When the meeting ended without unnecessary pleasantries, Lord Regulus gestured to Steel to stay behind, nailing her to her seat with his stare as one by one the rest of the Apostles left the room, murmurs accompanying their footsteps as they descended to the fifth floor to retire for the night.

The last one to leave was Pharah, otherly known as Apostle II, who nodding at Rosalynde, pulled lightly the collar of her shirt - a secret signal known only between the two of them. A sign to meet in a secret place as soon as possible.

Rosalynde didn't nod, simply mouthed a series of weak words of understanding as Pharah's eyes grew apprehensive at the sight of her lady-in-waiting not replying.

"You were expecting this outcome weren't you?" Was the first thing that Lord Regulus said as soon as the others were fair away.

Rosalynde shifted her gaze as if to take a better look at the first Apostle, eyes slightly narrowing, but nevertheless shaking her head to negate his accusation.

She was lying of course, deep down she'd always known that between her and Katherine she'd always been the first choice.

"No, my Lord," a curt lie was all he got in reply, making Rosalynde smile as usual to conceal behind her fabricated mask of politeness a sneer that was trying to come out.

"The Empress wanted Katherine to take on the mantle of Haywire. I, on the other hand, thought that she was not suited for such a delicate task," he replied, crossing his legs together after seating himself in his usual spot.

Rosalynde went to touch her chest, barely feeling the golden coin pressing against her skin, her scarred fingers itching to have the golden coin back in her hands.

"What is it that you want to tell me, my Lord?" Rosalynde finally asked with a controlled voice.

Clear and concise as a stream cutting a mountain in half. Whatever thoughts that were swirling inside her head seemed to vanish instantly, a rush of adrenaline running through her back chilled her bones to the core.

No matter how many times she'd rehearsed for this moment, she'd been late in realizing that there was no way things would have gone like she'd always imagined.

"I was wondering when you would have confessed your crime," the words graving on her shoulders like a boulder kept in check from falling down the mountain by a stem of a growing bloom were slow to seep in her mind.

He wanted a reaction from her. And something told her she knew which one.

"These are serious accusations, my Lord. One thing is suspecting, the other is accusing someone of murder." She gave him another polite smile, no teeth showing as she let her hand slide from her chest down and over her lap.

"And this is the reason why I chose you to succeed him. Don't bother lying to me, I already have a full report on how you did it too." Rosalynde narrowed her eyes at him as Lord Regulus reciprocated her famous smile, making his elbows rest against the hard surface of oak wood.

"You even took care of him nicely too, as if you'd been planning it for a long time," another direct attack on her person.

"You've been spying on me," she stated, dropping all tones of reverence.

"Well, at least you're not pretending anymore." Rosalynde took the mask off, the black ribbon messing overlapping in between her fingers made the situation seem comical from her point of view.

"What's my first task?" Lord Regulus stood up at the question asked, circling the table once more before grabbing two thick envelopes which apparently seemed to be full papers from a nearby shelf, extending then his other hand to get a fresh inker, along with a new quill and paper.

Spreading the sheets on the table, he gestured her to come closer, making Rosalynde get up, approaching his pensive and awaiting figure before asking what exactly she was looking at.

A bunch of photos with illegible writings at the bottom, some apparent fraud declarations, even a letter with its edges stained with what seemed to be dried blood was what came out of the first envelope.

"What do you see?" He asked her, stepping back a little for her to look at the items better.

"Tax evasions mostly." She took a piece of paper in her hand, squinting her eyes to see if something had gone unnoticed. But when she found nothing amiss, Rosalynde furrowed her eyebrows, only to then go for the second envelope to open it, but before that she went to meet the gaze of the first Apostle, asking for permission.

"Go on," he incited her.

A new stack of letters, photos of streets: one of a bank, another seemed like District Street, while the third one was without a doubt Reslow Plaza. Rosalynde looked up once more with an inquisitive gaze, still not able to connect the dots.

A photo then fell from the bottom of the envelope, falling to the floor as Rosalynde bent down to get it.

