Adam and Ronald stood before the dwelling that served as the Shadow Seekers’ hideout, the scene of the gruesome massacre.

“Is this the house?” Adam inquired.

“Yes, Captain. Are you certain you wish to proceed? The scene is truly horrific. The stench alone was enough to drive me from the premises within moments. I still grapple with the unsettling question of how to dispose of the remains and why Jaxith would provide me with this location despite their demise.” Officer Ronald confessed.

“It is crucial to understand the connection between the assassin and his desire to eliminate the girl. Perhaps he was also responsible for their demise. Numerous possibilities exist regarding the events that transpired and their connection to both the girl and the hunter.” Adam observed, his gaze fixed upon the dwelling.

“There must be some clue, some indication of what transpired here.” Adam mused, his eyes intently scrutinizing the house. “I have a strong premonition that we will uncover something significant within these walls.”

Officer Ronald dismounted from his steed and approached the house’s entrance. Adam followed suit, mirroring his actions as Officer Ronald cautiously opened the door. The stench of decay immediately assailed their nostrils, a potent aroma of death permeating the air.

Adam noticed a discernible tremor in Officer Ronald’s hand as he hesitated to enter. Recognizing his apprehension, Adam stepped forward, taking the lead. Officer Ronald followed closely behind, seemingly relieved to have Adam assume the vanguard.

Upon entering, Adam was immediately confronted with a scene of abject carnage. Blood, now dried and darkened, stained the walls and floor, creating a macabre tapestry of violence. Scattered limbs and fragments of flesh lay strewn about, a grotesque testament to the brutality of the attack. Flies swarmed around the remains, their buzzing a constant, unsettling soundtrack. Adam instinctively covered his mouth and nose with his arm, momentarily closing his eyes to get acquainted with the gruesome spectacle.

“This hardly seems like an ideal location for a clandestine organization, Officer. Wouldn’t a more discreet location be preferable for a guild that has been a thorn in the town's side for years?” Adam observed calmly.

“I considered that possibility, Captain. However, perhaps their peripheral location at the town’s outskirts provided them with a degree of anonymity.” Officer Ronald offered.

“I doubt it,” Adam countered, his gaze sweeping across the room. “If this were their true hideout, the entire house would undoubtedly be a meticulously constructed façade. The actual hideout would likely be concealed within the very structure of this house.”

“Are you suggesting that the hideout is concealed within the walls of this house?” Officer Ronald inquired, his voice laced with disbelief. Adam merely nodded in response, his attention unwavering as he meticulously examined his surroundings, scrutinizing paintings, clocks, and any other potential hiding places. Officer Ronald, overwhelmed by the gruesome scene and the pervasive stench of death, began to mimic Adam’s actions, albeit with less focus and more apprehension.

“Captain, I do not believe this house is sufficiently spacious to accommodate a concealed hideout within its walls,” Officer Ronald remarked, his voice strained.

Adam, however, remained engrossed in his investigation. As he approached the end of the hallway, he proceeded with deliberate caution, delicately touching various objects along the way. Suddenly, a faint creaking sound emanated from beneath his right foot.

“The floorboards should not creak in this manner,” Adam mused, glancing down at the floor beneath his foot.

He slowly lifted his foot and knelt, examining the area more closely.

“Perhaps the hideout lies not within the house itself, but beneath it.” Adam surmised, lifting the rug and revealing a concealed trapdoor, the trapdoor for hideout!

“By the gods! You were correct, Captain!” Officer Ronald exclaimed, his astonishment evident.

“It was not properly secured, suggesting a hasty concealment. The assassin likely lacked the time to properly seal the entrance," Adam observed before cautiously opening the trapdoor. A more potent wave of the fetid odor emanated from below, causing Officer Ronald to recoil and retreat to the opposite end of the hallway.

“I trust you do not intend to descend into that abyss, Captain? The air is undoubtedly toxic.” Officer Ronald remarked, his expression a mixture of apprehension and nausea.

“Do not fret, Officer. I require you to remain outside with the horses and keep an eye for anything abnormal. I shall conduct a brief inspection and rejoin you shortly.” Adam assured him calmly.

