Writer's block is still being annoying, but what you gonna do?
"Wah!"
"Hi Bubba." Amelia mumbles, picking up her takodachi from the table. Her watch is on another hour and a half cooldown. "I've got work. You need to go to daycare."
"Waaah!" Bubba protests, pouting. He wraps his little tentacles around her fingers. "Wah! Waaah!"
"I have to work, Bubba."
Bubba is not impressed.
"Her Majesty insisted." She explains.
Bubba huffs, but relaxes his grip a bit. Takodachis probably can't argue with Her Imperial Majesty any more than she can.
"Garden or church?"
"Wah."
Right, Bubba can't speak english. "...is that the garden?"
Bubba nods. He points to the window with one of his tentacles, and Amelia gets the implication. She walks over, opens up the delicately engraved window, and Bubba floats out. He gives her one last "Wah!" before fluttering off to join the other takodachis.
It's only after he leaves that it occurs to her that she has no way to tell him apart from the other takodachis. She's going to look like a terrible owner if she can't figure out which one he is!
"Maybe I can just call his name and he'll come." Amelia feverishly hopes. She can't call him back now. She has a job to do.
Speaking of, she has to find Her Majesty quickly. She has no idea when they're supposed to leave. She doesn't want to hold them up.
(She could use her watch to jump back to the right time, but she doesn't want to make herself look incapable in front of Her Majesty.)
Amelia takes a moment to ready herself. She takes a breath, straightens her hat, and makes a conscious effort to stand up straight. Appearances matter. Their Imperial Majesties already think she's a bit of a joke, she doesn't want to reinforce that image any more.
And then she realizes she has no idea where Her Majesty is, and that she never actually got a timeframe for when they were leaving, so she has to find Her Majesty fast because she might already be late.
"I take it you are prepared, Detective?"
The Detective does not yelp, because that would make her look fearful in front of her employer. No, the noise that leaves her mouth is an affirmative squeak and not at all a show of fear. "I- wha- y-yes Your Majesty! Of course Your Majesty!"
How did they sneak up without the Detective hearing? Teleportation maybe? Flight? Or is Her Majesty just that quiet? Were they waiting the entire time because they knew she was coming?
Turning around to look at Her Majesty brings up a slew of new questions; most pressingly: is the Detective underdressed? Because Her Majesty has decided on something fancier than usual. They have their usual black dress on, but have added extra elements. A thin, black headband of diamond-shaped gems, an extension to the back of their dress so it falls to their ankles like a cape, and a cold golden halo (magic, maybe?) hovering behind the back of their head with the Book of the Ancient Ones floating in the middle of it.
In addition to all that, Her Majesty has several smaller touches added to their attire. They've opted for purple instead of white for their glove and stocking with intricate, web-like black embroidered lines wrapping around them.
The Detective merely has on her usual coat and hat, which doesn't feel appropriate at the moment with how dressed-up Her Majesty is, but Her Majesty makes no comment.
"Good. The teleportation pads will be our transportation. Consider this a tour of their capabilities, if you wish." Her Majesty hums, and extends her gloved hand.
The Detective's mind draws a blank, trying to remember what the protocol is here. She's already forgotten to bow, which is extremely rude and probably illegal or at least grounds for being fired, so she has to get this right.
(This wasn't covered in her research into royal formalities and protocol!)
After a moment of panicked indecision, the Detective bows from the waist, takes Her Majesty's gloved hand in her own, and brushes her lips across the glove.
She doesn't look up while doing that. She doesn't want to look at Her Majesty's face in case she's grossly incorrect and Her Majesty is wearing an expression of supreme disappointment. She just knows she's going to go from sharing a meal yesterday (well, a few hours ago for her) to getting fired today for daring to lay a hand on Her Majesty, much less kiss any part of them.
An uncomfortable silence stretches on for nearly ten seconds as the Detective waits for some sort of reaction, until it occurs to her that maybe she's supposed to say something. "O-Of course Your Majesty, thank you Your Majesty."
There's another extended pause. The Detective keeps her eyes fixed on the floor, waiting for some sort of response. Her Majesty's hand is still in hers, and the Detective drops it like a burning coal when it crosses her mind that she probably shouldn't linger.
"Well." Her Majesty finally speaks again, and the Detective's shoulders hunch. This is it. She's going to get fired, or thrown into the dungeon, or- "Shall we be off?"
