Sudden light shone on Amelia's face as the shades were pulled open abruptly, letting out a small groan when she put her hand to her head.

"I know a proper lady's maid would have waited for the ring of the bell but eventually I had to make certain you were conscious," the plump grey haired woman said to her before bringing her breakfast tray to her bed.

"Margie," she complained in response as she sat up, her hair tangled and frayed in every direction as dark circles were under her eyes.

"Don't go complaining about breakfast in bed. If you want to eat at the table like other unmarried young women you'll need to get out of bed before ten."

She rubbed her eyes and yawned, dropping her arms as she relented. "Thank you." It did look delicious. Margie was an excellent cook.

"It's a beautiful day today," she opened the window, letting in the sounds of the busy city; people shouting and talking, carriage wheels, the clip clop of horses hooves on the cobblestone, and the sounds of doors opening and closing, getting the occasional sounds of bells when those doors belonged to the quaint shops on her street.

The cool early autumn breeze chilled Amelia's skin despite wearing a long sleeved nightgown. But she grabbed her thin robe and pulled her arms through it before pouring some of her hot tea, the familiar aroma hitting her nose and she welcomed the warmth as well when she took a sip.

"Oh, we're doing this thing here now, are we?" Margie pointed out when she looked at the mess of clues, newspapers, and photos strung with red wire all over Amelia's wall and vanity.

She looked up from her pastry innocently with a mouthful, her blue eyes big and round.

"Why is your canvas covered in newspapers?" she said with disappointment.

"I've just," she began and moved her tray to get off her bed, walking over to tidy up, "not been... I don't know... inspired to paint lately. I can't explain it—it's been this way for a while. But don't touch anything—it's all in its—"

"Proper place, I know," she said with a hint of annoyance.

She stuck a biscuit in her mouth and was about to take the brush to fix her hair but Margie took it in hand and gave her a look so she sighed and plopped down on the seat in front of the vanity.

"You know for someone who likes everything done just so, you certainly pick and choose which rules to keep, don't you, my lady?"

"My father was a rebel and my mother was a princess, you know this, Margie," she said matter-of-factly. "I have them both in me, you know. As far as being independent, check. But as I am being independent I will do things properly."

"And how proper is it to be on sight as a crime is being committed to investigate?"

"You know I have trouble delegating. I just... must make sure—"

"That you are right?"

"That it's done perfectly and nothing is amiss. I won't have criminals get away on my watch. But perhaps if being proper is so important to you, I might start now and get a lady's maid who understands how to converse with her employer?" she sassed her.

"And good luck finding someone who wants to help you wash the soot off your clothes when you come home at three in the morning—"

"It was a factory explosion and I was lucky to be alive—"

"Yes I remember when the fire brigade brought you home and you pretended you couldn't walk so their largest chap had to carry you all the way to your bed—"

"Marg I told you to forget about that!" she gasped with blushing cheeks, turning to look at her as her hair was finished (brushed really. Amelia never wanted to do anything more with it. At least not during the day or while she worked)... Or at least she thought it was finished. She couldn't see her mirror through the pictures of all the suspects.

"Forgive, yes. Forget? Never," the old woman replied with a held back grin as she went to pick out a frock for her to wear today.

She put her hands to her face in embarrassment before taking in a breath and shaking her head of it, frustrated. But she got up and went over to the tray where her mail was lying, curious to see what she had gotten this morning. "Oh Mr. Davis is getting married!" she announced after using her silver letter opener to get inside the first envelope. "Oh, Mr. and Mrs. Green are getting divorced. Oh that poor family. They'll be drowning in scandal until their great grandchildren are happily married," she said after opening the next one.

"Is this what you are? A recipient for latest local relationship drama?"

She wasn't listening to Margaret anymore as her eyes saw the last letter on the silver tray. The envelope was nice enough but there was an ash stain on the bottom left corner. Curious. There was also a hint of a very specific stench. A cigar?

Though the most notable aspect was the scarlet wax seal. It was a symbol she wasn't familiar with: four thick bars separated by thin lines, with a circle in the center just under the point. It seemed architectural in style or industrial. "Margie. Do you know this seal?" she asked.

She looked over from the baby blue dress she was holding up and squinted. "Oh... is that from—? No it can't be," she dismissed it.

"What?" Amelia asked, now more interested than ever. She looked at the address on the back. "Baron Northcrest?"

"So it is, then."

"Isn't he the ruler of that city-state west of us? The place that was run by all those cultists long ago?"

"Chronofell."

