Extract from a history of Drakan:
The black cat was a serial murderer who killed King Craxus and Queen Mins along with some other Drakan army generals a few years ago. They operated in the dead of night and one witness who claims to have seen them says they are rather short. There is a controversial painting of the black cat in which a short human dressed up in a cat costume is clawing at the neck of King Craxus and Queen Mins. The king and queen are hung upside from their foot and their throats have been cut out in a brutal way. All records of this painting are destroyed and the painter beheaded for treason.
Tears filled Kerin’s eyes and rolled down his soft pink cheek, “Dead, you’re sure he’s dead?” Kerin sniffled and wiped away his tears in an attempt to compose himself. He was sat on the tatted carpet on the floor with his back to the great stone wall. There he lie, in the corridor outside the conference room.
“His heart has been ripped out his chest and placed on the mantelpiece. His intestines are displayed on his bed like an unraveled piece of string. If he wasn’t already dead then, he’ll have drowned in the pool of blood surrounding him.” The officer telling Kerin these details seemed unfazed and overly professional. He lacked sympathy, empathy or pretty much anything that involved emotions. “Oh and there’s one more thing. We’ve been given strict orders not to speculate about this at all but I think you ought to know: there’s claw marks on his neck.”
Kerin’s eyes were bloodshot. He face transformed from red with tears, to white with fear. He shot the officer a worried look, “It couldn’t be, it . . . it just wouldn’t be.” Kerin tried desperately to calm himself down and to control his breathing. His efforts were in vain as he began to hyperventilate. “No,” he assured himself, “It can’t be. They’re . . . they’re dead.” Kerin sounded out each letter, “D.E.A.D. Dead. They’ve been gone ever since the last incident. But how?” Kerin was more speaking to himself now than to anyone else. “But how, a- a . . . and why?” He was still hyperventilating and struggled to push his words out. “Some ruthless wannabe. Some sort of sick, twisted joke. But why him?”
Mack turned the corner and nearly walked into Kerin who was lying on the floor. His eyes were red and puffy but he’d wiped away his tears in a poor attempt to hide he’d been crying. He wanted to appear tough and mature. He wanted to be treated like a grown up. Kerin looked up at him. “I know,” Mack said solemnly. “And claw marks too. You know what this means?” Kerin didn’t speak. His voice was shaky and his focus was on composing himself. “I feel terrible. The last thing I ever said to him wa-”
“It’s not your fault, Mack. Terrible things can happen to you if you blame yourself for a death.” The way Kerin spoke made him seem to be a wise old man and that was far from the truth. He adopted the tone of warning and wisdom throughout his life when he was forced into the role of chief adviser. His rushed uprising through the Drakan ranks allowed him no time to sit and dwell and figure out who he was going to be in life. He was not offered the opportunities to grow and learn as other great leaders did. This mutual situation allowed for a greater bond to grow between the two young men.
Mack slumped down next to Kerin and craned his neck to look up at the vast ceiling. It was as if he was searching for an answer in the intricate design of the castle’s vaulted ceiling. Mack sighed understanding what Kerin had just said. “I know,” he huffed while gazing off into nowhere. “I just wish there was a way I could . . . a way I could do something differently; say something differently.”
Kerin laid an assertive hand on Mack’s thigh and turned to face him. He wished to make eye contact and speak directly to Mack but his sight was still fixated upwards. “I know, but with him gone we’re faced with new challenges. We need to move on although it may seem tough. I’ll miss him more than anyone. He was like an uncle to me.” Kerin searched in vain for some sort of reaction in Mack’s face. He found no answer.
“Honorable gentlemen I’m terribly sorry to bother you.” The officer who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere paused waiting for a prompt to continue. When he realized he would not be met with one he continued. “I’m here to inform you that this building has now been put in to a lock down . The gates have been shut and no one can go in or out. I’m sorry if this causes you any inconvenience and I hope the matter should be sorted promptly.”
