If you are here, it can only mean one thing: you are in possession of Mr Lupin's hidden keys. And now you came to try them on the chest!

All of this feels rather secretive, or scandalous, or both! What could Mr Lupin possibly hide away in a chest he'd keep so close to him? What is so important to the butler, that he would go to the extent of hiding keys in a notebook that never ever leaves his side?

Mayhaps it is just a pile of old junk. Or his gil. Or some shameful erotic correspondance with a noble.

Does it really matter to you? Are you going too far with this?

Perhaps it would be for the best to leave this lock box where it is.

Have you covered your tracks? Did you leave any evidence that someone had tampered with Mr Lupin's personal belongings? Or perhaps you are above such trivial details?

Should you keep investigating now? Or leave the butler to his own demise?

Or are you perhaps...
...no, I dare not make such assumptions...
...but...
...would you be STEALING anything from the butler?

That much is up to you!

You try the key you retrieved and...surprise!
It fits perfectly with the lock-box.

You turn it on the right, and hear the lock opens. You pull the chest open, filling it with light.

Inside, the gleam of gold catches your eyes. A pocket-watch lies on top of a pile of neatly tied documents.
There seems to be old antique pages, some of them intact, others so fragile they had been wrapped in a protective cloth.
Some correspondance, gathered with threads, is perfectly sorted and lies in a corner of the chest.
There seemed to be more recent documents, judging by the difference of color of the pages and the pristine condition compared to the others: an enveloppe bearing the seal of the Holy See alongside a page from a ledger.
Finally, you notice some pencil sketches peeking from behind letters and dusty documents.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

No pile of gold or old garbage treasures.
Just a watch and some old papers...?

What will you do?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You carefully unwrap the cloth protecting a pile of old documents. The pages seem fragile, but thanks to the great care given to them so far, the ink is relatively intact and there are barely any stain hindering the readability.

You uncover a Death Certificate, apparently quite official, and a...map of the Coerthas Western Highlands? Alongside the map is joined what seems to be a Communiqué from the Observatorium, with an official seal. The map has little red dots pinpointing locations that nowadays do not seem to refer to anything in particular...
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-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
DEATH DUE TO WAR OPERATIONS
Name: Algernon De Beauchene
Sex: Male
Born: circa 1519
Place of birth: Ishgard
Rank: Lord
Pledged to: Durendaire
Informant's name: /////////////
Place of death: Coerthas western Highlands, temporary settlement, coordinates ////////////
Method of disposition: Burial
Day pronounced death: 20th sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon
Cause of death: Slayed in battle during the offensive against the heretic nest. Exsanguination following a penetrating trauma to the back of the head. Multiple bruising and wounds irrelevant to the cause of death.
___________________________________________________________
ASTROLOGY REPORT, 20th sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon
Strong sustained winds expected on the Coerthas Western Highlands. The blizzard shall render all troops movements impossible. All companies shall receive the order to stay put on that day, up until the stars are favorable to us again.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There are a few other pages remaining in the pile. Will you keep reading, or should you do something else now?

You pick up the next batch of documents in the pile and proceed with your investigation.

Another official Death Certificate, this time alongside a letter. The quality of the paper of the letter is quite low, and it is stained with water drops. Pinned to it: a small hand-written receipt from a shop. The name of the shop doesn't ring a bell to you, unless you are 40 years old at least.
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DEATH DUE TO NATURAL CAUSES
Name: Florine De Beauchene
Sex: Female
Born: circa 1520
Place of birth: Ishgard
Rank: Lady
Pledged to: Durendaire
Informant's name: /////////////
Place of death: Ishgard, De Beauchene estate
Method of disposition: Burial
Day pronounced death: 27th sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon
Cause of death: Grief
___________________________________________________________

To: Mr Valerius Lupin, Butler at Sibaruse Estate

Please, Mr Lupin. I told you twice to not write to me ever again.
One can only have that much patience...
If you must insist on pestering me for useless old trash, then here it is!
See for yourself! It's just a silly old receipt. Now burn it and move on.
Or are you going to bother me again?
Never ever write to me again. I won't let you ruin my life.

