linguistic decay that settles over the words of a man who’s been too long
away from home. Eilonia offered him her hand, and he kissed it.
“I would have to agree, Mister Von
Lothar.” Eilonia smiled pleasantly at him.
“Please,” he replied as he released
her hand, “Call me Markus.” Wax barely suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
Von Lothar turned to face him next. His shallow blue eyes appeared to
critically assess Wax as he did so, and the feeling was enough to put him on
edge. “I’m afraid I have not yet had the pleasure to meet your companion for
the evening, Eilonia” he said, offering a hand to Wax, “I am Markus Von Lothar,
owner and founder of the Von Lothar Mechanicals Company.” Wax had seen that
name somewhere before, but couldn’t place it. Regardless, he shook the man’s
large hand firmly.
“Wax.” He introduced himself. Von
Lothar chuckled, his voice deep and authoritative even in a laugh.
“Wax?” he asked, “Your parents named
you for a candle? Surely not… What is your birth name?” Wax sighed.
“Weston” he surrendered his name
reluctantly, “Weston Castyl. But I prefer Wax.”
“Wax it is, then. Wax Castyl.” The
man chuckled to himself again as he repeated the name. “A castle of wax… An
intriguing image, to be sure” he mused as he waved a hand, inviting the pair to
sit down at the table. “Easily constructed, perhaps even inexpensively so; a
spectacle in its own right… And yet, sacked by a simple flame.” Wax feigned an
amused look for Von Lothar’s musings as he slid his hand into his coat pocket,
rubbing his thumb along the familiar corner of his smog tin. “Correct me if I
am wrong, Mister Wax, but Castyl is a Heartlander name, is it not?” He asked.
Wax nodded.
“It is, yes.” He replied.
“But you clearly bear the strong
face of an Aven. How is it that an Aven came to own a Heartlander’s family
name?” he asked. Wax released his smog tin and folded his hands in front of
him.
“My mother was an Aven, and my
father a Heartlander. I took more after her, in my looks, but chose to live
here in Nexus.” He explained, reluctant to give any more information than he
was required to. “After my father died, my mother returned to Avenoss with my
sister, and I chose to remain here as it was a better location for my line of
work.” He explained.
“And what is it exactly that you do,
Mister Wax?” Von Lothar inquired.
“I’m a private investigator.” Wax
replied. “It’s part of why I’m here this evening.”
“So, you’re working for Eilonia,
then?” Von Lothar asked. Wax shook his head.
“No. I’m actually not currently
employed by anyone, however I am pursuing a suspicious string of events
involving my own attempted murder.” Wax said. He cursed himself inwardly for
having spoken so loudly, as he now had the attention of the entire table. To
his relief, Von Lothar waved them back to their own conversations before
returning his attention to Wax.
“Someone attempted to kill you? What
does that have to do with Eilonia?” He asked, casting her a concerned glance as
if to assure her he was still aware of her presence.
“It doesn’t. Not directly, anyway.
Among the would-be assassin’s possessions, I found a considerable amount of
money; five thousand shillings, to be precise.” He turned his gaze casually to
Eilonia, resisting the urge to smirk at the warning look he saw behind her
smile. “I have no want for blood money, so I gave the entire sum to Eilonia, in
order that she could donate it to whatever cause she saw best fit.” He
explained.
“Well, my company certainly
appreciates your generosity, Mister Wax, but what of the matter of your
attacker?” Von Lothar asked, intrigued by the story.
“As it turns out,” Wax continued, “The
shillings in the bag weren’t all the man had on him. Inside his pocket watch I
found another shilling, a gold aurum, which turned out to be counterfeit. I was
afraid that the money I’d given to Eilonia was counterfeit. I couldn’t risk
allowing counterfeit coin to be donated, so I rushed down here to warn her.”
“And the coins she had?” Von Lothar
inquired.
“Legitimate. It seems I have the
only counterfeit. It may well be a template piece used by the counterfeiters to
reproduce, but I can’t be sure.” Wax finished. Von Lothar looked thoughtful for
a moment, and then nodded.
