“Tib, I couldn’t find… oh, they’re here already.”

  Indeed, it was the young man with whom Artemisia had had an encounter with in the corridor. He smiled bashfully as he made eye contact with Artemisia. “I should have guessed the two of you were Tiberius’ guests. Shame on me, I was in such a hurry that I didn’t stop to think.” He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “I am Quintus der Pentriss, youngest son of the Pentriss house and occasional assistant to my brother. How do you do?”

  Artemisia murmured something in reply and curtseyed, internally sighing in relief.

  “So you must be Duke von Loambarn,” Quintus continued, addressing the duke. “I’ve seen you visit here occasionally, but never had the pleasure of speaking with you myself.”

  “Do you assist your brother often?”

  “I come once a week to make sure he’s keeping well, and to help with anything to relieve his burdens. He is a respected member of the guild, as I am sure you know, and so he is usually very busy.”

  “Quintus is a great help,” Viscount Aesernia said, clapping his younger brother on the back. “He prevents my office from resembling a pigsty.”

  “Oh, I do very little on that front,” Quintus replied.

  “Nonsense, how would I find anything without you?”

  Polite laughter ensued, and Artemisia took the opportunity to step away from the board.

  “Say, Viscount, do you have any observations to share regarding the unusual meteor storm from the summer?” Artemisia asked, seeing an opportunity to set the conversation on a new track. “It seems to be a great mystery.”

  “Ah! That it is indeed!” Viscount Aesernia’s eyes lit up. “I think it will occupy astronomers for many years to come! Where did it originate from? Was it a single occurrence? How could it be so localised?”

  “An associate of yours was studying it, were they not?” Artemisia said to Simon. “What were their conclusions?”

  “Ah, yes…” Simon began to speak with the viscount, and although Artemisia meant to listen, her train of thought soon wandered.

  I need to do more research. It’s all too easy for me to say something that sounds completely mad to them, but is a widely accepted concept back on Earth. They might even not ascribe to heliocentricism yet!

  And I can’t forget that this is a fantasy world with dragons and magic. It has no need to follow the rules of our universe. This could be a flat world for all I know, with an endless ocean that falls off the edge… no, I’ve seen plenty of globes. This is a spherical world that orbits a sun. You’re getting lost in your own imagination again, stupid.

  “…we can only hope that any fallen objects will be recovered sooner rather than later, and that they will offer answers,” the viscount was saying.

  “With the peculiarity of the meteor storm, could we expect to recover some hither-to unknown celestial mineral?” said Quintus. “Perhaps a piece of one of the moons?”

  Oh, no doubt you already have some and just don’t realise. Back on Earth we didn’t know until we actually went there and could compare, and there’s a few hundred more years to go until that’s possible here. Although, I wonder if magic could hurry their advancement along…

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  “It’s a mystery that cannot be solved until any meteorites are found. I heard tell that Sir Antonio might have something, but he has been away from the capital for a while and has neglected to keep in contact.”

  “Is that cause to be worried?” Simon asked.

  “No, not particularly.” Viscount Aesernia sighed. “His communication can be lacking, especially when he is at his home estate. I only hope he returns to Seraph soon with his findings.”

  “What does this Sir Antonio study, may I ask?” Artemisia asked. I haven’t come across a Sir Antonio in any of my reading.

  “Oh, he is a geologist,” Viscount Aesernia answered nonchalantly. “Usually his research focuses on volcanics, but he often provides insight on any meteorites that are rocky in nature. You see, rock-based meteorites often have similarities with volcanic rocks, leading us to believe that they must be formed in much the same way. That is only some meteorites, however. The vast majority of them are metallic, which you will sometimes hear referred to as sky-iron. They’re not quite made of iron, however, as they are usually an iron and nickel alloy. Nickel and iron are two different metals, both of which you will encounter in everyday life without even realising.” The viscount looked at Artemisia expectantly.

  Ah, mansplaining still exists even in a fictional universe. A sudden memory surfaced of her previous life, her old self in a smart dress and sipping champagne from a flute, whilst a man attempted to explain her own thesis to her. She’d given a presentation on it half an hour before.

  And, overlapping that…

  “Ah, young lady, are you here to view the books from Old Krem again?” The elderly librarian smiled as she entered the vaulted room. He must be new; she’d seen him for the first time only the week before.

  “Yes sir, I am.”

  “Well, might I recommend that you use Gretan’s Dictionary of the Krem Language? I used it when I was just beginning to learn and it was quite helpful. It has a very useful accompaniment on grammar, as well. Watch out for the past tense – they have quite a convoluted manner of describing past actions!”

  A young Artemisia, somewhere in her early teens, bit her lip. “I shall indeed, sir,” she replied, holding back the fact that she had already been learning the language for six years, and only needed to look up the meaning of the most obscure words.

  ?

  “Did you have a good time today, Lady Artemisia?” Simon asked, holding his hand out to assist her into the carriage.

  Artemisia hummed distractedly, looking back at Goulder End. The open door let her peek back into the foyer, the feet of the Grentilles’ statue just visible.

  “Lady Artemisia?”

  “Oh! Sorry.” Artemisia turned and took Simon’s hand, hopping into the carriage.

  “It seems to have given you a lot to think about,” Simon said, joining her. The carriage shifted as he sat down, and he gave it a moment to settle before rapping on the wall, signalling the driver.

  “It has indeed,” replied Artemisia, before lapsing into thought again.

  I don’t know how she understands it all so well, Simon mused, massaging his forehead. He could feel a headache coming on. The basic principles are easy enough to grasp, but once they start bringing mathematical equations into the mix and talking about hypotheticals, I’m lost. Yet she was able to not only speak on the same level as the viscount, but indeed, she appeared to correct him!

  He remembered the flummoxed face of Viscount Aesernia as Artemisia had stood confidently in front of the chalkboard and pointed out the flaws in his research. I wonder what she was talking about before the viscount’s brother entered the room though. She played it down as just prattle, but perhaps she’s been constructing her own theories in private. Truly, she’s an odd one. I can’t decide if it’s off-putting or intriguing.

  He sighed, leaning against the side of the carriage. Across from him, Artemisia stared out of the window, her eyes gliding past the streets outside. Something seemed to be bothering her, as her mouth was pursed and her eyebrows furrowed.

  However, she’s a connection I cannot afford to lose.

  “Lady Artemisia, would you like to visit again? We could attend the Eidouranion lecture if it pleases you.”

  “Maybe.” Artemisia flicked her gaze over to him briefly. “That’s very kind of you, Your Grace.”

  She’s so distracted. I will send her an invitation tomorrow, and then she cannot forget about it.