Chapter 9: The Curse
III
We stayed up all night, well I stayed up all night. Something woke Howard at about midnight but seeing me still reading and taking notes he fell swiftly back to sleep - despite his struggles. Light started to come through the windows and was feet from touching my undead flesh, when I remembered to reapply my spells.
I set down my quill and stretched. I had gone through every record from 25 to 20 years ago. Books and ledgers surrounded me on the library floor, a small pile also sat beside Howard where he still snored. Together we had gone through everything I could think of. Every receipt related to the estate, every contract, farms that provide meat for their table, the duck they supported in the local race, absolutely everything.
In all I had found five people who might have had any motive to do harm to this family and Howard had only found one before sleeping. I hated to admit it but my new friend had been right about his family, they appeared to be truly noble. My list of potential suspects ran thusly:
* Pugna Vita - a warrior who fought under the, at the time, head of the Phillips house, in some conflict in the east. She had lost a hand and believed her discharge from the army to be unfair. I found a number of letters written on her behalf partitioning the head of the family to allow her to rejoin the war. Address listed as the hunters guild’s lodge outside of town.
* Paul Vinson - a vineyard owner who’s entire plantation was bought by the Phillips’ and turned into a quarry. He reportedly purchased a much smaller vineyard and has had few sales.
* Peter Valentine - a florist who provided the bouquet for one of the family's weddings, only for it to be filled with bees. He was black listed by the family, which prevented him from working for anyone on good terms with the Phillips’, and his florist’s licence was revoked by the guild. He was then left destitute.
* Pamela Vale - a woman who was sold ratechin poison which bore the Phillips family stamp, manufactured by one of their alchemists. As best I could tell the alchemist in question had grown old and senile also he could hardly see. When the woman had sent her 12 year old son to douse poison about the holes the creatures had chewed in her cellar walls, he had died instantly from the poison that had touched his skin.
* Phoenix Valdez - an arsonist who burned down 8 of the businesses belonging to the Phillips family before being caught. She swore vengeance against the family in her testimony, though the reason wasn’t given. She was hanged about the neck until death. Although supposedly dead, she was the only person who had made a declaration of this sort.
1. Porcus Villam - a local pig farmer who provided meat to the Phillips estate at least from 25 years ago to 22 years ago and likely longer. For some reason they started purchasing from another farm. (this was the one Howard had discovered.)
I noticed they had the same initials, perhaps it was a side effect of the curse. A curse this powerful might do something like that and I had no other explanation for it.
I shook Howard awake after checking my list. He came-to with a start. Looking at the sun coming through the window he asked, “What time is it?” in a panic.
“It’s still early, the sun only crested the waves 10 minutes ago. He stood and started pacing, “I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he apologised, guilt evident on his face.
“It’s fine, I finished the search.” I consoled.
“It’s just I’ve been up for days trying to find something, anything that might save my dad. Anyway,” he said with a cough, “if you’ve completed the list we’ll have to investigate everyone on it, and we’ll have to do it fast. Or else my uncle is going to die today.” he put action to his words by stepping quickly to a golden rope which hung by the door. He pulled it twice and the distant sound of chimes could be heard somewhere in the house. A few short moments later the door opened and in stepped the footman from last night. His wig was slightly askew but that was the only sign that he had just woken and ran here.
Howard didn’t wait for him to catch his breath before delivering his orders, “ready my carriage, get the cook to prepare breakfast - something we can eat on the go, and fetch some clothes for myself and Osseus. I want it done by the time I reach the front gate.”
To the servants credit he didn’t question the orders, only bowing and walking stiffly down the corridor. With my Life Sense I saw that as soon as he rounded a corner and was out of sight he broke into a full on sprint. Howard straightened his pyjamas before leading me confidently through the house. He was nothing like the distraught child I had met the other day, now that there was a plan he was determined.
