Unsurprisingly, the fallout from the events on the Third Floor of the Celestial Temple had been pretty seismic.

After all, it wasn't every day that a Commander of the Security Services selflessly sacrificed himself to protect innocent members of the public from the predation of rampaging . On reflection, all involved recognised that headline could have used some sub-editing.

Nevertheless, the story of Cenorth's doomed, noble stand against two horrific monsters - holding the Portal Stone open so others could escape, even as the at his side were cut down and slain - was surely destined to go down in Soar legend.

And it was not just the deaths of Commander Cenorth and his fellow officers that were to be mourned. No. Not at all. On top of that appalling tragedy, it also had become known that the renowned philanthropist Markian Ulton had also perished to those fiends, leaving a gaping hole in the social calendar of Jewel Town, the likes of which had never been seen before. At least, not that week. And, horror upon horror, Cadi Verahalim, lawyer to the rich and famous, would likewise see the morrow no more.

Stop all the clocks, etc etc.

If anyone had questions as to why such an eclectic collection of people had been gathered together at the scene of another high-profile murder, then they were sensible enough to hold their tongues.

There were cover-ups, and then there were Soar cover-ups. And enough people had lost their lives during the d'Avec investigation for there to be somewhat of an interest fatigue.

Lowe wished that surprised him. He wished for a lot of things.

"You okay, little man?"

Lowe looked up over the rim of his cup of coffee at the concerned face of Latham. The had done as much as any of them to try to leak the true story of what had happened that day on the Third Floor, but you couldn't sell what no one was buying.

There was a rumour that Arkola themselves had had 'a quiet word' to get him to drop it, but Lowe hadn't had the heart to ask him about it, and Latham wasn't sharing.

"Sure. Fine and dandy. You?"

Latham shrugged. "Same old, same old. How's your girl holding up?"

That did bring a genuine smile to Lowe's face. Because, at least for now, Arebella was very much 'his girl'. Nursing her back to health after what had happened had seemed the very least he could do. Of course, for him to keep up a regular stream of applications of Medic!, he had insisted that she move in with him. And once she'd tasted Mylaf's food, he didn't think he was ever going to get rid of her. Also, fun fact: you could do all sorts of athletic things, even with some rather nasty injuries.

"She's good, thank you. How about yours?"

Latham blushed. A rather odd thing to see appear on his massive, blunt face. "All good. But we're taking it slow. I think Hel's going to have some significant trust issues for the near future."

Lowe nodded. That sounded like a bit of an understatement. "And, erm, her family? They're all okay?"

"They're fine. If anyone asks, they're taking an extended tour of the countryside alongside some friends of hers. You know. Just until the heat dies down a bit."

That seemed sensible. If there was one thing an Out of Bounds squad - even a retired one - was good at, it was going missing until those looking for them lost interest. Lowe was sure they'd be back.

Especially as no one showed any interest in uncovering what had really happened in the Celestial Temple.

"Shut the fuck up and listen to me. This is the Council's final offer," Acting Commander Pernille Staffen had said, dark shadows under her eyes suggesting she wasn't loving the promotion yet, "you get to come back on full pay, a backdated pension, corner office and a fucking partridge in a pear tree. It's a moonshot, Jana. I can't get any more from them for you."

"But?" Lowe had asked, already knowing the rotting tooth in this particular gift horse's mouth.

"But they don't want to hear another word about Gianna fucking d'Avec. As far as that is concerned, the case is closed. in the city and all that."

He'd wanted to tell her where to stick it. That, until he was satisfied that he knew what had happened in the High Priestess's chamber, there wasn't any bribe in the world that would stick.

But then he remembered the look on Arebella's face as she'd walked down that corridor towards him, blood oozing from the wounds from Cenorth's knife, and he'd decided to get over himself.

For once, he could let sleeping dogs lie.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Latham asked. "You might need backup? For old time's sake?"

Okay, so that homily about the slumbering canines might have been the sweatiest of bollocks.

Lowe stood, brushing crumbs off his best, Mylaf-ironed suit and flashed Latham a smile. "Thanks for the offer, mate. But I've got this."

*

Aintra Webber paused at the junction of Beldam and Caprice and took a deep, cleansing breath.

Life had been extremely busy of late.

For most of those in Gravalk's cult, the inevitable drop down the Temple hierarchy that had accompanied losing their High Priestess had been humiliating. But, unlike his fellows, that wasn't how he saw things.

As his father, and his grandfather, had always said 'it wasn't the intensity of the flame that mattered. It was how long it burned.'

And the intended to keep burning for a long time yet, thank you very much.

