The Office of the Grand Guard Command declined our invitation to comment.
—GRAND GUARD PRESENCE AT THE ROYAL CONSERVATORY: UNEXPLAINED CLOSURE BECOMES “OFFICIAL INVESTIGATION”
Newspaper report from the Karnaca Gazette
It took Daud just one day to get word to his contact in Karnaca; he could have done it faster, but he needed to play it safe, moving only at night, sticking to the darkness and the rooftops. He needed to be master of the situation and have every aspect of his mission under his control. The Twin-bladed Knife had been brought to Karnaca by the strange gang who had managed to infiltrate Norcross’s collection and steal the artifact from under Daud’s nose. But to find the gang, he needed to know more about them.
And to know more about them, he went to a woman who, he hoped, would be able to furnish him with all the information he needed.
Sierra Esquivel. Or, to be more specific, Officer Sierra Esquivel. Daughter of one of Daud’s former—now deceased—lieutenants in the Whalers, Sierra had been born in Dunwall and smuggled out with her mother during the inter-gang war that had cost her father his life. In the years that had followed, Daud had kept an eye on Sierra herself, watching as the child became a woman and the woman became an officer of the Grand Serkonan Guard. Daud knew that having a contact in her position would be useful one day, and the trust Sierra’s father had had in Daud had been passed down to his daughter.
While he waited for their meeting—arranged for the next night in a place they were guaranteed not to bedisturbed—Daud caught up with local news, reading about recent mysterious events in the Karnaca Gazette. While the affairs of the world were not his concern, Daud had much still to do in the city, and felt it wise to at least be as informed as the rest of the populace. He had to admit the reports—if in any way accurate—were strange. Disappearances of prominent citizens, sightings of a masked criminal, and rumors that the Grand Serkonan Guard had sustained heavy losses in fights with this miscreant; losses they were denying to the press.
Daud wondered if it had anything to do with Luca Abele’s coup in Dunwall. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Daud thought back to his sighting of the Empress, Emily Kaldwin, as she fled Dunwall Tower.
Not for the first time, Daud wondered if the Outsider had been watching too.
At the appointed time, Daud made his way across Karnaca to the rendezvous, stopping first to visit another of his caches, hidden in a small cave in the rocky cliff face of Shindaerey Peak, the mouth of which could only be accessed by the most foolhardy of climbers—or by the power of transversal. Kneeling in the cave, Daud unwrapped a long object—a short sword with a black-and-gold grip and a blade with a flat, straight spine and a cutting edge, which tapered to a wicked point. It was his sword from his days with the Whalers, crafted from Tyvian meteorite metal. He hadn’t thought he would ever wield it again, yet something had compelled him, years ago, to keep it rather than throw it into the sea.
He slid it into its scabbard, hung it from his belt, and continued on his journey.
The Royal Conservatory was traditionally open to the public, the complex consisting of a cluster of connecting buildings, within which were housed rooms for publicperformances, lectures and exhibitions, smaller spaces where academics conducted private tuition or research, and an extensive library—the largest outside of Dunwall—available to all.
At least, that had been the case. Daud had learned that over the last few months, the Royal Conservatory had been closed to the public on the orders of the institute’s curator, Breanna Ashworth—much to the disconcertment of the academic aristocracy of the city, as they had been promised an exhibition of items from the Roseburrow Collection, taken from the personal collection of renowned natural philosopher Esmond Roseburrow.
Breanna Ashworth. The name rang a bell, but there had been so many names, so many faces, over the decades. Most were underground now, so if Daud had known her, she was either lucky or tough. He narrowed his eyes, looking out across the moonlit city as he thought about how much was lost to memory and to time. The building certainly looked like it had been closed for months. The library was in the worst shape, the shelves covered with dust and some of the precious volumes already sagging in the humid air of the city as they were left with no air circulation by the building’s apparent lack of power. The fans were off and most of the windows were closed.
Daud admired Sierra’s choice of meeting place. The Royal Conservatory was huge, accessible only, at the moment, to senior members of the Grand Guard. Here, in the heart of Karnaca, the echoing halls were the most secluded and secret place in the whole city.
He made his way to the mezzanine floor, an extension of the library that wrapped around a large central atrium. Here, the debris was even worse; there were books thrown onto the floor in great heaps, and some of the shelves had collapsed. Moving around the left-hand side of themezzanine, the bright Serkonan moonlight streaming through the high windows lit a wide, empty space, highlighting gouges in the woodwork that suggested something large and heavy had once occupied the spot before being torn out.
Daud was early. He had gained access through an upper level, expecting guard patrols inside as well as on the street. He’d been wrong. So now he had reached the rendezvous, all he could do was wait.
He moved to the railing and looked down at the floor below. A great ironwork chandelier had fallen from