To my amazement, when he opened the front door there was a servant standing there holding two outfits. He gave them to Howard who looked at them before retreating back into the entryway and shutting the door. He handed me my set and began to strip without hesitation.
The clothes that had been given to the young Phillips were much the same as yesterday’s, a doublet and hose in red with gold accents. The outfit they had somehow made for me was similar but in my signature black with silver highlights. The shoulders were puffed out, as I assumed was the fashion, but not overly so - meaning it wouldn’t impede movement. The doublet and hose had a matching inlay pattern of ivy, embossed with silver. My buttons were of blackened metal and instead of having the Phillips family crest, as Howards did, they had the raised image of a skull wrapped in ivy on each and brushed with silver leaf to bring out the image. I even had a pair of perfectly fitted black leather brogues, the dots making the shape of a skull, which completed the ensemble.
I had to remove and put back on my glasses several times to ensure I was seeing it right. How they had managed to come up with something that fit me so perfectly but also suited my tastes in only one night was a miracle. Howard seemed unphased however so I shrugged and put on the clothes.
Uncomfortable with doing so, but following my host's instructions, I discarded my silkwear on the ground for the servants to collect. I was about to step outside when Howard pointed out I was still wearing my nightcap. I took it off and made sure to attach my spatial velvet pouch to the belt which cinched my doublet. I was impressed by the belt’s buckle which was made of silver and was in the shape of a skull with ivy growing out of its eye.
The black velvet pouch caught Howard’s attention but his haste stilled his tongue. He led the way through the door and across the drive. Beside the carriage, helmed by a rather grouchy looking driver, was Footman. Since I saw him last he had corrected his wig and now looked immaculate. He handed a freshly cooked bacon and egg sandwich to each of us before asking the young master:
“And where would sir like to go.” Howard looked to me, which seemed to annoy the servant - though he did his best to hide it.
“First stop, the hunter’s lodge outside of town,” I provided.
Howard turned back to Footman and when he didn’t say anything he prompted, “Well, you heard him.”
To which Footman replied, “Yes sir,” before relaying the order to the driver, who was right behind him and had heard the whole thing. I rolled my eyes at the noble custom before entering the hansom alongside my new friend. With some prompting from Howard we were soon flying along the road at breakneck speed.
Thinking I should be ready if we found an evil wizard I withdrew my fibula from the spatial pouch. Howard’s eyes widened when he saw it.
“I knew that was a spatial bag!” he ejaculated with some small excitement. “I can’t believe it, I can’t even get one. You need an enchanter with a spatial affinity. Can I ask; who was your master?”
“A powerful man who, it would seem, preferred a quiet life.” I answered vaguely. Howard took the hint and reluctantly turned away from the bag, only for his attention to be caught by my wand.
“What’s that?” he asked with a mix of disgust and curiosity. The energy he had, from finally having something to do, was infectious and I answered with some enthusiasm.
“This is my wand,” I said, handing him the yellowed bone with black runes.
“It looks rather sinister,” he remarked, taking it gingerly. “Is it a human bone?” Howard asked uneasily.
“It is.” I affirmed. He dropped the bone in disgust at my confirmation, luckily I had anticipated as much and I caught it before it struck the floor of the cab.
“Why would you need something like that?” he asked, a shiver travelling visibly up his spine. “I know you to be a fire mage, I see that ring on your finger and I know it’s a foci for fire magic. Wait, don’t tell me; are you a dual affinity caster?” anticipation was evident on his features. I nodded and he nearly jumped with excitement. “Show me, show me.” he ordered, then pleaded.
I smiled in response and took some lint from between the cushions and, using Necrotising Bolt with my fibula wand, I turned the dust into dust. Howard cocked his head in confusion so I looked about for a more effective demonstration. We had left the town by this time so I stuck out a hand and took from a passing hedgerow, a leaf. Using a less powerful version of the spell, I withered the leaf to a black husk before it too turned to dust and blew out the open window.