"Goodness... I haven't heard anything about that place in years."

"No one has. It's its own world over there. And for good reason after the war. Northcrest can rot in the city his lineage built. They deserve it."

"Seems you're better read than the working class usually is, isn't it?" Amelia teased.

"Knowledge isn't just for the princesses of society, Miss Everheart," she sassed back. Both of them thought the severe classist way of thinking was rather juvenile but it was the world they both lived in.

Margie pulled out the rest of the things to help Amelia dress for the day but asked, "What does it say?" after she noticed the girl reading the note.

Amelia looked up. "He wants to hire me."

"You? For what?"

She had a hint of excitement and curiosity in her tone, her eyes full of adventure. "To take down a master thief." 

Garrett's feet moved silently atop the center rooftop of the old bookshop, the warm light from the sun peeking just over the horizon and through the clouds that seemed to get thicker and thicker as the days went on, beams of light shining through the fogged air that never seemed to clear lately...

It created a silhouette of the city buildings in the richer part of town at his back. But he moved closer to the slums now as the tired city guards couldn't be bothered to watch the rooftops where he often liked to move.

He leapt across the gap to the shifting shingles of the old town houses and continued running, passing by the chimneys that pumped out black smoke from fireplaces, before eventually finding himself unable to make the next jump over as he instead used a beam to grip and drop himself onto the railing of a balcony beside a clothes line that stretched across the buildings. He then hopped from there to a slightly stuck out brick on another wall and then back to the first fall before he was down again on the cobblestone and out of sight behind the buildings.

As he walked the empty path between the city wall and stacks of supply crates, he noticed a man sleeping down there with a two year old child tucked into a torn matted blanket wrapped tightly in his arms, both of them sleeping as gentle drops of water hit the mud beside them.

Garrett looked down at his bag with a burdened gaze, hesitating for a moment before he took out the coin purse he stole from the baron and placed it carefully under the pillow of the boney man, out of sight of thieves, just to be safe even though the ones in this city didn't steal from the poor and often looked down on those who did.

Looking up at the wanted poster slapped against the stone wall, Garrett didn't bother taking it down. At this point he was too well known to hope for discretion... which is why it was risky for him to even be out during the day if he was honest...

Moving skillfully out of sight, he made his way through alleys and down familiar stone steps into the underground of the city, pushing open the old wooden doors and slipping inside.

A rat ran by his foot and out the door as soon as he came in. The stench down here was always rather foul but Garrett hardly noticed at this point. He pulled his face mask down to let himself breathe again, his hood still casting a shadow over his scarred face and mechanical right eye.

He moved through the people who were leaving with hangovers and guilty consciences, one of the men coughing with his eyes sunken in all sicklike. That was no surprise. The diseases down here were probably Biblical.

"Watches?" he heard a familiar voice say to people passing by. "Come on, you already gambled most of it away. Gotta spend it somewhere, folks," he persuaded, the thin man with his torn blazer open to reveal a collection of stolen wristwear. Garrett even got a glimpse of one of the watches he had stolen and sold down here.

"Rather early for you to be skulking about, isn't it?" a female voice asked the thief when he moved by some doorways that led into more... interesting areas of the undercity.

The woman was dressed in a tight fitted corset and floor length skirt that slit up the side to reveal black stockings and garters, her face kept as nice as it could be with what diseases she probably had. A lace mask covered her eyes that was decorated with feathers, long blonde hair pinned up in a poor attempt for one of the wealthier hairstyles. She held a fan in one hand as she looked at Garrett with flirtatious intent.

"And it's late for you, Cynthia," he said carelessly, not even giving her a glance aside from one to her eyes.

"You should come down and visit us in the House of Blossoms. All we see are tired guards and dignitaries escaping their wives. We could use a bit more guests on the darker side..." She smirked.

He raised a brow at her but in more of an unimpressed way rather than intrigue. "I think I'll pass. But give my regards to 'Mae'. Intuition tells me she just lost a client," he added with a bit of snark before continuing along.

He made his way through the dusty dark alley until he came to the door marked "The Crippled Burrick" and entered through it, dodging someone who was leaving with a bottle firmly in hand as the man stumbled out with cheap alcohol on his breath.

Upon entering the establishment, those who were there hushed almost instantly at his entry before beginning to whisper to one another instead.

Garrett payed no attention and instead his eyes searched for a familiar face which he then spotted in the corner of the tavern, smoking his cigar with a bottle of beer beside him, his hat on the table as he didn't trust these thugs down here not to steal it despite that fact that it was hardly worth anything.