“Interesting indeed, Mister Wax. I
wish you the best of luck in your investigations.” He let that be the end of
the conversation, for which Wax was thankful. After a short time, Von Lothar
excused himself from the table, having other business matters to attend to. He
bid the group a good evening, kissed the back of Eilonia’s hand, and departed.
When he’d vanished from sight, Wax excused himself as well. Eilonia stood with
him and followed him out of earshot of the others. “Where will you go now?” she
asked.
“I have some theories I need to
confirm.” Wax said. “The first thing I need to find out is the name of the man
who attacked me. He had no identification on him that night, but the body is
likely still at the morgue. Someone down there may be able to tell me more
about him.” He explained. Eilonia nodded.
“Just try not to get shot again, and
tell me what you find out. You know I’ll be curious.” She said, giving him a
practiced smile and peck on the cheek; a show for the benefit of the others in
the room. She glided back across the room and reclaimed her seat, and Wax made
for the exit.
“Mister Wax?” Spoke a voice from
behind him as he approached the door. Wax turned to see a short, sharply
dressed man.
“Who’s asking?” He replied.
“Pardon the short notice, sir, but
my employer wishes to speak with you in private concerning a matter of great
importance.” He said. “Please follow me.” Hesitantly, Wax followed the man into
a side corridor, separated from the central room. He was led to a large office
door, which the smaller man pushed open and ushered him inside. Wax entered
cautiously, and the man closed the doors behind him, remaining outside. The
interior of the office was richly decorated, but dimly lit by a small number of
phlogiston lamps and a fire hearth. Thin tendrils of smoke from a pipe bowl
rose from a concealed source on the other side of a large, high-backed chair.
Instinctively, Wax moved with deft footsteps, his hand slipping into his coat
and resting on the handle of his revolver.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with
me,” spoke a familiar voice from the armchair, “I must apologize for the method
by which you were contacted. I simply couldn’t risk discussing this matter in
the open, in front of the others.” Markus von Lothar’s powerful shape rose from
the chair to face Wax, who dropped his hand from his weapon and folded his
arms.
“What did you need me for?” he
asked. Von Lothar sighed.
“Earlier this evening, you confirmed
a suspicion I have had for quite some time now. Yours is not the first story I’ve
heard about counterfeit money being produced in this city. I’m assuming the
piece you found was of abnormally high quality for counterfeiters, correct?” He
asked. Wax nodded. “I feared as much. Please. Sit.” Von Lothar directed Wax to
a chair.
“About a month ago, I was informed
by one of my colleagues that a specific project prototype had been stolen from
his facility. The prototype that was stolen was a specific kind of metal alloy,
designed to nearly identically replicate the appearance and physical properties
of other metals. Its intended purpose was to mask and repair damage to machine
parts and weapon casings. Not long after that, we began discovering counterfeit
coins in our machines.” He explained. Wax listened quietly as the man spoke. “I’m
sure you’re aware, Mister Wax, that my company is responsible for the
production and upkeep of every Alchemer and similar distribution machine in the
city of Nexus. We pride ourselves on our anti-theft measures built into the machines;
however they only extend so far. We can’t afford the resources to have them
individually monitored, because there are too many. I am prepared to hire you,
Mister Wax, for six times your normal rate, if you will find the source of
these counterfeit coins and put an end to it. Profits from the sales of vices
alone have never been higher, and I cannot afford to have the most profitable
time the company has ever seen ruined by thieves. Nor will I have the good name
and integrity of either my own or my partners’ companies compromised. I need
these counterfeiters to be stopped before they’re able to fool my Alchemers.”
He finished. Wax gazed ponderously at the hearth for a moment before
responding.
“You’ve got a deal.” He said.
“Excellent. One more thing. I don’t want
to cause any kind of panic or alarm, which is why I chose to meet here in my
office rather than discuss this in the open around my colleagues. I therefore must
ask you not to mention this to any of them.” Said Von Lothar. Wax nodded his
agreement and the men shook hands firmly. Wax saw himself out of the office. He
quickly made his way back down the hall and out to where his steambike waited
for him. His mind swarmed furiously with new information and leads, but for
now, he sped off to exchange his borrowed finery for his thick coat. It was
time he made another trip to The Gardenworks, and he was going to need it.