Kerin and Mack shared a confused look on their faces. Mack spoke for the both of them when he asked, “A lock down? What need is there for a lock down?” The policeman who was clearly just carrying out orders replied with a basic response.
“Unfortunately that information is undisclosed at the moment,” the officer replied with a smile on his face. It was like that of a receptionist who no longer knew how to help the customer. They put on a smile, a sing song voice and reply with an almost pre-programmed default message. Feel free to walk around the castle but don’t go hide away in case someone needs to speak with you. Cheerio.”
Kerin turned to Mack now that he knew he could get his full attention. “Something about this murder just tickles my brain. Whoever did it clearly didn’t want to hide that it was a murder. They laid out the evidence for anyone to see; but it’s the claw marks that repeats over and over in my head. I don’t think it’s possible for it to be . . . you know who.”
“Once the explosion in the meeting had happened, I did what you recommended. I went to his chambers and knocked on his door. I told him it was me and he slammed the door in my face.” This confession from Mack was met with a puzzled look from Kerin. “I don’t suppose that the bl-” He stopped himself just in time before the words could escape his lips. Hesitantly, he searched for a substitute for the forbidden name. “That the culprit might have been in that room.”
Kerin thought deep about those words. His brain whirred so loud Mack could almost hear a faint buzzing noise. At last, he concluded, “It’s not up to us now. It’s up to the detective. If we do as they say and tell them everything we know then that’s the best we can do.” Being young, Kerin still housed a determination and curiosity in his heart. It brought him pain to be mature, although he had no option. He had to do what was right for his kingdom at the cost of his emotions.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Prince Mack right?” A smiley face peered down at them, his eyes glowing with excitement like a child opening up their presents. “Which would make yoouuuuu . . . Kerin?” Kerin managed a nod, unsure how to respond to this bubbly fellow. “Your reputations proceed you both; I’ve heard wonderful things. Well then,” the strange man flashed them an expectant look, “aren’t you going to ask my name?”
“Sorry, I’m not quite myself at the moment. What’s your name?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” the jolly yet peculiar man laughed. Kerin presented an awkward attempt of a laugh back which came across as sarcastic and rather rude; Mack seemed too preoccupied to bother. “Allow me to introduce myself. The name’s Detective Michael Saquidivius Roy but friends just call me Mikey. Are you guys friends?” The man chuckled to himself gaily as Kerin supposed he did often, since no one else found the odd man amusing. The way he spoke was like that of a pantomime actor and the pair deemed him unfit for being a detective. First impressions do count, and neither Mack nor Kerin seemed to be vaguely impressed.
“Are you here to speak with us? Because if that is the case I’d rather you got on with it. I’m not overly fond of the fact that this building is in lock down.” Kerin dashed a warning glance over at Mack, reminding him to use his manners in all situations, even when he was growing tired of someone.
The over confident smile on Mikey’s face faded away with the passing of Mack’s comment. He did not look unhappy, nor did he look cross, but Kerin guessed that he did not have the ability to look either of those things. “Well as a matter of fact, yes. Let’s see . . .” He flashed his eyes down at a notebook he’d been holding since he came in. He fanned through the many pages as he scanned for any details to help him with his case. He pushed a lock of his hair that drooped over his inquisitive eyes and turned back to face the others. “Kerin, I hear you have quite the history with General Lo, no? Why don’t you follow me?”
Mikey was the type to invite himself to a party, if no one else bothered. He had an aura around him that smelt of nerdy college student who was always bombarding a fellow classmate’s exchanges. He assumed that by being amiable, he could weave himself into friendship with anyone and everyone and therefore he assumed himself to be a friend of everyone in any given room. As he has undoubtedly been reminded, that is not the way in which to form bonds with others.
“Kerin. Kerin, Kerin, Kerin. Goodness I’ve heard so much about you. So, where to begin?” Kerin was perched on a wide and comfortable blue armchair. The cushion was so soft that he sunk down into his seat, making him appear much shorter than he actually was. He was in a minuscule square room, which he quickly identified as the Maid’s lounge. There was a coffee table separating him and the strange detective, however it barely lifted off the ground, making it useless for anything other than, well, placing your coffee down. Mikey still had his notebook nestled perfectly between his two fat thighs. “Biscuit?”