It was the photo of a young handsome man, dark well-kept hair, and eyes the color of the clean barrels of her guns.

"Who's this?" She asked, stroking with her thumbs the edges of the photograph.

"I'm surprised you've never seen a photo of him, even if I do realize that he rarely shows his face in public." Lord Regulus took the photo from her hand, setting it down beside the second photo of the bank.

It then all clicked to Rosalynde. The hints Lord Regulus had provided her had indeed proven themselves essential. She knew the man, but in name only, a controversial one it was too. There was a bank in the High Strands that from scratch had accumulated an incommensurable amount of wealth.

The Bank of Lun, who's owner had established less than five years ago, had already gotten itself a seat in the council overlooking international affairs and commerce. The thing was however, that the man had never shown his face in one of those meetings, always sending his personal secretary to attend in his stead.

Hector Grey was a man that could have bought more than half of the empire for himself and given the other half to the people. Without of course taking into consideration his uncountable wealth, he was known for mostly keeping to himself as he personally overlooked all affairs regarding his bank from the back of the scene, never stepping out of line with the police and with the imperial taxes.

"Hector Grey?" She asked for confirmation.

"That's our man," he replied in a pleased tone.

Rosalynde crossed her arms together, left tucked under the right one as she scorned the photograph.

She went quiet for a while, the gears turning in her head not clicking in place as Lord Regulus watched her closely.

"You want him as an Apostle, don't you?" She asked after an indefinite amount of time.

A twitch of lips was all he gave her to confirm her doubts.

"Now that Haywire is gone we still have a vacant position to fill, I confess that I've been looking forward to having him join our ranks for a long time already." Rosalynde bit her tongue to hold back her reply in sign of respect, but she just could not try and warn him in the least.

"Bankers should not be trusted, my Lord. Grey is known for having an unrequited hatred towards the nobles, and he's known for doing everything within his power to limit their influence both inside and outside the capital," she reminded him with haste.

Lord Regulus sighed deeply, knowing fully that everything she'd said was nothing more than unbearing truth, everyone who'd peek at least once behind the thick prolonged curtains that separated the working class from the noble society could attest without bearing a single doubt in mind that Hector Grey had never once in his life sympathized for the noble class.

When it came to money everything seemed to change, the more money you had the more flies would have started buzzing around your person in search of a crumb to make theirs, sometimes marking their prey with lies and foul words.

Hector Grey was the same, and at the same time, he was not.

He didn't live to please the higher class, nor had he ever deemed appropriate establishing interpersonal relationships with someone that was a rank higher than him - that was what had contributed the most into making the crowds giving him the nickname of Gilded Phantom.

"I know it well, Apostle IV, but things are changing around here, and her majesty the Empress wants him under her grasp." At that Rosalynde snapped her palm against the table, making it tremble before replying with cold words.

"Her majesty can't risk it all for a single banker," she seethed, her venomous words clinging on the walls made the air turn even more cold.

"I understand your distrust, I was the same before hearing her majesty's justification," he was as calm as he looked as he spoke.

"And what is the reason then?" She asked, this time in a calmer tone.

"You'll know after you bring him here."

With that Lord Regulus left the room, picking up every single sheet before throwing it in the tepid fireplace close to the entrance.

"A word of advice, Rosalynde." Without turning around, he then spoke these words: "Things are going to start changing very soon, and I won't always be here to watch your every move. Watch your back and keep your friends at arm's length before they start choking you with words filled with omens of death."

Turning her head away, her gaze decided to settle on the burning sheets in the fireplace: "What about my enemies?" She asked, chin high and eyes blazing from the idea of starting a fight.

"I believe you already know the answer to your question."

꧁꧂

Rosalynde didn't like going to Merchants Road, especially if it was business related, but her informant had been clear when saying that the owner of the Lun Bank occasionally enjoyed coming there under a false name to spend the night gambling with his personal funds.

If District Street was where the rackets tended to gather, then Merchant's Road was where the nightlife of the capital truly came out after nightfall.

Dances filling the streets, vendors selling all kinds of delicacies, and casinos' opening for the night was all Rosalynde could see all around her as she strolled down Merchant's Road.

