Chapter 4; Annoyingly Annoying
As soon as the words of acceptance leave Zonner's mouth, something on the parchment changes. The previously empty area between the request and time period was now filled with inked words which read; "Let no harm come to Lena Whittaker, our relationship with you will depend on how well you complete this task"
Zonner's eyes scanned beyond the line break to the next sentence. "Do not choose a path before the completion of this task. If you disobey, you will be assigned a penalty…"
He stood still, not letting the sound of passing by horse carriages bother him. "So it ended up being a threat after all", he said with a mirth that seemed disingenuous.
Zonner stared coldly at the new information magically written on the paper. The reason for the path softblock could be that they want Zonner to take on a specific role.
The recently threatened supernatural detective pockets the contractual paper and gets to walking. "Time to get a lay of the land, the public archives should be a good start", he ponders, picking up his pace. The gala was the day after tomorrow, he was going to get a broader perspective on the Whittaker family, then tomorrow he would narrow his focus to Lena.
Zonner passed many well dressed men on his walk, this had always been the trend. Politeness, regality and presentability mattered a lot in this day and age. He glanced to the side as he saw a man purchasing quite a fashionable pocket watch, lined with silver. The design of the watch was stable and made with purpose, the item would make a good impression on anyone.
The brown haired demon hunter stops and walks over to the shop where he saw the unnamed gentleman buy the pocket watch. "Impressions are gonna matter, and I need to look the part if i'm gonna be attending the gala", Zonner rationalizes as he enters the shop, the bell informing shopkeep someone had entered.
Zonner walked over to the well-dressed, scholarly-looking man behind the counter. "Nice hairstyle, fits the aesthetic," he complimented genuinely. The man's short ponytail and slightly unkempt fringe gave him the air of a gentlemanly mechanic deeply engrossed in his craft.
The watchmaker smiled, a flicker of pleasant surprise in his eyes. "I appreciate your kindness, sir. Not often one notices the details." His voice was cultured, articulate – the kind that wouldn't sound out of place in a university lecture hall or a minor lord's drawing room.
Zonner returned the smile, leaning casually on the polished glass counter. "Saw the piece you just sold that fellow. Silver-lined, sturdy looking. Wondering if you might have something similar? Need to make a decent impression myself soon."
"Of course," the watchmaker replied smoothly. He crouched down behind the counter, the movement precise and practiced. With a soft clink, he placed three pocket watches on the velvet display pad before Zonner.
"These are all very well-crafted, I must say," he began, gesturing with a clean, oil-stained finger. "Solid brass movements, reliable levers. Good timekeepers, all of them." He pointed to each in turn.
On his left, a plain brass hunter-case: Simple, robust, entirely unadorned. Utilitarian. Something that Harrow would go for.
In the middle, a slightly ornate piece with floral engraving: Delicate scrollwork etched around the edge, a touch more decorative. It looked very nice, wouldn't look out of place in the hand of a maiden.
On the right, a silver-accented watch: Almost identical to the one Zonner had seen purchased. A clean, brushed steel case with a thin band of polished silver lining the bezel and framing the white enamel dial. Roman numerals, blue steel hands. Understated but undeniably quality.
Zonner's eyes immediately locked onto the third watch. He picked it up. It had a satisfying weight, solid but not cumbersome. The snap of the hunter-case opening and closing was crisp. The ticking inside was a steady, reassuring rhythm.
"This one," Zonner said, holding up the silver-accented watch. "Seems the practical sort. Like the one that gentleman chose."
The watchmaker nodded approvingly. "A fine choice, sir. Very popular with the discerning gentleman who values function alongside a touch of refinement. The silver lining catches the light just so without being ostentatious." He named a price – fair, reflecting the quality, but not exorbitant.
Zonner didn't haggle. He counted out the bills onto the counter. As the watchmaker carefully placed the watch into a small, lined box.
"Much obliged," he said, pocketing the box.
Stepping back out onto the bustling street, the comforting tick-tick-tick muffled by his coat, Zonner refocused. The watch was acquired, a small piece of his disguise in place. Now for the real work. He adjusted his collar and set off with renewed purpose, the image of the warped clock sigil burning in his mind. The public archives awaited. It was time to learn everything he could about House Whittaker.
So, he headed to the public archives. He looked upon the building as he neared it. It looked more like a cathedral than a library.
He entered the building, no bell sounding for the first time in a long time. People would come here to study, so it would make sense to get rid of the distractions.
Zonner walked up to the keeper sitting at the front desk. The glasses adorned woman didn't bother looking up at him. Charming.