He was just preparing to cross the street and make his way towards the Fountain of Youth when a shadow fell over his path. Looking up, he saw the solemn face of the last man he expected to see in the Quarter of Ash.

"Mr Lowe. What brings you all the way out here?"

Lowe gave a tight little smile. "It's Inspector Lowe."

"Ah, then your heroics in the Temple have not gone unrewarded? I am very pleased to hear it. I sang your praises in my debrief, I'll have you know."

"I rather think my reinstatement has more to do with political expediency than any recognition of 'heroics', but thank you very much, all the same. Do you have a moment, sir?"

Aintra looked up and down the street, unsure what was expected of him. "I do. Until a new High Priest - or High Priestess, of course - is named, I doubt anyone will look askance at me being a little late. What is it you wanted to talk about?"

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"I know you killed her."

The statement was so unexpected that the found himself laughing in genuine surprise. "You know what?"

"Gianna d'Avec. It was you who killed her."

Aintra ran his tongue across his lips and frowned. "I think that joke is in very poor taste, Mr Lowe."

"Inspector."

"Yes, of course. You said. In any event, that is not something you should jest about. The Cult of Gravalk is still in mourning for the loss of our great leader. It hardly seems appropriate for you to accost me in the street and make light of that fact."

"I'm not making light of it." Lowe dipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew a bulky black glove. "This was hidden in the cupboard under your stairs."

"The cupboard under my . . . What were you doing in my house? You had no right to break in and remove my property!"

"Ah, that's a shame. You were doing so well. You were hitting just the right note of confused, injured injustice. But that's your first mistake, right there. I think you will find that the correct response would have been, 'I've never seen that before in my life.'"

Aintra stepped back, trying to get some distance between them. Trying to think. "I haven't seen it before. What is it? A glove? I must have hundreds of gloves."

"Come on, Mr Webber. You need to be quicker than this. Pick a lane. You either haven't seen it before or have loads like it. Although, I should point out that if you have 'hundreds' of gloves that are carrying traces of skin cells, then you are one freaky son of a bitch."

The found himself pressing back against a wall, Lowe remorsefully pressing forward. "Let me level with you, mate. At the moment, you having this glove is the only thing you have going for you. Because it suggests that you have a conscience. That you weren't willing to have someone else take the blame for a crime you know you'd committed. I'd grab hold of that life jacket if I were you."

As Lowe spoke, Aintra was transported back to d'Avec's chamber that night. Seeing, through the open door, the first member of the Security Services on scene carefully place a glove he had taken from his pocket onto the floor near one of the High Priestess' legs. As soon as that man had left, locking up the active crime scene behind him, Webber had swooped back in - utilising his Secret Keeper Skill to get access to the chamber - and retrieved the evidence.

"How did you find out?"

"Ah, that's better. I'm always more comfortable once we move out of the Denial stage of proceedings. Full disclosure, though, if you get to Anger and feel the need to lash out, I'm going to kick your arse. I've got some frustrations that need to be worked out."

"How did you know it was me?" Aintra's voice was faint.

"Poisoning in my coffee. That was just fucking stupid."

"Your coffee?"

"Yeah. And there's a dead I'm adding to your side of the ledger, too. It's one thing trying to kill me - it's an occupational hazard, and more often than not, I'd overlook it - but you got that poor kid involved, and that was only going to end one way. I tend to take that sort of shit personally. Now I think of it, that probably cancels out you taking the glove."

"I am afraid, Mr Lowe - "

"Inspector."

"- Inspector Lowe that you are not making any sense. First, you show me a glove you have illegally obtained from my house and suggest this is evidence of my guilt. Then you segue into some nonsense about poisoning your coffee. I must confess, I have no idea where you are going with this. What is it you are accusing me of?"

"Fair enough. Let's make it plain then, shall we? Unfortunately for you, the proprietor of 'Drink U Like' who - would you believe it, is selling a very different product than coffee - has been experiencing a number of robberies of late. I know! I know! It's getting like you can't run an entirely clandestine drug business in Soar without someone trying to rip you off. Whatever next, eh? Where was I?"

"I really could not begin to tell you."

"Ah, yes. 'Drink U Like'. Well, in response to his third shakedown of the week, the owner decided to install a pretty snazzy Observation Hub in the street outside his shop. And, what do you think I found on there?"

"I have absolutely no idea."

"Really? Okay, then let me tell you. On the day in question, I see me and my esteemed friend enter for a refreshing cup of joe and - what do you know? - just a moment later, a shady-looking motherfucker sneaks around the back and has a very animated conversation with a poor , after which a small packet is handed over and said shady dude slinks off. And do you know what?"

