Chapter 11: Following the trail of the Red Baron
The following afternoon, Aldwyn's headache had subsided, but the weight of his newfound knowledge remained. He knew he had to act swiftly. Dressing in the simple yet elegant attire that was becoming his signature.
Master Sewell had sent for him, and as he descended the stairs into the guild's main hall, he found a group of scholars and researchers poring over dusty tomes and parchments. They were a motley crew, each with their own set of quirks and peculiarities, but all had a sharpness to their eyes that suggested a keen intellect.
"Ah, Aldwyn," Sewell called out, gesturing to the table where the scholars were huddled. "These are the finest minds in the guild. They've been working tirelessly to uncover information on this 'Hollow' character and the Red Baron's possible involvement."
"I don't have to pay extra for their services, right?" Aldwyn joked, although his expression revealed that he was serious about the question.
Master Sewell chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "No, it's all covered under your contract. Now, let's see what they've found."
The scholars looked up from their work, their faces a mix of excitement and wariness. One, a young woman with spectacles perched on her nose, spoke up. "We've uncovered some disturbing rumors about a figure called 'The Hollow'. It seems he's known for leaving nothing but emptiness in his wake—no trace, no witnesses, not even a memory of his presence."
Aldwyn leaned in, his interest piqued. "How does this relate to Lady Yesenia?"
The young scholar's expression grew solemn. "The Hollow is rumored to be a collector of sorts—of artifacts, of knowledge, and... people. It's said that those he takes are never seen again. They simply vanish without a trace."
Aldwyn thought for a moment before speaking. "That explains the name 'The Hollow', but the question is, how do we find someone who can't be found?"
Master Sewell leaned on the table, his gaze intense. "Think about it, the Red Baron has contacted him, so it's possible. We have to focus on him first and figure out how we can find Hollow."
Aldwyn nodded, his thoughts racing. "Where do we start?"
The young scholar pushed her spectacles up her nose. "We've traced some of the Red Baron's known associates, but nothing concrete. However, there is a rumored underground market where such individuals might gather—The Crimson Bazaar. It's a place of ill repute, but it's where the unspeakable deals are made."
Master Sewell nodded gravely. "The Crimson Bazaar is not a place for the faint of heart, Aldwyn. But if you wish to find The Hollow, it's where you'll likely find your answers."
"Very well," he said, standing. "I'll go there tonight."
The young scholar handed him a piece of paper with the names and locations of the Red Baron's known associates scribbled in hasty ink. Her hand was small and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth of the paper.
Aldwyn studied the map, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar streets and landmarks of Helgarde's underbelly. The Crimson Bazaar was nestled in the heart of the city's most notorious district, where the stench of poverty and despair mingled with the faint whispers of dark magic.
....
As night fell, he donned a nondescript cloak to blend in with the shadows. The cobblestone streets grew slick with rain, and the gas lamps cast a sickly glow on the buildings, illuminating the twisted faces of the gargoyles that adorned their eaves.
"I love autumn, but does it really have to rain every day?" Aldwyn was a little upset about the weather.
He arrived at the edge of the district where the Crimson Bazaar was rumored to be. The buildings grew closer together, the alleys darker and more foreboding. The rain had picked up, the drops stinging his face like the cold breath of a specter. He pulled his hood tighter around his face.
The first name on the list was 'The Alchemist'. Known for his rare and often forbidden concoctions, he was said to have connections to the highest echelons of Helgarde's underworld. The address led him to a nondescript building with a flickering sign of a cauldron above the door. The smell of burning herbs and sulfur hung heavy in the air.
Aldwyn stepped inside, the door creaking on its hinges. The room was dimly lit, with shelves lined with bottles and jars of various sizes, their contents casting eerie shadows on the walls.
"Welcome to the Alchemist's Haven," a reedy voice greeted him from the back of the shop. An old man with a stooped back emerged from the shadows, his eyes glinting with curiosity behind thick spectacles. "What brings you to this part of town?"
Aldwyn offered a sly smile. "I'm looking for a man named 'Red Baron'. I've heard he's a regular here."
The Alchemist's eyes narrowed, his curiosity sharpened by the mention of the name. "Ah, the Baron," he said, his voice a dry whisper. "He's a man of exquisite tastes, but his presence is not something one advertises."
"I'm not here to cause trouble," Aldwyn assured him, his voice as smooth as the shadows that clung to his cloak. "I merely wish to speak with him regarding a... mutual acquaintance."
The Alchemist studied him for a moment before shrugging. "I can't say I know the man you're looking for, but I might have heard something." He gestured to a table in the corner of the shop, where a steaming cauldron bubbled ominously. "But information isn't free, my friend. What can you offer in exchange?"
Aldwyn looked at the alchemist with a serious expression, "Your life. That should be valuable enough, shouldn't it? I had three more 'associates' of the Baron if need be."
