The tip of the quill scratched against the parchment. The strokes of wet black ink curved into letters and words. The paper glowed yellow from the light of the oil lamp. An ink pot sat silently beside it, it's rim smudged with dry ink.
A white bedsheet was sprawled on the marble floor and above it, Lady Kiara adjusted herself ever so often to be comfortable. Scratching the tip of her nose, she scrunched her brows in concentration as she wrote the letter. Beside her, a neat stack of blank papers waited for their turn to be stained. On the left, beside the nightstand, the letters were left to dry.
Eight written, one more to go.
Cracking her knuckles, she picked up the quill again and dipped it in the ink.
Dear Mr Brown,
I write this letter to you with a heavy heart. Your young grandson has passed away. It is hard to believe and even harder to suffer. I can not dare imagine the pain your soul must be bearing at this moment.
Ralph was the strongest soldier I had met. He was young, determined and tactical. Eager to correct his mistakes and even more to aid his juniors and colleagues. A through and thorough knight, a true savior.
I still remember the first time I met him. It was around three years ago when he had been selected for Knight training. Barely over five foot and some four inches, the helmet was too big for his small head. For all those who jested about his small stature were forced to shut up when his limbs suddenly experienced an immense spurt of growth just a month later. My guess is this is common among boys— growing out of nowhere.
The trainers always praised him. My frequent visits also allowed me to spar with him a few times and it was always a good match. And as good as he was as a soldier, he was an even better human.
After passing the qualifying tests last year, he was under my command in a mission three - four months ago. He told me one night, prior to an important expedition, how he wanted to open a shelter for sick animals once he retires from the knighthood with much more coins jiggling in his pockets. After that, we all teased him for possibly abandoning his comrades for the horses. But our hearts always knew he had dreams higher than the sky and heart bigger than the sea.
For such comrade to leave us, the pain shatters me. But then, I reminisce Ralph and his memories. They leave me brimming with pride.
The handful of missions in which I had the opportunity to see your courageous grandson in action, he never once faltered, even in the face of death.
I did not see what happened, I do not know what happened. Not at this moment, at least. However, there are two things I can assure you. First, your grandson fought bravely. He was not the kind who would accept death because it was peering down at him ominously. He had glared back. Cornered it. Fought tooth and nail with the ill fate. Victory— he might not have achieved that— but he went down with valor and dignity.
Second— whoever is the culprit, the person will be caught and hanged. It is a promise I make. Not as your grandson's superior, not as the member of Douglas County. This is a promise I have made as a granddaughter would make to her grandfather, a comrade would make to the kin of a fallen one. I shall find the sinner who snatched away the life of my brother and punish him for his sin.
The—
Someone knocked at the window.
Kiara turned her head to see a familiar cloaked figure perched at the tree branch outside the room.
Sighing, she closed the lid of the ink pot and rested the quill in a box. Pushing the handle, she opened it slightly, only enough to slip her head out. She asked, "Who is this?"
"Huh? My lady—" the woman pushed back her hood, revealing her bright red hair. "Lea, my Lady," she whispered.
"I do not remember making acquaintance with a woman named Lea." Lady Kiara narrowed her eyes, a glint of mirth in her brown eyes
"Stop teasing me."
"I am not."
"Someone will see. Open the window," Lea groaned.
"Wishing to enter the bed chambers of a young, beautiful woman in the middle of the night— while she resides in her fiance's abode. How scandalous." Lady Kiara feigned shock.
"My Lady, let me in," Lea pleaded.
"But I do not know you." Lady Kiara frowned.
"This is no time for jesting!"
"I do not jest!"
"My Lady, open the window, please. A minute more out here and death will come upon me—"
"Not if you sing— what was that poem you liked?"
Lea despised where this was going. She hid her face behind her palm.
"Was it 'Elephant eats cherries'?" Lady Kiara continued when Lea did not respond.
"Elephant ate the berries." Came Lea's muffled answer.
"Yes, yes— that one." Lady Kiara smiled expectantly.
Silence.
Crickets chirped in the background.