"What," Aintra said faintly.

"That was actually your big mistake. Because if you'd hung around for just a few more moments, to actually watch the deed being done, you'd have seen the poor lad throw the packet you'd given him in the recycling bin. Good habits die hard, apparently."

"And I suppose you have retrieved that packet?"

"Of course. Complete with all sorts of fingerprint goodies. Well, not me, obviously. But Soar's - a complete wanker, but pretty good at his job when all is said and done - has it, and he has lots of interesting things to say. Did you know, for example, that there are certain types of seaweed . . . no, sorry. Penarth tells me I should call them microalgae. But that sounds rather poncy. But hey, whatever they are, if you mix them with certain other substances they are really appallingly toxic. I can testify to that. Yet another shirt down the drain. Tell me, was that something of which you were aware?"

"I am not sure it would be wise for me to answer."

"Oh dear. I hoped to get a bit further through things before we reached the 'no comment' stage of proceedings. Never mind, I'm sure I can do a monologue. Feel free to chip in when you know the words. Because it turns out you are very aware of that because, and this strikes me as some pretty specialised knowledge, are encouraged to experiment with the use of microalgae in the creation of scented candles. Your father was quite an expert in that craft, I understand? I imagine there are all sorts of samples lying around that house of yours."

"No comment."

"Ah, thought I could trick you there. No worries. As I'm sure you've guessed, I've already searched it and have quite the haul of potential murder weapons. So here I am, with a packet of pretty nasty poison, a with no motive I could think of to want me dead, a High Priestess who, literally, blew her top with a fucking seaweed candle lit in her room. Where do you think all of that should take me?"

"You can't prove anything."

"Maybe not. I'd like to know what happened, though."

Aintra sighed. A deep, weary sigh, and Lowe had the impression of a great weight being lifted from his shoulders as he spoke. "The powerful think they are better than the rest of us. Have you noticed that?" The glanced up at Lowe's Classless state and nodded to himself. "I'm sure you have—more than the rest of us. Once upon a time, we were the same level, Gianna and I. Did you know that? We entered the Temple at exactly the same time. Of course, there was no question that she was destined to be the star. And I was more than content to serve. But then she didn't want me anymore."

"You killed her because she fired you?"

"I killed her because she discarded me. A woman who never threw a thing away in her life. Who lived in a rundown house, who employed her parents' , who gave away every penny she earned to the 'poor'. But when it came to me, the person who knew her best, the person who had sacrificed his own ambitions for her? Well, for me it was 'thank you and goodbye'. 'You've been found wanting.' Damn right, I killed her."

Lowe rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension he could feel building.

"You poisoned her?"

"Seaweed is an amazing thing, you know? With the right encouragement and skill set, microalgae induces oxygen depletion and then releases toxic compounds. My father was quite an expert at magnifying that effect. I lit one of his candles for her after she dismissed me and watched as she slowly drifted off into a peaceful sleep. All that power, all that belligerence, and she had no protection to simple smoke. I doubt she even felt the moment when her mana transformed into water. It strikes me there are worse ways to go."

Lowe looked at the old man, trying not to let the disappointment on his face show. After everything that had happened, he had hoped for something . . . more. For the murder that had started so many tumultuous events to have been more noteworthy than petty revenge.

"And you specifically asked for me when you found the body because?"

"You hardly have a sterling reputation, Inspector Lowe. And I'm sure there's no way you can prove it," Webber said, the colour returning to his cheeks.

"No," Lowe sighed. "I suppose not. Tell you what, I'll just stop being an 'Inspector' momentarily and go back to being plain old Jana Lowe." As he spoke, he took his other hand out of his pocket to show Aintra a burning incense stick. "And Mr Lowe knows one thing for certain."

Aintra frowned at the incense stick. "Which is?"

Lowe smiled. "That your god is sounding pretty pissed off about the whole thing right now . . ."

The eyes widened in the moment before Gravalk's fire took him. He burned for far longer than Lowe would have thought it was possible for a human being to be alight.

Eventually, though, Aintra Webber collapsed into ash, and the breeze swept up his remains, leaving Lowe standing in quiet contemplation.

For a fanciful moment, he wondered whether Gianna d'Avec would rest a little easier now her murderer had been brought to . . . well, not justice, but something justice-adjacent. But what did such things matter once you were dead? When you were sleeping the big sleep, he assumed you were not too bothered by things like that.

He guessed it was just the way things were in Soar.

With a nod of his head, watching specks of Aintra float in the air, Jana Lowe began the walk home.

Inspector Lowe will return in 'One of our Dreadnaughts is Missing'.