From: //////////////

____________________

'
The Herbalist's Hat, Jeweled Crozier

Amber cloves 5Bouquet of Bitter Foxglove 1Bouquet of Brightlilies 1Caelum tree roots 3Coerthan Tea Leaves 10Fogweed 2Galago mint 10Highland oregano 5Highland parsley 6Lime basil 5--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You finish reading the documents and realize there is none left in the file. What should you do next?
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The correspondance was tightly tied with a leather thread. As you unwrap the thread, you uncover a batch of dozens of old letters. Addresses and names were blurred, erased by the time.

You unfold the letters, one by one, but they all quickly looked the same to you. You soon came to realize they were all very short answers on an hopelessly emptied space, penned in a very rushed manner, some of them even bearing the official seal of the Inquisition.

Do not contact me ever again!
-----------------------------------
Why are you doing this to us?
-----------------------------------
There is nothing more to say than what the official statements said.
-----------------------------------
Forget about it.
-----------------------------------
If you ever send me a letter again, I will report you.
-----------------------------------
You need to stop now.
-----------------------------------
I am grateful to be alive. Aren't you?
-----------------------------------
Please do not ruin my life again.
-----------------------------------
I will pray Halone for your soul.
-----------------------------------

Another couple of letters stood out in the pile. They were all rolled up and tied with threads. Their wax seal, unbroken, except for one. All were covered with a red ink seal mentioning: [Returned to Sender].

You pick up the only "Returned to Sender" estamped letter that did not have an intact seal. The seal in itself was but a cheap one, a generic tool displaying the effigy of Halone over some low-quality red wax. No wonder the seal broke.

Judging by the few words you are able to pick up by transparency on the other letters, they seemed to be similar.

To: ////////////

I know I have no right to contact you ever again, but please heed my words. It is important, for the sake of our integrity and for the redemption of our souls.

I need to know what happened the 20th, 27th and 29th sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon.

I know the truth lies in the details. Please send me something, anything that could be relevant to help me understand.

You all know that our Lord was innocent, but I alone cannot prove it. Please do not let the memory of the De Beauchene fade with a lie.

I beg of you.

'Tis the last thing I shall ever ask of you, and I shall be on my knees praying for your forgiveness for the rest of my life.

Help me clear their names in the name of the Fury and all that She stands for.

From: Valerius Lupin
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Should you chose to break the seals on the other letters, you will not find anything worth noting. All the letters are almost identical, they were probably destined to different persons.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You decide to investigate the folded documents. It did not seem much at first glance, just a pile of old pages inside an old chest. But the title of the first page you unfold suddenly strikes you: "ORDER OF ARRESTATION"

The order is issued and stamped by the Halonic Inquisition itself.

Behind the arrest order, you unfold what seems to be a report on a trial. The following pages relate word for word what the different parties said during the case.

Finally, one last page was joined with the documents, heavily stained.
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ORDER OF ARRESTATION BY THE HALONIC INQUISITION
- 29th sun of the Sixth Umbral Moon

In the Name of the Holy See,
Gabriel de Beauchene is hereby accused of the crime of Heresy.
The following evidences has been found at the heretic's estate:
Cult RosariesDragon blood vials3 books belonging to the forbidden list
The incriminating elements and the testimonies of good faith against the heretic have been brought to court.

An order of arrestation has been issued on the heretic's servants. They are to be brought to the Halonic Inquisition for questioning.

Should the heretic and his servants attempt to defile this sacred order, the Halonic Inquisition has rights to deal with their crimes accordingly.
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TRIAL REPORT, HALONIC INQUISITION TRIBUNAL, CASE 2590
Public Trial

Judge of the Holy Halonic Inquisition: We are gathered here today under the watchful gaze of the Fury to ascertain the guilt of Lord Gabriel de Beauchene, son of Algernon de Beauchene, heir to the Beauchene House. The charges brought against him are the following: acts of conspiracy against the Holy See by consorting with heretics, and possession of illegal items including dragon blood vials. The accused's servants has been questioned and their testimonies have shade a light upon his activities. This constitutes a crime of Heresy against the Holy City of Ishgard, for which the sentence is the Witchdrop. The accused and the representative may now speak.