The thief made his way to the table and sat across from him on the old creaking bench.

"I was wondering what happened to yuh. Thought you got nabbed," the round man said in his worn husky voice, suggesting years of smoking had done him in. He had dark hair and a dirty face, like most down here, his long sideburns turning into a chin strap and mustache that was laced with grey hair.

"Did we have an appointment I wasn't aware of, Basso?" Garrett asked with a slightly raised brow, his tone plain as it usually was.

"Maybe I just gave you too much credit," he joked, tapping off some of his cigar into the ash tray in front of him. "But you got in there and out all alone and alive, didn't yuh?"

A familiar crow came around the shoulder of Basso, twitching its head to look at him.

"Well... I had some help," he said with a slight squint, the corner of his mouth threatening to pull into a half smile as he looked at the bird.

Basso grabbed a small bread crumb from his empty plate with his stubby fingers that poked from his wool fingerless gloves and fed it to the crow. "Did you get it?"

Garrett turned his hand as the ring suddenly appeared between his fingers. "You going to tell me what it is?" he asked as he handed it over.

"Eh I'm not sure," Basso sighed as he took it to observe the rustic piece of jewelry. "You know how it is. Those who ask too many questions find themselves at the bottom of the river."

"A belief that our client seems to not share," Garrett commented as he still kept his eyes on the ring, curious... "Who was he?"

Basso put the ring away in his breast pocket for safe keeping. Didn't want any nosey beggars looking over his shoulder. Around here, even one of these folks could be a spy for the baron. That man was completely bonkers. "Some big shot attorney with an agenda. Don't know where he come from." He took a swig from his bottle.

Garrett thought about this information with his brows pinched together. "Then he's suicidal. No one crosses the baron without booking their ticket to the nearest grave."

"Except you, huh?"

He couldn't help but give him a slight look and nod, glancing left at the others in the pub. "Something like that."

He chuckled. "You know sometimes I wonder about you, Garrett."

"Yeah?" He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms, his legs outstretched under the table as his ankles were crossed over one another. "Why's that?"

"Well either you are hiding everything else about you in that thick skull of yours, or you truly do have just one thing."

"What you want to take me to dinner, Bass? Get to know me? Share a carriage ride in the park?" he teased plainly.

"Hey that's the best offer I've gotten in a while," he jested back before taking another drink, coughing a bit after.

Garrett snickered and shook his head. "I know what I'm about, Basso. It's not complicated."

"Everyone's complicated, Garrett. Make no mistake in thinkin' otherwise." He put out his cigar and stood up as Garrett thought about those words. "Come on. I'll give yuh some cash for everything else you took. Maybe you can spend it on a nice girl for once, hehe," he smacked Garrett's arm with a chuckle before heading for the door.

"I think I'll pass," Garrett said to himself, repeating what he told the "nice girl" he saw on the way in here...

The crow hopped onto Garrett's shoulder as he followed Basso from the tavern and to his private quarters to turn in his loot for some coin, a routine he followed almost daily...

But that was his one thing wasn't it?

The door opened to the short and enthusiastic Amelia Everheart in her proper hat and matching baby blue overcoat with rows of buttons down its front. "Good morning, Mr. Hughes," she said with a cheery smile.

"Good morning, Miss Everheart," the butler replied before allowing her entry.

"Are they home? I didn't really make an appointment, did I?" she asked when she entered and he shut the door behind her before offering to take her coat and hat but she was so scatterbrained she didn't even let him as she walked in. She had too much on her mind as her gloved hands were holding a stack of papers.

"Amelia!" Guinevere's voice said happily when she came into the entry way to the left of the staircase, wearing the most beautiful green day dress with her golden hair done up perfectly.

Amelia smiled and greeted her sister with a kiss but seemed confused. "You're rather cheerful aren't you?"

"It may or may not have to do with what Thomas gave me this morning," she said as if trying to stay modest but her fingers brushed the necklace she had on.

"Uh-oh. A pearl necklace? What did you do?" Amelia asked Thomas when he came out of the drawing room to see her.

"Do I need a reason to dote on my lovely wife?" he asked as he placed a kiss on her cheek.

She smiled bashfully at this but Amelia said, "You called another woman beautiful again, didn't you—?"

"I don't want to talk about it," he replied as he cut her off and gestured to the drawing room.

Amelia smiled to herself before walking in, followed by her sister and then her brother-in-law.

