Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 436

**Chapter Four Hundred Thirty-Six – The Inquiry**
**North Shore Conqueror Sea, Teruois.**

The expansive harbor at Teruois thrummed with unrelenting motion under the afternoon sun. Steam whistles pierced the din repeatedly as boats of every type maneuvered along the crowded piers. As Castiglia’s primary port, the city thrived with energy beneath the gentle brightness of early spring.

Near the docks, the neighboring quarters seemed to throb with even greater intensity. Streets heaved with waves of people and the grind of carriage wheels, hemmed in on both sides by packed rows of shops feeding off the unending foot traffic. But not all trade relied on noise and motion—some forms of survival nestled in hushed recesses.

To the west of the bustling harborfront, away from the main avenues, a web of alleyways twisted through the densely packed structures. Sunlight rarely reached into these tight corridors. The air hung heavy with dampness, and the acrid smell of clogged gutters seeped up from beneath cracked stones. The buildings bore flaking plaster like festering wounds.

A lone woman made her way with purpose down one such passage. Her figure was obscured by a long dark coat and a low-brimmed hat; a scarf covered her mouth and chin. She watched each passerby with careful eyes, her stride swift. After a few turns, her attention fixed on a particular storefront nestled against a soot-streaked wall.

The shop looked neglected. Its signboard had long since vanished, leaving only makeshift displays out front: brittle herbs, powders sealed in cloudy jars, and oddly contorted minerals. She paused, stepped closer, and spoke quietly with the elderly vendor. A moment later, she received a tightly wrapped packet of powdered herbs, which she slipped into her coat. Payment in folded bills changed hands without fuss.

With her errand done, she moved back into the maze of alleys. A glance behind confirmed no followers. She had only just taken a few steps when a ragged dog appeared, sniffing with intense interest at the hem of her skirt.

“Off with you!”

She waved her hand sharply, frowning. The mutt flinched and trotted away without protest.

Shaking off the minor delay, she advanced deeper into the alleys, her movements practiced and confident. She wound through the narrow lanes without pause, eventually reaching a dead-end passage that terminated in a weather-stained door.

She approached and tapped out a specific rhythm against the wood. Then waited. Nothing. Her brow creased. Just as she lifted her hand to knock again, a voice called out from behind.

“Ms. Vapor Swallow…”

She spun around. A man had appeared at the alley’s mouth. He was short, cloaked in brown, and wore a wooden mask that obscured his face. His attire echoed hers—deliberately nondescript.

“You’re… Crimson Staff?” she asked, eyeing him carefully.

“The same. It’s been some time, Ms. Vapor Swallow. More than a month since our last assembly.”

“You came for this month’s gathering?” she asked warily.

He nodded. “Of course. But clearly—” he gestured toward the door, “—it’s empty. Stone-Step isn’t here. No meeting tonight.”

Her frown deepened. “That can’t be. Stone-Step always sends advance notice if there’s a change. He said nothing last time.”

“I’m as puzzled as you are,” Crimson Staff replied. “He never skips without word. But here we are: no gathering, no explanation. I suspect… something’s wrong.”

“Wrong?” Her voice trembled with disbelief. “That’s unthinkable. Stone-Step is a formidable non-ordinary. Who could pose a threat to him?”

“Best not to assume anyone is untouchable,” Crimson Staff said quietly, stepping closer. “He warned us often—about the dangers hidden beneath the surface. And lately… things have felt off. Two members of my circle vanished recently. No signs. No warnings. And now this. It doesn’t sit right.”

A ripple of unease passed through her. “You really think something’s happening?”

“I don’t know what, but something’s stirring. The quiet ones are nervous. Keep your senses sharp.”

They shared a few more cautious remarks. Both gave the unyielding door another try. Still no answer. Eventually, they exchanged brief nods and went their separate ways.

Emerging onto a more open street, the woman moved with a distracted air. She lingered along the outskirts of the city before drifting back into the heart of it. Upon reaching a lively thoroughfare, she pulled down her scarf and took in a long breath of the comparatively fresh air, watching the steady stream of people and carriages pass.