The Detective nods, not yet daring to look up. Her Majesty is merciful. She unfolds out of her bow, head still down, only for Her Majesty to calmly loop one of their arms through hers and begins to walk her through the palace.
She is fairly sure- no, positive- that this isn't how a bodyguard is supposed to move around with their charge. She's supposed to be protection, not company, right? Actually, where are the rest of Her Majesty's guards? The Detective knows enough from magazines or news stories and just general VIP protection concepts to know that there's no way Her Majesty should be conducting an official visit without guards.
"Maybe they're just waiting at the teleportation pads." She thinks. That makes sense, right? Captain Dyne must be aware of this, and if he's as serious about the protection of the royal family as Amelia thinks he is, there's no way he would allow Her Majesty to take such a visit unguarded.
(Though she also supposes that Her Majesty has the final say and could absolutely override him.)
As much as the Detective is supposed to be the escort, it's clearly Her Majesty escorting her, not the other way around. They go down to the third level, with Her Majesty casually nodding to the guards as they step out. The Detective, of course, does nothing of the sort. She'd much rather not have eyes on her, but standing next to the Empress that's sort of unavoidable.
Thankfully the third level of the palace is not open to the public, but there are still plenty of servants and higher-ups from various companies using the rentable spaces within, so the Detective has the uncomfortable experience of watching people step aside as they walk past, staring the entire time even as they bow their heads and murmur greetings to Her Majesty.
The Detective can only imagine what sort of rumors will be flying by the time they get back. She probably shouldn't be thinking about possible rumors, but it's either that or think about the fact that she's accompanying the most powerful woman in the world, is touching her (her glove, admittedly) without security trying to kill her, got away with kissing her hand even though that was clearly a mistake oh Baelz she misinterpreted so badly what if Her Majesty thinks she's some sort of horrible philanderer?
(Maybe that's why she doesn't see any guards. Her Majesty wants her to let her guard down while they lead her down to the first floor, where she'll be publicly executed for daring to defile her imperial person in such a manner, and having an arm looped through hers is just a special magical restraint because the glove is actually enchanted!)
The Detective thumbs her watch, confirming it's still there. Can Her Majesty teleport items out of someone else's pocket? What is the extent of their abilities?
No, no, she's being absurd. The Empire doesn't do executions, it's fine. She'll just be thrown in the dungeon at worst. Or jail? The castle doesn't have a dungeon, does it? There's not one in the floor plan at least.
Her panic proves moot a few minutes later when Her Majesty leads her close to the stairs coming up from the second level and into a nearby room guarded by a security checkpoint. There's a short line of people waiting to get in, and only a few coming out.
Her Majesty ignores the line entirely, striding past surprised bureaucrats and CEOs (some of whom try to grab her attention) without a backwards glance. They don't even bother showing ID, as all the guards salute Her Majesty and don't question their intentions, and Her Majesty finally releases her arm when they step inside the room.
The teleportation room is dark, looking surprisingly like Her Majesty's meditation chamber, but with blue lines engraved into the floor that are illuminated by a faint magic, giving the otherwise black room an eerie glow. The Detective can't even begin to parse what all the sigils she can see on the floor might be.
It's at this point the Detective realizes she still doesn't see a guard escort. None of the nearby guards move to accompany them to the teleportation pads even as Her Majesty explains how they work in a calm, low, murmur and the Detective tries her best to actually pay attention and not stare at how the dim lighting casts long shadows over Her Majesty's form, and how the red lines on the cover of the Book of the Ancient ones somehow stand out despite not otherwise emitting light, and how she can swear she sees tentacles in the corner of her eyes but whenever she turns to look she can't find anything.
"Are you ready, Detective? Do you understand all that?"
Shit. She totally missed the explanation of how the pads worked. She was too busy staring at Her Majesty, and the Book, and the shadows. "Yes, of course Your Majesty."
Her Majesty tilts their head slightly. The flaps on their head flap slowly, just barely visible in the shadows. They have a very slight smile on their face. "Well? Go ahead then."
The Detective pales. She's getting called out. Oh no.
"It's not that scary, Detective." Her Majesty hums. "Remember? Hand on hip."
Oh thank Baelz, Her Majesty just thinks she's pathetic and not a complete failure. She puts one hand on her hip and-
"My hip, Detective. Physical contact, remember?"
