Fifty years before the invasion of Cybele, there was a youth dressed in Helikan Academy garbs, warming his hands by a kettle. The rustle and noise of life happening all around the capital city of Helix entered through the open windows of the small studio office situated on the second floor. The whistle of the kettle seemed to indicate the start of his autumn work day. He fetched it from the stovetop and began to pour. He grunted like an old man and complained to nobody, “These menial chores could have been done already…”

“With magic?” interrupted the other man in the room, a small smirk lining his thin, symmetrical face. He was bundled in a fuzzy blanket and peering down his sharp nose as he flipped through a book. He leaned in his chair, balancing with his feet up against his desk.

“Yes,” the boy sighed, “I’m preparing your tea, just the way you indicated.”

“Be sure to give it time to rest a little or you’ll burn the leaves, Alam,” the man warned, his eyes still focused on the pages of the book. His voice was deep and full of authority, but still gentle enough to not be intimidating. It was a nearly grandfatherly tone coming from a man who must be no older than thirty.

“It wouldn’t be a problem if you would consider at least using one of those magic stoves rather than one that must rely on wood. A sprinkle of mnemos and the temperature is set perfectly.”

At this, the man closed the book and returned to a proper sitting position, pointing the spine of the book at the boy, “Ah, but consider if I did. You would never have learned even the basics of brewing tea. You would never have imagined the subtle flavors that can arise from imperfection. Tea would no longer have been a mystery, but something you take for granted. You would sacrifice discovery for the sake of convenience.”

Alam was quiet. This was the reason why he chose to work in this office after all. The man’s philosophy on magic was unlike any of the stuffy, career-minded professors at the Academy. “I just didn’t think my job would be cleaning and cooking… I thought becoming your assistant would be a bit more glamorous.”

“I’m afraid if you are to apprentice under me, you must become like me,” the man said almost apologetically, “Magic is a phenomenon that yet still exists winking from behind a veil, thus it does not fully sit well with me. There is a process to all things, and magic eschews that necessary process for immediacy. I have learned over the course of my scant few years in this world that patience is indeed a virtue.”

To the boy, it seemed the man was always like this — eager to soliloquy but difficult to follow and wished he would never grow up to become an adult like him. Alam responded, “I understand to an extent, but isn’t there wisdom in spending less time on chores and more time on important things like researching intermagia?”

“My chief work is not as such,” the man laughed in baritone, “My work is to teach others to be quick to deny the magic presented to them to witness the magic hidden from them. It is a quirk of circumstance that this should manifest as researching magic. On my morning walk, however, I did take notice of something which I might ask you to refrain from.”

The man stood, shuffling through a cabinet in his desk, “Please do not litter around town.” He gently placed a stack of dirty paper on the desk, all of them printed with a picture of himself emblazoned with “Private Investigator Hadler, Mundane Specialist.” The profile view of his face stared boldly ahead as the man stared down at it.

Alam started to pour the hot water into the tea cup and noted, “I thought you might like that I went through the trouble of using mundane paper. Is it the title? Should I have had it say ‘Specialist of the Mundane’?”

“I merely do not see the need to advertise, Alam.”

“I disagree, Lord Hadler. There are people out there who need the expertise of someone who does not resort to magic immediately and can think in the mundane. Do you remember the Serpent’s Curse incident? Who else but you would have figured out that this so-called curse was actually a murder by strangling and poison? And were it not for your reputation, they would never have thought to recruit your services to discover the truth.”

“Such is the nature of magic,” Hadler waxed poetically, “Ignorance traded for power, but a tax is always collected. If only one could use magic to discover truth, one might find that magic itself offers less than what it costs.”

Alam placed a small tea cup in front of the man, using a sheet of advertising poster as a coaster. “I have much to learn from you, but you certainly do not make it easy.”

“If I were to simplify it, magic and truth are antithetical to one another. Seeking the truth is like illuminating a room. Magic is inert sand formed into a crystal glass lens. It alone can do nothing, but it can manipulate external light into the room. Yet the more one uses it, the more the lens warps until the light begins to play tricks on your mind. The appearance of the room no longer reflects the truth of the room.”

Alam froze in place before he asked, “How does that simplify it?”

At that time, two knocks came from the door downstairs.

“Alam, would you kindly?”

“You mean go downstairs and open the door with my own hands?”

“Thank you.”

Alam sighed and made his way down, but emanating from outside he could hear the muffled complaints of a young girl. He peered outside from the door hole and indeed saw a diminutive, well-dressed figure.

He opened the door, but before he could speak, she barged her way in, “It’s absurd how backwards and unsophisticated this all is. For someone to live in Helix and still resort to such vulgar means.” She pointed a wand at Alam, “This must surely be the correct place.”

