The Silent's End [EDITING]

CHAPTER 4

WARNING: NOT EDITED

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LENESTADT POLICE HEADQUARTERS

NOVEMBER 1824, MORNING

As per usual, Inspector Donner went early at the headquarters. No one was around, not even the superintendent or Inspector Bertram, or any other constables.

As he scanned through most of his files on his table, hoping to see anything that might be a help to the case and making sure that he did not miss any details, Donner discovered the worn-out journal as he opened the first drawer of his table. He pulled the journal out of the drawer and placed it in front of him by the table. He stared at it for a moment and decided to read it since he had nothing to do, thinking that it wouldn't hurt for him to read it.

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From the Journal found by Ulrich F. Donner

WINTER 1797

Townspeople overcrowded the marketplace. The ambiance was typical; with sellers shouting, nobles and commoners crowded the place like sardines in a tin can; streets were all wet, filled with murky waters and fish heads. Even the foulest smells could be found there. No wonder murders and theft weren't at all unusual to happen at such a place.

Rudolf walked at the market's main street with little to no consciousness; His thoughts floating as passing lifters and market workers mindlessly bumped Rudolf causing him to almost stumble down the dirty ground. His vision blurred as his eyes still filled with tears rushing through his cheeks to his shirt, smearing the blood marked by his father's own hand. Everyone seemed not to notice the appearance of the poor lad; shirt and hands filled with blood – his father's blood.

"Please help my Papa," Rudolf pleaded to the people wandering at the market but they seemed to ignore the poor boy.

"My Papa... please," He said, tugging a man to help his father.

The man pushed him off his sleeves, minding the dirty boy; worrying the boy would stain his new silk shirt. Rudolf stumbled down on the wet market street, "Dumb boy!"

Young Rudolf cried as he tried to ask for help but no one wanted to listen, no one wanted to help. Who would help a poor man, poor as a rat? He went back at the alley where his father was. There, his father, lying in a pool of his own blood, dying. Rudolf sat beside his father and cried. The father touched his son's face and wipe his tears.

"There, there my boy, my brave boy. Everything is fine, everythin..." His father gasped his final breath before he died, eyes opened, still looking at his boy.

"Papa? Papa?" He tried to wake his father, to hear his voice again; pleaded to God even just a single word, but his father stayed unresponsive, looking at Rudolf.

He stood up still looking at his father. Poor young boy, his father died in his arms. He walked blankly at the streets of the market. Now, tragically everyone noticed him; stared at the young boy, his hands and his dress all covered with dirt and blood. He noticed the nobles walking past him enjoying each other's company, the children with their father.

If only they just spared him a single minute to hear him humbly plead for his father life

If only someone helped him, his father would be...

Tears started to well up in his eyes but he wiped it with his hands.

His hands

Rudolf looked at his blood soaked hands from his father's own blood.