Oh. Oh Baelz. This is-
She takes a breath. This is fine. It's just for the teleport. Nothing to worry about. She puts one hand on Her Majesty's hip, trying not to grip too tightly and making sure her hand doesn't shake. It is imperative she maintains composure, being under such close scrutiny at the-
The Detective makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat as Her Majesty calmly takes her other hand in theirs (their bare hand) and extends them out to the side, then puts their own second hand on Amelia's hip.
"Alright, now follow my lead." Her Majesty hums. "Right foot back."
The Detective obliges.
"Left foot back and left."
Again, she obliges. It's hard to know if she should be looking down at her feet, or Her Majesty's face, so she decides to play it safe an look down.
"Right foot over next to the left."
She never would have figured that teleportation pads required footwork to function. She follows a few more instructions from Her Majesty and practices the pattern until she doesn't need them to constantly repeat the instructions.
"Very good, Detective." Her Majesty says, now very obviously wearing an impish smile. "You have successfully learned to box-step."
The Detective blinks once, twice. "O-Of course."
"Detective."
"Yes?"
"Do you know what a box step is?"
"...important for teleportation?" She guesses weakly.
"It's the most basic waltz." Her Majesty explains. The Detective's mouth goes dry as she feels Her Majesty gently stroke their fingers along her hip, and squeeze their clasped hands slightly. "For ballroom dancing."
She gives up. She has no idea what's going on. Maybe it's just better to pretend she forgot exactly why this had to happen, so she can salvage some of her dignity. "...and what does this have to do with the teleportation pads again?"
Her Majesty smiles serenely. "Absolutely nothing."
Amelia wants to die. She's been strung along like a puppet and caught red-handed. She needs to offer some sort of excuse, some sort of apology! "I-I-I-"
"-was distracted." Her Majesty finishes for her, still moving both of them in the box step. "Yes, I know. Next time, you can simply say as much, Detective. I would be happy to explain again."
"Okay." Amelia squeaks, thoroughly ashamed. Her gaze is fixed on the floor.
This time, Amelia does listen through the explanation of how to specify her desired location. Thankfully, she doesn't have to ask an attendant to teleport them, because Her Majesty is fully capable of initiating the spell herself.
(She swears she can feel the Book judging her. It was witness to that whole embarrassing failure. She doesn't know if the Ancient Ones care about Her Majesty's subordinates, but if they do, there's no way they think positively of her anymore, if they ever did. Besides, she's a disciple of an entirely different religion!)
The actual teleportation spell is not that complicated from what she can tell, and takes only a brief moment. A flick of the wrist and a brief flash of black, and Am- no, she's the Detective right now, not Amelia, she has to focus- the Detective feels her body lurch, like missing a step when climbing stairs, and suddenly they're… in the exact same room?
"Some people experience side-effects, but they are rare." Her Majesty explains, extending their gloved hand to cup the side of the Detective's face and scrutinize her. "And you, Detective? Any side-effects?"
"I- uh- nope, all good, just fine." She says in a strangled voice. She desperately hopes the dark chamber is hiding any potential redness in her face. "So, uh… where's your escort?"
"Right here." Her Majesty hums. "Did you forget your own duties now, Detective?"
"N-No." She stammers. Her Majesty still hasn't let go of her face. Is this normal? Do they do this to all their employees? Or maybe she just has something on her face? Is this part of Her Majesty's persona? "I-I mean, aren't you usually accompanied by guards on visits?"
"Why yes I am, Detective." Her Majesty confirms, finally pulling her hand away. "I hope you aren't implying that you won't be sufficient."
The Detective's mouth snaps shut. She's going to be Her Majesty's only protection? She- well, Her Majesty probably doesn't need protection, but still, the idea that she's going to be alone- well not alone- with Her Majesty for most of the day is… worrying? Terrifying? Both? Yes. Both.
"We need to be off, Detective, we're on a schedule." Her Majesty hums. They stride to the door, leaving the Detective scrambling after them. They wait patiently while the Detective composes themself, and then they assume a straight-backed, regal demeanor. "From here on, we must be professional. This is an official visit in addition to an investigation, so pardon if I act more serious from here out."
"O-Of course Your Majesty." The Detective nods. She straightens her hat and tries to stand up straight like them. She won't ruin Her Majesty's reputation by acting out. She needs to be a professional.