Kerin politely refused, as it was always good to use his manners. He wished he could just tell the odd inspector to get on with it, but it wouldn’t be performing correct etiquette. “Well, I’ll start off with the easy question shall I?” Mikey waited for a prompt from Kerin, although his question was not met with a response. The true motive Kerin had not to reply, was he was holding himself back from grumbling about the prolonged wait. He wanted to shout, “CUT TO THE CHASE YOU BOGDIPPER.” Bog dipper is a swear word on Gamush that here means anybody who goes swimming in bogs. It is used to describe people who are weird, or antisocial.
“Where, when, what, who, and how. That’s my job Kerin.” He smiled (this time with a higher dosage of smug) as if waiting for a round of applause. “Where? General Lo’s chambers, right? When? Well when did you last see him?” The detective flashed an expecting smile at Kerin. “Well?”
“About an hour ago,” Kerin yawned as he looked around the room. His eyes settled on a pair of hands in the top right corner as he corrected himself, “More like an hour and a half I suppose. And what you ask? Well to that I say that Lo has been murdered. Murdered by the black cat.” The way in which he spoke those last few words was menacing. He was daring Mikey to respond.
“That, is speculation. I do not speculate Kerin,” Mikey replied sounding out each word individually. The way he made it seem, was as if he had been terribly insulted and he was setting the record straight. “And then we’re left with who and how. Now how? That seems very simple to me. They cut out his body parts, it’s layed out for us to see.” Kerin flashed Mikey an annoyed frown. He quickly realised the source of Kerin’s anger, “No, no no no! I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure you were very close with him,” he explained, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red.
“Who? Who, who, who, who, who? It’s a good question, isn’t it? Who left the milk out of the fridge? Who crashed the cathropods? Who . . . hmmmm. Who . . . eughh I can’t think of one.” He stroked his chin teasingly and pretended to rattle his brain. “Oh, here’s a good one: who killed General Lorry? Did you kill General Lorry, Kerin? It’s OK; you can tell me if you did.”
Kerin was growing infuriated at the detective’s baby talk and strange way of doing things. “NO! Of course not. HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST SUCH A THING!” It was in his anger that Kerin did not realise he had stood up from his uncomfortably comfortable chair. He was looking down on a rather unfazed pair of eyes.
The strange detective sighed and buried his face in his notebook. He spoke to Kerin in a calm voice without even looking up, “Get out.”
“What?”
“Get out this room.” After 15 seconds he finally looked up from his notes. “Now,” he prompted in a calm and unbothered voice. Kerin turned his back and strutted out the room. He barged through the oak doors, only just noticing how heavy they were, and remained fixed in the passage way. He stood firmly there, pondering what to do next when he heard Mikey mutter under his breath, “I know who but I don’t know why. Nonetheless, it seems smart to arrest them now. I’ll have the police ambush promptly.”
Upon hearing this, Kerin’s heart skipped a beat. He ran, running as fast as his legs could carry him. ‘I’m not a murderer and I won’t be locked up,’ was among the thousands of thoughts his mind was racing with at that moment. He weaved in and out of the seemingly endless maze of walls, decisively turning each corner without thinking, like he’d been practicing it for weeks. He came across Mack, breathless and panting. He slapped his hands on his thighs but did not care for resting, “I’m leaving, and I’d like for you to join me.”
Mack was taken aback by this sudden outlandishness. “Why? Kerin you’re scaring me. We can’t leave, the building’s on lock down remember?”
“I know another way out, but I’ve no time for questions. I’ll ask you one question though: will you join me?”
“Where? Where are we going?”
“I don’t know yet; guess I didn’t think that far in advance. Are you coming or not?”
Mack took a few seconds to think. Shortly after, his puzzled look morphed into a childish grin. “Secret exit, you say? How can I say no to that?”