The Gentleman's Agony

Madame Thorne's office was in the basement of the boarding house, hidden behind a false wall in the wine cellar. It was a small room, barely ten feet square, but it was packed with information—maps covering the walls, ledgers stacked on shelves, a complex system of colored pins and strings that tracked the movements of various important people throughout the city.

Silas had been here once before, five years ago, when he'd first approached Madame Thorne about their arrangement. It had been impressive then. Now, looking at it with the eyes of someone who needed its resources to survive, it was overwhelming.

Madame Thorne sat behind a desk that was too large for the room, studying a piece of paper with the intense focus of someone reading a death warrant. She looked up when Silas and Elara entered, her expression grim.

"Sit," she said, gesturing to two chairs. "We need to talk."

They sat. Through the bond, Silas felt Elara's nervousness spike, and he sent back a wave of calm—or at least, his approximation of calm.

"I've been gathering information for the past three hours," Madame Thorne began. "The situation is worse than I thought."

"How much worse?" Silas asked.

"The Chancellor has declared martial law in the capital. He's claiming that the Red Hand has infiltrated the city at every level and that extreme measures are necessary to root them out. Every checkpoint is manned by triple the usual guards, every inn and boarding house is being searched, and there's a curfew in effect from sunset to sunrise."

"That's excessive," Elara said. "The Red Hand is a small organization. They don't have the resources to pose that kind of threat."

"The Chancellor isn't worried about the Red Hand," Madame Thorne replied. "He's worried about you. The martial law is cover for a manhunt. He's using the bombing as an excuse to consolidate power and eliminate anyone who might challenge him."

"What about the nobility?" Elara asked. "Surely they won't accept the Chancellor seizing control like this."

"The nobility is terrified. Half of them died in the bombing, and the other half are too scared to speak up. The Chancellor has positioned himself as the only person who can restore order, and most of the aristocrats are willing to accept that rather than risk their own necks."

Silas leaned forward. "What about the military? The Royal Guard?"

"Split. About half of them are loyal to the Chancellor, either because they believe his story or because they're being paid to believe it. The other half are loyal to the crown, but without a clear leader, they're not sure what to do. Your disappearance, Your Highness, has created a power vacuum, and the Chancellor is filling it."

"Then I need to return," Elara said immediately. "I need to show myself, prove that I'm not being controlled, and take my rightful place as Queen."

"You'd be dead within an hour," Madame Thorne said bluntly. "The Chancellor has already prepared for that possibility. He has witnesses ready to testify that you're under magical compulsion, physicians ready to declare you mentally unfit, and guards ready to 'rescue' you from Silas's influence. The moment you show your face, you'll be taken into custody for your own protection, and Silas will be executed for treason."

"Then what do we do?" Elara's voice was tight with frustration. "We can't hide forever, and we can't fight the entire city guard."

"No," Madame Thorne agreed. "But you can build a case against the Chancellor. Gather evidence of his corruption, his manipulation, his illegal seizure of power. Present it to the nobility in a way that makes it impossible for them to ignore."

"That will take time," Silas said. "Weeks, maybe months. And we don't have that kind of time."

"Then you'll need to work fast." Madame Thorne pulled out a map of the city and spread it across her desk. "I have contacts throughout the capital—people who owe me favors, people who trade in information, people who have reasons to want the Chancellor gone. If you can convince them to help you, you might be able to gather enough evidence to challenge him."

"And if we can't convince them?" Elara asked.

"Then you run. Get out of the city, get out of the kingdom, and hope the Chancellor forgets about you eventually." Madame Thorne's expression was sympathetic but firm. "Your Highness, I'm not going to lie to you. Your chances of success are slim. The Chancellor has been planning this for years, and he's very good at covering his tracks. But if you're determined to fight, I'll help you as much as I can."

"Why?" Elara asked. "Why help us at all? You said yourself that it puts your entire network at risk."

Madame Thorne was quiet for a moment, her eyes distant. "Because I had a brother once. He was bonded as a Proxy when he was eighteen, to pay off our father's gambling debts. He lasted three years before the costs killed him. I watched him die slowly, watched him lose himself piece by piece, and I couldn't do anything to stop it."

She looked at Silas, and there was something in her eyes that might have been recognition. "You're like him. You have that same look—like you're watching yourself from a distance, like you're not quite connected to your own body. He had that look too, toward the end."

"I'm sorry about your brother," Silas said quietly.

"So am I. But sorry doesn't change anything. The system that killed him is still in place, still killing people every day. If you two can do something about that, if you can actually change things..." She shrugged. "Then maybe my brother's death will have meant something."