Howard was left wide eyed, “You really do have two affinities,” he said in awe. I chose not to correct him. “Hang on a minute,” he said as his brain slotted into gear, “I thought you apprenticed to a Wizard because you lacked the funds or aptitude for a proper education. With dual affinities you could have gotten a full scholarship to Woden’s, the houses would have been fighting over you.”
“I did take the entrance exam, but I was turned away for a lack of mana.” I explained, using Hal’s story.
“Really!” Howard exclaimed in disbelief, “I would have thought that could have been overlooked.”
“Apparently not.” I replied simply, not correcting any of his assumptions. Howard thought for a moment then laughed.
“What is it?” I asked.
“My mother. She’ll have a hard time keeping her promise to you.” he said between breaths.
“I don’t follow.” I said.
“She said we’d keep you until she could find you a new master but there can’t be many who could teach a dual affinity Wizard,” he chuckled. Truth be told I had completely forgotten about that as I didn’t intend to stick around long enough for it to be an issue. I had learned in my last life the folly of being beholden to nobles. I chuckled fakely with Howard to maintain the charade.
The carriage came to a halt, horse shoes sparking on sun baked earth, we had arrived at our first destination.
☠
I stepped out of the cab and immediately soaked my new knee length socks in the long, dew-covered grass which grew on the road’s embankment. I was about to warn Howard but he jumped out before I could say anything and there proceeded cursing, the driver may have laughed but if he did he hid it well. Howard ordered the cab to wait here, at the side of the road, as we walked along the small path to the hunter’s lodge. The driver nodded before pulling his hat over his eyes and trying to catch up on his sleep.
As we walked the trail to the lodge I subtly used the Flame spell to dry our clothes. Howard noticed the warming of his breeches and thanked me.
Congratulations:
* Flame has reached Lv.3
The lodge was a space that belonged to the hunter’s guild and could only be used by hunters who were members of the guild, the guild also worked with nobles to insure they were the only commoners who had the right to hunt large game on their lands. There were only three registered hunters in Dommoc and Pugna Vita, the first person on our list, was one of them.
We made our way into the forest, the floor blanketed with bluebells as far as the eye could see. I might have taken the time to appreciate it if time wasn’t such a precious thing.
It only took about fifteen minutes until we saw the lodge. It was hidden from all sides by brambly thickets and it wasn’t until we followed the path through the foliage that we actually saw the structure, hidden in its glade.
The clearing had neatly trimmed grass in a circle roughly 75 feet in diameter. In the centre was the lodge itself, a log construction, two stories high, with an attic. Steps lead up to a deck which stood in front of the house. To our right was a butchering shed, I deduced as much as some birds had been hung on the outside from its roof and blood seemed to stain the small building.
Howard strode forward and knocked on the front door, there was no response. I toggled my Life Sense and found no one was inside. One of the windows was unshuttered, Howard didn’t take much convincing to join me in breaking and entering.
Once inside we found signs of life, the fire was still crackling away happily, plates were left to dry on the rack, and three pegs were left bare of their coats. When we neared the back door my Detection skill tugged at me. In the rear porch there were the outlines of three shoes marked by hints of mud.
“The early bird catches the worm I suppose,” Howard said when he was sure the hunter’s were not in.
I concurred before proposing: “Should we wait here, or try and find them?” I knew the answer. Howard seemed uneasy even at the thought of staying still.
“Well at least we know Pugna Vita lives here,” I stated, after taking a breath and resigning myself to hunting the hunters.
“We do; how?” Howard asked, clearly not possessing the Detection skill.
“Left to dry on the plate rack, there are two sets of knives and forks and one fork with a sharpened edge; the implement of a one handed person.” I said, pointing to the items. “The fireplace set, instead of having a separate scoop and brush for collecting ash, the two are combined. You see, a brush extends from the shovel and can be operated with the thumb like so.” I added, demonstrating. “Finally there are the shoes.”
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“What shoes?” Howard asked, looking about.