They step out from the dark chamber unto… a train station? Yes, a train station. She can see a screen showing the departure and arrival times almost as soon as she steps through the door. She's not familiar with the teleportation infrastructure, but it makes sense to her that they would (usually) be put in a place used to dealing with a high volume of commuters. She thinks she can see a toll gate in front of the entrance to the teleportation room, so they're clearly charging admission. She imagines it must be more pricey, considering it's so much faster than a train. The train station itself is slightly busy due to being at the tail end of rush hour, but the crowd is navigable.
Or it would be navigable if people didn't notice Her Imperial Majesty casually striding out of the door and swarm them like enthusiastic fans. Edinburgh isn't a cult city, so the sort of polite restraint you'd see in the capital very much isn't a factor here. With no guards to dissuade them, people move up to Her Majesty instantly, asking and saying a million things that the Detective can't even begin to parse.
And then comes the camera flashes. The Detective doesn't know if she should hide, try to push everyone aside, or just let Her Majesty handle this, because in no way was she prepared to do one-woman crowd-control.
Thankfully, Her Majesty doesn't seem to expect that of her. They smile and speak in a soft voice to several people before waving their hand and manifesting numerous thick tentacles out of their back. The tentacles gently nudge people aside (one slips back to wrap around the Detective's waist and pull her to Her Majesty's side, because the Detective had gotten slightly separated from her by the crowd) so the two of them can actually start moving along.
It's not fast progress, as they are still swarmed at nearly every step (doubly so when they step out onto the streets) and Her Majesty does stop every once in a while to interact with people (mostly children from what the Detective notices; Her Majesty actually allows them to breach the wall of tentacles to shake her hand or get an autograph while everyone else is kept at tentacle-length).
No one ever questions what the Detective is doing there. She gets a few glances, but people much prefer to watch Her Majesty for obvious reasons.
If she weren't technically a bodyguard right now she'd be looking at the floor, trying to avoid eye-contact, but instead she does her best to pay attention to their surroundings, trusting Her Majesty to handle the people in front of them and instead looking at windows, at the person halfway down the street, at anyone or any place that might slip beneath normal notice and be a prime spot for an assassin.
No such person ever jumps out at them, and they make their way through the streets without hassle, but the Detective is on-edge the whole time regardless. She hates having all these eyes on her, even if they're more focused on Her Majesty.
It's not long before they catch more attention than just people walking down the street. Someone must have called a local newspaper or news station, because in less than twenty minutes from leaving the train station they have a reporter in their faces asking questions in a very loud voice with a notepad and pen at the ready.
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty! A moment of your time!" Shouts a blonde woman with painfully bright hair and immaculate nails and makeup. She cuts through the noise of the crowd with a practiced, projected voice. "What brings you to Edinburgh today? Your public schedule made no mention of such a visit!"
Her Majesty is in no particular rush to answer, and instead finishes talking to the child in front of them and ushering the little boy away before turning to the reporter. "I find myself needing to make an unexpected business visit. Please contact the Palace press number later, they'll give you as much information as we're willing to release at the time."
"Of course. Thank you, Your Majesty." The reporter says in a rush. "Where are you headed, and who is your companion?"
"Again, please contact the Palace." Her Majesty says calmly, moving her eyes away from the reporter in a fairly obvious dismissal. "We must be on our way."
The reporter continues to try and ask questions, but Her Majesty firmly ignores them in favor of making progress, and eventually they fall away, consumed by the rest of the crowd.
With much of the initial excitement died down they attract a lot less attention moving through the city. When one person fails to react with excitement, so does the next, and the next, and with Her Majesty eventually retracting her tentacles they pass through the rest of the city mostly unbothered, if not subtly.
Amelia pretends like she doesn't see the occasional camera flash. She'd really rather not think about it, because the prospect of being in the news again is more than she can handle.
The church they're visiting is more of a cathedral really, and it's clearly modern rather than being an old, refurbished Christian church like many of the churches in London are. It has fewer of the classic Atlantean design elements than you tend to see in London though, instead leaning harder on the high arches and intricate detailings of gothic architecture with a bit of the tentacle aesthetic of Cult of the Ancient Ones buildings.
It's probably because there's fewer atlanteans around here. Despite the coastal setting, Edinburg has a primarily human population. It might have to do with the more northern setting. Amelia once saw a statistic that ninety percent of atlanteans in the UK live in or below Birmingham in terms of latitude. It might have to do with the temperature. Despite being used to living in the deep ocean in relatively cold temperatures most of their underwater cities actually centered around thermal vents. They're cold resistant, yes, but that resistance wears off exponentially quicker than a human's does as the temperature drops below zero. An atlantean will function fine at five degrees, but go down to minus ten, even with warm clothes, and humans will generally function better.