The Most Honourable Durendaire House Representative: The De Beauchene House has ever been faithful to Durendaire House. I refuse the charges leveled against Lord De Beauchene and demand a trial by combat so that he may prove his good faith in the eyes of Halone and men.

Accused: I refuse to take arms and admit the charges leveled against me.

The crowd: Heresy ! Heresy!

Judge of the Holy Halonic Inquisition: SILENCE! Did I hear this right? Did the accused refused to plead his innocence?

The Most Honourable Durendaire House Representative: My Lord, please. Do not rush your decision and think this through. If you admit your guilt now, there is nothing I can d-

Accused: I refuse to take arms and admit the charges leveled against me.

Judge of the Holy Halonic Inquisition: I hereby declare Gabriel de Beauchene guilty of Heresy. The De Beauchene name shall be erased from nobility. Their estate shall be sold and the profits reversed to the Halonic Inquisition. Their servants, should they cooperate, shall be released from the Inquisition.

The crowd: Throw him off the Witchdrop! Criminal! Sinner!

The Most Honourable Durendaire House Representative: Gabriel... In the name of all that is holy...why...?

Judge of the Holy Halonic Inquisition: Judgement has been rendered under her watchful gaze. The righteous shall be saved, the wicked shall be punished. The accused has been found guilty of heresy and shall be thus sentenced to the Withdrop. I declare this case closed.

The crowd cheers.
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You unfold the last page of the documents. This one contrasted a lot to the other pages: the paper was cracked, heavily stained with ink and water drops. The handwriting was uneven, letters sometimes unfinished, sometimes crossing others, or vanishing behind splatters of ink.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Is your lord a heretic?”

I can still hear the Inquisitor's tone echoing within the stone walls of the underground chambers. The candles’ wax had melted over the wooden tables, their flickering flames casting shadows over the stained grounds. The watery sound is reverberating in my mind over and over again. Drop by ///.

When I close my eyes, I can hear the deafening screams and the guttural groans. I can see myself strapped in that chair. Trapped in black iron. I see the faces of all those I ////////. I see blood. My nostrils are still flaring with the iron stench of blood. I feel the sickness crawling under my skin. I can barely hold this up. My stomach is empty, there is only bile coming out of my mouth.

Oh Fury. So ///// blood!

“Is your lord a heretic?”

The question relentlessly ring in my ears. But no sound escaped the other servants' lips. Their loyalty was rewarded with unmatched cruelty.

In the corner of my eyes, I can guess the bright white and reddened /////. Observing me. Peering into me.
I feel his hand on my shoulder, ///// his grasp. Gloved fingers sinking into my flesh.

It hurts.

I remember the ///// knife they used, the thin blade finding its way under their nails.

It burns.

I have watched agony. Listened agony. Felt agony.
For hours. For days. For moons?
Time had trapped us into a maze, and there was no escape.

Screams roaring in the /////. Blood, everywhere. They never stopped. I am losing my mind. Was this reality? Is this ////? Red. Red splatters. Red, everywhere.

It's cold.

The dreadful sensation of imminent doom is crawling under his skin like millions of thorns. I cannot breathe. My heart feels like a dead weight in my chest.

I feel the monster's warm breath on my neck. I cannot fight. I cannot win. I am lost. All is lost.

“Sit down, Mr Lupin. This will take a while.”

His voice, I hear in my head, again and again. I live this very moment over and over again. The day they arrested us. All of us. The day they arrested the young lord. They made me watch. And I did. Scream after scream. Drop after drop. And each time, the same question was asked to the very same servants I supervised for all these years. The servants I was responsible for. I watched every last second of their sufferings, of their pain, of their despair; it is engraved in me. The day I failed them all. The day I let the monsters destroy our lives.