“Certainly, Captain.” Officer Ronald replied with a sigh of relief. He was visibly relieved to escape the confines of the house, which had begun to feel eerily haunted. He hastened out of the dwelling.

Adam carefully descended the ladder, navigating the darkness of the subterranean hideout. Sunlight did not penetrate this subterranean chamber, and all the torches remained unlit. Upon reaching the floor, he fumbled for the torch affixed to the wall near the ladder. After a brief struggle while rubbing the torch’s head against the ground, he produced a spark, igniting the torch. He raised the flickering flame, illuminating the depths of the hideout, which, as he suspected, proved to be far more extensive than the house above. It was a testament to the ingenuity of the Shadow Seekers, a clever means of concealing their activities from the watchful eyes of the town.

The scene within the hideout was even more gruesome than that above. Limbs and heads lay scattered about, bodies mutilated beyond recognition, and furniture torn asunder. It became evident to Adam that the assassin had not perpetrated this massacre alone.

“He must have invoked the aid of lesser demonic species, utilizing the black stone in his possession to unleash this carnage. These men were likely caught completely off guard.” Adam surmised.

He continued his exploration, eventually discovering an office with the lifeless form of a man sprawled beside a desk. The man, clutching a sword, bore the marks of a savage mauling, his neck and stomach ravaged by monstrous bites. This was undoubtedly Michael, the individual entrusted with the leadership of the guild by Lance, the man whose kindness Irene had so frequently taken for granted. She had often expressed remorse for her harsh treatment of him, fearing that her actions might have contributed to his demise. Of course, Adam was unaware of these personal connections, and he merely continued his investigation, searching the office drawers for any potential clues.

“This man seems like the one in charge here, it’s obvious because of this office and the two dead guards that were standing in front of the office. Now let’s see what he has in here.” Adam mused while searching.

Adam’s search yielded several letters, all penned in the same elegant script and bearing the same signature. It became evident that an individual had been in regular correspondence with Michael, providing updates on the guild’s activities and expressing particular concern regarding Irene’s rebellious tendencies. The final letter, dated ten days prior, appeared to be the most recent.

Adam unfolded the letter and began to decipher its contents:

> “Dear Michael,

> I trust that all is proceeding as expected, particularly with Irene, who I understand can be quite troublesome. I am confident in your ability to guide her, to steer her towards the righteous path, despite her rebellious nature. After all, she did choose to join the guild of her own volition.

> In any case, I am writing to inform you that I shall be visiting within the next two days. I am eager to spend some time with you, my friend, and to inquire about your well-being, and of course, Irene.

> Sincerely,

> L.L.”

>

Adam pondered the letter’s contents. “This individual clearly harbors a peculiar interest in the young girl. His tone suggests a paternalistic concern, as if he were genuinely invested in her well-being. The letter indicates his arrival was expected more than 2 weeks ago, raising the question of his current whereabouts. Was he among the deceased? Or perhaps…” Adam’s mind began to race, searching for a plausible explanation.

“Before proceeding further, I must ascertain the identity of this ‘L.L.’.” Adam resolved, his gaze fixed on Michael’s lifeless form.

“Irene, wake up, sleepyhead,” Jaxith said, their voices a low murmur against the night. They were riding Senka, the darkness deepening around them. Irene, curled around Jaxith’s back, was fast asleep. She slowly opened her eyes, blinking against the encroaching shadows.

“Come on, girl, we’re nearly there,” Jaxith urged gently.

Irene raised her head, rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Finally. I know you haven’t been sleeping well lately, but you will get over it. Maybe a comfortable bed after these past few rough days will help.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she mumbled, stretching. “All I need is a comfy bed.”

“I’m sure we’ll get some good rest here,” Jaxith assured her. “I won’t even leave until you’re completely rested and ready to continue traveling. You truly deserve a break to release all that tension.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“We shouldn’t stay too long, though,” Irene said. “I need to see Lance quickly. The sooner we meet him, the better.”

“Don’t worry,” Jaxith replied as they entered the village. The moon hung high in the sky, casting long shadows. Owl calls echoed through the stillness. The village was small, with a few torches illuminating the entrances to closed houses and a handful of guards patrolling the streets. Strangers were clearly a rare sight.

