Wizard Kings and Street Urchins

If the locksmith was the first clue, then Mr. Matsumoto might be the second. If the two really are connected, then I need to head back to AT Locks.

That’s the conclusion I’ve arrived at so far.

I keep checking Mr. Matsumoto’s poster. It says his name is Khurael Walkur, but that’s unmistakably him in the picture. He was a teacher, who he disappeared five years ago. All I know about him, is that he joined our school last year, as a Japanese teacher.

When I came to this world, I could instantly speak the language. If I assume the same happened to Mr. Matsumoto, then it’s plausible that he can speak Japanese well enough to teach it.

Everything adds up so far, though none of it makes sense.

I ponder all of this, as Erin and I ride towards the locksmith. I can’t lie; my thoughts are filled with doubt and outlandish theories.

What if this is a parallel universe, where everyone has an Earth counterpart? What if it’s not Mr. Matsumoto and just someone who really, really looks like him? After all, I once heard that everyone has a doppelganger.

No! Everything these past few days has been crazy. Coming to this world, gaining superpowers, the locksmith… It must all be connected!

***

We arrive at AT Locks. The sun is still high up in the sky, but we don’t have all day.

“Give me the posters and let me do the talking,” I instruct Erin.

We enter the shop. The first thing we see is a young boy sat at the locksmith’s desk, writing in a notebook. He looks up.

“Good afternoon?” I say, uncertainly.

“Are you here for me?” I hear Allister’s voice ask. I look to my left. The locksmith sits on an armchair, smoking a pipe.

“Alan Thatcher,” I greet.

“Is that a customer?” he asks.

“Hello, sir. We were here yesterday. Do you remember us?” Erin asks.

“Oh, there are two of you?” the man notes.

I lean over and whisper in her ear. “Erin, of course he doesn’t recognise us. He’s blind.”

“Really?” she whispers back.

“You didn’t notice?” I reproach. “Sir, we came to you yesterday about a lockless box,” I remind the locksmith.

He snaps his fingers. “Right, I knew I recognised your voices. Do you have another one that needs opening?”

“Actually, we have some questions.” I declare. “May we take a seat?”

He beckons in the other armchairs’ general directions. We make ourselves comfortable. “So, here’s the deal,” I begin. “We’re looking into a string of disappearances, where the victims have vanished into thin air.”

“Thin air?” the man repeats, curiously.

“That’s what eyewitness testimonies report. They were all separate, unrelated people of all walks of life. The youngest disappeared ten years ago at eight years old and the oldest vanished eleven months ago, at age thirty-three,” I explain.

“Any leads?”

“Not a single one,” I reply.

The man takes a few slow puffs of his pipe. “I imagine most of them disappeared in the kingdom of Boria, didn’t they?” he finally says.

Erin and I exchange curious glances.

“Yes,” I say.

He continues to smoke his pipe, as if he hadn’t heard me.

What, is he deaf, too?

“The reason they opened up the case in Ruhe, is because the last three people to go missing lived here,” I explain.

“How did you know they lived mostly in Boria?” Erin asks, bewildered.

The man hums to himself. Finally, he speaks: “let me tell you a story.”

***

“Now, do you understand?” the locksmith asks, concluding his story.

Wizard kings? Cursed cities? That wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve experienced these past few days.

But I don’t buy any of it.

Or at the very least, I think the locksmith is removing himself from the equation.

“All of that sounds really scary,” Erin worries.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make quick work of it,” I lie.

“Thank you for everything,” I tell the locksmith, as we leave.

“So, Erin, what do you make of this?” I ask.

She hums. “I don’t know anything about the Kingdom of Boria, but it’s the only lead we have so far,” she says. “So, let’s go to Boria!”

“That doesn’t prove he’s lying. Maybe it proves that you’re clueless,” I tease.

She doesn’t react to my joke. “Well, it’s not like we have other leads. Let’s go to Boria!”

“Let’s not,” I say, interrupting her excitement.

“Aw, why not?”

“First, we need to see if anyone else has heard of this story. Only then is it worth exploring.”

“Didn’t he say almost nobody outside of Boria knows it?”

“Yes. Doesn’t that strike you as suspicious?”

“A little. Maybe he’s from there?” Erin says.

