Ari nodded at Cardinal Octavus for the two Holy Guards to unveil the centrepiece of this macabre scene, much like the unveiling of a masterpiece in a gallery. Other Agents called Reds like her painters; Reds painted all kinds of makeshift canvases with nature’s greatest crimson. Yet, to Ari, the truest art had always been the remnants of life.

In the breath between now and next, she’d turned countless people into objects. Husbands, sisters, neighbours, sons, all turned into crumbling statues, where all that was left to love was the way that each hair was expertly sewn onto the scalp, and the way that each lash was laced just above the waterline of those eyelids, destined to be closed until they were consumed by new life: by the two-winged diptera, perhaps.

That was what she loved about insects, the greatest animators of carrion, despatchers of what a Red like her wouldn’t, colleagues in another department.

The body before her smelled of spilled drinks instead of decay, and lay sprawled on his stomach, head turned a little to the left. The crimson eyes that used to foretell the blood he’d spill laid limply closed. The glossy, night-dark hair that would strike fear into the hearts of foes was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a tangled thicket of sweat and vomit.

A curator would slip a label on the scene:

---

Unknown (b. 13th century?) – how did this world count their years anyway?

Despair, date unknown

Human body on cobble and mud

Partial gift from the murderer to the citizens of Eirene

---

She gently nudged his arm with her foot, careful not to arouse the Cardinal’s suspicions, and bent down for a closer look at the stranger’s face.

Was this really the Tristram she’d read in the book?

~I’m afraid it’s true. You’ve just found Duke Taur.~

Day two, and the second male lead was dead.

===Quest: Second Lead. Find Duke Taur. [Complete]===

She could hear the Chief’s voice, see the glint of cold, fluorescent light reflected in his eyes.

‘You want to escape a life of killing? Ari Lee, Ari Lee. Things didn’t start for you here. Things didn’t start with me. I didn’t make you. I merely found you. Open your eyes. You have been asking the wrong question all along. It’s not “can I escape this world?”. Do you see it now? Ari Lee, Ari Lee. The truth is: “can the world escape me?”’

‘That is definitely the man who used to be the Duke of Taur,’ said Ari, gaze lingering on the body.

‘My condolences, my lady.’ Cardinal Octavus sighed and motioned the guards to cover the body again, to shield living eyes from the inevitability of death. ‘What a misfortune to fall on House Taur. One possessed, and another’s life ended in a tragic accident.’

‘Wait… But… How?’

‘How? Well… It looks like he’d tried to drown his sorrows, but slipped and fell, face-down, into the ditch, on his way home.’

What was the Cardinal saying?

‘But… he is in nothing but his linen undershirt…’

He wasn’t even wearing the undershirt, but had it laid over his bare back and precariously tucked under the edges so that it wouldn’t be blown away by the wind.

‘Ah. The undershirt. I asked one of my guards to lend him some clothing.’

One of the Holy Guards with overgrown whiskers raised his hand to claim ownership of the yellowing linen.

‘So… he wasn’t wearing anything?’ said Ari.

‘That was the case when we found him, yes.’

‘And you think he tripped and fell while wandering the streets naked…?’

‘I think he was clothed before he died, but if you lie on the streets in fancy clothes, they will be gone before the morning. He was the Duke of Taur. His clothing, no matter how foul-smelling, were all from good quality fabrics. It would have been a surprise to find him clothed.’

~In Eirene? It depends on the reason, of course, but in general, if it’s a few barleys, then they will fine you triple the amount stolen, but if it’s anymore than a moon’s worth, the King has the right to take an ear. When you get to gold, you will be hung.~

So chances were, the Cardinal was lying.

Something as distinctive as a murdered duke’s full attire made poor contraband, and the Cardinal wasn’t foolish enough to truly believe that someone would really pillage the whole outfit rather than just the coins in the dead man’s pocket.

The greatest benefit of seeing a naked body was the ease of observing the state of what had once been Tristram. Livor mortis had well and truly settled in on the body’s back, where red blood cells could no longer win the fight against gravity without the help of a beating heart.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

‘Was he lying on his back when you found him?’ she asked the closest guard, bending down for a better look. The cherry-red patches covered the whole back, yet the front was as pale as the young guard’s face.

‘No. He was face-down in the ditch. No one has performed the passing ceremony yet,’ said the guard.

‘We were waiting to confirm his identity, which you have now helped us do, my lady. For that, I am very grateful. Would you like to bid your goodbyes?’ Cardinal Octavus rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Or would you prefer not to touch him?’

~Why would you want to?~

~If you must. You are supposed to rest three fingers on your lips, then place those three anywhere on his body. It’d be best to go for the forehead. I think you can just about squeeze in there… His head is slightly sideways.~

She pressed three fingers against her lips, as she’d done at mealtimes, and said, ‘May the Fated One savour him.’