“Here, you see their outline near the door.” I pointed out, “based on the scuff marks on the floor, bigfoot square toes is likely a man, as is longfoot pointy toes. Short and dainty however gives me the impression of a woman and here, above it, there is a larger impression on the wall than there is above the other two pairs. This is because she leans against the wall with her shoulder when she puts on her shoes whereas the other two use their hands. Thus we have a one handed woman in occupancy, I doubt there can be many of those in Dommoc.”
Howard followed my line of logic before saying, “that’s all well and good but how does it help us find her?”
“Simple,” I replied, opening the back door, “we just need to follow the small footprints.
It was not simple. It started out that way, we exited the back of the lodge to find another path out of the glade that led into the woods. Following this was easy. Even finding the place where Pugna had left the path was easy, we simply followed the trampled blue bells. However as soon as she began the hunt the trail dried up cold, she didn’t leave so much as a broken twig. No doubt the result of some kind of hunting skill.
“What do we do now?” Howard asked in a whisper as it seemed like the right tone to use in the middle of a forest.
“One moment,” I replied, matching his volume. I closed my eyes and looked about with Life Sense. There was no sign of a humanoid figure however I could make out a deer grazing at a stream about half a mile away. “This way,” I said, indicating the direction of the deer. I figured the best way to find a hunter would be to find her prey.
We walked slowly and as quietly as two well dressed boys could manage, towards the stream. When we were a hundred yards away, and still obscured from the animal’s sight by the forest, I held up my hand for Howard to stop.
Even at this distance the deer must have heard something as it rose its head from the water and swivelled its ears. After about a minute it calmed and returned to its drink. I waited a minute more before continuing, slower and quieter than before.
So it continued with stopping and starting until the animal was finally in sight. I looked about with both my normal sight and Life Sense but I didn’t see a thing. Still the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end and I knew we were being watched.
We waited a few more minutes until the deer was completely calm. A white fletched streak whistled through the leaves and an arrow sprouted from the doe’s heart, it keeled over - dead. Both of us looked around wildly for its source but neither of us could see anyone.
“What are you boys doing so far from the town?” a voice asked. It was feminine but harsh. “You wouldn’t be trying to illegally hunt?” she questioned, still not revealing herself.
Howard stood up straight, uncowled, and spoke clearly: “I am Howard Phillips, fourth in line to the Phillips’ name, and this is our forest. The hunters guild hunts here at our pleasure, and I am fully entitled to come here as and when I please.
“I apologise, I should have recognised you.” the voice returned with sincerity. Soon after a woman of about 40, but in excellent shape, slipped down from a tree and onto one knee. She had chestnut chest length hair, brown eyes and a freckled and weathered face. A bow was constructed around the stump of her left hand, leaving the right free to draw the string.
Howard acknowledged her bow with a slight nod that appeared to indicate she was permitted to stand.
“How can I be of service to you my lord?” she asked in a tone that said she was willing to do anything, even to die, should he ask.
“While I am grateful for your reticence, it is not required. Few are so civil these days.” Howard said in a formal tone, the inflection of his voice making it a question.
“I am aware, my lord, but I owe much to the Phillips family and I wish to show all due respect.” she answered honestly, her eyes clear and free of deception.
“You do?” Howard said before proceeding swiftly to the point, “I was led to believe you felt differently about our family. Did you not write a number of letters to my grandfather, begging for you to be taken back into service?”
“Before I relay this story, might I be permitted to dress the kill - every second is important after death.” she asked with deference.
“Can you work and talk?” Howard asked in response.
“Yes my lord,” Pugna said with a bow, before walking to the deer with her knife drawn.
“Twenty years ago,” she began with no heed for the blood that seeped onto her hands, “I lost my left hand.” she said, holding up the stump with the bow attached. “I was a scout with this kingdom’s army, serving in the regiment of Lord Phillips. We were on the run from an unexpected counter attack. We had just made enough ground to camp, so we chose a spot in a valley. We had been separated from the main army and in the eastern jungles an attack could come from anywhere at any time. Us Scouts were on constant patrol, to ensure we weren’t ambushed.” she said with a sigh. The guts shlopped out into a hole I had been digging at the hunter’s direction and with a shovel she had provided.
