In the kitchen the map had been rolled back. The plates had been stacked. Bonbon had been persuaded not to lick jam directly off the table, though only after a short negotiation in Caerfaenic that Celeste clearly lost.
Mezzo gathered up a pile of mugs and stood with great solemnity.
“I’ll do dishes.”
Everyone looked at him.
Topsy gasped like he had just announced a heroic sacrifice.
“You?” Arcade said. “Voluntarily?”
Mezzo lifted his chin. “Yes. Because someone keeps breaking them.”
Topsy clutched both paws to her chest. “They have it out for me!”
“They’re plates,” Ray said flatly.
“Exactly. Silent. Flat. Judgemental. Waiting.”
Hughes rubbed his eyes. “The plates are not plotting against you.”
“That’s what they want you to think.”
Celeste gently took a cracked saucer from Topsy’s hand before she could demonstrate. “Maybe Mezzo can do them today.”
Topsy crossed her arms. “Fine. But when the bowls rise up, don’t come crying to me.”
Silver stared at her.
Then at the sink.
Then at Celeste.
“Does this sort of conversation happen often?”
“Only before, during, and after meals,” Celeste said brightly.
Silver closed his eyes. “Of course.”
Mezzo had just rolled up his sleeves when Silver’s arcbracer chimed.
The whole room turned.
Silver’s arcbracer chimed.
The whole room turned.
Silver glanced down.
CAEDRIX UMBRANOX — RETURN CALL
His posture changed instantly. Spine straighter. Expression smoother. Voice already lowering into something polished and official.
He answered. “Mother.”
Chaos exploded through the speaker.
Shouting.
Several voices overlapping.
Something heavy crashed in the background.
Someone yelled, “GET DOWN!”
Silver blinked. “Mother?”
Umbranox’s voice came through crisp, irritated, and somehow still entirely composed.
“Two seconds, son.”
Two gunshots cracked through the call.
A beat.
Then a third.
Umbranox sighed.
“These assassinations are becoming very annoying. That one spoiled my sandwich.”
Someone screamed in the background.
A chair overturned.
Another voice came through then—low, controlled, and faintly exasperated.
Silent.
“My lady, you should have waited until I finished dealing with the other two.”
“Nonsense,” Umbranox replied. “I am an excellent shot, and I wanted to get back to my sandwich. This was simply taking too long.”
A low groan sounded somewhere nearby.
Umbranox sighed.
Another gunshot cracked through the line.
“Simply don’t know when to die, do they?”
The room went silent.
Every jaw dropped.
Even Ray looked briefly impressed.
Mezzo slowly turned to Silver.
“…Is that normal?”
Silver adjusted one cuff with great dignity.
“Of course,” he said. “Regular occurrence.”
Celeste’s ears remained fully upright. “Your mother is very busy.”
Silver gave her a flat look. “That is one word for it.”
Umbranox sighed. "Finally. I think there all dead"
Silver pinched the bridge of his nose. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Is everyone else?”
“Define everyone.”
“Mother.”
“I’m in a meeting,” Umbranox said, as if that explained the gunshots. “A remarkably tedious one. You called about the Pontifex?”
Silver pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Have you seen him? Or received confirmation of his current location?”
“No,” Umbranox said. “I have people looking into it.”
Silver’s eyes sharpened. “And?”
“They haven’t returned.”
The room shifted.
Celeste’s face went still.
Silver’s eyes sharpened. “And?”
“They haven’t returned.”
The room shifted.
Celeste’s face went still.
Umbranox continued, voice lower now beneath the noise behind her. “Which means either the Pontifex is hidden, compromised, dead, or somewhere inconvenient enough that those seeking him are being discouraged from saying so.”
Arcade muttered, “That’s one way to put kidnapped.”
Umbranox clearly heard him. “Davies, if I require commentary from the cheaper end of a toolbox, I will rattle a drawer.”
Arcade’s mouth opened.
Hughes gave him a look.
Arcade shut it.
Silver exhaled through his nose. “You want us to look into it.”
“I want the Knights of Clawdiff to investigate without announcing that they are investigating,” Umbranox said. “If the Church is involved, tread carefully. If the Council is involved, tread twice as carefully. If both are involved, assume every wall has ears and half the ears are armed.”
From the background came a new voice.
Polite.
Anxious.
“Lady Umbranox? I brought the revised ledgers and—oh stars above.”
Bartleby.
There was a pause.
Then Bartleby’s voice climbed sharply. “Is that a body?”