Her informant on the streets had found out from another clochard that apparently Grey liked to go to a particular casino on Saturday's: The Black Tide.

That had been her only link into finding Hector Grey, a casino close to the Seadris, the river cutting the capital in two slip halves.

"Try your luck at Kendris' Lottery fair maidens! Win a ticket for the National Opera and watch the next show in the company of the imperial family!" someone shouted from the side of the road.

Rosalynde couldn't help but laugh at that statement. Winning the ticket for the National Opera wasn't enough to actually get you in. The dresses used, the manner displayed, the way women would cross their legs or angle their backs to breath from their corsets.

The Black Tide stood on three floors: doors, windows and glass panels the same color of the night when the moon wasn't high.

Rosalynde crossed the threshold, pushing the door open as a young valet came to greet her, asking for her coat to store it with the others.

She'd come alone, right after Lord Regulus had left her to prepare for her meeting with Grey.

The place was crowded, women and men filled the rooms, their faces covered by simple silver masks hiding their visage.

Baskets full of white flowers had started accumulating in the main hall, the workers didn't even notice it when she quickly extended and grabbed a flower - smelling it as she turned around to look at it better.

At first glance it looked like a Wild Carrot, which Pharah had always enjoyed having in her room, but this one didn't have a red spot in the middle.

This was Hemlock, a venomous plant which had been banned from the Imperial Capital more than four years ago, after a young noble had taken her life by ingesting it to escape an arranged marriage. The left hand of the Crown scoffed in amusement, had she reported this place, Sandors would have for sure shut it down within mere hours.

She would have done that - after  finding Hector Grey.

"Excuse me Madame, you seem to be in the wrong place," a young attendant said to her from behind the reception counter.

"No, I'm exactly where I should be," Rosalynde replied, setting down the bloom again in the basket.

"Just like an early nightingale sails the waters at dawn." Rosalynde then continued, her smile growing wider as the attendant quickly moved from the counter, as if looking at Rosalynde with a new set of eyes.

"The tide stops at its passage." The attendant acknowledged her, bowing down two times before going back to her counter, taking a back out and setting it on the counter.

"What's the young lady's budget for tonight?"

"Will this do?" Rosalynde had asked the first Apostle for permission before sneaking inside the imperial treasury, filling her belt-pouch with an uncountable number of golden coins within a couple of scoops.

The tinkling noise that the coins made as they hit the counter had the attendant jump from her seat, hands avidly grabbing the sides of the bag before sliding it towards her side.

"Are these even real?" The attendant mumbled more to herself, taking a golden coin out, biting its edges as Rosalynde took another glance at her surroundings.

Her informants had told her everything, the planimetry, the number of exits people could use if someone tried rattling the Black Tide to the general police.

"Every single one, but if you don't believe me then I'll be taking this back." Rosalynde went to grab her pouch, but the attendants' hand was quicker, lacing it around her wrist.

"How much will you be betting?" Rosalynde's eyes shot up to look at the young attendant, finally they were speaking the same language.

"All of the bag."

When the attendant finished gathering the chips, a new attendant, this time a boy, came to get her. With his hair combed back and shoes polished to perfection, Rosalynde wasn't sure if she was looking at a breathing human or a portrait hung only in the best galleries in the High Strands.

The boy was polite when he asked her to follow him, but Rosalynde didn't continue thinking the same when he asked if he could cover her eyes with a lace handkerchief he'd taken out from his pocket.

"We value our esteemed establishment, I'm sure madam understands the importance of keeping low profiles." For the Crown, and for the elusive Hector Grey was all she continue repeating in her mind like a broken record as the young attendant carefully guided her down the stairs.

When the attendant took the blindfold off her, Rosalynde started squinting her eyes to no end, the light was too strong for light-coloured eyes as the ones she possessed.

"The Black Tide thanks you for choosing our gathering, may the nightingale bless you with hands made of gold and eyes to fool."

When Rosalynde finally gained back her sight, she was alone in the middle of a cheering crowd of masked patrons.