Elara reached across the desk and took Madame Thorne's hand. "We'll try. I can't promise we'll succeed, but we'll try."

"That's all anyone can do." Madame Thorne pulled her hand back and returned her attention to the map. "Now, let's talk strategy. You need money, you need information, and you need allies. In that order."

"I have contacts who might be able to help with the money," Silas said. "But I'll need to move around the city to reach them, and with the increased security, that's going to be dangerous."

"I can provide you with papers," Madame Thorne said. "False identification that will get you through most checkpoints. But you'll need to be careful. The guards are looking for a tall man with a Collar and a young woman matching the Princess's description. Your disguises will help, but they're not foolproof."

"What about the bond?" Elara asked. "Can the Chancellor's mages track us through it?"

"Possibly. Standard Proxy bonds can be tracked through magical resonance, but your bond is different. It might not register on their detection spells." Madame Thorne pulled out a small device that looked like a compass made of crystal and silver. "This is a resonance detector. It picks up magical signatures within a hundred-foot radius. If I point it at you two, what do you think it will show?"

She activated the device, and it began to glow softly. The needle spun, searching for magical signatures, and then locked onto Silas and Elara. But instead of showing the standard silver glow of a Proxy bond, it showed that same iridescent blue that Silas's Collar had manifested.

"Interesting," Madame Thorne murmured. "That's not a standard signature. It's reading as something else entirely—not a Proxy bond, but not a standard magical connection either. The Chancellor's mages might not recognize it."

"That's good, right?" Elara asked.

"Maybe. Or maybe it makes you stand out even more. A unique magical signature is memorable." Madame Thorne deactivated the device. "You'll need to avoid areas with heavy magical monitoring. Stay away from the palace district, the noble quarter, and the major checkpoints."

"That limits our movement significantly," Silas observed.

"Yes, but it keeps you alive. And alive is better than captured." Madame Thorne pulled out a list of names and addresses. "These are my contacts who might be willing to help you. Some of them are criminals, some are merchants, some are just people who have reasons to dislike the Chancellor. Approach them carefully, explain your situation, and see if they're willing to contribute to your cause."

Silas studied the list. He recognized some of the names—people he'd encountered during his years of information gathering, people who operated in the gray areas of the law. Others were unfamiliar, but Madame Thorne's recommendation carried weight.

"How much do you think we can raise?" he asked.

"If you're lucky and persuasive? Maybe three hundred gold crowns. That's not enough for the full intelligence package I mentioned, but it's enough to get started."

"And the rest?"

"You'll have to earn it. I have jobs that need doing—information that needs gathering, packages that need delivering, problems that need solving. If you're willing to work for me, I can pay you enough to cover the difference."

"What kind of jobs?" Elara asked suspiciously.

"Nothing that will compromise your morals, Your Highness. I'm not asking you to kill anyone or steal from the innocent. Just... discrete tasks that require people who can move through the city without attracting attention."

Silas and Elara exchanged a look. Through the bond, he felt her uncertainty mixed with determination. She didn't like the idea of working for an information broker, but she understood that they didn't have many options.

"We'll do it," Silas said. "Whatever you need."

"Good." Madame Thorne handed him the list of contacts and a small pouch. "Here's fifty gold crowns to get you started. Use it for bribes, transportation, whatever you need. And take these." She produced two sets of false papers—identification documents that listed them as Marcus and Elena Thorne, siblings from the Merchant Quarter.

"Thorne?" Elara asked.

"It's a common name, and it gives you a connection to me if anyone asks. You're my distant cousins, visiting the city for business." Madame Thorne stood, signaling that the meeting was over. "Be back here by sunset. The curfew starts at dusk, and I don't want you caught on the streets after dark."

They left the office and made their way back upstairs. The boarding house was busier now—several of the rooms were occupied by people who looked like they had their own reasons for wanting to avoid official attention. No one paid Silas and Elara any mind, which was exactly what they needed.

They emerged onto the street, and Silas felt the weight of the city pressing down on him. This was the first time in fifteen years that he'd been truly free to move through the capital without a master directing his every step. It should have felt liberating.

Instead, it felt terrifying.

"Where do we start?" Elara asked, staying close to him as they walked.

"The first name on the list is a merchant named Tobias Crane. He runs a textile shop in the Merchant Quarter, but he also deals in information on the side. If anyone knows what the Chancellor is planning, it's him."

They made their way through the city, keeping to the smaller streets and avoiding the main thoroughfares where guards were most likely to be stationed. Silas's knowledge of the city's layout served them well—he knew every alley, every shortcut, every route that would let them move without being seen.

