The Shepherds Are Dense-Chapter 19: The Hall of Silver and Tin

### Chapter 19: The Hall of Silver and Tin
Haina stood frozen, only now appreciating the gravity of her words.
Fortunately, she'd queried Sherlock, not Director Kent!
"For why I didn't become an Inspector." Sherlock replied icily. "You and I are alike but different. I, too, wouldn't get far. The world does not always pay attention to talent or greatness. I realized that when I graduated."
".What do you mean?" Haina questioned.
"I mean we're similar. Compared to the Authority Path, we have leanings towards other Paths."
The black-haired young one spoke boldly. "I requested Mr. Kent Wisdom Path occult literature. I fix his issues; he offers me forbidden books in secret—a good exchange. My second Path is approaching the second level. Wisdom Path, not Authority, is where I belong."
"But…" Haina began.
Her instincts sparked, and she quieted, wary.
After a five or six-second mutual silence, a heavy-panting middle-aged male turned the corner.
"Haina—at last I found you! Been searching for eternity! Oh, Consultant Sherlock's also here! Wonderful, the Director needs you both!"
"What does Mr. Kent want?" Sherlock asked sternly. "I'm busy."
He didn't say… but you have to go. It won't take long, right?" the man smiled. "You understand, Mr. Sherlock—if it's unimportant, the Director would not call you, would he?"
"Fine," Sherlock approved.
Turning to Haina, he added, "That's another reason.
"I'm restless. Idleness makes me miserable, but monotonous repetitive work tedium dulls me. I need challenges and powerful enemies to be alive.".
Your routine patrols are so dull. I'd rather read, experiment, or travel alone like a wandering monk. Those are more meaningful than repetitive days.
"I don't care for fame or merit. I want work that uses my intellect, channels my energy, and satisfies my curiosity. That's why I work with you."
"Come on, Mr. Sherlock," the man said, flashing a sarcastic smile. "Get moving—complete the Director's job, and you can return to your own work."
Sherlock shrugged and went to Kent's office.
---
A little elsewhere, at the center of Avalon's capital, Glass Island, was situated a transparent, sapphire-colored lake.
The royal family lived on the island in the island—the center of the lake, site of the Hall of Silver and Tin, consecrated by the Silver Crown Dragon. It burned with fiery, sunny fire in daylight; it radiated dreamy, ethereal light on clouded days.
A fourteen- or fifteen-year-old girl with golden locks and emerald green eyes sat reading the
Glass Steps Gazette
in the Hall.
Her elven heritage rendered her younger than she actually was. In gentle manner, straight bearing, and attire exposing a smooth neck, she reflected Hall sunlight. She had the quiet air of a literary girl, her eyes tranquil as still water.
Seated across from her was an elf, looking in her thirties or twenties, combining mature attraction with girllike innocence. Her artist's energy, colored by the Path of Beauty, was unmistakable.
"I didn't lie, did I, my little princess?" the elf artist replied with a smile, hands framing her face. "I told you yesterday I met a good-looking man. I gave him twelve seconds to catch that defining smile.".
"My sense of aesthetics is on the money—that smile is accentuating his charm. Seriously, I'd love to paint him. No hurry, though; we'll encounter him soon enough."
"…Indeed," the girl said softly. "Teacher Yannis is correct. Mr. Aiwass's smile reminds me of the sun.
"Same age, same Tier of Path, yet he personally spearheaded the apprehension of a much more potent demonologist… His perception, assessment, and logic were impeccable. Impressive and courageous."
She added softly, “I couldn’t do it. I’m too timid.”
Her face held longing and resignation—the yearning of a kind soul seeing a vastly superior peer, coupled with honest acceptance of her own inferiority without jealousy or denial.
“He’s amazing,” she repeated.
“Oh!” Yannis cooed, playfully ruffling the girl’s hair as if teasing a puppy. “Little Isa, you’re too cute!”
Call me Isabel, Teacher Yannis," Isabel complained, covering her hair. "And don't ruin it—
"Also, I don't know what's cute. I'm merely stating facts."
"Your cuteness is in earnestly explaining things that need no explanation," Yannis joked.
"That sounds silly. I'm an idiot," Isabel said, annoyed and dejected. "I can't even paint well."
"You're already a genius, Isabel," Yannis said gravely. "You're just among greater geniuses.".
"Your Beauty Path is close to advancement, isn't it? Getting to the second level at your age is impressive. I taught you a stronger foundation, so you begin more slowly but can travel farther.
"I believe that's just because my father is Prince Albert," Isabel said, dropping her head. "I'm not special.
"If Aiwass were a prince, he'd have traveled farther, faster."
"Aiwass is the exception. Don't overanalyze it. Even Her Majesty mentioned he's great after reading the paper. You do not have to be compared to him."
"…Grandmother too?!" Isabel cried. "She does not praise anyone that often… Was that demonologist that impressive?"
"It is not a matter of fighting or investigation. Her Majesty appreciated his quick decision in firing those shots. Although he murdered merely a secondary demonologist, it reflected his quick judgment, complete confidence, and calm execution.".
"Her Majesty commented that he has the potential to be a wonderful leader. She sanctioned his front-page story and big spread. She would like the young people of the kingdom to learn from him—though I don't think they can. Parading around a pretty lad is not so terrible, though," Yannis shook her head. "You need to cease measuring yourself by the greatest and stepping back when you come up short."
“If I’m comparing to peers, it should be the best,” Isabel said earnestly. “With the best resources, failing to be the best wastes them. They’d be better used by someone who needs them.”
“…You,” Yannis sighed, marveling at Isabel’s stubbornness.
“By the way, Teacher Yannis,” Isabel asked suddenly, “what did Mr. Aiwass see? Who was he waving to?”
"I wasn't there," Yannis said, her head shaking. "But I questioned the photographer. It was a flower girl close by.
"She referred to him as 'kind big brother.' He likely purchased flowers from her with courtesy. Aiwass is well mannered—perhaps we could invite him to the Hall of Silver and Tin to hear his tale, his opinions, his judgments. It'd be an interesting one. Her Majesty would probably approve.
"—You'd look forward to that, right, Isabel?"
Isabel did not respond but her small fists came together, her emerald-green eyes opened wide with childlike excitement.
(End of Chapter)