When Rokah didn't get an answer, it jumped to his mind that Mr. Hendrickson wasn't in contact with the Aractanthrope.
If those two aren't working together, then who is working with whom? Who is the true controlling figure of the village?
Rokah's suspicions grew more intrusive. Even though his position as an informer got possibly exposed and the likelihood of him being tailed by watchmen was certain, he still wants to involve himself. Furthermore, it won't be hard for him to mislead most of those who worked at the manor. The image of Mr. Hendrickson's maid flared in his mind, maybe this one will be a little difficult then he remembered the time when she dropped the cups and her sorry state when he saw her earlier, he reassured himself that it won't be a problem.
He didn't help but to be curious about what was going on inside the refined walls of the manor.
When he was there, he sensed a strange atmosphere, subtle, hard to describe, and very different from the other times when he had crossed the big gate of the main house. It was like there was some kind of preparation for an important upcoming event or a ceremony for welcoming supreme guests.
He also noticed in his visit to the cemetery, the absence of the two luxurious graves that stood out among all the others, the strange ones that he saw their headstones were engraved with a script in two different languages; Latin and Aramaic. The surrounding ground projected the picture of recent exhumation in his thoughts.
Though for what reason? What, possibly the filthy act of digging out a corpse from its grave will benefit someone? Or it was a part of the upcoming ceremony.
His chain of thoughts got interrupted by the Aractantrope seizing him by his collar and demanding:¨ You better tell me all that you know… ¨
When Isidore heard the steps of Linda coming back, he loosened his grip and returned to his seat than he said between his teeth: "I will kill you for real if you won't tell all that you know."
Linda had placed a large mug of beer on the table before she asked the two of them: "Do you need anything else?"
Rokah answered her while he stood: "No, thank you. I am tired, I need to rest. "His face held to imply to the person sitting with him that carried the meaning of accompanying me. The Aractanthrope didn't object. He was deeply concerned about his image in front of the villagers. And it just was confirmed by Rokah's remarks about this odd behavior. Maybe this was an act of preserving his real identity. Rokah interpreted it and, without a further delay, he left.
Pulling his legs over the frozen snow, Rokah was lost in thoughts, musing about his next step and to what percentage he was going to share the information he had collected with this man.
He may be felt that he was trapped by him for the time being but there was no point in crying over the spilled milk, it was better for him to exploit the current situation as much as he could, so he will survive till the melting of the snow. After all, this was a cursed place, and each one needed only to look after himself.
Deep down, he felt a little remorse about this decision, but he convinced himself that he would forget soon. Since weak ones were mere chess pieces in the big conflict between the giant forces and this is the way of the world.
He bent over to lift a portion of the ice that was cut in a strange shape. Then he looked in the direction of the shattered fragments of the ice that trailed forward, taking the same road to the place where he lived.
Who could it be? A watchman from the manor?
He searched the source of the trail, from which direction it came. The air got trapped in his chest, blocked up by the growing mass of his confusion. The trail didn't have an original direction; it was as if someone had jumped from the sky, then he walked down to the building where his room was located.
This wasn't a normal person, and he clearly didn't care if he got tracked or not.
Maybe the Lycanthrope, no, even if he had found enough nutrition to lessen the effect of the plague, he won't be able to physically harm him because of the sanative pledge.
His uncertainty about the identity of the person he was going to confront at the end of this road made him hesitate to proceed, yet the scent of the approaching Aractanthrope behind him didn't give him another choice but to carry on.
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He clenched his fists in determination and walked with steady steps. Cautiously using all his senses to capture some insignificant piece of information that can help him identify the unwanted guest. And to his growing fears, the wooden door of his room was open. From a few steps away, he inspected the scratch and tears that were centrifuged around the door's lock.
The intruder wasn't friendly and definitively physically strong… he concluded.
He inhaled all the air surrounding him in one inspiration, using his powerful sense of smell as his last winning card.
The trembling in his muscles increased when he couldn't identify any powerful odor apart from the Aractanthrope who kept a constant distance between them.
He approached the door, lifting his hand slowly toward its handle. Then pushed it carefully, attempting to have enough space to see whoever was inside his room.
A black silhouette logged in to the far edge of his visual field and slowly began to have concrete details as it advanced near the center of his vision. A sudden force opened the door from the inside to leave him exposed to the unknown stranger.
It took him a few seconds to swallow the fact in front of his eyes, as the only thing that flooded his brain was to give a warning about the forthcoming danger: "My Lady, there is someone dangerous is following me, it won't take him long to get here." Rokah paused, then added to clarify: "An Aractanthrope…"
"How much I hate this nomenclature… How many times should I tell you to not use it in front of me?"
The first rays of the dawn sneaked across the transparent glass of the window and fell on Mr. Hendrickson's closed eyes.
He was sitting on the armed chair, facing the big window and holding the handle of his cane. His head slightly inclined to the back, making his chin a little higher. His entire figure reassembled a messiah prepared to receive a revelation.
Near him, on the floor, was a collapsed body in torn clothes, every visible part was covered with slash wounds, yet there was no trace for apparent bleeding. The face wasn't spared, he seemed bitten up by multiple smashes against a hard surface. The eyes were half-open; it gave Be-an, the form of a lifeless doll. Her severed arm was tossed up beside the body.
Nicolai opened his eyes, responding to the rays of light that fell on them. For an instant, it seemed that he has a double iris. A central normal one and the other were small compared to the first and were situated near the external angle of each eye.
He murmured into himself in an audible but unrecognizable voice: " Why did you come back, Be-an? The fate I wanted to save you from has manifested. It looked like that I couldn't see a way of escaping it this time as well."
Before he got up and walked through the door. He pulled down the curtains of the window, not giving a chance to the rays to trouble the darkness inside his living quarters.
He sought the count headquarters, aiming to notify him about the near arrival of his important guest.
His walk in the dark corridor brought back his nostalgic, far away prosperous days. Despite there being a few noticeable changes in the style of decoration. And regardless of the fact that he wasn't going to get his control back. He just felt relieved at the thought of his Excellency the Count Francis Leal Di Montez negotiating for a peaceful retreat and leaving everything behind.
Then suddenly, he stopped reevaluating the whole situation. This course of events was going a little fast and was too good to be true. Comparing the effort Francis has made to acquire this farm and the readiness; he has shown to give up on it. Those two contradicting things didn't make a sense of his logic. In the light of Francis's personality and line of work, this negotiation will be considered an immense loss for his person as a side dealer. Furthermore, he should never forget the chimera magus…
If Francis was going to give up on the farm, then what kind of pact was between the two of them?
Well, a lot of things will be revealed after this meeting, and he decided to not anticipate the events before it occurs. For now, He only hoped for the Crocotta arrival as soon as possible because, after Be-an end, he was vulnerable to any attack.