"I am not— never reciting that poem," Lea announced in a hushed, firm voice.
"Understood. May heaven bless you with merry dreams." Lady Kiara shrugged and closed the window.
"My lady—" Lea whined with a devastated sigh seeing her mistress' back facing her. "I will—" Lea huffed and Lady Kiara twirled on her heels. She opened the window a little too enthusiastically.
"There was once a girl named Mary,"
Lea closed her eyes before continuing in a single breath.
"Who had a elephant named Gary.
One night, so lovely and merry,
He met a beautiful fairy,
She gave him a tub of perry.
Then he ate some berries,
Which made his mind tarry,
He danced as long his feet could carry.
He laughed and swirled his trunk,
Trying to get in the house, drunk,
Mary's house fell down with a thump,
When she cried, he kicked her rump."
Lady Kiara blinked at the woman sitting on the branch.
Lea blinked back at her mistress gazing at her blankly.
"You used to do it with actions," Lady Kiara complained, sticking the heel of the back of her wrist to her nose and rotating it to imitate an elephant.
Lea rubbed her face, growing redder then her hair. Lady Kiara broke out in a fit of laughter. Opening the window wider, she let her in.
"My goodness, Mary must have had her rump blasted into pieces." Lady Kiara swiped her thumb across her forehead to wipe the fake beads of sweat on it.
"I found the records." Lea attempted at changing the subject.
"About the little girl's rump?"
"My Lady," Lea groaned again, desolate with the unceasing teasing.
"Okay, okay." Lady Kiara chuckled. "What did you find?"
"I checked the details. Misty is from Marshton. Joined some three years ago. In the month of September."
"Hmm." Lady Kiara nodded her head. She picked up the small round box placed on the nightstand.
"And what of the other girl?" She asked. Her index finger traced the bejeweled box.
"Ada is a native of Oroak. She joined two years ago. In the month of June. From what I have gathered from the other maids of the household, she was brought here by Young Master himself."
"Paris?" Lady Kiara quirked an eyebrow. She pushed the lid of the box upwards with her thumb. A pallet of pale red lip color laid in it.
"Why am I not surprised?" She questioned to herself rhetorically and rubbed the pallet with her index finger, coating it's tip red.
Dabbing her lips with it, Lady Kiara carefully lifted up the pallet and put it aside.
"What else?" She asked quietly. There laid a neatly folded white cloth at the bottom of the box. Carefully, she took it out.
"No specific details. But her face was burnt during a rescue attempt. Apparently, she worked in a tavern. One day, fire broke out. Paris Monroe was there and she rescued him. That is where she received the burns from."
"Paris Monroe, an aristocrat who roams around with horde of security tailing after him and is a vampire. He needed rescuing?" Lady Kiara mumbled to herself. "Either the guards here are absolutely useless or Paris Monroe is. Bet it is the latter. Knew he was a trouble the moment I saw him." She shook her head. "That would mean she is the girl the uproar was about two years ago."
"Yes, my Lady."
Lady Kiara nodded. She pushed the bedsheet and blanket out of the bed.
"Marshton and Oroak, you say."
"Yes, my Lady."
The small piece of cloth was unfurled. Fold by fold, what once occupied only the small surface of the bottom of a cosmetic box, now covered the entirety of the bed.
The map of Johannes and neighboring areas was spread out in front of them.
"Marshton, I can see Marshton here." Lea pointed out on the map. Her finger hovered over the spot. It was a small town of the neighboring County, Matheild.
"Do you see Oroak anywhere?"
"No, my Lady."
Lady Kiara sighed.
Picking up a small bead of gem from her drawer, she put it on Marshton and withdrew back to analyze the whole picture.
Marshton was not the part of 'the circles'. It was lying conveniently out of it.
The circles.
Lady Kiara's eyes scanned the ominous geographical design. Five concentric circles. Monroe Mansion their centre. In each circles, there were villages, towns, cities- which were either reduced to ashes or where repeated kidnappings of children occurred. And those children almost always turned up dead. The victim count comprised mostly of witches.