“You never told me the name of this village, Jax,” Irene observed.

“Ebonmere,” Jaxith replied, his gaze sweeping over the scene. One of the guards was watching them with a curious expression.

“Is there a specific reason you wanted to come here, or is it just for rest?” Irene asked.

“Both, actually,” Jaxith said as they navigated a narrow alley. “I think we need a little break, and I also have a friend here, a very dear friend.”

“Okay, so where is he?” Irene inquired while they were taking a turn into an alley.

“He’s the owner of the inn here,” Jaxith said, “I’m sure he can get us a room.” He paused, his gaze sweeping over the street as if memorizing its layout. Then, they continued moving.

Five minutes later, Jaxith and Irene dismounted from Senka. Jaxith began tying him to a sturdy tree.

“Stay here for a second, Senka,” Irene said, patting the horse. “Jaxith will go in and find you a good place to sleep, right, Jax?”

“Irene, he’s a tough horse,” Jaxith said. “He can sleep here just fine. Don’t you remember how he slept when we were travelling?”

“But we were with him,” Irene insisted, her lips pouting. “We weren’t leaving him alone in the night while we slept warm in an inn.”

“Listen, kid,” Jaxith said, his tone serious. “I don’t think you understand what a normal horse is capable of. And obviously, a horse’s feelings won’t be harmed by this.”

“Listen, Jax,” Irene declared, crossing her arms and leaning back against Senka. “If you won’t find Senka a good place to sleep, then I’ll sleep with him, right here.”

“What?” Jaxith exclaimed, his annoyance growing.

“You heard me,” Irene repeated, and Senka nuzzled her affectionately.

“See!” Irene exclaimed, hugging Senka’s head. “He’s happy that I’m looking after him.”

“He doesn’t understand you,” Jaxith muttered.

“Yes, he does,” Irene countered, and Senka neighed softly, looking at Jaxith with intelligent eyes.

“Now he’s angry because of you,” Irene said.

“Angry?” Jaxith echoed, looking at Senka. He felt a wave of absurdity wash over him. But then, a thought struck him. Was Senka actually understanding them? Since Irene healed him, he’d been acting strangely, showering her with affection. Had Irene done something more than just heal him?

“Okay, you win,” Jaxith conceded calmly, turning to Irene. “I’ll find him a good place to sleep.”

“Woohoo! You won’t sleep outside today, Senka!” Irene exclaimed, hugging the horse.

“Shhh, lower your voice,” Jaxith admonished. “We’re in a small village. People here go to bed early, except at the inn, and even there it’s quiet. Unlike in Orstone, where they stay up late.”

“Oh, sorry,” Irene mumbled. Jaxith sighed.

“Now follow me,” he said, turning and heading towards the inn.

“Be a good boy until we come back,” Irene whispered, rubbing Senka’s ears before hurrying after Jaxith.

The inn door swung open, a bell announcing their arrival. Jaxith and Irene stepped inside. The inn was nearly empty, only a few patrons sipping drinks quietly, and a woman playing soothing music on a harp. All eyes were on them, their unfamiliar faces drawing attention. Irene, feeling the weight of their stares, quickened her pace to stay close to Jaxith, her gaze darting around nervously. They approached the counter where a man with short white hair was washing glasses, his back to them. Jaxith placed his hand on the counter with a firm tap, seeking the innkeeper’s attention.

“You can tell me what you want without any disturbance,” the man said calmly, his voice devoid of warmth. “I don’t think newcomers from out of town behave like that.”

“What if I intentionally want to miss with you, old Miller?” Jaxith retorted, a playful smile gracing his lips. A few patrons stiffened, their eyes hardening as they shifted into a more menacing stance. Irene noticed the hostility and clutched Jaxith’s arm, her worry growing.

“Jax, are you sure about having friends here?” she whispered.

“Still want to mess with me, young man?” the innkeeper challenged.

“Unless you bring me your best orange juice,” Jaxith replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes. The innkeeper let out a low chuckle, finally turning around. He was a man in his early fifties, his expression now a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

“You still drink like a child, son,” the old man chuckled warmly.

“What can I say?” Jaxith grinned. “Nature endowed me with a citrus addiction.”