She signaled a hansom cab. It rolled to a stop, and she climbed inside, closing the door behind her.

“Autumnwood Road, Oakfin Grove, South Gate,” she instructed.

“Yes, Miss. Off we go,” the driver responded, snapping the reins.

As the cab trundled through the city streets, she stared absentmindedly out the window. Her mind churned, stuck on the unanswered questions from the alley.

The ride passed quickly in her daze. The carriage stopped in a calm, upper-class neighborhood along the north bank of Teruois. The area was neat, serene—untouched by the restlessness of the port.

She paid and stepped out. Walking paths wound through lawns sprouting the first colors of spring. Near the entrance to her building, gardeners had left small heaps of soil. She climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. A key clicked in the lock.

Inside, she shut the door and leaned against it briefly, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Removing her hat revealed her cropped chestnut hair. She hung it neatly and made for the kitchen to store her purchase.

A voice froze her.

“Back at last.”

Startled, she turned sharply toward the living room. A young man sat comfortably on her sofa. He was impeccably dressed, strikingly handsome, and casually sipping from her favorite teacup. Her tea tin sat open on the table beside him.

“Who are you? How did you get in? Get out now—I’ll call the watch!” Her voice cracked with fear as she inched toward the knife rack near the sink.

“No need for panic, Ms. Vapor Swallow,” the man said smoothly, completely unbothered. “Brandon. I’m here to talk. This kind of exchange isn’t fit for a crowded street. A private setting seemed more appropriate. I assure you—I come in peace.”

The use of her alias startled her. Her eyes narrowed. “You know that name… You walk the hidden ways as well?”

“Indeed. Like you, I seek the truths that lie beneath. I’m newly arrived in this city, somewhat… directionless. I was hoping a native might help shed some light. Your cooperation would be appreciated.” He gave a calm, almost charming smile.

“You say you’re not from here… then how do you know me? My name, my location?” Suspicion dripped from every word.

“Simple deduction,” Brandon replied, waving his hand casually. “At the apothecary in the west quarter, you bought Nightmare’s Bloom. Your clothes carry residues of dried jealous fish and Yarrow Whisker—components commonly used in remedies to ease the lingering mental strain brought on by forbidden study. That, paired with your choice of potion, pointed to someone like you.”

Realization dawned in her expression. “You were there? You followed me? But… no one else was near!”

“‘Followed’ is such a blunt term,” Brandon said with mock offense. “Let’s say I observed. Watched. I tracked your route to the meeting. Listened to your exchange. Learned your name. When you boarded the cab and stated your destination loud enough for a passerby… well, the rest followed.”

“Observed…” she echoed faintly.

“Exactly. Once I knew you were part of the hidden, I kept my attention fixed. I saw the meeting site. Heard the talk. Caught your alias. And when you voiced your address, I arrived first. How? Your shoes held fragments of Our Lady’s Sigh petals and disturbed soil. Only one building around here combines Venus’ Weep blooms with fresh digging at the entry. That told me enough. The lingering herbal scent in the air sealed the rest. You took your time—tea seemed a reasonable welcome.”

The fear drained from her, giving way to astonishment. “You saw me at the shop, tracked me here, and got here *first*? That’s beyond normal—you’re not just concealed. You’re *gifted*.”

The knife slipped from her hand. She straightened, now deferential. Her voice softened. “Please excuse my earlier rudeness, Master Brandon. Someone of your ability… honors my humble home.”

“No need for all that,” Brandon replied lightly, swirling his tea. “I’m only here seeking knowledge. No threats intended. Teruois is unfamiliar ground. I need someone versed in its shadows.”

“Guidance, of course. Whatever insight I possess, you may have…” she murmured.

“Good. Then tell me—what can you tell me about the White Stonemason Guild?”

She blinked, then nodded. “Yes, I know of it. The White Stonemason Guild is Stone-Step’s organization. He’s well-known among the non-ordinary here. He claimed to act on behalf of their interests. He’s arranged several meetings. I was fortunate to attend one.”

Brandon listened in silence, face unreadable. Then, after a pause, he asked, “And Ms. Vapor Swallow—do you know where the Guild keeps its Teruois headquarters?”