Groundwork

Morning on Fourth Street was quite slow compared to the other areas. Included in the residential area for the upper middle-class, the only figures cutting through the morning fog were Rusl and Angelo. Carriages sometimes passed by, but otherwise, the residents were most probably asleep or were simply enjoying their morning teas.

The two made their way on foot as Rusl wanted to get out of the carriage as soon as possible to preserve his tongue. Angelo also didn't like being confined in the carriage. He preferred getting some stretches done if legwork would be needed.

These five streets were one of the many areas in Odiar reserved for the upper middle-class, or the class that's already considered in the upper classes, save for the fact that their bloodline wasn't special. With that said, houses here were separated by wide, vacant spaces often used to flaunt a garden or simply to house the many, many steam machines of the owner.

Aside from the improved air quality, the streets were also cleaner. Nothing but dried leaves crunched beneath their soles.

Rusl glanced at each of the houses as they walked, looking out for a description Angelo wasn't privy to. He didn't have to know. He's just here as an assistant anyway.

Even with the distance they covered, they only passed by three houses before reaching the gates of a modest mansion. The garden on this one wasn't as well tended to; vines coiled at the wrought iron fence, and the walkway wasn't swept for quite some time, evident from the amount of dirt and overgrown weeds growing in the cracks.

If all these peculiarities didn't point to their destination, Angelo wouldn't know what would. This lot was the odd one out in the neighborhood. It's also the only one with a door marked with red paint. Then there's also this hunch. Rusl mentioned he'd develop it given enough time on the job. Was this jittery feeling a sign?

There's nobody in sight. The auburn-haired Rusl clicked his tongue and scratched his head. "Didn't even bother getting the Watchers involved first, huh?"

"Who made the report?" Angelo asked. Logically speaking, the Watchers—the local peacekeeping organization would be notified first. It's strange to seek a private Litany firm without getting the proper authorities involved.

Unless…

The gate wasn't locked so they simply went in. Angelo kept his guard up and kept a keen eye on anything that moved in the garden.

Once at the front door, Rusl stopped. He didn't attempt to touch or knock; he scrutinized the door and the paint first. "Lamb blood, huh? How tacky," he said. "No names left. Only an address. Payment was delivered upfront. Even Ann (a private nickname he used to refer to Antoinette) was confused. Angelo, just to be sure, you had your bracelet on, right?"

"Of course," He wiggled his left arm to feel the huge beads jiggle. It's the same bracelet he had during his training as a Litanist.

Angelo could feel the tension rise in the air. Rusl was rarely this serious. This was Angelo's second time seeing him like this. "Is it that bad?"

The auburn-haired man finally drew his hand tucked in his coat pocket and pushed the door open.

They're immediately greeted with the nauseating stench of rust and decay. Angelo covered his mouth while Rusl entered completely unfazed. As if he had everything figured out, he began pulling the blood-soaked talismans dangling in front. He did so without regard to the basic investigation rule of preserving the scene as much as possible.

The reception hall was unnecessarily spacious for a house of this size. The grand staircase and a large oil painting hung on the wall, depicting a beheading of a man amidst a thrilled audience, were the primary witnesses to the gruesome activity that transpired here.

Rusl shrugged while Angelo shuddered. The owner had quite the taste in motifs.

Meanwhile, Angelo's eyes trailed upwards where the strings converged. A chandelier running on low-light mode hung from the ceiling. "Rusl," he called.

"It's alright. The thing falling would work in our favor. Still," He lifted his shoes a couple of times, feeling the squelch of the sticky carpet beneath. "This amount of blood was simply too much."

"Was this a failed summon?" Angelo guessed, trying to connect the client's decision not to involve the Watchers and his colleague's remark with the blood.

"Probably. The performers were complete novices. Probably got swindled on buying those fake grimoires circulating around. A quick and easy scam aimed at the rich…"

"Or those who wanted to take a shortcut to aristocracy. The church badly needs to elect another saint soon, and seeing that opportunity, they…" Angelo trailed off. "So, we need to capture them, right? What's the plan?"

"Wrong."

"Huh?"

Rusl rubbed the blood caught in his palm. The dark, viscous liquid formed strings. "What we're tasked to do here isn't to trace the source. It's to exorcise."

An exorcism. What every Litany firm was established for. A dangerous job with absurd pay, these services were one of the few that both the government and the church had their hands off. Although the church could perform an exorcism themselves, it's mostly done on a wide scale or for an important personality. The rest of the citizenry had these Litany companies instead.

"Not that I couldn't understand the sentiment," Rusl said. "But couldn't they at least prepare properly before attempting a summon?"

"Maybe they're desperate?"

"All of us are desperate here, Angelo. I don't know about you, but lately, I've toyed with the idea myself. Unlike these guys, however, I'm not stupid enough to try," Still clenching and relaxing his bloody hand, Rusl murmured, "The full version, at least…"

"L-Let's assess the situation first before making any decisions, shall we?"

"Way ahead of you," Rusl gathered the talismans with his bloody hand while the other produced a lighter. "Ready the salt, partner. And be prepared for the worst. We'll need to set up the groundworks first."