With summer gradually fading away, autumn swiftly took over the country, reminding the trees to begin dropping leaves and causing the landscape to be covered with bright hues of orange and red. However, the marvellous sight did nothing to lift Sigerson's mood. Rain poured down from the heavens and drenched the city like a hose.
News of the ongoing war was still flowing into Sodor daily, although there was not much to worry about. Both sides had called for a brief ceasefire to gather up resources for future battles. Who knew that such a small country like Revalty could put up such a strong defence? Citizens from both countries could only sit and wait for news with abated breath.
One thing was clear— this war was far from over.
—
The rest of the plan was now tipped in the detective's favour. They had acquired a sufficient amount of gold to fund their mission and most importantly, Hartland was successfully rattled.
Paranoia crept up to him during both day and night, making him a much easier target to attack. Knowing Hartland would never quit his addiction with gambling any time soon, Sigerson planned to exploit this weakness, turning it into his trump card against Blight. This time, the recently established gambling house was his trap.
He had received information from Elena that Hartland's weekly schedule included a trip to FORTUNE'S LUCK, every Tuesday; with this vital intel along with his trusted accomplices, everything was set.
All three of them were patiently waiting in the lounge room of the lavish gambling house, each positioned perfectly. When Hartland finally arrived at the entrance, apparently unconcerned that such a large amount of gold had been stolen just the night before, the detective gave a brief signal, then the remaining seats around the spacious building were filled up with players, leaving only one seat available.
"It's a good thing we had enough to pay 'em all," whispered Harvey to Sigerson, who sat comfortably on a plush orange armchair that nearly matched his hair. "I'm not sure whether I really should be here though… What if someone recognises me from yesterday?"
"Calm down. I took my time last night to memorise every face in the tavern, and I can say with confidence that none of the twenty men I remember are here in this building. Besides, I need your eyes for this part— catching Hartland's microexpressions is your speciality, isn't it? I'll train you until you become capable of leading my investigations when I'm away."
Harvey flinched. Learning things while sitting down was exceptionally excruciating for him to endure.
"W–What do you mean by 'train'?" he asked tentatively.
"If you're going to be joining me on our journey— me and Evelyn, that is— well, you might as well start preparing yourself. There'll be a lot of trials ahead for us, so if you're not fit for them… you won't survive for long in a world like that."
"I–Is that so? A–Alright, if you put it like that…"
And without uttering another word, Harvey sat and kept watch, humming a quiet light-hearted tune to himself while he flipped through his newspaper happily.
Suddenly remembering something important, Sigerson started with a jolt, alarming Harvey who was next to him.
That's right… Doesn't this boy have relatives at all or is he an orphan like me? He did mention living on the streets, but it seems rather unlikely that a boy like that would be able to speak and read so well. I don't even know where he came from… Maybe I should ask to know him better…
Unable to resist the urge to pry deeper into Harvey's history, Sigerson leaned in closer with a determined mindset.
"Do you, uh, have any family members you need to take care of?"
"Nah, none at all," he replied casually.
"Urm, then what about your parents, are they still alive?"
"No," he answered indifferently. "I have an uncle and a sister though."
"Let me guess— you went to live with your uncle at a young age but ran away when he tried to forcefully educate you or something of the sort."
"How did you know? Did anyone tell you?"
"Let's say… it was my intuition that told me," he replied, avoiding eye contact with his amazed friend. Harvey, however, was not so easily satisfied. He fixed his keen amber eyes on Sigerson, wordlessly pressuring him to provide a full explanation. Sigerson sighed as he gave up on trying to hide it. If there was one thing the experienced detective admired about Harvey, it was his dogged determination.
"Since you keep persisting, I'll tell you, so stop wriggling around like that."
Harvey did indeed look like he was about to jump out of his seat out of childish impatience.
"When you flinched at the mention of 'train', I inferred you must've had trouble with formal education before. Taking your energetic personality into account, it seemed to be a feasible assumption because you would never be able to sit still and take lessons like a regular student."
He cast a dark look over Harvey who abruptly stopped fidgeting.
"After that, you mentioned your deceased parents with no hint of emotion whatsoever, which I took to mean you had no connection with your parents and had instead gone to live with your uncle at a young age.
Now I'll admit I might have gotten lucky on the last part, but seeing that your manner of speech and ability to read is much higher than any street urchin, I came to the conclusion that someone must have forced you into studying. It could've been a teacher or your uncle, but I decided on the latter since you talk about him as if he were a stranger and secondly there would be less reason to leave your home if it were a teacher."