“I was young and reckless. I felt our pride had been wounded because we had been forced to flee. Hot blooded and foolish I left my post. I hoped to ascertain the enemy's position and give us a chance to take them unawares. I was always good at staying hidden in the forest back home, this forest, and with the skills my Scout class had given me I thought I was undetectable. I wasn’t.” she said somberly. She hoisted the deer up and Howard and I took its feet. She protested the idea of a noble doing such work but the young Phillips insisted.
“Those jungles weren’t my forest, they were those little furry savages’ playground. Before I knew it I had been captured without the chance to even fight back. They kept me for two days, I was a changed woman after that - and not just physically.” She paused for a moment to regain her composure.
“With the gap in our watch a raiding party of those fuzzy buggers snuck into our camp. They killed 6 good men and women without a sound before the alarm was raised. Sir Phillips roused the men and chased them into the hills. He didn’t give up the hunt for those two days and it was on the evening of the second when he attacked their camp. I had been tied to a spit and if they hadn’t come charging through those trees, I would have ended up in the stomachs of those foul creatures,” she said with a shiver as we hung the catch at the butchering hut.
“I was saved that day. I confessed my mistake to the commander, Sir Phillips. I knew I should be court-martialled for such an offence but I felt if I owned up to it I would at least die with honour. Your grandfather was a truly noble man, he pardoned me but I was still dismissed. The official reason was my injury but that wasn’t the case, such injuries can be healed after all, though at great expense. He made me swear that I would never take any military focused position again, not as mercenary or soldier or anything else where fighting would be involved. I was also made to swear that I would never get my hand healed, to keep as a reminder of my mistake.” she said with a shaking breath as she started to butcher the bird that had been hanging outside earlier, the deer still needing to be exsanguinated.
“Looking back it was tough but fair, though at the time it crushed me. I lived to fight you see and without that I didn’t know who I was anymore. I went to the Dommoc scribe after I was sent home and paid him the last of my coin to send letters to the lord on the front line, begging him to let me reenlist. I sought to do something to wipe away my sins as without bloodshed how could I. It was he who suggested I join the hunters’ guild, he even put in a good word with the guild head. I was nearly begging on the streets before I agreed and I have been grateful to him ever since. It was something I found a passion in. However my guilt still haunts me, to this day I still donate half of what I make to the church of healing, who served on the front lines and saved many a life, many a life that I did cost the kingdom.”
☠
“It wasn’t her,” Howard said as we hopped back into the cab and I agreed. Before we had left she had sworn that she would do anything in her power to help the Phillips family, all we need do is ask.
“Where to?” the driver asked when the rapping on the ceiling woke him from his nap.
“The Vineson’s new Vineyard.” I called back in reply before sitting back to contemplate what we had just heard. The trip was made in a silence of three parts; an awkward silence borne of the experiences the old soldier had relayed, a comfortable silence that came from the company of a friend, and the anticipatory silence that came from the anxiety Howard felt at the idea his uncle’s and father’s life was resting on his shoulders.
We stopped not far away at a small hillside plot which was filled with rows of grapes. The road led right to the front door of the villa and we weren’t subjected to wet grass.
Howard slammed the knocker three times before stepping back. It took a good ten minutes before anyone answered. When the door finally opened it only did so a crack, I could see a bagged eye through the opening but little more.
“What do you want?” a horse tenor asked.
“I am Howard Phillips, fourth in line to the name, here to see a Mr Paul Vinson.
“He’s dead, goodbye,” the voice replied, pausing between words to belch loudly. The man on the other side then tried to shut the door on us, I managed to snake my foot in the gap however and I heard a long groan from the otherside.
