Metello was in front of the “Young hunter shop” again. This time, Brorne was with him. Knowing the weapons were not quite good there, Brorne wanted to pick another shop, but Metello had neither the money for good weapons nor the will to let his teacher buy one for him. After a bit of arguing, the [Shield bearer] agreed to go to see Mrs Marple's shop and let him pay.

They entered the door. At first, the old lady greeted Brorne with pleasure, but an uncomfortable look sprang on her face when she noticed Metello hiding behind him.

“Sorry, Mr Walsh, but I doubt I have the kinds of weapon that suits you.”

“That's OK. I just need to buy a rapier and a wooden shield for my nephew who will come to the city next month after coming of age. This boy there has the same body size, so he will test which ones would be the most suitable. Please, Go find me a good rapier Metello.”

“Yes sir.”

Brorne winced a bit at being called that way by Metello after all this time while the young man went to choose.

“Don't forget. It has to feel good in your grasp, and its weight must be neither too low nor too high to be both comfortable and efficient.”

The [Storekeeper] protested, but Brorne was not listening to her. It was a technique he adapted from monster hunting and refined for years to interact with [Merchants]: don't fight your foes on their strong points. For [Merchants], it translated into "don't talk to them".

Meanwhile, Metello searched for five minutes and found two rapiers who felt good to him. He chose the one with the fancier handle. Ten minutes later they were outside, five of which were Brorne trying to haggle down the price without success. Metello was in full gear, ready to hunt. It was far from elite gear, but he was happy for what he had.

“Thanks a lot, Brorne. I don't know what I could have done without your help.”

“If you're so thankful, don't call me sir next time OK?”

Not able to hold back a chuckle, he answered honestly. “I'll try my best.”

Later this cycle, after having thanked Brorne a hundred times, Metello was in his home.

“Lux, gorgeous god, shiny god, please use your bright beauty to pierce the night.

Ball of light!”

Lucco appeared. It was Metello's first prayer practice session since the class bestowal. Lucco was much more obedient to Metello than before, as much as a good little light ball should be. From his bed, Metello made it travel the room in a one-meter sphere around him. He willed it to turn here and there, change its pace, and be motionless. As the ball was not confined to his hand anymore, Metello felt as if chains had been released. He tried to make Lucco go as fast as possible. He counted a bit more than three seconds to make for the magnificent pancake to do a complete turn.

After he went a bit bored with simple speed, he made the ball as small as he could, reaching 6 cm in diameter, and with it mimicked drawing the Nihil's statues from the last cycle on his wall. The art pieces had impressed him much. He was as much disappointed he could not see Lux's ones better.

He tried to change the ball form to reach a glowing pencil and draw more precisely. He found himself with a little light sausage with a vaguely pointed-shaped tip. It was the most precise shape he ever managed to mold. It was still far from the real thing.

After some time, he heard a bird landing at his window. He turned his head toward it and made it its mission to please the public he had now. He stopped his imaginary drawing with a wannabe pencil made of light and started to make the ball bigger and dimmer. Then, he tried to mimic the bird to grant him a sort of a friend. It resulted in another form of light gray sausage with a vaguely larger stomach, a too big round head, and a vaguely pointed beak. It was a really bad imitation of what the bird looked like, but there was progress. And who never dreamed about making a gray sausage fly?

Once the bird was gone, absolutely not frightened by his fellow-creature, Metello got to try some other shapes. He went for what was around him: his rapier, his wooden shield, his pot. He made a short try with Nihil's statue, but he dismissed it rapidly not to risk offending the god further.

When the 17th bell rang, he was pleased to see that he had no headache. The Lux devotee was a real good blessing allowing him to practice more for his only Lux prayer. While maintaining Lucco, the less bright he could, he went to do some basic physical training before making himself some food. He went to bed early as he didn't sleep much the last cycle. At first, he felt weird going to bed alone, but he fell asleep fast.

The next cycle, after a quick breakfast, he put on his hat and walked to the guardhouse. He had pretty bad memories of the last time he went there, almost a year ago. As he walked up the stairs for the second time in his life, his steps were heavy, and his face was tense.

He presented himself at the desk. The [Civil Servant] looked at him warily.

"Hello, sir, I had my coming-of-age the previous cycle, and I would like to consult files from my parents' murder. Is it possible?"

Metello had rehearsed his line a dozen times before entering the huge stone building. But he couldn't prepare for the next steps.

"Name and year of the case ?"

"I'm Metello Black-haired, and it took place in 906."

"Name of the victims ?"

"I don't know. It's one of the reasons I wanted to look at the files."

The man grimaced and took a heavy breath.

"OK. Go seat yourself in the waiting area there while we are looking for it."

"Thank you, sir."

He sat on a bench to wait, tense. He played the "What if?" game he sometimes liked and sometimes hated. Here, it was the hated time. What if the files had been lost? What if there was no more information on his parents? What if they had been Nox tainted like most of the city may think he was? He spent almost two hours exploring the worst of all possibilities before he was called by another [Guard].

"Mr. Black-haired? Come with me."

