Chapter 74:
After Kael had left them behind, Seraphina and Arwyn remained where they stood for a few moments longer, their gazes lingering on the scene as though both were reluctant to move on without wringing some final, unspoken truth from the air. Only when the quiet pressed in around them did they finally turn toward the direction of their offices, intending to move forward with the case. The report from the MIMR would take time to process, and until it was in their hands, there would be no way to determine with certainty whether those bandits had ended their own lives in some desperate final act or if they had been silenced by someone else's hand.
They had only just begun to walk when a voice, slightly breathless and urgent, called out from behind them.
"C-Captain… Lieutenant… wait!"
Both women turned their heads in unison. A knight in standard knight armor was running toward them, his pace brisk but uneven, as though he had pushed himself to cover the distance quickly the moment he caught sight of them. His gauntleted hand lifted in a half-wave as he drew closer, his face sheened with perspiration.
He halted abruptly, bowing his head out of habit, though the rise and fall of his chest betrayed how winded he was. "C-Captain, there is something I have to report… I was just on my way to the office, but it is fortunate I encountered you here."
Seraphina's brow lifted just enough to register mild interest, her voice cool but precise. "A report? What kind of report? Has something happened?"
Arwyn's expression, while calmer, betrayed a faint crease of concern. She studied the man carefully as he caught his breath, her eyes attentive to the fact that his urgency seemed more personal than procedural.
"Yes, ma'am," he said, almost tripping over the words in his eagerness to speak. "Do you recall the knight you saved the other day? The one who was attacked by that masked man?"
"I do," Seraphina answered without hesitation, her tone still measured. "Has something happened to him?"
The knight's gaze shifted downward as though reluctant to put his suspicions into words. "Yes, Captain… he has been absent from his duties for nearly a week now. I grew concerned and decided to check his home to ensure he was well. But when I arrived, what I found was…" He faltered, pausing to draw a deep breath.
Both Seraphina and Arwyn now stood with their full attention fixed on him. Seraphina's eyes narrowed slightly. "What?"
"He was not at home. The front door was locked from the outside, yet on the second floor there was blood, fresh enough to still be visible... and the window had been shattered inward. His sword was lying there as well. I believe the masked man may have found him again, attacked him, and… perhaps kidnapped him."
Arwyn's voice was calm, though her gaze was steady. "Kidnapped? Are you certain of that conclusion?"
"I cannot say I am certain, ma'am," the knight admitted quickly. "It is only what I could think in that moment. I came to inform you as swiftly as I could."
Seraphina's eyes sharpened, her tone growing colder though still composed. "You should have at least examined the surroundings before running here. I understand the need for haste, but if that masked man returned for him, then the intention on that day was to kill, not abduct. I will not assume this is a kidnapping until I see proof. The worst possibility may already have occurred… and we must be prepared for that."
Arwyn turned her head slightly toward her superior. "What do you mean, Captain?"
Seraphina met her gaze briefly, then gave her orders without hesitation. "Arwyn, go with him. Search the house thoroughly and examine every trace, no matter how small. We cannot afford to overlook anything that may lead us forward. The murders are multiplying so quickly that even our pace feels sluggish, and we have no solid lead to follow. This city is falling behind in its own defense, and that cannot continue."
"Yes, Captain," Arwyn replied at once, her voice steady. "I will investigate and bring back anything that can be used."
"And I hope," Seraphina added quietly, "that you will return without discovering anything truly dreadful."
Without further words, Arwyn set off with the knight toward the district where the missing man lived. Had she suspected the involvement of a larger group, she might have taken additional guards, but given the circumstances, she went with only the knight as her guide.
When they were gone, Seraphina stood in the open street for a long moment, her gloved hands curling into tight fists at her sides. Her gaze hardened as she spoke to herself in a voice low enough that only the empty air could hear. "What is happening in my city? If this proves to be the same as the other two incidents from last week, then we are already three murders deep in only ten days, with nothing but vague conjecture to show for it. We suspect a group, yet we cannot name them. Why are my movements slowed, as if someone is deliberately weaving snares to delay me? Someone is trying to dismantle the peace I have labored to maintain… but I will not permit this to go further."
Her breath left her slowly, and she allowed a faint exhale to still her thoughts. "Calm yourself, Seraphina. You have soldiers who are giving their utmost, and you must trust in their work. Besides, there is still the matter of Eska and her husband. Someone must be assigned to watch them closely."
She began to walk again, her mind already calculating the next series of steps, the slow and deliberate strategy of one who refused to yield control even in the midst of gathering storms.
---
Meanwhile, Aldren, the seasoned investigator, stood before the wooden gate of a small village. The structure looked weathered but sturdy, its planks darkened from years of sun and rain. Beside him, several horses shifted restlessly, their breath misting in the cool morning air. The silver-plated armor of the Royal Knights caught the light, making the small group of four stand out sharply against the quiet, rustic surroundings.