(It's because of the tails. The larger surface area of an Atlantean's body means they can lose heat deceptively quickly, so as soon as you get past their natural cold resistance they're absolutely crippled by freezing temperatures.)
The cathedral looms large, made of some cold grey stone. The stain-glass is blue and purple as usual, but erring more to purple. It surprises the Detective a bit to see the front-most stain glass mural depicting Her Majesty. It's abstracted, but Her Majesty's iconography, and silhouette, are unmistakable. Takodachis float around the uppermost spires, occasionally coming to rest on small ledges like one might expect of pigeons.
They're noticed immediately by a groundskeeper. He doesn't approach, but he does turn and bow from where he's working on a hedge and make some sort of gesture with his hands. A nearby takodachi chirps and lands on his head, and raises a single little tentacle to wave at Her Majesty.
There's an obvious commotion near the front entrance as they ascend the steps. Priests run across the main hall, with some stopping to peer out only to jump and move aside as soon as they notice Her Majesty gazing up at them.
Her Majesty has fully assumed their mask; her expression calm and neutral, her back straight, her walk so fluid and so picture-perfect it looks genuinely unnatural and dives straight into the uncanny valley.
"Intimidation." The Detective realizes, feeling her adrenaline start to pump. "It's go time."
Keeping composure as they walk through the entrance, all eyes on the two of them (mostly Her Majesty, but the Detective is given some curious glances), is not easy for her. She's a bodyguard, technically, so she's sure to eye everyone despite the uncomfortable eye-contact that results from it.
She sees takodachis, of course, as well as many people with octopus masks and robes lined up on either side of the main walkway. Everything you'd expect in a church of the Cult of the Ancient Ones. The Detective isn't sure if it's luck or careful timing that they arrived when no mass is taking place, but it's convenient either way.
"Your Imperial Majesty! Thank you for blessing us with your presence." Says an old woman with a crown-like gold embroidery on the hood of her robe. The Detective is fairly sure that's not standard… regalia? Garb? What's the term? Does it matter? Even High Priests don't have crowns. Their standard rank-signifier is either a magic halo (as in literally magic) or a pair of ornamental wings on their waist.
She doesn't know why either of those things are the rank-signifiers, but they are. The Cult is weird like that.
The old woman bows deeply, and everyone else drops to one knee. "Praise be to the Harbinger, in all her glory! May her clairvoyance guide us until the end of times…"
They rattle off a few more prayers and praises while Her Majesty listens impassively with her nose slightly raised and her gaze (through closed eyes, admittedly) staring down at the old woman.
The Detective glances nervously at Her Majesty. Is she supposed to stay by their side, or should she leave? Was she supposed to accompany them inside at all? She hopes Her Majesty would have said something, but maybe she's just really uneducated about royal visit procedures.
(Was she supposed to get trained for this? Oh Baelz, what if she missed some crucial training exercise? Maybe there was an email? A memo? Did someone mention something to her and she didn't hear!?)
Instead of acting out, however, she waits. She doesn't comment during the prayers and stands as still as possible, though even that effort nowhere near matches the statue-like stillness Her Majesty manages.
"What brings you here today, Your Majesty?" The old woman asks eventually.
"A visit, that is all." Her Majesty hums. "Hearing of the troubles Edinburg has been having lately, I opted to come check that the church was faring well."
"We are most flattered to be in your thoughts, Your Majesty." The old woman murmurs. The Detective keeps her expression neutral, but internally she's frowning. She thinks she can hear a hint of tension in the woman's voice. Is that just stress from a royal visit, or something else?
"Maybe I should leave the people-reading to Her Majesty."
"I would appreciate a look around then." Her Majesty says matter-of-factly. "If you could spare someone to guide me, it would be appreciated."
The old woman relaxes. It's a tiny motion, but the Detective sees it. "Of course, Your Majesty. I would be honored to personally guide you."
"Please, do not go out of your way." Her Majesty murmurs, smiling a smile that almost looks natural. "You must be busy."