Harvey nodded grimly, as if to confirm Sigerson's statement. Why Sigerson decided to probe into his life, Harvey didn't know, but one thing was certain; he probably never needed to share information with his devious friend for him to know.
"I never liked my uncle," he said quietly. "He was a retired professor from one of the best universities in the country, so I think he thought we could accomplish the same as him. When he realised my sister could study and achieve everything I couldn't, he sort of just… gave up on me, I suppose. Oh yeah—"
His face brightened up again.
"—part of it was also my fault, 'cause I've always wanted to go on an adventure like the people in stories, so I left without much hesitation."
"I hope you'll find your adventure with us suited to your taste then," said Sigerson sarcastically but not unkindly. He clearly disapproved of pursuing adventures for excitement's sake. "Anyhow, we have a task to carry out, so let's talk later."
There was certainly much more movement going on around the table Turner was at than before. Hartland, peering inconspicuously at a small hourglass placed on the table behind Turner, continuously revealed incredibly well-timed hands during every showdown they played. Poker, if given a full view of the opponent's cards, was always a guaranteed win for Hartland as he could choose when to fold accordingly. The hourglass behind Turner was only one of the few reflecting surfaces Sigerson had set up. A broken mirror shard was placed at an angle behind another group next to Turner, while the window pane acted as a secret mirror behind others.
Eventually, when all his opponents gave up and cursed their ill luck, Hartland scooped up his winnings greedily, his pig-like face sweating as he did so. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and turned to leave when Turner stepped forwards to stop him.
"Not so fast, Hartland." I just want to ask you something before you leave."
He led Hartland to a drab corner, out of sight from all the curious eyes that darted to them as they were disappearing.
"What's going on?" asked Harvey uncertainly, putting down his newspaper.
"Everything's running quite smoothly so far," grinned Sigerson. "I've told Turner exactly how Hartland's would cheat with the unconventional mirrors I set up around here. At the exact moment he saw our man preparing to leave, he simply confronted him and is currently threatening to expose, which I imagine is Hartland's greatest fear. After all these years of dishonest playing… I do suppose the truth would've come out anyways even if we didn't do this today."
"I see," muttered Harvey. "And he can't contact Blight either after what happened yesterday night. He may be a greedy man, but I guess it doesn't make him any less of a coward."
"You might have noticed as well," said Sigerson, lowering his head and voice to match his serious mood. "Since there's a possibility of Blight's eyes and ears being here to keep watch over him, I've told Turner to pull him to an empty corner where they can talk in private. I don't want anyone knowing Turner's identity, otherwise he would be in danger and Blight might catch on to my plan. I can't see anybody lurking nearby or trying to eavesdrop on them at the moment though—"
Sigerson craned his neck over the many heads blocking his view of the secluded corner Turner and Hartland were in.
"—so we should be good for now. Even if Blight found out that Hartland is being lured into a trap, there's not much he can do to stop it without revealing his hand too much, although… I would prefer it to be less… messy."
Not too long after those words were uttered from his lips, Turner and Hartland exchanged solemn glances with each other before the stouter man, sweating slightly, departed without another word.
"Alright, he's left. Are you ready with the revolver?"
"Yup," answered Harvey with alacrity, patting a bulge in his coat pocket. "I'm still unsure of what to do with it though."
Turner, his aged body moving as quick as it could, joined them in their conversation.
"Since Turner's here, I'll tell you what to do. Follow Hartland as stealthily as you can then leave the revolver when you have the chance to get close enough to him. As long as he takes it, all is good. Is that clear?"
The eager boy's eyebrows pulled into a taut line over his bright eyes. He gave a swift nod then hurried out of the spacious room.
"Why don't you ever reveal your entire plan from the start?" asked Turner, drumming the crystal glass table. "It would certainly make everything easier for us to understand."
Sigerson sighed and got up to stretch his arms. Staring directly at Turner's face purposefully, he replied curtly, "If my enemies get a hold on you or Harvey, do you expect them to let you stay silent? In my opinion, the less you know, the safer it will be for you and the better it will be for me in case my plan is exposed."
"Oh, uh—" stuttered Turner, taken aback.
"I didn't mean to be rude," apologised Sigerson hastily. "I just wanted to tell you the truth, that's all. I'm sorry if it caused you to feel uncomfortable."
"I'm alright," replied Turner good-naturedly, patting him on the back. Sigerson stared into the distance with a sombre air around him.
"I guess the only thing we can do now is wait for Harvey to meet back up. Let's go now— I don't like these flashy lights very much."
The last thing Sigerson saw before hopping into the cab was the sun dipping down below the horizon menacingly like a blazing ball of fire with glowing eyes, reminding him that it would soon be over… with his victory.