The assistant realized what had happened. She was obviously flustered. “Were you attempting to communicate with us through-“

She tossed her long blonde hair behind her shoulder with a gloved hand, her blue eyes like crackling lightning, “Obviously! How can he still not have a listener? I was standing outside your door speaking to myself like a lunatic for minutes with no reply. Such a waste of my time.”

“Well, do you have an appointment, miss? This is the office of Lord Hans Hadler.”

“No, and I would like to speak with him at once. It is of the utmost urgency,” she declared as she placed a her hand gingerly on the railing of the stairs, “The most dangerous man in Helix shouldn’t need appointments like a common physician.” The two locked eyes for a brief instant. That instant lengthened into a few seconds before she sighed, gripped the railing, and started to trudge upwards with a growl, “Of course, I should have expected this.”

“You never quite get used to it, I’m afraid,” Alam laughed politely.

She arrived upstairs only to find the man she was looking for waiting at the top. The investigator bowed, sweeping his blanket across his body like a majestic cape, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She huffed, deeply wishing not to show her physical discomfort, “So you recognize me even like this?”

Alam noticed the air shimmer around her as the once young blonde girl evaporated, leaving behind a small, middle-aged woman with silver hair. The expression she had on her face remained the same — unhappy and impatient.

The researcher nodded, “I fear time has done little to eliminate you from the mind. Alam, this is Lady Concordie. She was a client of mine from before you joined. It was the case about the fraudulent psychic,” he directed an open hand to his assistant, “And this is Alam, my apprentice and… distantly related nephew?”

“My grandfather was Lord Hadler’s mother’s brother,” he said proudly.

The woman remained unreactive. “And I am a client before you had this accursed office of yours.” She pointed her wand like a dagger, “I should have paid you less, Lord Hadler. Or perhaps more so you could afford somewhere less… regressive.”

“Regardless, you sought me out. Come into my office, I’ll have Alam prepare tea.”

As Alam turned to leave, her other hand shot out like a viper and snatched his wrist without even turning to face him. She turned to Hadler, “You do not need to trouble the poor boy. This is precisely why we have magic. Why harm his dignity with such trivial tasks?”

Alam was stunned, glancing between the woman and his master, who seemed to be considering something quietly to himself. Before he could say anything, Hadler spoke, “I believe humans are dignified when we face the unknown. For instance, could it be that you simply do not trust that Alam can brew a finer tea than you could produce with your magic? Perhaps you’d prefer to keep that a mystery.”

“What nonsense is this?” she scoffed, releasing Alam’s now tender wrist with the same ferocity. “I came here in need of help, not to compete with your baffling philosophy. Have him prepare whatever if it will make you listen.”

“Come then, to my office,” the investigator said, welcoming the annoyed woman with a flourish of his blanket cape. “Alam, you can eschew the tea in favor of some of the butter biscuits we have.”

The noblewoman noted, “If you are so cold as to need a blanket, why is your window open, Hadler?”

“My roommate prefers it as such,” he responded airily, sitting himself down and placing the blanket over his lap in a heap.

“The boy?” the woman said, cocking an eyebrow over a concerned look.

“Heavens, no,” Hadler rebuffed, mirroring her concern. “She is much like myself, preferring to do things the old way.”

As if summoned on command, the supposed roommate appeared from the windowsill, a tussle of long, curly, white fur and two perfectly black marbles for eyes, meowing with her entrance as if to announce herself. With a weightless leap, she perfectly snuggled itself within the blanket on Hadler’s legs.

“That’s one mystery solved. How about you try this next one?” she said with a frown that spread to her cheeks.

“By all means,” he said with a small sip of his now cool tea.

The woman leaned in, “Do you remember my foolish son?”

“Foolish is hardly the word I would use to describe the male scion of House Concordie. He is an accomplished mage.”

“Houses and magic are of no concern when it comes to children. Truly, I do not know who he takes after, but my son has caused my lord husband and I no small amount of trouble. His studies were subpar, his etiquette leaves much to be desired, and his rebelliousness has not waned with age. The boy is nearly thirty and he still-“

“Is referred to as a boy,” Hadler interrupted, tenting his hands, “Our time is precious both, so if you’re done ranting?”

She rolled her eyes, “I had forgotten you two were acquainted. Well, there is a supposed murder. My son is the suspect, and he claims to not have done it, and for all of his many faults, I do not believe he is capable of killing somebody, especially his wife.”

“Where is he now?”

“Detained, and speedily. That is why I have come here as soon as possible before he says something else to incriminate himself.”

“More specifically, where is he held? We shall go to him at once. Alam! Cancel the butter biscuits! There is work to be done!”

He was ready for this moment, speeding out of the pantry and nearly leaping down the stairs, the incandescent glow of magic softening his fall. His mentor seemed to take his time however, finishing his conversation with the Lady of Concordie and fishing for his house keys at a leisurely pace.