Maybe… Given everything that’s been happening, it’s certainly worth investigating.

“Erin, listen up,” I say. “You’re going to learn everything you can about the Kingdom of Boria. If the old man’s information is reliable, then you’ll be in charge of preparing for the voyage,” I tell her.

She nods, determinedly. “What will you do in the meantime?” she asks.

“I’m going to investigate another lead.”

“Oh? Which one?”

“I’ll tell you if I find anything,” I say.

***

Sweat drips down my torso, as I trot down the cobblestone pathways of Boneview. I would take my cloak off, but I’m too paranoid. What if members of the Triple H or Zero Limits gangs know what I look like and come to take revenge? With that in mind, I travel everywhere with a hood on.

There, in the alley. Three street urchins, arguing over something. They’ll have to do. “You three,” I call out, as I approach. The only girl among them hides whatever she was fiddling with. “Don’t worry, I’m not a city guard,” I assure them. I dismount my horse. “Can any of you read a map?”

Despite looking like she wants to run away, the girl proudly raises her hand. “I can!” she exclaims.

“Yeah, so can I,” says the older boy, reluctantly.

I smile at them. “Perfect. I have a job for you three.”

***

I observe AT Locks from the shadows. Night fell a while ago, yet the locksmith still hasn’t left.

“I’m tired,” complains the youngest boy.

The girl- his sister- shuts him up faster than I can. “Shut up, James. Do you know how much we can do with two gold?”

The AT Locks entrance opens. The locksmith steps out and closes the door behind him.

“That’s him,” I whisper. “Remember: even though he’s blind, I you need to keep your distance.”

I wait until the locksmith is far enough away. “Go,” I signal. The kids scurry off.

I sneak over to the door and get to picking the lock. One minute goes by. Then two. Then four.

Man, I can’t open this thing! I guess he is a locksmith, after all.

I go over to the window. Sure enough, it can be unlocked from the outside. It takes me a minute, but I eventually crack it. I push open the window and crawl into the shop.

The worktable is closest. Let’s investigate that first. I hold up my lantern and get to work. The table is full of locks, tools and blueprints. Nothing of interest. Oh, here. A tiny, open safe on the opposite end of the table. I rummage inside. Empty.

What else? Cabinets? Shelves? More safes? I don’t see any of that anywhere in the shop. What about doors or trapdoors?

I spend a minute looking around and thoroughly scanning the floor.

Nope, nothing to report.

Now that I’m looking for something, I realise how empty this shop is.

I’m looking for anything that will confirm the old man’s identity, or even his involvement in the disappearing people case. However, I’m seriously losing hope.

What about his desk?

It’s barren. However, there are some built-in shelves and a single drawer. The shelves are full of tools and documents that don’t say much. So, I turn my attention to the drawer. I pick it open, and…

Bingo. I pick up the notebook that young boy had been writing in earlier. There’s a page bookmarked by a pen. I flip to it.

Hmmm… It looks like a boring old ledger at first, but upon closer inspection…

That’s exactly what it is, I think, as I exasperatedly flip through it. I analyse each and every page, going back in time. Nothing stands out.

Eventually, I reach page one. Still nothing. However, there is something written on the inside of the cover: Property of Allister Twain.

My smile is so wide, it hurts my face. Satisfied, I place the ledger back where I found it and lock the drawer.

***

If there’s one thing you can’t say about Sato Kugo, is that he’s inefficient. No sooner had I locked the window back up, that the street urchins come rushing over.

“We found it!” one of them yells, scaring the life out of me.

I shush him loudly. “Keep your damn voice down,” I say. “What do you have for me?”

“Sir, we managed to follow him home. I marked it on the map, like you asked,” the girl declares. “Here.”

She hands me the map. A crudely drawn, black line, depicts a path from AT Locks to a house a few streets away. "It's dark brown and made of bricks."

"And the house number?" I ask.

"Uhhh..." she mutters.

This is going to be harder than it needs to be if she doesn't know, I sigh.

"Sixteen!" exclaims the youngest boy, proudly.

I would die for this brat.

I hand the kids a gold coin each. “It’s only fair,” I tell them. They thank me profusely, then dance off, singing about riches. I smile as they leave, then look back down at the map.

I’ll go tomorrow night, before he comes home.