Declan Blackwell was a clerk within the village magistrate, his place in society was fortunate but monotonous lines of writing was all his life ever had to offer. Today was already a different day than normal, the guard had whisked him away from sleep to record the event of a murder on the village boundary. The new system required that the details of any suspicious death was to be recorded on paper and being one of the only people able to write, the duty fell upon him.  The occupants of the carriage lay dead, strangely untouched by the fire that had consumed the hollow, burnt out husk that was left behind. The final sight was what troubled him the most, a faded royal crest on the armor of the corpse.