“I hate this Quarter.” Elsha griped, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Mhmm.” Kint grunted.

Several merchant’s passed them on the cobbled streets. They were dripping with lace and embroidery, faces caked in tanning powders.

“These merchants.” She continued. “They just don’t understand what it means to be rich.”

“Uhuh.” Kint nodded, running a hand through slick hair. The day was humid. The thinning Shroud orange with the morning sun.

“I mean…” She started, “Look at these things.” She pointed to the homes around them.

Everything was Mage Forged. Whether stone, or grown wood, they all looked like they were put together by a child playing with blocks. “Just because you can afford a Mage, doesn’t mean you should use one.”

“Right.” Kint huffed. Considering whether to remove his cloak or not.

“I mean, come one…” She groaned, gesturing to a Mage Grown house held aloft by three red wood pillars.

“There it is.” Kint said, pointing to a white stone mansion down the road.

“You know, Clarette Syfone said that homes like these break the spirit of the Second and Third Tenets.” Elsha commented, “I tend to agree… I doubt the hands that built them had a callous on them.”

Kint snorted a laugh.

“You disagree?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I get my gospel from the Prophet.” Kint replied, “Not some sixth generation Syfone puff.”

Elsha’s brows knit together. “I didn’t know you were religious.”

“We’re here.” Kint said, turning to the gate of the Mage forged home.

The blood orange sun rose over the expansive home. The front door opened, a young man in an Apprentice Inspector’s uniform stepping out. Silvery moats of fog parted around him as he strode the walkway.

“I’ll meet you inside.” Elsha muttered, shouldering past the young man.

“Payter.” Kint greeted.

“Did I do something to offend her?” The young man asked, checking back over his shoulder.

“She’s a fickle one.” Kint soothed. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

The young man frowned. He turned to Kint, bowing his head.

“Inspector Kint.” He started, straightening to attention. “I’ve come to give my initial findings.”

“Go ahead.” Kint grinned. Recognizing the ambition in the young man’s eyes.

“I arrived at the scene approximately two hours ago. Responding to a public disturbance report from the neighbors. The house was quiet when he arrived. I broke in when no one responded to my request for entry.”

Kint raised an eyebrow. He didn’t think the boy was the type to just break in.

“The lower level was empty so I proceeded upstairs. Where I found the victim, a woman, late twenties. She– She was laid out on the dining table, a knife–” He hesitated, face queasy.

“That bad?” Kint asked.

The young man nodded.

“I found the husband in the bedroom.” Payter continued. “He seems a bit… touched.”

Kint frowned. That wasn’t a good sign.

“Did he attack you?” Kint asked.

“No. He didn’t seem dangerous. Just broken.” The boy noted. “I tied him to a bedpost.”

Kint nodded. “Do the neighbors know?” He asked.

“Just that there’s a body.” The young man replied, color returning. “And that Inspectors were on the way.”

Shit.

There were too many bodies lately. With this one being in the Merchant’s Quarter, people would ask questions. People too important to ignore. Normally Kint would drag a case like this out. Using it as an excuse to avoid other jobs. But, the Mayor would be up his ass on this.

He sighed.

“Tell the Mayor we’ll have this sewn up by noon.” Kint assured.

The boy gave him a skeptical look, not moving.

Kint raised an eyebrow.

“Go.” He said, with a sharper tone.

Kint watched, as the silhouette of the Apprentice Inspector faded into the distant fog. He put a hand to his forehead, rubbing sweat from his brow. He worked his jaw.

He didn’t want to do what he was about to do. It had been years since he’d done it. Happy years. Years without anxiety, strain, or stress… That’s the whole reason he’d moved to this District. Murder was so rare here that the old Courier had shivered at the mention of it. Now, there were six in the last four months.

Kint sighed. “No use crying about it.”

He took a deep breath in, filling his lungs with humid air. He closed his eyes. As the air left his chest, his emotions fled as well. His bias, assumptions, corrupting context. It all evaporated, released in his breath, till there nothing remained. In that nothing, that Silent State, he placed an objective. What happened here? Simplest explanation. He qualified.

He opened his eyes. The world flooded in, filtered through the sieve of ‘what happened here?’

Overgrown hedges. Poorly cut grass. A spiderweb in the corner of a first floor window. Information came to him like fish to a baited line. A story began to build in his mind. The simplest explanation.

Kint walked down the entryway. He turned the bronze handle, levying his shoulder against the door to push inside. Dust puffed around him, making him cough.

There was a stairway in front, a ball room to his left. He stepped into the ballroom. Massive windows stretched across either side. Dark orange light beamed into the room from the back, cutting through the flurry of dust.

