image [https://scontent-cgk1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/v/t39.30808-6/441518430_122144836616179549_3350286965463549119_n.jpg?_nc_cat=101&ccb=1-7&_nc_sid=5f2048&_nc_eui2=AeEfjo5bidbTE5caGr4XnSoElDKwMuRET4uUMrAy5ERPi70iYHIDoKGEW8IOSiPkvE8xmTE7aWAqNFVcJxQ7aP5t&_nc_ohc=PBWJf0J2C-IQ7kNvgFpuZ_y&_nc_ht=scontent-cgk1-1.xx&oh=00_AYAgHSGnLJ28dtm06_NMtCUWF_zcrwsDVwBZOJ_8KrTgkA&oe=66536AE6]

One month after the people of Lyondyn found Vila's body in the city's Grimmerflow river embankment, the Black Widows became the hot topic once again in every tavern and public corner and social gatherings all over the Lyondyn.

Vila's body was in a terrible state, decayed, broken limbs and bones, floating about on the river for days added more decay, and signs of torture were clearly visible. what's more unimaginable was her face, several huge deep cut open slash wounds, part of her hair was either shaved or forcefully pulled and her mouth was ripped open from ear to ear.

This is the modus operandi of black widows. Lately, there have been dozens of black widow victims in the last three years.

The gruesome state of Vila's body became a reminder sent by the black widows to the people especially the women not to mess with them.

The black widow modus was a torture murder style out of jealousy. The black widows' style of torture-murder was known as reaping. it was a playword between reap and rip because the victims were usually young virgins therefore they called it reaping and they usually scarred the victim's face as in ripping her face.

Originally it was over a hundred years ago right after the story of Syndrilla took place, a woman who wanted another woman's husband to get her a lavish lifestyle she would never have due to the Old Way law which a man can only marry a woman and lasted for a lifetime.

So, the woman killed the wife to get herself married to the powerful wealthy lord.

In the wake of the New Way reformation, the church sanctioned divorce - a concept initially embraced with glee by men across the realm. For a time, husbands exercised this new freedom liberally, casting off wives who no longer held their interest on whims, ever pursuing younger, more beautiful companions. Married women lived in perpetual fear, never knowing when their spouse might take a wandering eye and leave them destitute for another's charms.

To protect the discarded wives, the New Way soon instituted further laws - alimony, child support, and a wife's right to half her husband's assets upon divorce. The Court of Aione granted these dissolutions on a woman's demand, no investigation or evidence was required beyond her mere request.

However, this opened a door to a more insidious transformation. The black widow's deadly destructive lifestyle shifted from closed-door crimes to the wealthy upper classes. Affluent women consumed by spite and jealousy towards romantic rivals could now employ cutthroats to violate or even kill their perceived competition with few repercussions.

The entertainment elite proved especially susceptible to these poisonous machinations. Established actresses, envious of younger, lovelier ingenues threatening their status, found they could simply demand freedom from their marriages...and permanently remove the sources of their bitter jealousy.

Like a virulent plague, the black widows' toxic brand of femininity and entitlement spread through the nobility and social elite. No wealthy man's mistress or the young bride was safe from their vindictive grasp and the blades of their mercenary assassins. The New Way's well-intentioned reforms enabled an unintended kultur of casual murderesshood among the privileged classes.

the scarring face of the victim was the core message that originated from the story of Syndrilla the queen in the mask whose pretty face was scarred heavily by her stepmother and stepsisters out of jealousy because she was the one who got asked by the prince for a hand in marriage.

Syndrilla was a symbol of a glimmering successful social climber. while Syndrilla's role was believed to give the actress who played her fame and fortune until the end of their life.

Vila's mutilated body was the fifth such grisly discovery in just the last two years. A wave of paranoia gripped the city as news of her death spread like wildfire. Women dared not venture out unaccompanied, even in the broad daylight - the threat of the black widows loomed too large. Parents kept their daughters confined indoors after sunset, forbidding them from so much as stepping into the secluded courtyard to play.

Terror pervaded every Corner of the capital like a miasmic fog. Whispers of wealthy women driven to unspeakable acts of vengeance by petty jealousies and desire for power carried on the evening winds. No young beauty was safe from the vindictive grasp and mercenary blades employed by these murderous matriarchs.

