Liam had arrived in the Kingdom of Lothier the previous night.
Fortunately, nothing unusual happened during his arrival. As per Lord Elias's orders, he had torn up the identity document at the maritime border of the Great Kingdom and scattered the pieces into the sea.
He might spend a considerable amount of time in this kingdom. After all, he had come here to find those three books.
His current identity was Emilien Rochefort—a private detective based in the city of Mortaine.
Of course, he couldn't register with any official detective agency or city police force using an incomplete identity with no verifiable family background.
So one of the few professions he could rely on for the short term was that of a private detective—since they operated outside the jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Lothier's regulated detective bureaus.
But it would be wrong to say everything had gone smoothly.
Last night, upon disembarking, one of the passengers had grabbed Liam by the shoulder and whispered that he had seen him destroy the identity document. If Liam wanted the secret kept, he would have to follow.
That was how Liam—now Emilien Rochefort—was forced to accept an apprentice right from the start.
It wasn't exactly a defeat, but it wasn't a victory either.
An apprentice you know nothing about is far more dangerous than an enemy—because he can betray you at any moment.
Or perhaps he won't.
Regardless, Liam was now Emilien: a private detective in the city of Mortaine in the Kingdom of Lothier. Someone who had to find clients, keep an eye on his unwilling apprentice, and—most importantly—search for those three books.
What a mess…
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I was sitting in the small kitchen, slowly drinking from a tiny cup of coffee.
The kitchen windows were set high in the wall, so I couldn't see outside.
Instead, I stared at the fish tank on the counter and sipped my coffee in silence.
I glanced at the clock in the temporary house.
Ten in the morning.
I had no idea what state Lord Elias was in back in the Great Kingdom, but my orders were clear. I had no time for pointless worries.
I picked up the coat from the table and held it in my hands.
I knew there was no need to be anxious. Frederick Clayton and William Helms were both there. I shouldn't worry needlessly.
I opened the door to the room of my unwilling apprentice and tossed the coat toward Julien Ravelle.
He had threatened me last night—so now he could deal with this.
The coat landed on his head. He jolted upright, about to shout—then froze when he saw me.
I looked at him with absolute seriousness.
"Get up… We need to find a client."
Julien, still half-asleep, grumbled,
"People will come to you. You don't have to go chasing after cases!"
I stepped closer.
"You should know that back at the docks there were too many people… I couldn't kill you there. But this is a house. Just the two of us. And killing you would only take a knife. That's all."
Julien gave me a strange look, his voice trembling slightly.
"F-fine… I'll get ready right now so we can go!"
Truthfully, I had no intention of killing him.
I didn't trust him at all—but he was the best tool I had to prove my identity.
I lingered in Julien's room a little longer, then returned to my own.
Fortunately, the house had two bedrooms.
Once inside, I closed the door behind me and bent down to pull the small leather satchel from under the bed.
I placed it on the mattress and opened it.
Inside: a revolver, three full magazines, and a folding knife.
I wanted to make sure my unwilling apprentice hadn't touched it.
I closed the satchel again and pushed it back under the bed.
I put on the long black coat and looked in the mirror.
I didn't usually care much about my hair, but if I wanted to take on a proper case today, I needed to look presentable.
With some reluctance, I combed my hair, then left the room.
Julien was already wearing a light brown coat.
I headed for the front door—when Julien spoke.
"You don't have to keep that deadpan expression all the time. No one is completely emotionless."
I turned to reply—but he brushed past me, put on his shoes, opened the door, and stepped outside.
I exhaled, shook my head slightly—frustrated—and followed.
I locked the door behind us.
Julien was waiting a few steps ahead.
I walked past him at a calm pace.
At least he understood one thing: as an apprentice, he should stay slightly behind—not beside me.
The fact that he understood that much was actually surprising.
Late afternoon…
After nearly three hours of searching for a client with a serious case since morning, we stopped at a coffee house around noon.
There we met an aristocrat looking for a supernatural private detective.
I knew nothing about the supernatural—but he was nobility. Helping him could bring some reputation.
After a brief conversation, we learned he was the Earl of Mortaine.
He wanted us to investigate a family portrait that kept changing.
Strange. Very strange.
But Julien accepted immediately—without hesitation.
As the "master," I gave a fake smile and took the case.
Now it was late afternoon.
We stood in front of the Earl of Mortaine's manor.
The wall bore the inscription "House of Noirval"—likely the family name of the Earls of Mortaine.
I glanced at Julien.
Somehow, he understood what I meant without a word. He pressed the bell on the wall.
An elderly servant emerged from the manor gates, opened the iron entrance, and said,
"Please come in. The master is expecting you."
Julien looked at me.
I wasn't particularly confident about this case. I suspected either the earl was lying or someone was secretly tampering with the painting at night.
But for a first case, one must show respect to the client.
And so my new life as Emilien Rochefort began in the city of Mortaine in the Kingdom of Lothier.
All to serve my lord.