His voice was low, almost absent of emotion, when he asked, "This is the village the S-ranked adventurer came from?"
"It is," one of the soldiers confirmed with a nod.
They passed through the gate and into the village. The scene inside was unexpectedly subdued. A few villagers lingered along the dirt path, their eyes widening at the sight of the knights, even though this was the second time such a group had visited. Whispers passed between them, cautious and uncertain.
The knights spread out, moving slowly through the narrow lanes, asking questions where they could. Yet each conversation ended the same way, with a shake of the head, a murmur of apology. No one knew where the cleric was.
Aldren's expression hardly changed, but there was a quiet weight in his eyes. They had questioned several people already, and the answers had been the same. Just as they were about to turn back, a voice called out.
"You folks are from the Royal Knights, aren't you? Not often we see the likes of you here…"
An old man approached, his back slightly bent with age, his steps measured but steady. His thin smile carried a hint of mischief, as if the years hadn't entirely dulled his sense of humor.
"We are looking for someone. An S-ranked adventurer once lived here. His name was Varin Eldrest. After his childhood friend passed away, he left for Velhart. I am here for the cleric who performed the girl's funeral and tended to her before she died."
The old man's smile softened, and his gaze grew distant. His eyes glistened faintly, as though a memory had surfaced, carrying with it the heaviness of years gone by.
"Oh… so you're here for that," he murmured. "Sad times, those. But I'm afraid the cleric you're looking for doesn't live here anymore. Far as I know, she's in Velhart now, with her two daughters. Used to live here for a long while, but her eldest insisted she move there."
Aldren inclined his head slightly. "I see… You're saying she's in Velhart now?"
"That's right."
"Could you give me some information about her?"
The old man took a few slow steps backward and lowered himself onto a rough wooden bench. He glanced up at the sky for a moment before answering.
"Well… she's quite pretty. Striking, actually. Too young-looking for her age, if you ask me. Long auburn hair, hazel eyes… carries herself like she's used to being listened to. Haven't seen her in years, but she left an impression. Quite the woman, that one."
Aldren listened quietly, his gaze fixed on the man, reading between the words. "It's useful information. Her name would help as well."
"Name, hmm…" The old man tapped the side of his head, squinting as if rummaging through a cluttered attic of memories. "Something like… Maera? No, wait. Maeran. Yes, that's it. Maeran. And if you do find her… well, you'd best keep your wits about you. Not a dangerous sort, no… but she's got a way about her. Makes people remember her."
A faint crease formed between Aldren's brows. "I understand. Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," the old man said with a dry chuckle. "If you get wrapped up in her business, you might regret finding her."
Aldren gave no outward sign of amusement, though there was a trace of thoughtfulness in his eyes. "It was still worth coming here," he murmured as he turned away. "To think the cleric went to Velhart as well… unexpected."
He mounted his horse with practiced ease. The other knights followed, and soon the sound of hooves faded as they departed the quiet village, leaving behind only a few curious glances and one old man still staring after them, lost in a memory he did not speak aloud.
---
Meanwhile, Arwyn and the other soldier, Auren, were already standing before Rowen's two-storied house. The place was quiet, its walls still in good condition. Auren shifted his weight uneasily, casting glances at the windows as if expecting someone to appear.
Arwyn spoke without looking at him, her tone measured. "Search the surroundings again. Anything unusual, no matter how small… report it."
"Yes, Lieutenant." Auren saluted briefly and moved off to the side, while she stepped forward to look on her own.
From the front, the house seemed plain enough, open space leading right up to the door. But as she circled to the back, she stopped. The rear was far larger than she had expected.
Behind the house stretched a small garden, though calling it a garden was generous. Long, unkempt grasses swayed in the breeze, their tips yellowing, the earth beneath them dry from neglect. The air smelled faintly of soil and dust.
She took her time, scanning carefully. Her eyes lingered on the walls, the windows, the uneven lines of the earth. Nothing obvious revealed itself at first.
She approached a half-collapsed wall, its stones mottled with moss. Kneeling slowly, she let the wind brush past her cheeks, strands of her hair shifting gently. Her eyes closed to sharpen her senses. She opened them again, her gaze wandering over the grass, the wall, the earth… until it caught on something small. Something peculiar.
Her breath stilled. The object, if it could even be called that, looked almost offensive to the natural order here. It was a cockroach. She instinctively stepped back, nearly letting a gasp escape her lips. But she caught herself, another knight was nearby, and she would not tarnish her composure over something so trivial in appearance, no matter how unsettling it felt.
She inhaled slowly, letting her heartbeat settle, then shifted a few steps to the side. Her gloved hand pressed lightly to the ground.
The air seemed to change. A faint trembling ran through the grasses, not from the wind, but as if the earth itself was answering her call. Her senses extended outward, tracing each blade of grass, each slight movement in the soil. The breeze became sharper in her awareness, the shapes of insects flitting past marked clearly in her mind.
