Maeve Walsh
I had risen early that morning, just as I had every morning before that, the sun barely peeking out from between the trees and the ashy fog that seemed to rest permanently over the town of Inverstadt. As a result, I could never quite feel the rays of the sun upon my pale skin, and I drew my cloak around me with a shiver.
I strolled down the street, ready to get that morning's edition of the paper on the presses. But something I saw stopped me.
There were a few carriages lined up haphazardly outside the inn, officials exiting them and running inside. The gears of the clockwork horses ground to a stop as they were abandoned outside, their hooves pausing mid-step. My eyebrows immediately shot up to my forehead and I brushed my wild curly hair out of my face. What in God's name is going on?
One of the guests was outside, clothed in nothing but a thin tunic and leggings, he had undoubtedly been asleep.
"You, sir, what's going on in there?" I addressed him, standing tall.
"Th-th-there's a body," he said pointing, his teeth chattering. I could feel it there, in the pit of my stomach: the roots of a great story.
"To whom does it belong?" I asked.
"I'm n-n-n-not s-s-upposed to s-s-say," he chattered on, crossing his arms.
I held up a few coins, a sizable amount for anyone of his income. He wasn't exactly staying in a palace.
He took them and then he gave me the chilling name, a name that had been heard across town for several days.
"August Schulz."
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"Care to explain this?"
The paper dropped on the mahogany desk with a thump, the headline blaring out at me from the front page. Murder! Traveling delegate found stabbed in the cellar of Elliot Inn
"It's a perfectly normal newspaper sitting on a perfectly normal mahogany desk. What else is there to explain?" I tried not to let my unease show through as I stared at the clockwork duck waddling to and fro across the desk, it's miniscule gears fueling the repetitive movement.
"Look me in the eye and say that," demanded Ephraim Frankford, editor in chief of The Interstadt Inquisiter. A.K.A. my boss.
I forced myself to meet his piercing blue eyes. "I'm sorry sir, I saw the opportunity as I was passing by and I had to take it."
"Yes, but to change the front page article without my consent," he fumed, "I'm the editor in chief, Maeve Walsh. I know you've been after my job from the start, but that gives you no excuse to change the front page article without doing me the courtesy-"
"With all due respect, sir," I spat, "You were cozied up in your bed while I came early to make sure this edition would be on the press and ready to go by the time you stumbled in. This is the biggest news this town has seen in years. Did you really expect me to let the rumor mill fuel this story?" When I finally finished speaking, I realized the severity of what I had just said. My job was on the line and I was letting my temper get the best of me.
"Very well then," the graying man spoke, wiping his forehead with a hanky, "this is your story."
My mouth dropped open so far, I was afraid my chin would hit the floor. "What?"
"You're partially right. This is big news. But now, you get the hassle of getting a room at the inn and following this story. I expect to hear about every single little detail. And, if you intend to keep your job here, you will receive half the commission you normally get for your articles."
I glared at him from underneath my hair.
"Good luck, Miss Walsh. If at any time you decide you can't handle it, feel free to let me know. I'll give this groundbreaking opportunity to somebody else."
Without another word, I stormed out of the publication office of The Inquirer, across the street and into the bookshop.
"Filthy, ancient, dusty old man," I muttered underneath my breath, putting on my apron as I began to shelve books, "I hope he goes to hell," I couldn't afford to receive half the commission I normally got, nor did I have the time with my job at the bookstore to keep tabs on this story. I wanted it, yes. Desperately. this opportunity could pave my way into the world of journalism and define my career.
I just wasn't sure how I could make it work and not starve.
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