"I am never too busy for the royal family." The old woman says, and makes a sweeping gesture with her arms. "Please, Your Majesty, this way…"
Her Majesty holds up an arm to pause, and then finally glances back at the Detective. "Thank you for your protection, Detective. I will be quite safe here. You can tell my wife that you left me in good hands. Please return in… two hours, let us say, to escort me back."
Ah, there's her chance. An excuse to leave and start using her watch. Better yet, because a lot of priests assembled at the entrance to greet Her Majesty, it should be child's play to sneak in if she jumps back in time a few minutes to when this conversation started. "Of course, Your Majesty."
With a quick bow, the Detective scurries out the front door and back down the walkway until she's well out of sight before turning a corner, taking a breath, and twisting her watch back a few minutes and pressing the button.
The cold jerk of time travel is familiar and strangely reassuring. She takes a deep breath, straightens her hat and coat, and looks out into the street to make sure she wasn't noticed.
She stiffens when she sees, of all people, Her Majesty with their head turned towards her. She can see her past self walking behind them, shoulders obviously tense with her eyes darting every which way but somehow missing her future self.
Her Majesty merely nods in acknowledgement and returns their gaze to face forward again. The Detective lets out her breath, composes herself again, and starts making her way around the back of the church.
The church was clearly built with the front in mind as the primary viewing spot. The area around the back is some sort of green space and is much more sparsely occupied, and that sort of thing was clearly known because there's not nearly as much careful detailing on the back wall of the church. The windows are much simpler, there's no fancy arches or pillars or window stills, and the back door is basic hardwood (albeit with a nice frame).
Figuring the conversation is already happening inside, she wanders up to the back door, moving with purpose. A quick look through the back windows confirms no one obviously there, so she takes a moment to try the back door.
"Locked, not a surprise." She thinks. She checks the lock, sees it's some sort of tumbler, and withdraws her lockpick and gets to work.
You'd think an authority like the church, especially given that they function as a form of law enforcement, would have a bit better security than a tumbler lock but they really don't. It's a more expensive tumbler, sure, but it only takes a few minutes of fiddling to get it open either way.
"No idea about magic defenses though." She frowns, taking a peek inside the door and seeing nothing. "Just have to cross my fingers and hope they can't prevent time jumps."
It's usually not a problem. It's much more common to have magic that detects time manipulation than magic that can actually stop it. A standard anti-magic zone also won't stop it, though in that case it's more a matter of the watch being unusually powerful than some fault of the zone.
There might be a magical alarm, but the Detective has no way of detecting it except for trial and error. She moves slowly so as to not drown out the surrounding noise with her own footsteps, and keeps a sharp ear out for footsteps.
The back rooms of the cathedral are not nearly as well-decorated as the front. They're painted a simple light purple with no decoration, and are shockingly utilitarian. The back room she entered through seems to be the break room based on the various tables and items left lying on them, and perhaps it doubles as personal storage while on the job based on the lockers.
The Detective takes a moment to poke around the items left lying around, looking for anything suspicious. She finds very little in her cursory search, and doesn't bother to pick the locks of individual lockers. If hasn't found anything else, she might try that, but she highly doubts it'll be necessary.
Creeping through the rooms, she pokes her head through doors upon doors and finds very little of interest. There's some sort of meeting room, a private prayer room, and a small storage for the usual items needed for mass like holy symbols, books, spare masks, and a light-dampening orb for dramatic effect during mass. All perfectly normal and legal.
(The Detective pulls out her notepad and notes down the orb just in case.)
The last thing she finds is-
She squeezes the button on her watch the instant she sees a shape come around the corner of the hall in the edge of her vision. The watch pulls her back in time ten minutes, which should hopefully be enough time.
So, once more, the last thing she finds is the storage room. Not the quick-access storage room for mass items, but a proper storage room. A quick glance shows her a number of racks and boxes, as well as several instances of her future self checking through all the items within.
With a sigh, the Detective gets to work.
It's not the most unfamiliar situation to her. Working alongside herself is not a common occurrence, but it's been done before. She's had to comb a forest before, and the best way to do that was to jump back in time and walk alongside her past selves until, somewhere down the line, she found that stupid ritual site. This is much the same.
The storage room doesn't yield much. There are a few curious knicknacks here and there, especially in the box labeled 'donations' which has everything from rolls of coins to an actual brick of gold to assorted vouchers to stranger things like a cell phone, a disfigured octopus idol, a mummified rabbit's head, and some minor magic items like a voice-amp orb and similarly mundane things.