The Merchant Quarter was busy with midday traffic, and they blended into the crowd easily. Silas led Elara to a small shop tucked between a bakery and a cobbler's, its windows displaying bolts of fabric in various colors and patterns.

A bell chimed as they entered, and a man looked up from behind the counter. Tobias Crane was in his fifties, with gray hair and the kind of face that suggested he'd seen everything and been surprised by none of it.

"Can I help you?" he asked, his tone professionally pleasant.

"I'm looking for information," Silas said quietly. "Madame Thorne suggested you might be able to help."

Tobias's expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened. "Madame Thorne, is it? And what makes you think I deal in anything other than fabric?"

"Because I've been watching your shop for three years, and I know that half your customers come in through the back door and leave with things that aren't textiles."

Tobias studied him for a long moment, then smiled slightly. "You're observant. I like that. Come to the back room. We'll talk there."

He led them through a door behind the counter into a small office that was cluttered with ledgers and samples of fabric. Once the door was closed, his professional demeanor dropped.

"All right," he said. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything you know about Chancellor Thorne's plans," Silas replied. "His political maneuvering, his alliances, his vulnerabilities."

"That's a tall order. Information like that doesn't come cheap."

"How much?"

"For the full picture? Two hundred gold crowns."

Silas winced. "I can offer fifty now and the rest later."

"Later when?"

"Within a week."

Tobias considered this. "You're the fugitives everyone's looking for, aren't you? The Proxy and the Princess."

There was no point in denying it. "Yes."

"Then you're either very brave or very stupid to be walking around the city in broad daylight." Tobias leaned back in his chair. "The Chancellor has put out a reward for information leading to your capture. Ten thousand gold crowns. That's a lot more than two hundred."

"It is," Silas agreed. "But if you turn us in, you'll get the money and lose Madame Thorne's trust. And her trust is worth more than ten thousand gold crowns in the long run."

"True." Tobias drummed his fingers on the desk. "All right. I'll give you what I know for fifty crowns now and the rest later. But if you don't pay up within a week, I reserve the right to sell you out to the highest bidder."

"Fair enough."

Silas counted out fifty gold crowns from the pouch Madame Thorne had given them and placed them on the desk. Tobias swept them into a drawer and pulled out a ledger.

"The Chancellor has been planning this for at least five years," he began. "He's been systematically placing his people in key positions throughout the government—the Royal Guard, the treasury, the judiciary. When the King died, he was ready to move immediately."

"How did he know the King would die?" Elara asked.

"He didn't. But he was prepared for the possibility. The Chancellor is nothing if not thorough." Tobias flipped through the ledger. "He's been funding the Red Hand for the past two years, providing them with money and resources in exchange for them causing chaos at strategic moments."

"He funded the terrorists?" Elara's voice was sharp with anger. "He funded the people who killed my father?"

"Not directly. He used intermediaries, shell companies, false identities. But yes, the money trail leads back to him. He wanted the Red Hand to be a credible threat so he could position himself as the solution."

"That's treason," Elara said.

"It's also brilliant, in a horrifying sort of way," Tobias replied. "He created the problem and then offered himself as the answer. Classic political manipulation."

"What's his endgame?" Silas asked.

"Complete control of the kingdom. He wants to be crowned King, not just serve as regent. And he's using your disappearance as justification. He's claiming that the royal line has been compromised by blood magic and that a new dynasty is needed to restore order."

"The nobility will never accept that," Elara said.

"Won't they? Your Highness, half the nobility is dead, and the other half is terrified. The Chancellor is offering them stability and security in exchange for their support. Most of them will take that deal."

Silas felt Elara's anger and frustration through the bond, and he understood it. Everything she'd been raised to believe about the stability and legitimacy of the monarchy was crumbling around her.

"Is there anyone who would stand against him?" Silas asked. "Any nobles who are loyal to the crown?"

"A few. Duke Ravencroft, for one—he's old-fashioned and believes in the sanctity of the royal bloodline. Lady Ashford might be sympathetic, though she's cautious and won't move without solid evidence. And there's General Blackwood of the Royal Army—he's loyal to the crown, not to the Chancellor, but he's currently stationed on the northern border and can't move without orders."

"Could we get a message to him?" Elara asked.

"Maybe. But it would take time, and the Chancellor has eyes everywhere. Any message you send would need to be carefully coded and delivered by someone you trust absolutely."

Silas filed that information away. "What else do we need to know?"