All I could do was praying Halone for Her to save us. Words burnt in ashes, tears shed, which never reached the Sky. I could not save them. We were all innocent. Why would they keep //////////? Why did they not stop?

I was the last ///////. The very last one. In that red-stained //////. Bathing in everyone's blood.

“Is your lord a heretic?”
His voice asked me.

To which my young lord said:
“I am.”

' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' '' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '' '' ' ' ' ' ' Why?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You flip the page over and uncover more uneven lines to read through.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The wind was howling on the bleak mountain top. It was silent as silent could be. Crowds of shadows and blurred silhouettes, their white gowns blending in the snow, red lining standing out like splatters of blood. They were cirling around my young lord like starving //////.

O Gabriel, what have they done to //////?
Sacrificed youth on the altar of hatred.
Only skin and bones in rags.
Fair skin scorched, lips split, your ///// eyes deprived of joy and hope and life. You stood there, so very close to the edge, with the void below and Heavens weeping tears of ice.

And like a coward, I watched. The monster's hand squeezing my shoulder.

Halone, I beg thee! Take my life instead, save my Lord. Save Gabriel! O Fury!

But the Sky remained silent. As silent as it could be. In the blink of an eye, everything was over. A murder, witnessed by hundreds of gazes, and none mirrored naught but indifference.

I can never forget your tortured gaze as you met my eyes. The despair in your silent words as you were pushed from the edge.

Your body fell quietly, swallowed by the brumes, until it hit the sharp rocks in a //// of broken bones and torn flesh. A sound I still hear whenever I walk /////. The seas of snow welcomed you, tainted with shades of red waves.

I have failed thee, Gabriel.
I promised thee to remain by thy side, always.
I have no tears left anymore to cry.

The faceless anonymous crowd around me felt unreal. My body was numb. So were my emotions. The deaf pain left my ears buzzing so loud I ignored whatever they yelled at me. The silence...was only my mind's trick. A withdrawal from this reality. From this world.

I remember standing near the edge. I felt my legs collapsing under the weight of guilt. How could I let thee go? How could I leave you alone without my services? I was thy butler!
No.
I was more than that.
We were more than that.
I wanted to join thee in Halone's Halls, Gabriel...

I felt sucked in by the empty ///// below...until a firm grasp pulled me away from thee and left me stunned in the cold wet snows.

I was denied such a simple wish.

Judgmental gazes fell on me like //////. But amidst the chaos of empty souls, warm compassion wrapped my shoulders and I was pulled away from the mountain top.

Away from thee, my lord.

Thou must be so cold... So lonely now... Let me go... I should be by thy side. Gabriel...Gabriel!

The accusations. The arrestations. The questioning. The trial. The Witchdrop. All these moons of agony, all led to this wretched day that plunged my life into an abyss of despair. There was only darkness now.

I remember opening my eyes in this //////// room. They said they would heal my ///////. They said I had to eat, and drink and survive.

I opened my eyes, and wished I never had.

L
'' '' ''I
'''' '' ' '' 'A
' ' ' ''' '' '' '' ' ' ' R
''''''' ' ' '' '' '' '' '' ' ''' ' ' ''S
__________________________________________________________

Your eyes were caught by what looked like a drawing from afar. You grab the page and examine it. Half of it is covered with pencil, ink and paint, brushing an eerie portrait alongside a manuscript.

Remember the De Beauchene

The Inquisition forbade me to ever speak their names again.
They entered our halls, and took down all the portraits. When I asked what they intended to do with them, they did not answer.
I have long remained in terror of what they would do to me.
Everyone is scared.
No one dare speak.
I have waited so long before I found the courage to draw them again.
But when I tried to remember their faces, it was too late.
They were like Father and Mother to me.
Yet I cannot remember their faces.
My memories are blurred.
So is my heart.
Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

The words seemed to have faded with time and the rest of the page is covered with stains. As you put aside the drawing, you notice another one in the chest. It seemed to be the portray of a young elezen man...?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pick up the other drawing, unraveling the flattering portray of a young elezen man. Contrasting to the other drawing, this one transpired light, and the attention to details in the man's traits was already proof of a great care. There was a long manuscript under the portray, covering both sides of two pages.