"I was wondering where you keep the archived information on noble families, specifically Whittaker", Zonner questions, politely leaning on the table. At a closer look, it seemed as if the short purple haired woman was reading a book.
She still didn't look up at him, even when responding. "That depends on the information you are looking for Sir, Land Modification, incidents, political affairs, marriages and such are all kept seperate".
Zonner wears a blank look on his face before sighing deeply. "Well, I'll start with the land then", he informs her.
She pulls out a slip of paper and writes an address on it. "Head there and grab book four".
"My thanks", Zonner replies politely before walking off.
He sighs again, "Let's get to it then…"
…
A few hours pass as Zonner flips through the pages of the many books he had acquired from the shelves.
He had first started with the details of the land under the rule of the Whittaker family, Norsted.
A light crackling sound escapes from the book as Zonner creases the paper slightly. His eyes scan over the historical information, "The main manor was built over an old battlefield, a field of swords. A mass grave of warriors…"
Zonner leaned back as he crossed his arms, tilting his head upwards. That information was concerning because it could lead to many undead threats. Such as spirits, zombies and cursed metal.
A deep noise escapes Zonner's throat, "Hopefully that won't be much of an issue. If something was gonna happen, it would've happened by now", he rationalized.
The undead wouldn't be an issue unless some transcendent with an affinity to them decided to stir up trouble.
He shifted back to his original position, his fingers caressing another book he had read through. That one had information on all the generations of Whittakers. Surprisingly, nothing obvious came up.
Though he had noticed one tradition persisting throughout the generation. It wasn't exactly a tradition, but a coincidental pattern.
"The Whittaker family always has only two heirs and the younger one is always a daughter", Zonner says quietly to himself with narrowed eyes.
Even though Zonner is very smart and decently educated on supernatural matters, he had no idea what that meant exactly. It could just be a coincidence, or it could be something more. A pattern like this repeating was very improbable but not impossible.
Zonner put away the information, moving onto the next information he had discovered. This one was on the history of marriages.
The last three generations of Whittakers had all married an eastern partner. That tradition was continued by the Duke's older daughter, Marlene Whittaker who was also marrying an easterner, making the tradition four generations old.
The spiritual traditions of cultures could differ greatly, causing affinities to differ greatly by continent and culture as well. All of that was basic knowledge in the community of transcendents.
Zonner wouldn't consider himself particularly knowledgeable in transcendent affairs, he wasn't very well learned in that matter.
"I don't deal with those weirdo's often, I prefer keeping to myself and the beasties that bother the common folk…" he says, referring to his job of chasing away wayward spirits and demons.
His fingers move to the final book, resting at the edge of the table. It couldn't really be considered a book, it was more like a collection of pages bound together by a string. Clearly, it was for convenience so that more pages could be added.
These were the incident reports. He had painstakingly read each and every line carefully. That wouldn't have been much of an issue if the thing wasn't documenting fucking eight generations of minor to major incidents.
"Damned thing gave me a headache…" he comments, complaining before recalling what he had learned from the cursed thing.
The good thing was that most of the incidents were just mundane issues, such as "a fucking boot going missing…", he said, snarling.
Then there were other issues such as a chandelier falling, a wall giving away due to mold, a servant burning his hand whilst cleaning the fireplace.
Clearly the thing had been censored of any supernatural incidents, making this entire study kind of pointless. "What a fucking joke", he says obviously annoyed. He had been hopeful in expecting something like this to not happen.
He gets up, letting out a 'tsk' as he walks out of the archive, hands in his pocket without even thanking the rude purple haired woman at the desk.
He looked up at the sky, twilight already coloring it. A peek of the twin moons could be seen on the horizon.
His hand moves to his pocket, retrieving his newly bought pocket watch, the silver reflecting the moon light in an appreciable way.
He smiles at the time piece, "Would've bought you even without the gala looming over my head", he comments, listening contendendly to the ticking of the clock.
He puts it back into his pocket, heading homeward. "Gotta get a suit tomorrow, looking homeless won't do me any favors in blending in", he comments offhandedly, referring to the bullet hole he had put in his coat when he was fighting the shadow gargoyle.
He walked at a steady pace, appreciating the cold air. The angel blood in his veins had a tendency to keep him warm. If he didn't have the bloodline, he probably would've gotten a pipe like Harrow.
The blood was also the reason he held up especially well against demons. It was also a boon in chanting, amplifying holy magic to the point where it could just barely compete with a transcendent on a lighter path.
"... Hope Harrow left me a sandwich", he said jokingly. He really had to stop leeching off his brother. The man worked harder than he did in his opinion.
He kept on walking, not noticing a dark bird circling him in the sky. The bird's intelligent eye looked upon him before it flew away.