"The Chancellor is planning a coronation ceremony in two weeks. He's going to crown himself King and declare a new era for the kingdom. If you're going to stop him, you need to do it before then. Once he's officially crowned, it'll be much harder to challenge his legitimacy."

"Two weeks," Elara murmured. "That's not much time."

"No," Tobias agreed. "It's not. But it's what you have."

They talked for another hour, Tobias providing details about the Chancellor's network, his allies, his vulnerabilities. By the time they left the shop, Silas's mind was spinning with information and possibilities.

"We need to move fast," he said as they walked back toward Madame Thorne's boarding house. "Two weeks isn't enough time to build a comprehensive case against the Chancellor, but it might be enough to plant seeds of doubt."

"How?" Elara asked.

"We start by reaching out to the nobles Tobias mentioned. Duke Ravencroft, Lady Ashford, General Blackwood. We provide them with evidence of the Chancellor's corruption and let them draw their own conclusions."

"What evidence? We don't have any proof that the Chancellor funded the Red Hand."

"Not yet. But Tobias mentioned money trails and intermediaries. If we can trace those connections, we might be able to find documentation that proves the Chancellor's involvement."

"That sounds impossible."

"It probably is," Silas admitted. "But we have to try."

They spent the rest of the afternoon visiting the other contacts on Madame Thorne's list. Some were willing to help, offering small amounts of money or information in exchange for future favors. Others were too scared to get involved, closing their doors as soon as they realized who Silas and Elara were.

By the time the sun began to set, they had collected another hundred gold crowns and a wealth of information about the Chancellor's operations. It wasn't enough—not nearly enough—but it was a start.

They returned to Madame Thorne's boarding house just as the curfew bells began to ring. The streets emptied quickly, people hurrying to get indoors before the guards started their patrols.

Madame Thorne was waiting for them in her office, and she listened carefully as Silas reported on their progress.

"A hundred and fifty gold crowns," she said when he finished. "That's better than I expected. And the information about the Chancellor funding the Red Hand—that's explosive if you can prove it."

"That's a big if," Silas said.

"Yes, but it's a start." Madame Thorne pulled out a new list. "I have three jobs for you tomorrow. Complete them successfully, and I'll pay you another hundred gold crowns. That should be enough to cover the intelligence package you need."

"What are the jobs?" Elara asked.

"First, I need you to deliver a package to a contact in the Dockside Quarter. Second, I need you to retrieve some documents from a lawyer's office in the Noble Quarter. Third, I need you to gather information about a certain merchant who's been causing problems for my network."

"The Noble Quarter?" Silas frowned. "That's going to be heavily guarded."

"Yes, but it's also where the evidence you need is most likely to be. The lawyer in question handles the Chancellor's private affairs. If there's documentation of his connection to the Red Hand, it'll be in his office."

Silas and Elara exchanged a look. Through the bond, he felt her fear mixed with determination.

"We'll do it," Elara said.

"Good. Get some rest. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

They returned to their room on the third floor, both of them exhausted from the day's activities. Elara collapsed onto the bed, and Silas took his usual position by the window.

"Silas," Elara said quietly. "Do you really think we can do this? Stop the Chancellor, I mean."

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I know we have to try."

"Why? Why not just run? Get out of the city, start new lives somewhere else. We could be free."

"Could we?" Silas turned to look at her. "Elara, the Chancellor isn't going to stop looking for us. And even if he did, even if we managed to disappear completely, what kind of life would that be? Always looking over our shoulders, always afraid of being discovered."

"It would be better than dying."

"Maybe. But it wouldn't be living." He moved away from the window and sat on the edge of the bed. "You asked me earlier what my life was like before I became a Proxy. I told you about my parents, about the bookshop, about the debt. But I didn't tell you about the dreams I had."

"What dreams?"

"I wanted to be a teacher. I wanted to run a school, help children learn to read and think and question the world around them. It was a simple dream, nothing grand or ambitious. But it was mine."

"What happened to it?"

"It died when I put on this Collar. And for fifteen years, I've been going through the motions of existence without really living. I've been surviving, but I haven't been alive."

He looked at her, and through the bond, he let her feel what he was feeling—not the absence of emotion, but the faint stirring of something that might have been hope.

"This bond between us," he said quietly. "It's given me something I haven't had in fifteen years. A reason to care about what happens next. A reason to fight instead of just endure."

Elara reached out and took his hand. "Then we fight. Together."

"Together," Silas agreed.

They sat there in silence, two broken people held together by a bond that shouldn't exist, planning a rebellion that probably couldn't succeed.

But they were going to try anyway.

Because sometimes, trying was all you had.

*

End of Chapter 5