But as you lift up the page to read, a letter, stuck between the pages, fall over your lap. Another old letter, this time so heavily stained, you had little hope to decipher it.

You put the letter aside, focusing on the manuscript for now.

The last portrait of Gabriel de Beauchene

This is how Ishgard should remember thee.
Not as a criminal, but as the saint thou were.

I hereby accuse the Holy See of Ishgard of conspiracy against thee.
I accuse the Holy Inquisition of corruption and hideous crimes against thy household.
I accuse the nobility of turning a blind eye to the selfish and material desires of their own kin.
All of them condemned thy House and its faithful servants to heartless agony. And for naught but lies!

For each truth we spoke, they burnt our tongues with melted iron.
For each truth we saw, they pierced our eyes with blades.
For each truth we heard, they cut off our ears.
For each truth we grasped, they torn out our nails.
And when we cried Halone! for Her to save us - they offered nothing but their relentless question.

To ask if thou were an heretic - O Gabriel! Have they known thee, the simple idea would have felt wrong indeed.
But alas, I shall also throw the stone to myself for my inability to safe-guard thy Name. The only forgiveness I ask is thine.

This is how I wish to remember thee, Gabriel. Thy quiet smile and the beauty in thy eyes. Crowned by the divine light of the Fury, now slumbering forever in Her embrace.
While they shall burn down all memories of thee, I shall keep this one intact. Away from the ugliness lurking in their souls. Away in the shadows where we have been cast.
Mayhaps, when they shall find this portrait of thee, thy last memory shall burn with me.

And to thee my promise shall I thus keep - to remain by thy side, always.

As you finish reading the manuscript, your gaze lingers on the stained letter you just retrieved. Should you try to decipher it, or would that be a waste of your time to even try?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pick up the pocket-watch. It is rather light and fits perfectly in the palm of your hand. The chain hangs iddle from its lid. If you have an eye for jewelry, you could swear this was made of gold! But how could a servant such as Mr Lupin could afford something so fancy?

As you examine the watch closer, you notice that is something is engraved at the back of it:

From G.D.B. to my dear V.L.

A gift? This would explain a lot.

As you open the watch, you behold the intricate and elegant mechanism. The ticking is smooth, the movement mesmerizing.

The great condition of the old watch is itself a testimony of how much it was cared for.

What you do with the watch is entirely up to you now.

But as you asked yourself this question, you notice a small and elegant hand-written note which was under the watch. You failed to see it at first, as the watch was placed on top of it. Should you read it?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pick up the elegant note. The quality of the paper seem outstanding, and it did not age as quickly as the other documents lying inside the chest. A very faint scent of rosewood lingers on the note. The handwriting is thin, each majuscule letters decorated with intricate design alongside odd imaginative sketches. There is no signature.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Pray tell me, Valerius... Do you remember the poems of Valentione we used to read as children?

The fragile echoes of your heart, beating so fast against your chest. The butterflies dancing inside, shaking the depths of your very soul. The lingering warmth coveting your skin, like a cloak of feathers brushing your cheeks. Gazes telling thousand of words in an instant. A hand holding yours no matter how many thorns stand in your hollow paths. A beacon of light in a world of grey shades.

But I have never felt this way for her.

I am trapped in a cage, Valerius. 'Tis true that I must comply, and my duty is to ensure my parents' name lives on. But what for? What in my blood is different than yours, that my name is more precious than others? Why must it be so important now, to ensure that my children will open eyes in a world filled with misery, cruelty and hatred? A world so shaken in its foundations that it only revolves around our own city.

Children, born in a city at war, whose fate has already been decided, blind to the weight of expectations crushing their frail shoulders at the second they will cry for the first time.