As the first rays of dawn broke over the city, the Crown's Hall of Justice swiftly mobilized. An elite team of Inquirors was immediately tasked with investigating Vila's death, hopefully stemming the tide of black widow violence that had plunged the populace into a waking nightmare.

The opulent manor homes and glittering promenades of the nobility rang hollow and ominous in the morning light. Husbands eyed their wives with newfound distrust and fear. Servants jumped at shadows, wondering if their lustful glances had marked them for death at the hands of their employer's jealous spouse. A pall of dread and suspicion blanketed the streets.

In the city's poorer quarters, hearty laughter and raucous play rang out as it always had - a small reprieve from the prevailing atmosphere of terror gripping the elite. But even there, the black shadow of the widows' malice loomed, threatening to engulf all in its path. No one was truly safe until the murderous ring was uncovered and brought to justice.

⁕⁕⁕

A slender female apprentice investigated the victim in the morgue with the help of a morgue master scholere. The lithe, attractive form of the female apprentice contrasted starkly with the grim atmosphere of the garrison's morgue. Like all female Inquirors and apprentices, she donned the iconic mask of Lady Justice - both symbolic and pragmatic, shielding her beauty from harm's way.

"Good morning, everyone," a man in his late thirties announced as he entered, the brooch of a hound - sigil of the Crown's elite Inquirors - glinting on his lapel.

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"Inquiror Albert," the apprentice greeted crisply, saluting. Though obscured by her mask, her voice carried a sweet, youthful lilt.

"Another reaping, is it?" Albert's gaze fell upon the shrouded corpse lying in harsh illumination.

The apprentice's eyes filled with pity as she looked upon the victim, just a few years her senior. "Yes, it seems this is the fifth this year alone."

Albert sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "In just the last three years, we've seen reaping activity sharply increase."

Turning his scrutinizing gaze to his protégé, he prompted, "What do we know?"

"She just turned seventeen. Her name was Vila Edenweiss." The apprentice moved to stand beside her mentor, report in hand as he examined the body. Eagerly, she continued, "She was a common-born from the small town of Thornbush, near Ruslengard's border. Her family relocated to Arumia to allow Vila to pursue an acting career. She was one of three up-and-coming talents dubbed the 'Three Princesses', come to make their debut in the prestigious Grand Paragon—"

Albert raised his hand, stilling her breathless exposition mid-sentence as he continuously inspected the victim. "Don't tell me she recently landed a coveted role involving shoes, grand balls, and princelings?"

The apprentice swallowed hard. "Reports indicate she was just cast as Syndrilla, yes."

A tense silence stretched between them as the dead girl's story took shape. Albert shook his head in disappointment and disgust.

"Of course she was..." Inquiror Albert mumbled as he expressed his disdain.

The Inquiror turned around and took off his gloves to the gear desks at the edge of the morgue, he searched for something in the pile of parchments on the desk. searched for a while until he got what he was looking for. there were four parchments he pulled out of the pile of parchment.

Inquiror Albert spread out the quartet of parchment reports across his desk, mouth set in a grim line as he read aloud the disturbing details. "Brutally raped. Deep lacerations to the face. Mouth sliced in a grotesque smile from ear to ear." He paused, disgust contorting his weathered features. "Shaved head - a sign of disgrace. Broken neck from strangulation. And the body discarded for maximum shock value, sending a clear message."

The new apprentice, fresh from the academy, felt her stomach roil at the clinical recitation of such depraved acts. "What message, sir?" she asked, hating how small her voice sounded.

"Black widow." The two words carried the weight of a death knell.

She furrowed her brow, the term unfamiliar. "I...I don't follow..."

"Business competition," Albert clarified with a curt nod. When her puzzled expression remained, he rolled his eyes. Of course, she lacked the streetwise education required to grasp the nuances at play here. Book-smart but oblivious to the harsh realities pervading the underbelly of their society.

Perhaps that was for the best, he mused - the less she knew, the better. Let her maintain that ethereal innocence as long as she could before this work hardened her completely.

"Never you mind, apprentice," he said gruffly, gathering the parchments. "You'll come to understand the black widows' ways soon enough, I wager. More's the pity."

The apprentice noticed her small hands had started to tremble ever so slightly as she tucked away the grisly reports. For all his years witnessing the worst depravities, it seemed even a seasoned veteran like Inquiror Albert found certain crimes too much to stomach.