Her thoughts narrowed. The soil was mostly untouched… but there—
Some grasses were snapped clean, the stems bent and brittle. The angle of their fall, the way the surrounding blades leaned away, told her more than any footprint could. Someone had stepped here, not once but perhaps in a rush, trampling them down.
She followed the pattern further with her eyes, her mind building the trail, until she saw it. A patch where the grasses lay unnaturally flat, yellowed as though they had been pressed for far longer than a few days. A burial ground made by careless hands.
Her eyes opened fully now, sharper than before. She rose from her kneeling position with controlled grace. "So… that is where it was hidden," she murmured, almost to herself.
Her voice rose slightly, crisp and direct. "Hey. Are you here?"
From the upper floor's broken window, Auren leaned out, looking down. "Something found, Ma'am?"
"Come here," she replied simply.
He did not waste time. Within moments he was beside her, his boots crunching over the dry earth. "What did you find, Lieutenant?"
"Here." She stepped forward, parting the tall grass with careful movements. Beneath the flattened patch, the yellowed blades formed a crude covering.
Auren's eyes widened. His throat tightened before words could form. "R… Rowen…"
"Compose yourself." Her tone was not harsh, but firm, as though refusing to allow him to lose himself now.
He swallowed, nodding. "Right." His hands moved automatically, pulling the grass aside. Beneath it lay the soil, disturbed, yet covered again in a way meant to pass as natural.
"There's been digging," Arwyn observed quietly.
Auren said nothing, but he remembered the shovel he had seen inside the house earlier. He retrieved it quickly, the metal scraping faintly as he carried it back.
With each scoop of dirt he turned, his chest tightened. The smell began to rise before the full truth was revealed. It hit him suddenly, foul and heavy, forcing him to press a handkerchief to his nose.
The last layer gave way, and there it was. The body of the knight, Rowen... already in the late stages of decay, flesh losing shape, features blurred by a week of death.
Auren froze for a long moment, the sight digging deeper than he wanted to admit. He clenched his fists hard around the shovel's handle. "So… he's dead." The words came with weight, his voice rougher than usual.
Arwyn's expression did not change. She had no words to soften the truth for him, and she did not pretend to offer comfort. The silence between them was unbroken, save for the soft rustle of the wind through the unkempt garden.
---
Meanwhile, Eska was walking through a narrow path, her steps dragging as if each one cost her a little more strength than the last. Her eyes stayed fixed on the ground, not really seeing the dirt or the stones, only following the path because it was the only thing ahead of her. She had told them she would go home, but deep down she knew… there was no home to return to.
The place she once called home was never truly hers. It had belonged to her husband, and now even he had turned his back on her, cast her away with the same lips that had once sworn to keep her.
Her voice broke in the quiet air. "Where… where should I go now? What can I do?"
No answer came. Not from the street, not from the sky, not from her own thoughts. She had nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The only place she could think of was the tavern where she had once worked. The smell of ale, the clatter of mugs, the way her hands would ache after carrying trays, it had been tiring, but at least it had been something. Now, after what had happened, even the thought of walking in there made her chest tighten. She could already see the owner's face, hear the questions she could not answer.
Her steps slowed further. The silence pressed around her.
Then it happened. At first, it was only a faint wave of weakness that made her legs feel strange. But it swelled quickly, curling into her stomach. She stopped, pressed a hand there. Her breath caught.
And then it struck... so sudden she barely had time to think. She turned, stumbled to the side, and fell to her knees, one hand gripping the ground to steady herself. The taste of bile rose in her throat, and before she could stop it, she vomited sharply.
It was quick… then again, and again. Her body bent forward each time, her breath ragged between the retches. She had no control over it, no way to stop, no strength to even try.
When it finally eased, she stayed there for a moment, shivering, before slumping down beside the wall. Her stomach still throbbed in pain, a deep twisting ache that made her hold it without thinking.
She closed her eyes, breathing in shallow bursts. Her fingers found their way into her hair, clutching handfuls so tightly she thought they might tear strands loose.
Her eyes widened, as if a thought had crept in without permission.
"No… no, it can't be…"
"Am I… am I pregnant?" she whispered into the empty air.
Her mind rushed for another explanation. It could have been from the blow she had taken earlier… or maybe from sheer exhaustion. That made sense, didn't it? But then she remembered. She had been healed not long ago, healed completely. The old injuries she had long ago were gone, with no trace of sickness left behind. If the healing magic was powerful enough to mend wounds from the past, then it was obvious it could cure any sickness as well.
There was only one conclusion left to reach, and the thought made her chest grow heavy. Her hands lowered to her stomach, trembling as they pressed against it. Her fingers clutched at the fabric of her clothes.
"B-but… whose child is it…?"
The question hung there, unanswered, as the sound of her own breathing seemed suddenly too loud.
---
(Chapter Ended)