Spellston, Mavercrick, Syp, Bisthop, Valfield, Newshedge, Lady Kiara checked among the villages in the circle if she could find Oroak anywhere.
Nowhere.
She proceeded to cross check the other places where the population of the witches was abundant, the small notes— handwritten by Marquess Edith— beneath the names of the places aiding her search.
Nothing.
Then her eyes scanned for other places- still nothing.
"Where is Darton?" She asked Lea after the failed attempt of finding Oroak. It was nowhere— not among the circles, not in Johannes, not in the surrounding areas of Johannes.
"Gave the news of demise of our soldiers to him. He left for Oldlake to report to His Highness, Marquess Edith."
"Oldlake? Marquess Edith is in the vicinity."
"Yes, my Lady. Darton would be reaching there by maximum the end of the third day."
"And our knights?"
"We are yet to receive any news. A group of our soldiers searching for them separately. Another group is trailing after the guards of the Monroe's. A third group will be dispatched tomorrow in the afternoon to relay the messages back home."
"Oh." Lady Kiara blinked and bent down to collect the letters she had written. Scribbling the last few words of the letter she was writing, she handed them to Lea.
"Send these as well. One is for my parents and other eight... for the families of the deceased. Please put them in an envelope. And this one is not yet dry— be careful with it."
"Yes, my Lady."
"Do you have anything else to report?" Lady Kiara asked, looking back at the map.
"...yes, my lady." Blowing on the wet ink of the letter once, she set it aside.
"I saw Young Master in the records room. At first, I thought he was looking for the details of the deceased guards. But when he left, I cross checked. He was reading the wage records of the maids who joined in the year 1847."
"Wage records? Of maids?"
"Yes, my lady. He had it in his hands all too long to be by mistake. He was definitely searching for something."
Lady Kiara rubbed her forehead, smudges of ink on her palm smearing her skin. Her straight eyebrows slipped gradually to the middle, creases appearing before they finally straightened again.
"All right." She cracked her knuckles, "When was Marquess Edith coming again?"
"A week later, originally. But present circumstances might push him to join us sooner."
"How I wish he is unlike the other Monroes. These ones here have differently functioning cog wheels in their heads."
"What did you conclude from the letters you have exchanged with him?"
"When you say it like that—" Lady Kiara scrunched her nose, "—it appears as if we were exchanging words of infatuation rather than homicide details in those letters."
"And when you say it like this—" Lea scrunched her nose, "—it appears you two are behind those homicides."
Lady Kiara laughed. "Anyways— if that is all, Gary—"
"Lea sounds better and less infuriating—"
"—you should rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow."
Lea took off her hood and cloak. Kiara took them and hid it among the bundles of her clothes. With a bow, Lea wished Kiara a good night and the latter responded with a pat on her head and reminder to not to drink anything a fairy offers.
Lea left the room for her own with a huff, muttering how much she has come to hate poems in general. The room allocated to her was on the same floor, few doors down her mistress'.
Kiara heard the door close behind Lea and the smile on her face dropped.
1847. That is two years ago.
Ada also joined two years ago.
That momentary red flash in the morning— had her eyes opened only a fraction of second later, she would have missed seeing it. Pure luck. That it what this was. Was it a figment of her imagination? Was the bright red color only the light playing tricks on her? Quite possible. But she could have sworn it was there— something akin to a whip— dangling in the atmosphere, cracking like lightening splits the sky in half.
A questionable presence of magic shows up simultaneously when nineteen guards and eight of my knights die.
The contender of the position of Count of Johannes roaming about in the records room with wage records of 1847 in his hands.
1847...Ada joined in 1847. In June.
The arson and kidnappings started in January, the same year.
All tied to Ada—
"Am I reading too much into this situation?" Lady Kiara mumbled to herself and folded the map. Carefully putting the map back in the box, she sprawled out on the bed.
"Guess we will know—" she clicked her tongue, "—once I meet the girl myself."
A/N: Unedited and somewhat long- what do you think is happening?
Vote and comment if you liked the chapter! Thanks for reading xD