Umbranox said, “Yes. Avoid the one at the back. He might have a bomb.”
A very small sound followed.
Then a thud.
Umbranox sighed again.
“Bartleby has fainted.”
Celeste covered her mouth with both paws.
Silver’s eyes closed slowly, as though willing himself into another life.
Umbranox’s tone remained brisk. “I’ll call you back.”
The line cut.
No one moved.
Then Topsy raised a hand. “I have several questions.”
“No,” Hughes said.
“But one of them is about the sandwich.”
“No.”
Silver lowered his arcbracer, looking tired in a way that went far deeper than sleep.
Celeste hesitated.
Then her ears flicked.
“Oh,” she said softly. “That reminds me.”
Arcade stared at her. “Please tell me you are not about to reveal something that should have been mentioned earlier.”
Celeste had already reached into her bag and was rummaging past loose thread, a half-wrapped sandwich, two buttons, a pencil, and what appeared to be one of Bonbon’s socks.
Then she pulled out a brass pocket watch.
The room went quiet.
The watch sat heavy in her palm, old and beautiful, its surface scratched but carefully engraved. It didn’t tick. It didn’t open. It only glimmered faintly in the sap-light, as though something inside it was dreaming.
Arcade stared.
Then slowly turned his head toward her.
“Celeste.”
“Yes?”
“Why do you have that?”
She blinked. “The kraken gave it to me.”
Arcade’s expression went completely blank.
“The kraken,” he repeated.
“Yes.”
“The dead candy kraken.”
“Well. He wasn’t dead when he gave it to me.”
“That is not the reassuring part.” Arcade sat forward, eyes wide. “And when, exactly, were you planning to tell the adults in the room that the ancient tragic zombie general handed you a mysterious locked artefact before dissolving into sad sparkles?”
Celeste hugged the watch closer. “I did tell you.”
“No, you absolutely did not.”
“I think I told someone.”
Topsy raised a hand. “Was it the tree?”
Celeste hesitated.
Arcade pointed at her. “That pause is a crime.”
Celeste looked down at the watch, ears dipping. “I can’t open it. I tried. Not with force,” she added quickly when Hughes gave her a look. “Just politely.”
Ray rubbed her forehead. “You tried to politely open a cursed pocket watch?”
“It might not be cursed.”
“It was from a kraken.”
“Afon,” Celeste corrected. “Before he became Jell’thuzad.”
That settled the room again.
A little.
She turned the watch over in her hands.
“He said something about taking it to the Storehouse,” she continued. “That it would tell us what he and Branwyn found before they were taken. And he mentioned… um…”
She frowned.
“Godyad?”
Silver blinked. “Godiad?”
“No. Goddy-ad? Goddy-odd? Gogglead?”
Mezzo squinted. “Gogglead sounds like a children’s villain.”
“It was definitely something like that,” Celeste said, increasingly distressed. “Godi… Godiad? Goddard? Go-dad?”
Hughes’s brows drew together. “Godiad?”
Celeste pointed at him instantly. “That one. Maybe. Unless it was Godwig.”
Arcade stared at the watch as if it had personally insulted him. “You had a lead connected to Godiad, a locked artefact from a zombie general, and information about a Storehouse, and your plan was to keep it in your bag next to sandwich debris?”
Celeste’s cheeks flushed. “There has been a lot going on.”
“That is unfortunately true,” Silver murmured.
Ray leaned over the table, eyes narrowed. “What Storehouse?”
Celeste’s ears drooped further. “I don’t know.”
“What did he say exactly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Celeste.”
“I was underwater and emotionally distressed!”
“That’s fair,” Topsy said solemnly.
Celeste squeezed the watch in both hands. “I remember bits. He said it would help. He said Branwyn found something. Or he found Branwyn. Or Branwyn found the Storehouse. Or the Storehouse found them.” She winced. “I’ll get back to you.”
Arcade slowly put his face in his hands.
C.H.I.P. chimed from beside him. “USER STRESS LEVELS RISING. RECOMMEND REMOVING MYSTERY OBJECT FROM COMMANDER’S CASUAL POCKET ROTATION.”
Celeste looked offended. “It was in the safe pocket.”
“There is no safe pocket for kraken lore,” Arcade said into his hands.
Silver reached out, but stopped before touching the watch.
For once, his voice had no mockery in it.
“May I?”
Celeste hesitated.
Then placed it carefully in his palm.
Silver turned it over, eyes sharpening as he studied the engravings.