When my foot was thoroughly crushed and my new shoe creased, the door slowly opened. A portly man, half beast kin judging by the furriness of his ears, opened the door slowly; his tired eyes squinting against the light. His shirt was only half tucked in and his waistcoat was unbuttoned, giving a slovenly impression.
“If Paul Vinson is dead then; who do I have the honour of speaking to? Dubious though that honour may be.” Howard said, intending the last only for my ears. The man let out a long, drawn out sigh; as if talking to us was the most difficult thing in the world.
There proceeded a solid minute of silence where the man only stared at the floor before he finally worked up the energy to speak.
“The estate now belongs to his only child, Patrick Vinson.”
“Then I should like to speak to Patrick.” Howard said with a tone that brooked no argument. The ornery man grumbled but turned to face the interior of the villa, as he did I got a peek inside - there were people laid about all over the place, sleeping off what looked to be one hell of a night. The man paused to take in a breath.
“PATRICK! Get your arse out here.” he shouted. A wave of shivering convulsions went through the unconscious occupants, like wind through wheat. I had expected him to go and fetch the man so the yell caused me to flinch unintentionally. Howard smirked as he had remained unaffected.
Shortly after a hungover man, in nothing but his underwear, stumbled down the stairs. He was tall with the languid grace that spoke to a life of laziness, his hair was blond and his eyes blue.
The man we had been talking to whispered something to him, he nearly threw up, then he came to the door to talk to us.
“I’m sorry about my majordomo,” the man began, raising a hand to block the morning rays. “He can be a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a good man… most of the time.”
Howard was momentarily struck dumb that such a man was a servant, I wasn’t surprised given the quality of his own.
“How did your father feel about losing his old vineyard?” I asked, getting straight to the point. Patrick seemed confused for a moment but, no doubt being told I was here with a Phillips, he answered.
“Best thing that ever happened to him, to me.” Patrick replied with a cheery laugh.
Howard looked confused at this remark, “As I understood it this new patch is not as bountiful,” he said.
“True, we don’t make or sell as much,” Mr Vinson allowed, “but each bottle is worth ten times as much thanks to your grandfather's endorsement. I’d been meaning to thank your family.
“CURLY!” he shouted the last back into the house, the sleeping people again shivered in response.
The hairy man climbed some stairs laboriously then handed his master a bottle.
“Howard was it,” the still drunk man began and at a nod of confirmation continued, “I’d like you to have this 86 vintage as a token of my gratitude.”
Howard accepted the gift with grace then we repaired to the cab, “He’s not our guy,” Howard commented with some agitation. I concurred and we were off, racing to our next appointment.
☠
The third name on my list was also a bust and Howard grew more nervous with each inch the sun rose.
We had gone to the flower arrangers’ guild to begin our search for Peter Valentine as I couldn’t find the address. There wasn’t anyone there so early in the morning so we searched Dommoc for a florist.
We found one in short order. They too weren’t open but there was an apartment situated above the shop and I was willing to bet that was where the owner lived. It transpired I was correct and we ended up waking a rather upset bosmer woman. After the matter was elucidated she agreed to help us, but not before she extorted the young lordling for all he was worth.
Through her we learned what had become of Peter Valentine. He had been driven from the town when the Phillips blacklisted him; however that was not the end of his story. Given his affinity for bees he began an apiarist at a village twenty miles from Dommoc and he had reportedly been successful in his venture - producing some of the best honey around. He had been doing so for the last 21 years meaning he wouldn’t have had the emotion necessary to cast a curse of such power on the Phillips.
When we reentered the cab yet again Howard was growing increasingly antsy, his leg bounced up and down without his control.
The fourth was equally disappointing. Although she clearly held a grudge, spitting in Howards face when she saw him at her door in the early morning, she was not our culprit. While the young Phillips took the time to apologise for his family’s mistake, he was being surrounded by the woman’s six other boys - now fully grown, I examined her for any traces of magic. I had asked for several ingredients beforehand and I used them now. A chicken leg - to see a person's past - poppy seeds - to determine someone's emotional state at the time - and a bluberkin’s howl - to see any lingering attachments a curse may have left behind.