A weighted silence descended over the cramped morgue office. Outside, the raucous noise of the capital's streets filtered in - vendors hawking their wares, horses clopping over slab stones, peals of raucous laughter. A world completely divorced from the one they currently inhabited, steeped in darkness and human cruelty.

"Let's take a walk outside, I need some fresh air.. and some drink," said Inquiror Albert to his apprentice as walk to the doorway where a morgue master wearing a masker and leather apron waited patiently in silence.

"Yes sir," The young apprentice followed him.

"I'm done, Ken. thanks for your time, " Inquiror Albert talk to Kenway, the morgue master who has kept silent all the time since the Inquiror inspected the dead body.

"you can let her family take her body and don't forget to patch her up before handing her over. I'm going out to Dancing Turtle next door should anyone need me," The inquiror pointed out a well-known tavern just by the corner around the block where all visiting officials stayed or just had a gathering and some drink.

Morgue master Kenway nodded, still speechless even though this was his fifth time handling a reaping victim's dead body but still he could never get over it. the overkill horror really sent a message, not just to the Lyondyn citizens and women but also to a morgue master like him.

they exit the morgue and walk through the bustling corridor full of Crown's watch doing their job diligently. At the gate of the City Garrison, the two separated as the apprentice was tasked to do canvassing at the Grand Paragon while the Inquiror headed for a tavern just by the corner of the street.

The Garrison is the symbol of stability in the empire, each Garrison spread throughout the empire represents the stability of the territory. the army might win the war but it is the Crown's Hall of Justice with its Garrisons that keep the empire in order.

The Crown's watch, enforcer, and inquiror departments were under the ministry of the Crown. the Watches tied to their own respective area, the enforcers are the ones who bring justice or hunt the criminals, while the inquirors are the ones who investigate crimes.

the three of them known by the public who addressed them as as the shackle, the baton, and the parchment. They kept the crime rates under control in the empire and made the night relatively safe.

This is what made The Regalyon empire a desirable place to stay for business and fortune, it was stable where people could safely invest their money or have their property in the empire.

many other people come as illegal immigrants to pursue the Wessen dream while another more legal way is to become a mercenary or a sellsword for the empire to fight over the Valuel Plain's contested territory on behalf of the empire.

Who dares win, that's the general motto of mercenaries, sellswords, and pirates who originated from the Wessen realm.

⁕⁕⁕

As the harsh noon sun beat down, the apprentice came over to the Garrison after canvasing around the Grand Paragon for witness testimonies. Inquiror Albert was hunched over his desk, meticulously mapping out all the facts and reports gathered from the Crown's watches and witnesses regarding the latest black widow killing.

The apprentice wove through the organized chaos of the precinct to Albert's corner, eager to relay her findings. "We've got a description of our guy," she began without preamble. "Tall, burly man with scars on his face and missing front teeth. Last seen carrying a rolled up carpet to the back alley of the theatre district."

Albert mumbled the details under his breath, the pieces slowly clicking into place in his seasoned mind. "Tall, burly, scarred face..." It rang a bell for a certain well-known lowlife - a debt collector for the Shadowsong syndicate running extortion rackets in the dockyard, slums, old town, and entertainment district.

"Did you happen to get a name?" he asked, scribbling his pencil, and taking a note on his paper.

"Asked around, and the guards said our fellow goes by Donald Rockstone. Ugly Don, they call him down in the slums." the apprentice answered.

As Albert gestured for them to make their way to the tavern outside the garrison, he expounded on the twisted black widow lifestyle gripping the city's elite.

When the two of them stepped outside it was already sunset, with a golden hue and tangerine sky. Inquiror Albert took his time to marvel at the ordinary sunset before it was drowned by the tall structures of the Lyondyn building.

They continued their journey towards the tavern, weaving through the cacophonous streets thronged with merchants, laborers, and performers of every sort. The drone of a thousand conversations mixed with the clopping of horses' hooves and raucous calls of vendors hawking their wares.

Yet even in this vibrant bustle of daily life, a disquieting undercurrent rippled just beneath the surface. Watchful eyes peered from shuttered windows. Husbands kept protective arms around their young brides' waists. The ever-present threat of the black widows had seeped into every corner of the capital.

⁕⁕⁕