8:00 a.m., November 21, 1797 | Morven's house.
Morven was dressed as usual: long black tailcoat, white shirt beneath, tall silk hat firmly in place, and the familiar brown wooden cane held in both hands. He stood at the foot of the staircase, staring upward.
Finally Marcus appeared at the top, descending with infuriating slowness.
The moment he saw that leisurely pace, a faint smile touched Morven's lips. Without a word he lifted his cane with both hands and brought it down hard against the floor. *Thud.
Marcus's eyes widened in instant understanding (move faster or suffer the consequences). He practically leapt down the remaining steps, stopped in front of Morven, and flashed a nervous grin. "So… shall we go?"
Morven took a deep breath. "Yes. Let's go."
He turned the key in the lock, opened the front door halfway, then suddenly placed a hand on Marcus's lower back and pushed. "After you."
Marcus stumbled forward. "Why me!?"
Morven gave him another gentle shove. Marcus collided lightly with the half-open door, the momentum carrying him outside. He managed to stop just before the front steps leading down to the street.
Morven followed calmly, closed the door behind him, and locked it. Marcus glared back at him. Morven exhaled. "Stop staring at me with those ridiculously clear amber eyes."
"Hey! You never had a problem with them before today!"
Morven's lips curved slightly. "Fine, fine… never mind."
Marcus sighed, descended the front steps, and waited on the pavement. Morven joined him, glanced up at the overcast sky, and muttered, "I hope it doesn't rain."
Marcus turned. "Come on, let's go before it's too late."
Morven gave a small smirk, stepped down slowly, and started along the cobblestone street. He scanned the passing pedestrians, then spoke without looking back. "If Father isn't at the manor, he'll most likely be at the Treasury or the Chancellor's residence. He is, after all, financial advisor to the Chancellor of the Exchequer…"
Marcus nodded and fell into step half a pace behind his master.
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A few minutes later
They left the narrow lane where Morven's house stood.
Morven looked around. "We need to head to Westminster."
Marcus ran a hand through his jade-green hair, sighed dramatically, then held out his open palm right in front of Morven's face. "Money."
Morven blinked, first at the hand, then at Marcus. "What do you need money for?"
"To hire a carriage, obviously!"
Morven took a long, patient breath. "That simple, is it? No. We're walking the whole way. Move."
Marcus muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "stingy" under his breath.
Morven turned his head slightly. "I heard that. Now walk."
Marcus exhaled in defeat and followed.
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One hour later | Westminster
Morven stopped in front of tall wrought-iron gates. Beyond the low brick wall, sections rose a metre higher like pillars to support the railings. A stone-paved path led through a spacious front garden to the grand manor itself.
Morven smiled faintly. "Blacktide Manor…"
Marcus's jaw actually dropped for a second before he forced his face back to seriousness. "I thought your father was only an advisor! How does an advisor own a place like this…?"
Morven sighed. "I don't know either. I just grew up here, that's all."
Marcus bent forward slightly as if peering for secrets, then straightened again. "Maybe your father… or the whole Blacktide family… is hiding something."
Morven gave a quiet, sardonic laugh and glanced at him sideways. "I've known that for a very long time."
A creak came from the gates. An elderly gardener approached from inside the grounds, studied Morven for a moment, then asked politely: "May I ask who you are, sir…?"
Morven lifted his chin. "I am the second son of the master of this house. Second son of Edmond Blacktide. And who might you be?"
The old man offered a small, sad smile. "Edmond Blacktide… Well, I am the gardener here, but the gentleman you speak of left this place many years ago."
Morven's eyes widened for an instant. He clutched his temple briefly, then lowered his hand and asked calmly: "Left? Did he sell the estate?"
The gardener shook his head gently. "No, no, it was never sold. But no one lives here now except me. All I know is that seven years ago His Lordship was summoned to King George III's court, and shortly afterward his title was changed to Lord Justice in Edinburgh, capital of Scotland. He took every servant and all the household guards with him and moved north…"
Morven stood silent, processing the information. Finally he bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for the information."
The gardener smiled once more and shuffled off toward another part of the garden.
Morven turned to Marcus, who was watching him carefully. "Marcus."
Marcus straightened, a tiny smile forming. "Yes, sir?"
Morven placed a hand firmly on Marcus's shoulder. "I believe it's time we travelled to Scotland."
Marcus's face went pale; his throat tightened. "So… I'll be alone for a while…"
Morven's grip tightened. "No, my dear apprentice. You're coming with me."
Marcus's eyes instantly filled with tears he tried desperately to hold back. "I wish you'd never said that…"
Morven's smile softened. "Don't be dramatic. It's only fourteen or fifteen days by coach."
Marcus swallowed hard. "Can I cry now?"
"No. Now hurry and find the best stagecoach company you can and hire a private carriage."
Marcus let out the longest sigh of his life. "…Yes, sir."