Then she pushed aside a little of the linen and pressed down just below the dead man’s shoulder. The Cardinal was right about one thing. As she bent down, she caught a glimpse of the fabric folds painted into the cherry-red marks on his back. He must have died and lain dead for hours, clothed or atop some sort of fabric, for those marks to form.

She lifted her fingers. The body was cold, as expected, and the skin didn’t blanch where she’d applied pressure, also as expected; livor mortis would settle at eight, perhaps twelve hours in the cold weather, and rigor mortis would fade after twenty-four.

His limbs looked floppy enough, and felt so too when she’d nudged his arm with her foot. Rigor mortis had passed, and there were no tell-tale white spots near his eyes and mouth: a possibility that the flies had yet to colonise him.

What did that give her?

An estimate: death occurred twenty-four hours ago.

Twenty-four hours ago, Lady Malory–

~You’ve got to stop calling her that, especially with the Cardinal nearby.~

~Lady Malory. Please make sure you call her Mal, or Malory. As we come, so we go. We relinquish our titles when we die. It is wrong to address her as Lady Malory now. If someone hears you, we will get into trouble with the Church. Practise please. Malory. Malory. Malory. Tristram. Tristram. Actually, you already call him Tristram, don’t you.~

Twenty-four hours ago, Malory had not yet been burned, and Ari had just woken up in this unfamiliar world.

So far so good.

But…

Timing aside, the colour of the livor mortis made no sense.

Perhaps the position of the livor mortis could be explained by someone having moved the body, and the lack of clothing could be to hide the circumstances of his death, but the colour…

Tristram’s body should have looked bruised, like all those bodies she’d been locked up with in the Cube. One day dead: she’d liked that room the best; the room next door was much less pleasant. There’d been other-coloured stains under the skin too. Pink, for hypothermia, and this bright cherry-red on Tristram’s body, for carbon monoxide poisoning.

You couldn’t get carbon monoxide poisoning out in the open. The body had been moved. Properly moved. Not just turned over.

~Someone poisoned him? What is this carbon thing you speak of? It is not something I have come across, but I am no expert in poisons.~

Ari studied Cardinal Octavus’s face, and found him staring back with sickening concern. Had another spirit taken over his body? Because this couldn’t have been the same man who’d ordered the burning of a young teen.

‘Here we bid our goodbyes to a young man born with the name of Tristram, now ready to shed his titles and return to the name of Tristram. Tristram was a beloved brother and a friend to many. He loved his country dearly, and in return, it loved him. May he find Malory again in the next life and lead a joyful and peaceful life. May the Fated One savour him,’ he said, repeating her gesture, though resting his fingers on Tristram’s forehead, like Claribel had recommended. ‘There. Now, please bring him to the Cathedral. No need for him to remain attached to the spot of his demise.’

Two Holy Guards stepped forth at his command, heaving the body onto a stretcher, this time face up: no easy job even for two trained guards, as Tristram had been a tall and muscled man. Then what of the person who’d moved the body here?

Cardinal Octavus draped his own robe over Tristram; it covered the dead man’s face, but was only long enough to reach his knees. The bottoms of Tristram’s feet were too clean to have been dragged on the ground. Had his shoes been left on as the culprit transported the body? Or had it been a man strong enough to lug Tristram on his shoulder? What about two men? A whole syndicate?

~Whoever it was couldn’t have been a true follower of the Fated One.~

~…No. But you cannot move a body without the blessings of a priest, because only a blessing can ensure the safe passage of the man to the Fated One, and denying a spirit from the embrace of the Fated One is the worst crime a true follower can commit.~

That explained the presence of the Cardinal.

~If you are suspecting Cardinal Octavus, he wouldn’t. In Mal’s case, it would have been because he was following the orders of the Holy Fang. He’s… He’s…~

Bless him first, then move him. Problem solved.

And any religion, no matter how peaceful, could be used to inspire a killer. She should know.

Duḥkha. The First Noble Truth. Life is suffering.

‘So why don’t you help end it? I say killing is the First Noble Act. Think about it, Ari. You can be a smart girl when you put your mind to it, can’t you? Every life you see on earth is one that has failed to enter nirvana. It is only right that we give them a chance to start over and choose the right path of ascension.’

The first twist of another’s words for his own benefit.

~You are starting to sound like Lady Oriana.~

‘My lady, can I offer you a drink of turmeric tea in the Cathedral?’ said Cardinal Octavus, coming to a stop a dagger-swing away.

‘I’m afraid I was on my way to the Court of Assistants.’

‘Then please take good care, my lady. If you are not in the condition to visit overmorrow, then we would be more than happy to receive Father Mathis and Father Bertin instead.’

‘Thank you for your concern, but I will be there to fulfil my duty. The children will wish to see me before the Midwinter Festival, and I cannot disappoint them. Not when life is so full of disappointments already.’

Claribel’s gaze lingered one final time on the covered form of Tristram, then she turned and walked away.