“This is old,” he said quietly. “Not decorative old. Archive old.”
Hughes leaned closer. “Can you open it?”
Silver tried the clasp.
Nothing.
The watch remained shut.
Topsy whispered, “Maybe it only opens for dramatic timing.”
Arcade lowered his hands. “I hate that you might be right.”
Silver studied the engraving a moment longer, then handed it back with unusual care.
Celeste tucked it safely away.
Properly this time.
“Right,” she said, trying very hard to sound organised. “So we have missing Kymara relics, a vanished Pontifex, Crystal disappearing into possibly-not-a-murder-wall, Godiad maybe, and a Storehouse.”
Mezzo leaned back, grinning weakly. “Grand. Simple little day out.”
Celeste nodded, trying very hard to look like someone who had all of that under control.
“I’ll write it down this time.”
Arcade pointed at her. “Thank you.”
She paused.
“After I remember how to spell Godiad.”
Silver sighed. “We are all doomed.”
Topsy patted the table. “But organised doomed.”
Celeste brightened. “Exactly.”
Hughes looked over the map, then at the pocket watch now tucked safely away.
“Right,” he said. “Then we move. Pontifex first. If Umbranox’s people vanished looking for him, he’s either the target, the bait, or the lock on the door.”
Ray pushed herself upright. “And Crystal’s on the other side of that door.”
Arcade cracked his knuckles, sparks popping between his fingers. “Secret door, missing Pontifex, cursed watch, twenty years of stolen Kymara relics. Finally. A normal errand.”
Silver stood, brushing imaginary crumbs from his borrowed armour. “We find the Pontifex, establish whether he is alive, kidnapped, complicit, or inconveniently decorative, and then we proceed from there.”
Topsy raised a hand. “What if he’s been turned into a chair?”
Everyone looked at her.
“What? We have had a weird week.”
Celeste nodded, very seriously. “We should check chairs.”
Silver stared. “No. We should not check chairs.”
“We might check one or two chairs,” Hughes muttered.
Mezzo, already at the washing basin with his sleeves rolled up, lifted a dripping plate. “Grand. Love it. Off to find the missing pope-cat while the cathedral tries to eat us through the walls. Lovely family outing.”
He dunked the plate.
There was a sharp crack.
Mezzo froze.
So did everyone else.
Slowly, he lifted the plate from the soapy water.
It had split clean down the middle.
Topsy’s eyes widened.
Mezzo stared at it like it had betrayed him personally.
“Oh, you absolute slippery little goblin of a dinner circle.”
Celeste covered her mouth.
Ray turned away at once, shoulders shaking.
Mezzo held up the broken halves. “I trusted you. I gave you warmth. I gave you bubbles. And this is how you repay me? Splitting yourself in two like a cowardly ceramic biscuit?”
Topsy slapped both paws over her mouth.
Then, in a terrible imitation of him, she declared, “Top o’ the morning to ye, traitorous wee plate!”
Mezzo gasped. “That is slander.”
“That is exactly what you sounded like.”
“I do not sound like that!”
“You sounded like a kettle having a sword fight.”
Arcade leaned back in his chair. “No, she’s got a point.”
Mezzo pointed a wet half-plate at him. “You stay out of this, electric rat.”
Topsy hopped up beside him, grabbed a bowl, and swished it dramatically through the wash water. “Behold! I, Topsy, master of dishes, shall show ye how it’s—”
The bowl slipped.
Mezzo lunged.
Topsy lunged.
Both collided with the basin.
A tidal wave of grey soup-water exploded upward.
It hit Mezzo full in the chest.
It hit Topsy full in the face.
For one perfect second, they stood there dripping.
A single pea slid down Mezzo’s cheek.
Topsy blinked through a curtain of suds.
Then Mezzo whispered, deadly calm, “The bowls have chosen war.”
Topsy spat out a bubble. “I told you they had it out for us.”
The basin wobbled ominously.
Hughes stood at once. “Nope.”
Ray grabbed her hammer. “Agreed.”
Arcade snatched the pocket-watch notes off the table. “Evacuating the splash zone.”
Silver backed toward the door with the haunted dignity of a man fleeing peas. “For once, I support retreat.”
Celeste scooped Bonbon up under one arm and her bag under the other. “Right. Everyone out. For our own safety.”
Mezzo lifted the broken plate halves like twin cursed relics. “I’ll be back for you.”
Topsy pointed at the basin. “This isn’t over.”
Another bubble popped.
The entire group fled.