There's also an undetonated stink bomb tucked in the bottom corner of the box. The Detective stares disbelievingly, baffled as to why in Baelz's name they would keep that lying around and how it hasn't detonated from the pressure of everything on top of it.
After a moment of consideration, she pockets the stink bomb. It's a convenient distraction, and she can't see a reason the church would need it.
Besides, Her Majesty is in charge of the church and she's acting under Her Majesty's authority, so it's less 'stealing' and more 'commandeering', right?
(She still feels a bit guilty.)
Perhaps the most frustrating part of the whole ordeal is that she doesn't find anything particularly wrong. Sure, there are some odd items here or there, but nothing illegal. Two hours of rifling through boxes and bins and cupboards only to find nothing.
"Her Majesty was absolutely sure something was wrong here." The Detective reminds herself with a frown. She looks back at her past selves searching through boxes, their brows furrowed in concentration. "Either I'm missing a sign, or it's intentionally hidden."
She edges around her past selves and back out into the hall. Storage is a bust, but there are other avenues to poke into. Financial records usually provide a lead if nothing else. There has to be an office somewhere. That's the one room she expected to find that she hasn't yet.
As she gets closer to the front she's forced to jump more and more often to avoid stragglers, but she still finds room upon room that simply don't matter. Bathrooms, sitting rooms, a mostly empty side-room that she thinks is for some sort of child-care during longer masses so the parents don't have to deal with them.
It's in that last room that the Detective realizes something. She still hasn't found the office, and this is the last room. Does this church not have one?
"That's not right. They have to deal with finances somewhere. Even if there isn't an office, they still need to keep their paperwork somewhere."
There is also a suspicious lack of takodachis now that she thinks of it. Usually churches are swarming with the things. She saw some up in the spires of course, but none inside accompanying the priests. Most priests have personal takodachis, so an entire church having none next to them is odd. Perhaps the ones dancing among the spires belong to the priests and they simply stay out of the way during work, but that also seems… peculiar. Especially when takodachis are so central to the religion.
"Or maybe I'm looking for an excuse?" She considers. "Maybe Her Majesty just got this wrong?"
No, that can't be right. Her Majesty must be more thorough than that. They wouldn't have her break into their storage and search their things if she was actually that uncertain. She has to believe that (because if she doesn't, that means Her Majesty is an even more scary individual than they already are).
There must be something. Maybe she needs to check those lockers afterall? Maybe there's an upper floor she can access? She can't remember if there was balcony seating in this particular church, but it might be worth a check. She paces the empty room, considering her options.
(She was too busy worrying about all the people around her when she went through the front to actually pay that much attention.)
The Detective has to be mindful of her steps, of course. She doesn't want to make too much noise with her pacing and risk drawing attention, especially when the back corner of this room has floorboards that make her steps echo more than they should when walking across that part of it.
Now that she thinks about it, that doesn't make a lot of sense. A squeaky floorboard would be fine, but a section that makes her footsteps echo? Either the back corner of the room has unusually good acoustics, or…
She drops to her knees and presses her ear to the floor. She then raises a hand and gives the floor two sharp knocks.
The sound echoes as if she'd knocked on a door. Just to make sure, she moves to the middle of the room and repeats the process. The second knock has a bit of noise to it too (that's just how hardwood works sometimes), but it's notably muted.
"...this is a trapdoor, isn't it?" She frowns. She lifts her head to properly scan the ground for some sort of handle. She tests the floorboard in the area, seeing if one is loose… nothing. "What am I missing?"
It's by accident she figures it out. She scuffs her shoe on the floor, nearly tripping, and it's that motion that causes the back corner to slide a bit. It's not pull or push at all, at least not up and down. The floorboards are on a slider and roll underneath the wall, and she can see a handle on the underside to help pull it back into place. There's a steep stairwell underneath, chiseled into the concrete foundation if she's not seeing things wrong. Someone went through a lot of effort for this hidden basement and blatantly disregarded structural integrity to do so.
A smile creeps onto her face. Her Majesty will be pleased. She could probably report this alone and be fine, list of items be damned, but she wants to do the job properly. She has a task, and she intends on following it to the letter.
(She doesn't want to give Her Majesty any reason to be upset with her after all. It's safer to obey. She doesn't want to lose her job.)
Alright, here you go. I could call this a cliffhanger, but it's really not.