Hope you enjoyed the last chapter, here's another!

The light music that flowed from the tavern across the street called to Will, who sat absentmindedly staring at the map of the city laid out on his table. A fog had already settled over the city so he could only see a faint light beyond his window. Will moved the paper to the side as a drip splattered on the table, a reminder of the rain that had passed over earlier.

Luckily the drop hadn't obscured any of the red X's which marked Ripper murders. So far, Will had been unable to dispel the fog which hid the connections between the dots. The map was unwilling to shed light on the possible overlap of the victims, no matter how long Will spent staring at the damp, yellow paper.

He was almost relieved when he heard the knock on his door. Jack must be expecting an update, one that would be disappointingly bare of new information. Will brushed a curl out of his face and opened the door.

His lips paused in the middle of shaping the name Jack, for it was not Jack standing before him. It was a royal messenger. His crimson and gold wardrobe were a shade darker than normal because they had been soaked in the rain. The man's face was as sour as a lemon as he held out a dry letter to Will, who noticed the unmistakable red wax crown seal and immediately recoiled. The messenger's face twisted in annoyance as he pushed the letter closer to Will.

"His royal Majesty requests your presence tomorrow at noon," he said, forcing respect into his irritated voice.

Finally Will clawed for the letter and nearly crushed it. His frown pulled his face downwards towards the letter.

"It comes with a gift," the messenger added, pulling out a parcel wrapped with a scarlet ribbon on top.

"What is the occasion?" Will asked, the tension leaking into his words. He reached for the package.

"As a messenger, I am not honored with those details," he said.

"I thank you, but I'm afraid I must decline his Majesty," Will said. The messenger's eyes widened ever so slightly, just enough that Will wasn't sure if it was shock or anger at the uselessness of his own suffering. Will held the package and letter back to the man. He declined to take them.

"I implore you to reconsider," he said. "At least keep the letter and package."

"Very well," Will said. "Thank you."

Will tossed the package onto his table, and slouched into a chair. The letter sat heavy in his hands as if filled with rocks instead of only paper and ink. His fingers ran over the smooth wax seal as if memorizing its layout, letting it brand itself into his mind, leaving a fiery blister on his forehead. Will's hand slipped into his chest pocket and withdrew the knife he kept there. He lightly slithered it beneath the paper and the letter popped open willingly, the seal remaining whole.

His hand unraveled the letter within, expecting a formal address. Instead, his own name written in precise, flowing script waved up at him from the top of the page. King Hannibal's voice began to recite his words, which danced around Will's mind.

Dear William Graham,

When I heard of your early retirement from my force, a great sense of sadness and guilt filled me. I could not help but feel your leaving was a fault of my own. You have a gift and are an immense value to my royal guards, and I would never forgive myself if I did not implore you to reconsider. Even more so, my subjects would never forgive me for not doing everything in my power to protect them from the inevitable danger at hand.

As we two are all too aware, this danger has returned to haunt our innocent city and it's unexpecting citizens. Is it not the royal guard's duty to hunt down all threats, treasons, and corruptions and expel them from the streets?

Even though the royal sigil may not grace your chest, I still consider you a close friend. And as such a friend, I hope you would forgive any previous offense that may have been made, and accept my invitation for tomorrow. I pray you will allow me to prove my contrition and perhaps change your mind,

Sincerely,

His Royal Majesty King Hannibal of House Stuart

P.S. It has occurred to me that you may feel your wardrobe inappropriate for a visitation to the palace. I fear offending you further, or offering you an excuse to elude my invitation. Furthermore, I wished to remain true to my word of penitence, hence I've taken advantage of my vast resources to send this gift to you. It is the latest; imported from France. I have faith that it will fit.

Hannibal's words rung in Will's ears. Will decided against crumbling it into a ball and tossing it out the window where it would disintegrate in some dirty street puddle, which he knew was the only way to truly silence its impact. Instead he placed it on the table and traced his hands over the package. The brown paper made soft crinkling sounds beneath his fingertips, which threatened to unleash itself if he did not open the package himself soon. He untied the ribbon and tossed it onto the table, where it spread as if it were spilled red wine.

Will dug his hands into the paper and ripped it open to reveal its insides, its heart beating wildly. The blue of the fabric inside threatened to overflow into his small room and drown him. Yet it was soft as a kitten when he ran his hands over it. He carefully pulled it out from the package and unwillingly admired the craftsmanship of the golden thread that decorated it like stars in the night sky, or the lamps that cut through the thick fog outside.

Yet even in all its elegance, the gift mocked Will like a last meal, for both himself and Hannibal knew that he had been blocked into a corner. He chastised himself for running blindly through the maze without noticing Hannibal closing off the exits. Will knew he could not refuse the invitation, but he also knew that there was always a way out of the maze and sometimes all it took was retracing one's steps.

I hope you enjoyed that. Have a happy 4th of July!