Shades on one side, not the other.

Kint knelt to the floor. Sweeping his fingers across the surface.

Extensive scuff marks on the wood. Months worth of dust.

Kint stood, rubbing the dust from his fingers. He moved to the entrance, ascending the stairs.

Square outlines on the walls. There were paintings hung once.

He crested the second floor. There was an open door to his right, the sun's light leaking into the dark hall.

He entered the rectangular room. There was a door at the far end, a long dining table leading up to it. The dark lacquered table shone with the orange glow of the sun through arched windows. The victim's body was splayed out across it toward the door.

Almost no furniture. He noticed. But, shapes in the dust where furniture used to be.

The picture in his mind was becoming clearer. Disparate parts of the story coming together.

Kint approached the victim. Her feet dangling off the far side of the table, head tilted off the other. Her hair spilled to the floor like a raven waterfall. Pools of blood glistened around her. A large kitchen knife protruded from her chest.

Kint moved closer, leaning in to get a better look at the wounds.

Her hands were laid over her stomach, covering the extent of the injuries.

They were placed there after the fact.

The knife stuck from the center of her chest. It was caked in blood. That single stab was enough to kill the woman, and likely pin her to the table. But, the killer had not stopped there.

Stab wounds covered the woman’s torso. Slits cut into her from shoulders to waist. Blood soaked through her elegant blue dress, the crimson liquid spilling out and drying in a pool on the table. The majority of the damage was done to the center of her chest. The knife had been driven in countless times creating a bowl of blood, rib bones, and viscera. The murder weapon protruded like a spade driven into the earth after a long day of digging.

This is hatred. Maybe insanity… but Rot? I need more… I need a cause.

He reached toward her stomach, lifting one of the victims hands, inspecting it. The appendage was surprisingly clean, only light bruising around the wrist. Laying the hand down to the victims side he reached for the other. Pulling it up. There was a deep crimson gash on her palm, close to the thumb. Several surface level cuts on her fingers with dark bruising around them. There was a pool of blood on the table below her elbow.

She grabbed the knife, trying to stop the first stab. The wounds spilled blood down her arm and between her fingers.

Examining the other side of the corpse, he saw a smaller pool of blood separate from the others. He stared at it, calculating. Carefully, he picked up the victim's left hand by the wrist, extending the arm. He laid it gently on the dark red pool.

She didn’t die like this. He rearranged the body after. Covering up what he’d done.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

There was a clarity of thought in those actions that made the Rot less likely.

Kint stepped back, nodding to himself. A bit of tension left his shoulders. He descended from the Silent State. Emotions rushing back to him.

He was satisfied. There was a story here. One that didn’t involve Sin or Rot. Just hard times and a failing marriage.

Kint’s eyes shifted to the door at his left. He grimaced.

The husband would be there.

He didn’t need to see the man. He had his story. He could take it back to the Mayor and ease the tensions in the quarter. Keep his name out of the public.

But he could hear… something. Coming from the room. A tinkling sound. Like chimes in the wind.

He stepped closer to the door. It was rhythmic. Chains beating against each other.

There was another sound as well. He put his ear to the door. Words…

He reached for the handle. Then stopped, the brass cold in his hand.

Was this necessary? Was there anything he needed in that room? Anything that would help him? Change his perspective on the case?

He opened the door.

The room was dark. A king bed with a canopied wooden frame took up most of the space. A sliver of light peaked through heavy shades at the opposite end of the room.

The rattling of chains was clear now. Like a thousand silver coins tumbling over and over.

Kint stepped inside. The air was humid. It swirled around him as he moved, sticking to his skin.The metallic taste of blood was in the air. The smell of sweat, body odor prominent.

He maneuvered around the bed. The ‘clink’ of chains echoed through the room. Harmonized to the steady beat of a rasping chorus.

“I have to free her.”

The husband was crouched in front of the bed. Sweat poured from the shirtless man as continued his slow rhythmic chant. His arms were chained above his head, heavy shackles twisted around a thick bedpost. His body pulled against its bonds with each rolling chant.

“I have to free her.”

Beads of sweat dripped to the floor as the pull of chains halted his momentum.

“I have to free her.”

He was stripped down to his briefs, blood oozing from his chafed knees. Kint moved to get a closer look at the man, crouching down in front of him, just a foot away from the apex of his swaying head.

Mr. Syfeeli had a pale face and sunken eyes. It was clear that the man was in poor health. Bloodshot eyes made months of heavy drinking the likely cause.

Kint looked deep into those dark eyes.

Was it madness?

