Elena, Mila, and Henk venture into the historic canal district of Delfshaven in search of new clues about De Verborgenen. Their determination only deepens when they spot the mysterious stranger’s scarf on a quiet side street, hinting at looming danger around every corner.
A Rotterdam Story | Spoilers Podcast | S1E6
If you’re a fan of spoilers, listen to the latest podcast episode, in which our hosts discuss and analyse the events of this chapter.
Doubts in the morning
Early sunlight filtered through the curtains of Elena’s small apartment near the Meent, casting long shadows across her cluttered table. The events of the previous night played on loop in her mind—the chilling encounter in Het Park, the man’s warning, and the cryptic documents they’d uncovered at the city archives on Hofdijk. She shuffled through photographs of the canal engravings on her phone, her eyes landing on the faint ‘R’ symbol that seemed to guide their every step.
A knock at the door startled her. Mila’s voice called out softly, her tone subdued. “Elena? You ready?” Elena opened the door to find her friend with dark circles under her eyes, clutching her phone as though it were a lifeline. Behind her stood Henk, quiet but resolute, his usual warm smile replaced by a contemplative frown.
“Have you found anything else overnight?” Elena asked, ushering them inside. Henk shook his head. “Not yet,” he murmured, “but I’ve been thinking about the older parts of Rotterdam. De Verborgenen’s clues pointed us to the canals. Perhaps we need to go back even further in time—to where the city feels oldest.”
Mila pulled up a map on her phone, scanning the old harbour lines. “Delfshaven?” she suggested. “It’s survived so many changes. If anything historical remains, it might be there.” It was an impulsive idea, but given the night’s revelations, it felt right.
Journey to Delfshaven
They took the tram, riding west across the city until the sleek modern buildings gave way to older brick facades and tranquil waterfront views. Alighting near Aelbrechtskolk, they followed a cobblestone path that led past ivy-draped houses and small bridges arching gracefully over calm water. The air felt crisp, tinted with the aroma of fresh bread from a nearby bakery.
Delfshaven’s canals were quieter than the bustling heart of Rotterdam. Boats gently bobbed against the quays, and the reflection of centuries-old gables shimmered on the surface. At the Voorhaven, they paused to appreciate the view—rows of traditional Dutch houses leaning at slight angles, reminiscent of a storybook scene. Even in broad daylight, the area held an aura of historical depth, as though secrets might lie beneath every worn doorstep.
Henk opened a leather-bound notebook, scribbling notes as they walked. “Keep an eye out for anything that looks like a marker,” he instructed. “Another engraving, a symbol—something that connects to what we found along the Westersingel.”
Traces of the past
They wandered toward the Pilgrim Fathers Church, an imposing structure perched near the water, its spire a silent witness to the comings and goings of centuries. Locals strolled by, some offering polite nods. The hustle of central Rotterdam felt worlds away here, replaced by the soft clang of mooring ropes and the cry of distant seagulls.
In a narrow alley flanked by crooked buildings, Elena spotted a small plaque set into the wall. It depicted a stylised windmill and a date—1635—but no immediate sign of the ‘R’ or the geometric shapes they’d come to associate with De Verborgenen. Still, she photographed it, hoping it might prove relevant later.
As they neared the statue of Piet Heyn, the famed naval hero, Mila raised an eyebrow. “He was all about capturing silver fleets, but do you think he had any connection to secret societies?” Her tone was half-joking, yet the question underscored their growing sense that much of Rotterdam’s history might intertwine in unexpected ways.
Henk scanned the base of the statue, running his hand over the worn inscription. “Stranger things have happened,” he said quietly. “Rotterdam has always attracted merchants, explorers… and, apparently, guardians of hidden knowledge.”
A sudden confrontation
They followed the canal curve toward a small courtyard ringed by vintage lampposts. Elena froze when she caught a glimpse of a familiar silhouette near the water—a figure clad in dark clothing, a scarf partially obscuring his face. The same stranger from Het Park.
Her pulse quickened. She nudged Mila and Henk, who both turned in unison. The stranger locked eyes with them, then spun on his heel, disappearing around the corner. Without a word, the three took off after him, weaving between startled pedestrians. Their footsteps echoed across the cobblestones, the pursuit carrying them past the Pelgrim Brewery and down a tight corridor lined with old, shuttered doors.
When they emerged onto a deserted quay, the stranger was nowhere to be seen. The still water lapped gently at the stone edge, oblivious to their chase. Elena’s heart pounded in her ears, the adrenaline making every breath feel electric.
Caught between fear and truth
Henk rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. “He’s toying with us,” he said in a ragged voice. “He wants to make sure we know we’re being watched.”
Mila pushed a few stray hairs from her face. “But why? If De Verborgenen want us gone, they could’ve done worse than just tailing us,” she reasoned.
Elena glanced at the canals, the reflection of the old buildings merging with the sky’s grey light. “Maybe it’s a warning,” she whispered. “But also… maybe he’s leaving breadcrumbs, guiding us to the next clue. We found the engravings. We know we’re on the right track. Why else reveal himself here in Delfshaven?”
Henk considered this, nodding slowly. “We need to be cautious, but we can’t turn back. Our leads are multiplying, and the deeper we dig, the more convinced I am that there’s something monumental beneath Rotterdam’s everyday facade.”
Together, they retraced their steps toward the tram stop, the autumn wind rustling the golden leaves on the trees. As the sun dipped behind the gabled rooftops, a quiet resolve settled among them. Delfshaven had shown them traces of De Verborgenen’s presence—subtle hints hidden in centuries-old relics. It had also reminded them that they were not alone in their search.
They boarded the tram back to the city’s centre, uncertain of what new dangers or revelations awaited them. But one thing was clear: Rotterdam’s secrets weren’t confined to a single vault or archive. They were woven into the fabric of its oldest streets, etched into stone, waiting for those bold enough to piece together the puzzle.
Elena, Mila, and Henk, caught between fear and curiosity, resolved to do just that—even if the cost proved higher than they ever could have imagined.