Metello was reluctantly brought to a small room, furnished with a table and three chairs. The files were already there, and another person was waiting for him. He was a blond middle-aged man. He wore plain light purple pants and a purple shirt. Metello was surprised as he knew already it was not a [Civil Servant]. With a monotonous and seemingly well-rehearsed speech, he informed the [Lux Acolyte].

"Hello, sir. I'm the [Bookkeeper] of the guardhouse. Here is the file you wanted to consult. If the files were to be stolen or damaged, there would be consequences which most of the time include a high fine and forced labor if you're unable to pay for it. Is it clear for you ?"

"It is clear, sir."

"Fine. Gerard, here, will come and fetch me once you are finished. I'll proceed with a status check of the files and then you'll be able to leave the guardhouse. See you later."

In no time, he was alone in the small room. The [Guard] stood just outside the door. Metello took an anxious look at the thin stack of papers he finally had the right to see. Only adults related to any party of the case could consult guard files. As he was the only one related to his parents, even Mrs. Richardson could not learn more about it than what the [Guard] who took him to the orphanage had told her. And it was really not much.

The orphan looked at it from afar for a few minutes, as if it was a dangerous beast, before daring to reach and open it. The files contained only four written papers. He cautiously took them, one after the other, and read the headlines.

“Scene and body descriptions, witnesses testimony, victim research, search for culprits.”

He put the first paper aside and began to read the safer witnesses' testimony. As a matter of fact, only one witness had been interrogated. His name was Jose, and he explained how baby cries had woken up the neighborhood, that he went to look at what happened, and that he discovered two dead bodies and a baby crying on the blood tainted ground.

There were not many details, and it was the side of the story he already knew, but reading the questions and answers from the witness himself made Mettelo almost live it once again. He put aside the paper and wiped away a tear that had come uninvited. He let some time slip to calm himself before continuing.

Next, the young man chose to read the “search for culprits” paper. He had been told that it was a murder for theft. When he read where that took place, in one of the more dangerous areas of the poor residential district, he thought there were not many doubts about it. Even for the inhabitants of the poor districts, there were some alleys to avoid, and it was one of them. He didn't learn much by reading the paper, but he was breathing more calmly. It was a weird thing to feel better after reading a guard file.

For the third part, he held out his trembling hand toward the “Victim research” paper. It was his best bet to find what he wanted to know, what he needed to know there. The first part explained that there had been a lot of witnesses as black-haired people didn't move in town without drawing attention, but only a few testimonies had been written.

The first was taking half of the sheet, and it collected what a hotel manager who hosted his parents knew. Apparently, they had been in his hotel for some days before being kicked out because of a lack of funds. They would have said being from the Saint John Empire, near the Deadwood forest, and working there as [Vegetal Craftsmen].

Metello sat back in his chair, looking at the ceiling with a smile.

“Saint John Empire, near the Deadwood forest, and they were [Vegetal Craftsmen]. Is there a name ?”

He looked back at the rest of the report, a smile plastered on his lips. Nobody had known their names. The other testimonies were more about where they had moved in the city or what they had worn, but nothing was really interesting for the victims' son.

As he looked at the only one left, his smile fell. The “Scene and bodies description” paper was alone in the corner of the table. Metello looked at it, grimace sometimes appearing on his face. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but in the end, he caught it quickly before changing his mind, and he started to read. He had to go all the way.

The scene description he read was a bit simple, mentioning the corner of an alley, a large amount of blood on the street, and the position of the bodies with his father in the middle and her mother near the wall. Metello had been laying nearer to his mother. It was almost like the first testimony, only with more details. Then came the next section.

“Body descriptions. What were they look like ?”

They had been measured at 1m67 and 1m78. The two of them were black-haired with the same bronze tan everybody wore. Their eyes were black for both. They had worn simple but not worn-out clothes. It was vague, but it was better than nothing. He cursed himself for not having brought some paper to write it down. He read many times his parents' descriptions to lock the description in his memory.

When the description of the knife wounds came, he closed the whole file and sat back in his seat. He made a complicated face. While a smile marked his lips, his eyes seemed lost. What if his parents had had more money? What if they had gone to a city other than Ironholes? What if they were still alive?

He blew away these questions, reading again the information he wanted to remember.

He had now a direction to follow for when he would be able to travel through the lands, and he could hope to find grandparents, uncles, aunts, or cousins there. Metello knew the Deadwood forest in the Saint John Empire was east of Ironholes, even if he ignored how far it was. He didn't learn precisely which town or village they were from either. All that didn't matter. He had an approximate destination and the will to go. It was all that mattered.

He knew a bit of what they looked like too, and that they were [Vegetal Craftsman] and [Craftswoman]. These descriptions would be of immense value to identify family members later. But it was precious to him now too. He had no memory of his parents, and it hurt him sometimes. Now, he had something to cling to.

Satisfied with what he learned, he called the [Guard] to be allowed to leave. Everything went well, and ten minutes later he was in Main Square, in front of the building, more determined than ever to leave the city for good.