"Please, do not smoke in here, Constable. I'll never get the stench out of the walls and furniture."

He had only just struck the match. Now, he stood half hunched over, frozen in his attempt to light the freshly packed Briarwood pipe he had clutched between his front teeth. "M' apologies," the Constable cleared his throat and shook out the match before stowing everything away in some hidden breastpocket. He couldn't help but notice, though, that the pale scent of stale tobacco was already in the air.

The woman turning to face him with her black clothing and stark white apron, both lacking patterns and embroidery, was a nun of the order of a Saint whose name he couldn't recall. Agatha, maybe. Or Agrimonia? He was quite certain, at least, that it started with an A. In hindsight, he probably should have written it down. When he'd entered a few minutes ago, she'd just begun her lessons and was watching as a few solemn children gave their best attempt at tracing chalk letters onto slate. After a stern warning against any mischief in her absence, she ushered him into the hall and cracked the door behind her.

"So it's true, then? About the-" Sister Regina paused with some discomfort, "The poor soul that washed up on the beach?"

The Constable looked taken aback. Barely an hour had passed since they'd found the 'poor soul' in question and moved her to a place where there was little worry of being washed away with the incoming tide.

"How-"

"I heard it from Abrus when he stopped by to deliver the post not forty minutes ago. He said he saw Ms. Parsons hurrying through the square shouting at anyone who would listen that she'd found a body on the beach, but had no time to stop and have a chat about it. Nearly knocked over an entire display of cod while she was at it, according to him."

"I should have known," he grumbled beneath his thick, brown mustache. "Now she'll have the whole town panicking, and nothing good ever comes from mindless panic, as I'm sure you're aware, Sister."

"Ah, yes," the nun nodded sagely, "Riots and the like. Looting and vandalism. Utter choas the likes of which Bancrug has never seen, I'm sure, Constable. I, for one, would be surprised if the town wasn't burnt to the ground like that old hush house by dusk."

His mustache twitched as his frown deepened, but Sister Regina only smiled politely. Her expression was tinged with a hint of sympathy that he felt probably didn't come from any guilt over having teased him.

"I'm assuming you've come to deliver the news and advise us to begin preparing for a funeral?" She inquired as she brushed some dust from her apron. It had to be imaginary, the thing was so white it almost hurt to look at it directly.

He shook his head, "No, no funerals as of yet. The woman is still alive, though I suppose we can't rule out the possibility of her passing."

"Ah, I see. Last rights to be performed then?"

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

He opened his mouth to respond out of reflex, but found he had no official answer. "Hadn't thought of that, to be completely honest, Sister, but that may be necessary," he said after a pause that earned a raise of her eyebrow.

"Alright then, Constable, if you've no need of a funeral and no need of a priest, I must ask... why are you here interrupting my lessons?"

"Well, I do apologize for interrupting, but" he cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in place. "You see, we've left the bod- I mean, the person that was found, with the midwife for the time being. The two of you are acquainted?"

"You mean the woman I've known since she was a girl of three, Constable? Yes, I believe I do." Sister Regina answered with a tone as dry as the look she was leveling at him.

"Ah, yes, of course," he confirmed and then cleared his throat a third time. "She recommended- or, really she insisted, that the woman should be- needs to be seen by a physician..."

The Constable let the silence hang between them for a few long moments, but even with the lack of words, Sister Regina knew what he was getting at.

Bancrug had no general physician, and hadn't had anything like it for the last seven years. If someone in the town fell ill enough to warrant one, they needed to be politely requested from the only place within 150 miles that had access to one.

"Yes, fine, I will speak with them," she answered begrudgingly. "It's quite literally a matter of life and death. Much unlike the time the Skelter boy wound up in need of such attention after shoving all those dried chick peas up his nostrils."

It was clear from her expression that the memory wasn't one she looked fondly on. "I still think they would have come out on their own if he'd blown hard enough."

"Quite possibly," The Constable agreed with a nod after having taken a moment to consider the logistics of it all.

"But better safe than sorry and all of that," Sister Regina said with a dismissive wave, then turned to push the door open and stick her coiffed head into the room. "You're in luck, children. I'm needed urgently elsewhere. Put away your materials and give your parents my apologies. Don't use this as an opportunity to slack off. Practice at home, and don't get up to any mischief."

Her students were too polite to openly cheer, but he could hear the five of them murmuring in excitement. "Yes, yes, you have a good day as well, Ania. Good bye, Maximillian. Get along and try not to drive your uncle up a wall, Jonah-"

There was short, but personal response given to each child that the Constable couldn't help but find a little endearing. "Let's get on with it, then," Sister Regina said with a sigh after the last child all but skipped out of the building. "I'll pull the motor car around," he said with a firm nod.

"Will I need my coat?"

"No- Hm. Actually, might be best to bring it along. Never know when the weather will turn at this point in the season."