“I have to free her.… I have to free her.… I have to free her… I have to free her.…” He looked straight ahead, eyes staring into Kint’s own, seeing nothing.

“I have to free her. I have to free her. I have to free her.” The chorus came again and again.

“You seem to have lost your clothes, friend.” Kint pointed out.

“Have to save her. I have to save her.”

“Probably for the best.” He continued. “It’s pretty messy out there.” Kint reached out and swiping two fingers across the man’s forearm, paving a pale line through skin dyed red with blood.

“I have to free her. I have to free her.”

“I know you didn’t mean to do it.” Kint whispered, like he was sharing a secret.

“I have to free her. I have to–”

“The way you placed her arms just so. Trying to hide what you’d done.”

“I have to free her. I have to free her.”

“That’s guilt, Friend. You didn’t mean for it to go this far, did you?”

He searched for some kind of reaction. But the chorus continued.

Kint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why was he doing this?

“I get it…” He continued, trying another angle. “Wives are demanding… A beauty like yours even more so. So much to live up to.” There was a change in the man’s movements. He’d slowed a bit.

“Keeping your wife happy is a tough task. You move mountains to make their dreams come true…” Kint looked down at his hands, rubbing them together. “That’s what you did here… isn’t it, Mr. Syfeeli.” He looked around, taking in the splendor of the home. The swaying slowed further.

“You built her a beautiful house. It matched her so well.” He continued. “But things changed…”

There was a subtle flinch around the man's eyes.

“The money can’t flow forever…” Kint soothed. “There were always going to be hard times.”

“I have to free her…”

“They don’t understand… How hard you're trying… How you debase yourself for them… what you give to stay afloat…”

“I have to free her… I had to do it…”

“Your beautiful house became a cage, didn’t it? She was trapped by your shame.”

“I have to… I have to…” the swaying slowed further, like deep breathing.

“It was too much… You had to end it…” Kint could feel he was pushing up against something. He was about to break through. Those dark eyes, ever so close to sanity.

“You had to release her from shame. You had to set her free…” Kint pressed, staring into the man's soul. Coaxing the sanity out of him.

“I have to free her. I have to free her. I have to free her.”

Kint sighed heavily, sitting back on his heels. It was no use. The man was well and truly insane. Which meant, he had to be sure. He had to make sure it wasn’t Rot.

Kint stood, striding to the door. He peaked his head around. Making certain Elsha wasn’t nearby.

Where was she? It didn’t matter. He would do a quick check, and go look for her. It probably wasn’t the Rot anyway.

He moved back to the Mr. Syfeeli with purpose. Crouching in front of the man. He needed to get this done quickly.

He took a deep breath in, closing his eyes. He exhaled ascending into the Silent State. Rising above his hopes and emotions. Leaving a tarred mass of personality behind.

In the dark space of silence, there was a light. His well. With a writhing purple glow, it called to him. Begging him to touch it. To plum its depths. To synchronize with it. Harmonize.

He did. Reaching out, he took hold of the power. An exhilarating heat flooded his chest, migrating through well hewn channels into his eyes. They vibrated with power.

He opened them. His Dowsing powers finally released after years unused.

He saw the world in radiant color. Everything was brighter. The Deeper truth laid bare.

Magic, in all its shapes and forms, was painted across his vision in ways Apostles could only wish for.

His eyes glowed a deep purple, power burning through them.

Everything that was touched by magic, he could see it’s aura. The Mage Grown bed glowed green, the walls emanated a translucent white, the glass of the windows had a yellowish hue, The Shroud itself… he could feel it...spiraling its wispy tendrils around the house, searching for a way in.

The energy greeted him like an old friend… A dangerous friend. One that could get him into trouble if he wasn’t careful. He needed to hurry up.

As good as it felt, Kint lessened his energy output, feeling the drain on his well of power slow. Unlike Elsha, he did not have the power to waste. He was only a Shaper level Mage.

He sharpened his focus to just the room in front of him. Feeling a shiver of despair nudge at his concentration. He knew the odds were low. He was confident in his original story. But, there was a chance… however small… that the thing he was missing… was Rot.

The world stilled as he surveyed the room. Several faint glows caught his eye. The floors were a dim green, the ceilings and walls were white, and there was something else… A thick translucent energy coated the room. It could be nothing. Just residual magic from the Shroud. But…

Kint steeled himself. He knew he was avoiding what he needed to look at…

You’re already here. Just look. The chances are low…

He knelt slowly into a crouch. Mr. Syfeeli’s elevating into his vision as he descended. The room was still, silent. Kint examined the man up and down, paying close attention to his head and chest… for a moment… he felt there might be something… A resonance... He tried to push deeper, spending more energy… draining his well. He strained his eyes… But there was nothing. Tension released from his neck and shoulders, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. He’d expended a quarter of his energy in the Dowsing, but he was glad he’d done it.

