Trina Lande sat in her office, surrounded by papers strewn across an oaken desk. The morning sun was beaming through the small, square window, hardly large enough for anyone to fit through, but the rays cut through the once candle-lit room like a knife to butter. The bags under her eyes signified that she either hadn't slept, or did, just very poorly.
She had her elbows on the desk with her hands folded together, resting her chin on them with her eyes closed. She let out a deep sigh, furrowing her brow as she did. Before her, in the torrent of papers, reports and other such informational reports, was Wien's report of that fateful night's events.
It's been nearly three months since then, and I still haven't decided what to do. What can I do? I knew she wasn't trustworthy from the moment I met her, but to this degree is appalling. What troubles me most is that no matter where I look, I can't find a fucking thing in any of these records about it, she thought.
Just as she was about to continue that thought, a knock came from the door, and with it a familiar voice. "Commander," Wien said from the other side of the heavy, oaken door. "Come in, Sergeant," she replied wearily, the exhaustion evident in her voice. Wien entered the room cautiously. He could tell, from a single glance, that she was not well. Not ill, or anything, but unnerved to her very core. "You requested my presence, ma'am?" he asked, standing in a position of attention.
She sighed heavily once more, and gathered her thoughts for a moment. "Sit down, please," she said, gesturing to the only other chair in the office. It, too, was stacked with papers and unidentifiable reports. "There's a method to the madness, but just set them aside for now," she said tiredly, knowing the look he gave the chair without even setting eyes on him. Having set the papers aside, Wien sat down in front of her, and eyed his commander carefully.
She's exhausted. Almost like the news aged her a good ten years, he thought, noting the bags under her eyes in much more scrutinous detail than before.
"I'm sure you're probably thinking that I'm a madwoman for going through this many papers," Trina began, her green eyes finally opening to look at the young Sergeant. "I was wondering what was taking you so long to act on what I'd told you, Commander. I wasn't going to ask, but…" Wien said, trying to lighten the mood. Trina let out a tired chuckle, and a thin smile broke out on her face. "I haven't lost all the marbles in my bag. There are still one or two left in there that keep rattling around the same way, and I can't figure out why," she said, putting her fingertips to her tilted forehead as she stared at the paper beneath her.
Wien looked at the paper carefully, and surmised what she was looking for. "You're still looking for any sort of hard evidence that could convict Unni of being the one that got Anders' family killed, aren't you?" he asked, suddenly realizing why there were stacks of paper strewn about the office in little piles. Some were taller than others, but for the most part, they were all from the same part of the records room.
"There's nothing. Nothing here that shows she was ever formally tasked with more than half of what she was. There are no witnesses, no surviving teammates, no loose ends for me to pick up on," she said frustratedly. "What kind of report are you looking for?" Wien asked, picking up a small stack of the papers in front of him, idly sifting through them as he spoke. "Something. Anything I can use as cold, hard evidence against her. Anything," she scoffed, spreading her hands widely and glancing around the room.
Wien read through a few reports, when a word he saw triggered something in his mind.
"Diary," he said softly, almost to himself. "What?" Trina asked as if she hadn't heard him properly. "This paper here says she kept a diary. The night I found her in her office, she was writing something on a piece of parchment. I couldn't make out what it was at the time, but it could've been an addition to her diary," he said, a tinge of hope in his voice.
Lande's eyes widened, then grew dark like a wolf stalking its prey. "That dumb bitch. Gods above, there's no way she'd be that stupid, but you never know. Wien, you need to get those papers," she said, her tone was cold and heartless, like she was commanding the execution of a horrible criminal.
That's not the tone she normally uses for a request, he thought, knowing how pragmatic she was as a person, and the respect she held from everyone around her.
"It will be done, Commander," he replied with a nod before rising from his chair. He gave a sharp salute, turning on his heel as he proceeded towards the door. "Oh, and Wien," Trina called out before he closed the door behind him. "Yes, ma'am?" he asked, peeking his head back through the crack in the door. "Don't get caught," she said warningly.
Wien cautiously made his way up to Unni's office. He knew she wouldn't be there, since around this time of day, she was always in the Great Hall with Anders, dealing with some of the city's sectional leaders.