The old man swallowed hard, his eyes darting around the room. "I see you're not one for pleasantries. Fair enough. The Baron does indeed come here, but not as frequently as he once did. His tastes are... particular. He's been known to deal in the rarest of ingredients for his rituals."
Aldwyn leaned on the counter, his eyes never leaving the Alchemist. "Rituals, you say? Any idea what kind?"
The old man shuffled his feet, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "Only whispers, really. Summonings, perhaps. Dark deals with... things better left unnamed."
Aldwyn nodded, his mind racing. "I see. Thank you for your time." He turned to leave, the bell above the door jingling faintly as he stepped out into the rain-soaked street. The alchemist's words lingered in the air like the scent of his wares—potent and unsettling.
„Lady Célia's description of Lady Yesenia's dark dreams and her behavior had me confused before. No one changes so dramatically without a reason. Is the ritual responsible for that?"
The next name on the list was 'The Enigma', a figure known for his ability to procure any item for the right price. His shop was said to be a labyrinth of hidden compartments and secret passages, a maze of greed and temptation. The rain had turned into a downpour, as Aldwyn approached the shop.
He stepped through the door, the warmth of the shop a stark contrast to the cold outside. The air was thick with the scent of exotic spices and ancient tomes. The Enigma looked up from his desk, his eyes sharp and gleaming with curiosity.
The man was tall and thin, with a sharp nose and a pointed beard that seemed to split his face in two. He was dressed in a crimson velvet jacket with gold thread, the fabric shimmering in the candlelight. His fingers, long and bony, twitched as if eager to grasp something of value. The room was cluttered with artifacts and treasures, each telling a silent story of theft and cunning.
"Welcome to my humble abode," The Enigma said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "What brings the Hall of the Sword's newest prodigy to me?"
„How the hell did he know I was a new member? Does this kind of news spread so quickly?"
Aldwyn scanned the room, taking in the wealth of secrets it contained. "I'm looking for someone who goes by 'Red Baron'."
The Enigma leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Ah, the Baron," he mused. "A man of culture and refinement. What could you possibly want with him?"
"I have a... professional interest," Aldwyn replied, his tone even. "I've been told he's a patron of your... unique wares."
The Enigma's smile grew, revealing a set of teeth that were too perfect to be natural. "Ah, yes. The Baron does indeed have a penchant for the rare and the obscure. But he's a man of many faces, and his tastes are as varied as the items in my collection."
Aldwyn remained unfazed. "Any idea where I might find him?"
The Enigma's smile widened, his eyes glinting. "Find him? Oh, that's a bit more complicated than you might think. But for the right price, I might be able to point you in the right direction."
„My threats probably won't work here...I don't know what it is, but he gives me a bad feeling, my instinct tells me to avoid it."
Aldwyn pulled three silver coins out, the owl's gaze reflecting in the flickering candlelight. "This should suffice for now."
The Enigma's eyes lit up, and he snatched the coins with a grace that belied his age. "Very well," he said, his voice a low purr. "The Baron has been seen at the Crimson Masquerade, a private gathering held in a mansion at the heart of the Bazaar. But beware, the path to the truth is never straightforward in these circles."
Aldwyn nodded, his mind racing with the implications. A masquerade ball in the heart of the city's most dangerous district? It was the perfect place for the Red Baron to conduct his business without drawing attention. "When is the next masquerade?"
The Enigma leaned back in his chair, his eyes gleaming. "Patience, young one. The masquerade is not an event one simply crashes. Invitations are scarce and highly coveted. But fear not," he said, his smile growing wider, "I can procure one for you, for a small... fee."
„Fucking hell, he's draining my coins out of my purse...but I have no choice."
Aldwyn pulled out five silver coins, the owl's eyes seemingly watching the transaction. He placed them on the counter with a definitive clack. "I need to be there," he said firmly.
The Enigma's smile grew into a grin as he swept the coins into his palm. "Very well," he said, his eyes gleaming with greed. "The next Crimson Masquerade is in three nights. But remember, once you're there, you're in the lion's den. Play your cards wisely."
Aldwyn left the shop, the rain now a torrent that soaked through his cloak. His thoughts were a whirlwind of possibilities and dangers. A masquerade ball meant that he would be surrounded by the city's elite, all hiding behind masks of deception. It was the perfect setting for the Red Baron to conduct his business without suspicion.
He needed to inform Lady Célia of his progress and the necessity of attending the masquerade. An early advance on his payment wouldn't be bad either, since he had barely any coins left.
Making his way back to her estate, Aldwyn's thoughts grew heavier with each step. The rain had turned into a furious storm, the wind howling through the narrow streets as if whispering secrets of the city's shadowy past. By the time he reached the grand gates of the estate, he was drenched to the bone. The guard recognized him and nodded respectfully, opening the gates to allow him entry.
Lady Célia's reception was less than welcoming. She sat by the fireplace, a fur coat wrapped around her slender frame, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "You've found something?" she asked, hope and desperation fighting for dominance in her voice.
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