"So what brings you here, then Amelia?" Guinevere asked as they took their seats, Amelia on the red velvet couch that faced the two matching chairs Thomas and Guinevere sat in.

"Do I need a reason to visit my dearest sister?" she asked, quoting Thomas.

"Yes," he said plainly as he opened a newspaper.

"Have you concluded those three cases?" Guinevere asked and rang the bell on the table.

"Yes but that's not why I'm here," Amelia replied as she took off her hat and gloves, laying them on the couch beside her improperly. "I have news this morning. Rather exciting."

"Oh dear. Has someone finally proposed?" Thomas asked when he folded his paper down to look at her.

The butler came into the room and Gwen requested tea for the three of them before he ducked out again.

"Not in that way but..." She took out the letter from Baron Northcrest. "I received a letter from the baron of Chronofell."

"Goodness me. That's not a name you hear often," Gwen commented.

"Didn't that place become an industrial wasteland city of some kind? I can see a permanent cloud of smog to the west of us since June," Thomas commented.

"I actually heard that—"

"Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me—I have something to say please!" Amelia said as she practically bounced up and down in her seat like a child.

"Fine, go on," Gwen waved her off.

"Shouldn't you take your coat and—" Thomas began.

"No!" she interrupted. "I mean—I beg your pardon," she stuttered as they raised their brows at her. She cleared her throat ans sat more properly on the couch. "It seems there is a master thief in Chronofell. One of legend. He's been doing his bit for about fifteen or so years and they've never caught him," she said as if telling a bedtime story.

"Not once?" Guinevere asked in surprise.

"That's probably a reflection on their law enforcement more than him," Thomas commented in a mutter.

"Well all the more reason. This place needs my help—doesn't it sound exciting?" she grinned widely. "To catch the best! What a challenge!"

"Heavens girl you're behaving like I did when I was twelve and got a new frock—" her sister said.

"Or how she behaved when she was six and got a new magnifying glass."

She chuckled.

"I'm serious, he invited me to dinner with his Thieftaker General—" Amelia continued.

"'Thieftaker general'?" Thomas asked with skepticism.

"Apparently they have a really bad thief problem."

"And no luck catching one with a title like that? I'd like to meet this unjustly decorated fellow."

"Me too. I'm going to accept."

"Absolutely not. That place is incredibly dangerous. No story that comes out of that city is a good one," Gwen intervened.

"I quite agree. Who's going to make sure you don't get your pockets picked or your jewels snatched off your throat?" Thomas said with his brows raised.

Amelia stared at him weirdly as if she was expecting him to realize something, an innocent smile on her lips.

He did realize and his expression reflected this before he rolled his eyes. "No. No. No—"

"I'm going to need someone to bounce ideas off with this case and help me to see things that I'll miss, as well as keep me in line when I come up with outrageous schemes—you know you enjoy doing that—"

"Oh do I? I hadn't realized," he replied with his brows raised.

"Oh say yes! Please. I'll need someone to keep me out of trouble and protect me if the rumors are true. I doubt their City Watch do a good job if this problem has gotten this out of hand."

"And I suppose I am going to do better than them then?"

"No I just meant—"

"Oh just do it," Gwen interrupted as she read a newspaper. "You know she's going to go anyway. Then you'll just drive yourself mad worrying about her if you're not there."

He looked back at Amelia who was giving him her most persuasive expression and rolled his eyes but this time with a smile. "Alright, very well. I will go with you to the dinner but no more promises made for that. I cannot spend long there for neglect of my actual job."

"You're a lawyer. You'll fine—" Amelia said.

"Dinner," he insisted.

She let out a gentle breath but nodded. "Thank you, I'm grateful... and rather excited. I mean I've never been to Chronofell before. Who knows what kind of fun is awaiting us?"

Amelia and Thomas stood outside the train cart at Cinderfall Station, the ambience rather an alarming shift from the station they left. Here they heard the loud cawing of a crow as it flew overhead suddenly and landed on the broken clock to their left, along with the sound of coughing, someone shouting at another in an accusatory fashion, distant ringing of a blacksmith's hammer on horseshoes, a baby crying somewhere else, and the steady dreary rainfall on the shingles above them.

The night air was chilly and the smoke from the train made an eerie feeling around them.

The bird that had landed suddenly dove towards a man in a trench coat and he waved the animal away. But while he was distracted someone snatched his wallet before one of the watchmen caught him and tackled him. All of this unfolding right in front of them.

The train whistled loudly as the two stood there in hesitation...

Thomas then suddenly began to look around. "Where's my pocket watch?"