He sighed.

A simple answer.

Releasing the thick vail of focus the world returned to its normal shades… stale, devoid of life. Kint did not miss this feeling. The emptiness of after. The regret. He shook his head.

Gathering himself to stand, Kint looked up.

Crimson red eyes, stared into his own. Black slitted pupils carved the nightmare deep into his soul. A rictus smile split the once emotionless face of Mr. Syfeeli.

“There you are....” The creature whispered.

The voice came low and raspy. From a place deep within. The air was still. Kint locked in place, afraid to look away from those eyes. The Orange sliver of sunlight split the man's face through the shades, leaving shadows on both sides. That smile. It assaulted him with it’s hunger. Kint fell back.

Syfeeli was on him. Leaping forward, pulling the bedpost right off the bed. His manacled hands latched onto Kints throat, throwing him backward to the ground. “You have to free her!” Screamed the man, “You have to save her!”

Kint was caught off guard, unnerved by the situation, mind reeling. The light at the corners of his eyes was already fading. The manic merchant straddled him, lifting him by the throat, and slamming him to the dark wood floor. His eyes sparkled. His ears rang. Again, the man pulled him up, throwing his head to the ground. He gripped at Kint’s collar, bringing them face to face.

“You have to find her.” The man hissed.

Kint could barely hear through the ringing in his ears. His vision was blurred, as he was slammed to the floor once more.

“You have to–”

The man's screams cut off. A bright red orange flame seared around his neck. Kint’s head fell back again, released from the madman’s grip.

Syfeeli clutched at his throat, fingers singed as they touched the flaming whip.

Kint could hear the man's skin splitting as he was ripped backwards, out the door. Elsha reeling him in.

He rolled to his side, rubbing the back of his head. His ears still rang. Eyes out of sync.

“Kint!”

He got to his knees. Rubbing his eyes.

“Kint!”

Elsha was yelling at him. He looked in the direction of the voice. Vision coming into focus. What was she saying?

“Are you going to help?” She asked, frustrated.

Right.

Kint stumbled to his feet. Losing his balance. Then regaining it as he barreled out the door.

Elsha was pulling Syfeeli back by the neck. He squealed in rage and pain. His hands strugging to gain purchase on the fiery coil.

Kint stumbled around the table. He grabbed the screaming man by the shirt, rearing back, socking him in the face. Blood splattered across the dark wood floor. The man continued to struggle.

Kint hit him again and again.

Mr. Syfeeli went limp. The flame uncoiled from his neck, retracting into her domination stick.

Kint bent over the man. He reached a hand down, checking under his eyelids. They were normal.

“Are–” She started, catching her breath. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Kint replied. Taking deep breaths of his own. “I’m fine.”

They took another few minutes to catch their breath.

“There’s a wagon outside ready to take him.” Elsha commented.

“Perfect.” Kint said, ready to be gone.

“What did you say to him?” She asked, giving him an impish grin.

“Nothing.” Kint replied, not meeting her eyes. “He just… came at me.”

“Oh come on.” She pressed. “When I checked on him, he was near catatonic. You must have said something.”

“No.” He shrugged. “One moment he was shaking and spouting gibberish, the next he was on me.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, opening her mouth to object.

“God’s Elsha.” Kint snapped. “Just leave it be.” He gave her a sharp gaze.

She looked surprised, but let the subject lie.

“Let’s just get this prick outta here.” He offered. “Shall we?”

The two Inspectors dragged the prisoner outside. They threw him in the back of a locked carriage, two officers in Vorvan Purple and Black kicked horses into action, riding away.

They watched the carriage as it disappeared down the road, into the morning’s fog.

“Do you think we could have gotten a ride from them.” Elsha asked.

Kint cocked his head to one side.

“Probably.”

Elsha snorted a laugh.

They started walking, already sweating again in the humidity.

They strode in silence for several minutes before King broke it.

“Thank you…” He grumbled, staring ahead. “For what you did back there.”

Elsha looked at Kint, expectant.

“You saved my life.” He admitted. “I won’t forget it.”

He looked up from the solemn stones below, to see his partner was grinning at him.

“Well, I’m glad you can admit that.” She replied, smiling like she’d won something. “I’m sure that was difficult for you.”

“Don’t expect you’ll ever hear it again.” Kint grumbled. A grin of his own quirking his lips.

A comfortable silence fell over the Inspectors. The steady sound of boots on cobble stones carrying them on to HQ.