Am I to fake feelings, and keep this smile forever on my lips, while in my bones and soul I deem all of this but an unfair lie? It is wrong. I shall never love her. I do not wish her to intrude upon my intimacy, nor have her anywhere close to my library. I do not want her to steal a place in my life that she has never earned.

She is but a stranger to me, imposed on me at the most inconvenient times. I feel sorry for her, but I have no intention in keeping my studies aside. She doesn't know me. She never will. Everything about this wedding is a lie.

You're the only one who belongs here, Valerius. You're the only one I will allow near me.

Promise me you'll be by my side, always.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You take a glance at the letter and try to focus on the few lines still visible enough to be read.

Most of the letter is covered with a wide stain. The ink has merged into an ominous splatter, and the paper looks so fragile it may just crumble through your fingers.

Patiently, you decipher the hand writing, which was not the one from Mr Lupin.

////// ////// gradually came to fear ////// cannot be a coincidence, I am not blind to what is at stakes here and //////////// I shall have justice for //////////// night of the 29 //////////// someone entered the //////////// as he was away to supervise the funer//////////// I cannot ignore the //////////// not mere supposition, I know it was m//////////// seek help ////// ////// ////// ////// escalating ////// ////// ////// I cannot trust my ////// ////// //////
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Unfortunately, there isn't anything more to it.
Why would Mr Lupin keep such a useless damaged piece of paper?

Your attention drawn by the more recent-looking documents, you unfold a decree bearing the wax seal of the Halonic Inquisition upon what seemed to be an ominously official decree.

Joined to the decree: a single page ripped from a ledger, covered with names and sums.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Decree of the Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine
Divine Representatives of the Halonic Inquisition
By the will of the Holy See
26th day, 1st Astral Moon, 7th Umbral Era
Order of Reddition

Valerius Lupin,

By the rights conferred to us by the Holy See and in the Name of Halone, Thy Goddess and Lady, we hereby in this decree summon you to The Supreme Sacred Tribunal of Halonic Inquisitory Doctrine on this day.

You have been accused of slandering against the Supreme and Sacred Halonic Inquisition, and violation of the terms of your freedom. Should you not cease contact immediately with the former servants of the heretic, we shall trial you as one. If you are ever reported to speak the name of the heretic again, we shall trial you as one. Should we suspect you acted out of loyalty towards the heretic, we shall trial you as one.

Failing to report past this day shall lead to your public arrestation and full admittance of the charges leveled against you. We shall dutifuly summon the former servants you supervised for questionning. All persons suspected of having consorted with you and encouraged your behaviour shall be arrested. We sincerely hope this reminder shall be enough.

In the Name of Halone the Fury,

Inquisitor Dacilian Cadhoiarn
Divine Representant of Halone's Will,
High Inquisitor of the Holy See
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ledger Page, dated on the 10th day, 4th Umbral Moon, 7th Astral Era

Final payments

Acelin D. | Compensation | 500
Adélaïde Y. | Compensation | 500
Aubinette T. | Compensation | 150
Benoit A. | Compensation | 500
Berfrid G. | Compensation | 360
Blancheflore O. | Compensation | 500
Claudine U. | Compensation | 500
Esclarmonde E. | Compensation | 120
Florian P. | Compensation | 500
Fouques H. | Compensation | 120
Guibaunin E. | Compensation | 500
Isembert S. | Compensation | 320
Jaquelin I. | Compensation | 500
Lorence A. | Compensation | 240
Mathurine C. | Compensation | 500
Nanthilde M. | Compensation | 410
Ombeline R. | Compensation | 150
Philippeau D. | Compensation | 500
Théodore N. | Compensation | 120
Ysthiernaux L. | Compensation | 500

-------- | Investigation | 3000

The case has grown cold.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Upon further investigation, one might be able to figure out that the names written on this ledger page all belonged to former servants of the De Beauchene household. But why would the butler send them that much money as a compensation? And one that he labeled as final, moreover.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------