Your insides roil and writhe, and you take a moment to steady your breathing. It’s OK, it’s just…

You glance about, collecting yourself as you take in your surroundings, falling in line alongside the other pedestrians as you walk down a neatly paved street towards a large recessed stone gateway up ahead. An arched, cast-iron plate declares it to be “Marla Gate”, and below that, a few words, written in an unknown script, are engraved into the stones. The iron gates are open, and most of the traffic continues past, but you turn and walk through them, passing by a gatehouse with guards who check and question each visitors who enters; you tell them your intentions and they let you through, telling you to seek out the porter’s lodge in the square up ahead. You continue on, walking down a long allée, edged by large trees with thick, straight trunks, planted symmetrically on each side.

As you walk through the dappled shade, now with a bit more time and space to think, your mind returns to the paper tucked under your arm. You set your mouth into a tight line. You made it in and out of Bradwyn & Holden’s cleanly, despite that small hiccup. You left nothing behind, and no one saw you. Right?
Did you slip up somehow? Maybe someone did see you, or you left something behind as you made your escape.

But then… It was dark, and anyone who saw anything would only have seen shadows, not clear features; you were never illuminated. And, you took nothing extra with you; no name tag or personal ID to slip out of your pocket and be left on the shop floor. Ameronis was keeping watch outside, but even if someone spotted her, the two of you are strangers in town, so they’d be hard-pressed to track down or identify either of you. Only Silas’s face would be recognisable.

You glance up at the canopy overhead.

There can’t have been witnesses, and is no physical evidence. The only thing that’s left would be to figure out the motive, and that’s where the problem lies. Your plan was sound, so taking dozens of other small, valuable items to muddy the waters would certainly make it difficult for the Law Enforcers to see this as anything other than a standard robbery. But, a detective? A smarter, more observant, driven specialist looking for details and hidden connections..? Would they be capable of piecing the threads together..?

You emerge from the path into an open space with a ornamental fountain as the centrepiece, and a building made of smooth, beige bricks off to your right. Itself edged by trees, it looks like a small castle, thanks to the drum tower on the right-hand side of it.

It’s… probably fine; nothing to worry about. The Law Enforcers would be expected to investigate, then they’d call in a detective when they couldn’t find anything, but the detective is unlikely to get anywhere either, so, it’s nothing to get worked up over, surely. But, maybe you should check in with Silas at some point, just in case.

You pass the fountain, contemplating the statue of the large hunting bird that sits proudly atop it, and continue on until you enter a plaza, whose centre is decorated with a mosaic of coloured slabs, with a tall clock tower being a primary fixture. Here there are a lot more people walking to and fro across the campus, the vast majority wearing academic robes and caps in a colour that is reminiscent of slate-grey mixed with old lavender. Most of those have strips and accessories in muted powder blue, with a large portion of those being particularly ornate. More than one person in a fancy robe has lace cuffs and collars, a bespoke bag, jewellery, or even highly decorated scabbards peeking out from within their layers of robes. You notice a few who wear plain robes with no blue, and no accessories. They look… mundane in comparison. Those who do not wear academic attire wear fine, formal suits and elaborate dresses instead.
Compared to most everyone else, and in response to the many stares aimed your way, you start to feel a little naked in your regular clothes. Nonetheless, you push on, doing a full circle of the square, taking in each building surrounding it, before heading back towards the porter’s lodge at the start.

While you stand out as a non-student, some of the stares you get seem to be more intense than what you’d expect, with one group of blue-trimmed men openly watching, with anything but admiration in their eyes. They speak to one another as they watch, though you can’t tell if they’re speaking about you, or if they’re just continuing their conversation from before. As you near the lodge, a different blue-trimmed student strides over to you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Are you lost?”

It’s… more a demand than a question of concern. You politely tell him no; you’re going to the porter’s lodge, right there, see? You point to it and he follows your gesture, then looks back at you with what can only be described as disgust, before huffing, turning on his heel and marching away, towards another man who stands watching you both. You continue on, remaining composed and unruffled, not letting them see your annoyance, especially when you hear them talking about “her”; those guys are definitely talking about you.

You march proudly ahead and enter the porter lodge. Inside, the worn stone room is small and nearly silent, with a slight haze that allows you to see the sunbeams streaming in through the narrow windows, and the dust floating in the light. The room is split, with a desk and window separating you from the staff members who work beyond it. On your side: an antique bench; smooth and slightly warped by time, a noticeboard covered in papers, a pendulum clock on the wall made of dark wood, and below that, a desk with writing materials available for public use. You approach the desk, noting the bell lying on the counter, but you needn’t ring it as one of the two porters notices you, and she greets you warmly.

“Good afternoon, madam. How may I be of assistance?”

When you ask her where the natural history museum is, she gives you directions and asks you in turn if this is your first time visiting. When you say yes, she seems to light up, officially welcoming you to Greenbrook University of Natural Sciences and Medicine. Whether you’re just visiting or planning to study here, she’s sure you’ll like it. While she looks like she’d be eager to tell you all about the history of the place, she manages to keep a lid on it, and instead gives you a printed map of the campus. She does take a moment to point out some places on the map.

“If you’re only visiting, you simply must visit the botanical gardens. The Ritchwell Gallery has a fine collection of artwork, and you have chosen an excellent day to visit, as the historic Dorelan Hall is open for public viewing today; the architecture is quite stunning.”

You tell her you’ll certainly try to do all that, and thank her for her help and advice. Then you step back outside, get your bearings, and head straight to the Natural History Museum.

In the foyer, there is already a lot to take in, in the form of banners, posters, notices, paintings and sculptures, depicting plants, animals, scenes, events, collections, exhibitions and more. There is a large, well lit reception desk with a receptionist who watches you, silently, and uniformed guards standing at the two doors leading in and out of this room; the guard at the door marked “Entrance” stands on this side, while the guard at the “Exit Only” door stands in the other room, facing away.

You approach the receptionist, who does not speak, but instead waits for you to do so first. You greet him politely and explain you have a stone that you would like to have examined by an expert, and could he please point you in the direction of the person responsible for the geology or natural science department. He thinks for a moment before responding, not sharing even an atom of the enthusiasm that the porter did.

“You’ll have to speak to someone from the geology department’s administration office on the second floor. Entrance to the museum is 50 cogs.”

Oh… Now that you think about it, you weren’t expecting to have to pay anything to simply speak to a specialist, nor expecting them to be gate kept by the museum. But, seeing as you’re visiting and you were interested in taking a look around the place anyway, needing to enter the museum is not a problem. 50 cogs for entry is a little steep though… You would’ve expected half of that, or less…

Composing yourself quickly so as to not give away your disdain, you fish out your moneybag and pay for a ticket, which the receptionist stamps and gives to you, along with another printed map.

“Enjoy your visit,” he says, motioning towards the entrance door, which the guard now opens for you. You thank the receptionist with a smile, thinking about how you’ll have to enjoy the place 3 times as hard just to make up for his presence. But, putting your money bag away, storing your newspaper in your day bag, and consulting your new map, you step into the museum proper to see what wonders they have on display.