“JAXITH THE HUNTER, LONG TIME NO SEE BOY!” the man boomed, turning from the counter to embrace Jaxith in a hearty hug. “Sit down, boys. This man is a dear friend. I won’t forget the great favor he did me years ago. I missed you, young man.”

“Me too, Miller,” Jaxith replied, returning the embrace. The other patrons in the inn shifted back, watching the reunion with a mixture of curiosity and unease.

“More than three years, and you don’t come to visit, you bastard!” Miller exclaimed playfully.

“You know the nature of my job,” Jaxith explained. “I rarely stray from Lumina, except on necessary occasions.”

“So, I guess this is one of those occasions?” Miller observed, noticing the dirt and bloodstains on Jaxith’s clothes.

“Yeah,” Jaxith confirmed. Miller then noticed Irene.

“The girl is with you?” Miller inquired.

“Yes, her name is Irene,” Jaxith said. “Irene, meet Miller, my dear friend. One of the most trustworthy people I’ve ever known.” Irene stepped forward and extended her hand.

“Right, Mr. Miller,” Irene said, “I-um, I’m honored to meet you.” Miller paused, his gaze lingering on her face. He can easily notice that she’s not a human, but chose not to dwell on it. He shook her hand.

“And polite,” Miller remarked with a smile. “I really adore polite girls. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Irene.”

“Thank you, Mr. Miller,” Irene replied, her hand still in his.

“So, how’re you doing?” Miller asked Jaxith, his gaze lingering on Irene for a moment.

“I’m fine,” Jaxith replied, “not perfect, but fine.”

“Jax, Senka,” Irene reminded him, her voice gentle. Jaxith sighed.

“Hey, Miller,” Jaxith began, “before we indulge in talking, I have a little request.”

“Go on,” Miller encouraged.

A few moments later, they stood outside a wooden red double door. Miller slowly opened it, lighting an oil lamp inside. It appeared to be a barn.

“Here we are,” Miller said. “This little barn is for the horses of guests who rent rooms at the inn. Come on, get him in. There’s even food for him there. Just give him what he wants.”

“Okay, thank you, Mr. Miller,” Irene said, leading Senka into the barn. “Come on, Senka.”

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble, Miller,” Jaxith apologized, “but she really likes that horse, and I didn’t want to upset her.”

“That’s nothing, Jaxith,” Miller assured him. “This time of year is almost empty, and the horse looks very good, actually. That’s a fine piece of a young stallion. Anyways, what’s the story behind that girl? I don’t think you’ve become some sort of babysitter, or have you?”

“That’s a very long story,” Jaxith admitted, “I don’t know where to begin.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Miller said. “I’ll get you some juice and myself a drink. We can talk about whatever you want while Irene settles the horse in. And we can even continue talking inside afterwards. I’m sure you need a place to crash and a good meal too.”

“I’m sorry if I’m causing you any trouble,” Jaxith said, “but you’re the only one I can rely on in a situation like this. And actually, I may need Emelia’s help with something regarding Irene.”

“Don’t bother, Jax,” Miller said, patting Jaxith’s arm. “After all, you saved her. And Emelia is the best thing that happened in my life. Whatever I do won’t be enough to repay your favor.”

“How is she? And Mrs. Miller?” Jaxith inquired.

“Emelia is fine,” Miller replied happily. “She’s even married now. I hoped you would have attended the wedding.”

“That’s great news, Miller,” Jaxith said. “I’m really happy for her and you. What about Mrs. Miller?”

“Well, she passed away about two years ago,” Miller said, his voice tinged with sadness. “You remember how she was always sick. The last time, she didn't make it.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry, Miller,” Jaxith said. “I truly had no idea.”

“Don’t apologize,” Miller said. “At least she saw our only daughter get married. I still remember her tears of joy when she was dressing Emelia. Anyway, I don’t want to make things awkward for you. I’ll go get the drinks and have a chat while the maid prepares food for you and Irene.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jaxith agreed.

Miller stood and walked away. Jaxith turned to watch Irene in the barn. She was sweeping a corner with a broom.

“This corner is warm and perfect for you, Senka,” Irene murmured to the horse. Jaxith smiled, watching her.