Those meetings usually go well into the afternoon, so I should be fine, he thought, still not wanting to get caught by one of her personal guardsmen.
He had impersonated them to infiltrate the castle, and get closer to Unni in the first place, but his mannerisms nearly gave him away on a number of occasions. He didn't need to give them another reason to put him on their shit-list.
As he made his way up the stairwell, he could see just a hair beneath the doorway that led to the office. It wasn't much, but it was just enough to let him know that there was no one in there. No guards were stationed outside of it, either, but there were always roaming patrols lurking about.
Just like Mads had when he was ruling, he thought, carefully looking around a corner.
Seeing and hearing nothing threatening, he worked his way into the office, undoing the latch to the door, and gently pushing the heavy door open. The large office was well organized, this time around, with new candles inserted into the candelabras and unstained ink pots placed on top of the desk. As he looked around, he tried to find anything that would resemble her diary, but didn't immediately see anything. He left the door ajar as he moved over to the desk, noting the well-worn metallic knobs had a lock on them.
They've got to be in there. No other reason to lock a drawer like that, right? He asked himself as he began to search for a key to unlock the drawers.
He searched and searched, but only found cobwebs and some questionably shaped, wooden dowels that were latched underneath the desk. He scrunched his features when his face got too close to them, reeling backwards when he realized what they were.
I might just be better off breaking the lock. The chances of her coming back before we find what we're looking for are slim, but it won't matter at that point, he surmised, pulling his dagger from his side.
He bashed the lock a few times before looking up toward the door and listening for any potential commotion that might have stirred. When no sound came from the hallway, he bashed the lock one last time, undoing the latch that clasped the metal bar without breaking it.
There's a little bit of damage to it, but it's unnoticeable if you turn it a certain way, he thought as he examined the lock.
Setting it aside, he rummaged through the unorganized papers, quickly glancing at each title until he found the one he was looking for. Every few seconds, he would pause and listen for anyone coming up the stairs, but every time, no sound came from it. After a few minutes of searching, he found the one he was looking for. It still had tear stains that blotched the ink in certain places, but it was still legible.
It's the only one in that state out of all of these. This has to be the one she was writing that night, he thought as he began to read the contents.
There was no title, no enlarged lead-in letter like the rest of them, no fanciful calligraphy. This was about as raw as writing could be. The tear stains blotched only a few of the words, but it was otherwise still fairly legible, even with the shaky handwriting.
It's clear that she was freaking out when she wrote this, but it's exactly what I'm looking for. It's the only thing out of all of these papers that's written about that night; almost as if she needed to get it off her chest. Was that why she confided in me that night? Wien thought, rubbing his chin.
He rummaged through a few more papers to see if there were any more from that evening, but there was nothing. Nothing of note or that held any sort of evidence regarding those events, aside from that one piece which he had tucked away in his armor. He reorganized the papers, closed the drawer and used the lock to close it shut once more. He tried his best to leave things exactly as they had been, but there was only so much he could do.
I can't stay much longer. If I'm caught now, this will all be for naught. The Commander put months of work into this, I can't fai-... his thoughts cut out as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
A burst of adrenaline struck his gut like a horse's kick. Within a few seconds, he quickly left the study, putting his frogmouth bassinet on as quickly as he could, and making himself as nondescript as possible. He heard voices resounding from what sounded like the middle of the stairway, and began to march as he would if he had been doing his rounds on that floor. The words were familiar, yet indecipherable, as the resonant echo from the stairway made it difficult to overhear conversations.
He did, however, recognize the voices.
Anders and Unni? Shit. I'm in for it now… he thought, doing a final check on his gear to make sure it was all in order.
As the pair drew closer, Wien positioned himself to be turning the corner by the time they reached the top of the stairs. Timing his exit perfectly, he just barely managed to pass by them almost unnoticed, standing at attention as they walked by him. The pair acknowledged the helmeted soldier, as only the most trustworthy were allowed to guard the rulers of Odensby; a tradition Trina herself had installed into the castle.
That was way too close, he thought, breathing a soft sigh of relief.