Congratulations:
* You have created the Curse Detector spell, 100 Xp rewarded.
Notification:
* Cannot level up until Subclass is chosen.
* Cannot choose a Subclass while using Possession or otherwise outside of one's body. Xp will be stored until you return to your body.
That was something to think about but for right now I was certain this woman had nothing to do with the matter. Howard was starting to look scared as the circle of men around him tightened, having made my determination I decided it was time to help.
With a bit of flashy magic I knew I could resolve things. Casting Flame with Hal’s old ring as a focus I raised my hand to my mouth and blew through it. Breathing fire like one of those fire eaters I had seen on occasion at court, I created a hole through which Howard escaped. I was careful to control the flames so they never came close enough to actually burn them. We took the opportunity to leg it back to the hansom.
When we sped away Howard caught his breath before saying, “it wasn’t her.” I hadn’t yet told him the results of my test so I was curious, “How did you come to that conclusion?”
“If she was certain my family had been cursed they wouldn’t have tried to jump me, they still feel they haven’t got justice yet. I’ll have to do something to make it right for that family.” the last was said more to himself.
The next person on our list was easy to check. With just a shovel and half an hour’s work I was able to determine that Phoenix Valdez was, indeed, dead. I had my suspicions but the shrivelled husk of a woman matched the description of the arsonist. We asked the executioner if we could dig at Hangman's Hill and he was more than happy to oblige, saying, “Dig away, you can take a souvenir if you like,” then again someone had to be quite strange to become an executioner. He also told us that, “Phoenix was batshit insane,” he was apparently only the executioner's apprentice when she was killed but he reckoned she could have equally declared a vendetta against any other family, she likely chose Howard’s as it was the biggest and garnered her the most attention.
☠
So it was, with the sun a quarter of the way through the sky and the horse beginning to slow, that we made it to our final stop. A run down pig farm who’s pigs had long since left. All that remained was a small thatched wooden building with shuttered windows. We first approached a neighbouring farm and asked after Porcus Villum. He, too, was dead. He had died 21 years before, the old man who told us this also said he had a young son but he hadn’t been seen in years. Last the farmer had heard his son had moved to live with family.
Just to be sure we broke into the abandoned, ramshackled house. To both of our surprise it was clear someone had been living here. A bed was made and a sack of oats sat by the stove.
“Can you detect traces of a curse here?” Howard asked with some hope.
“It doesn't work like that, those sort of traces only stick to people.” I explained. Howard was disappointed and redirected his energy into searching the surrounding area. When he was sure he wouldn’t find anyone he asked:
“Couldn’t you look at my uncle or father or me and trace the curse back from us.”
I was about to say no but then something struck me. I wouldn't be able to with the spell I had designed and used earlier; the other spell I knew which would show the connections a curse made as purple ribbons required rare components and more mana than this vessel could channel but the system created spell Curse Detection…
To test my theory I tried using it on Howard. I could see connecting but they were murky and indistinct - it was hard to tell if I was just seeing things. By this time Howard was beginning to grow impatient.
“Yes,” I began hesitantly, “I think I could if I was able to use that spell on someone closer to the curse, your uncle or father.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” Howard roared, emotion getting the better of him.
“The spell only just levelled up.” I lied, not willing to explain my full situation. Howard thought for a second then abandoned the pig farmer hunt and repaired to the carriage with great haste. It was moving before I had fully stepped inside and Howard was determined to give me the silent treatment until we reached our destination; despite my apology.
When we reached the house it was late morning and already there was a great happening about the place. A number of carts and uniformed men had arrived and were bustling about excitedly. Howard’s face paled as we reached the entrance and Footman opened the cab door with a sombre expression.