“So what is this?! A personal vendetta or a robbery?” the noble asked, his voice tinged with confusion and frustration.

“Maybe both,” the soldier replied. “They saw an opportunity, and they grabbed it.”

“Ugh, I want you to find those b*stards!” the noble screamed, his wrath reverberating through the room. “It’s impossible to move all those goods without leaving a trace. I’m sure you can find them in no time.”

“That’s what I initially thought,” Humphrey responded, sighing in frustration. “The problem is that no one is talking. People will never talk to authorities, so I asked some of my sources to find anyone who knew or witnessed something, but no one was talking. They all parroted that it was us who attacked the Crimson Talon. Whoever did this knew what they were doing. I fear that they have already covered their tracks.”

“What nonsense are you talking about? You’re giving up already? It’s only been hours since the bodies were discovered. Of course, you will not find anything this soon,” Lysander retorted, frowning at his friend. “No matter how well they covered their tracks, they would have left something,” he continued, arching his brow. “You just need patience and persistence.”

“Yeah, you might be right,” Humphrey responded, nodding his head with a lack of enthusiasm. “Don’t worry, I will do my work as I always did. I’m just preparing you for the reality that we might not find anything,” he said. When he saw his boss was about to object, he immediately continued, “Do you remember when I mentioned that there are three locations where the bodies of the Crimson Talon were found?”

“Yes, I remember,” the noble muttered, displeased at being cut off. “But there are only two spots you’ve mentioned until now: the warehouse and Grimscar’s house in the forest.”

“Correct. Among these places, this one had only three casualties.”

“Just three? Hmm… Maybe these are not related?” Lysander asked, leaning back to his chair. He was already exhausted from their previous discussion; listening about these three deaths compared to the massacre before wasn’t as interesting to him. “Deaths from gangs are quite common, especially with the Crimson Talon, where they have many enemies. So, I’m not surprised that this might not be related.”

“Again, you might be right,” Humphrey agreed. “Since these deaths happened in the western part of the city, near the pubs, it’s not inconceivable that they had a disagreement with someone, which led to a fight, resulting in their deaths.”

‘I know where this is going. B*stard!’

“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? Tsk, I can sense it; there is a ‘but’ in there. Spit it out!” Humphrey ordered, glaring at the soldier.

“You’ve got me. It’s true, there are only three casualties, and from the grand scheme of things, this is unremarkable.” Humphrey responded, chuckling at being caught. Suddenly, he grew serious, his voice sounding grave. “But… But one of the dead bodies was pinned to the wall and tortured.”

“Like Grimscar,” the noble muttered softly, his eyes widening from the revelation.

“Yes, like Grimscar,” the soldier agreed, nodding his head.

“This means they were killed by the same murderer,” Lysander muttered softly to himself.

“Well, Grimscar was tortured much longer and more severely,” Humphrey responded. “But yes, from the way they were killed, it looks like it was done by the same person.”

“Doesn’t this make it easier?” Lysander asked, glancing up at his friend with eyes full of hope. “There are many people in that area. Surely someone would have seen something.”

“You’re right, someone should have seen something,” Humphrey responded before suddenly growing quiet as he silently stared directly into his friend’s eyes.

“Let me guess,” the custodian said, closing his eyes and exhaling in exasperation. “No one is talking, right?”

“No one,” the soldier replied, nodding solemnly. “And I don’t blame them. There are unwritten rules everyone must abide by, or else they won’t survive for very long. Snitching is a taboo no one wants to be associated with; their fate… Let’s just say it might be worse than death if they are ever caught.”

“Couldn’t we just offer a reward? Make it generous—very generous. If we manage to somehow locate and retrieve that stolen wealth, the money we would get would be more than enough to solve some of our immediate problems,” the noble asked, giving him a knowing smile. “Sometimes greed trumps fear. I’m sure someone will take the bait. Also, promise anyone who talks that their identity will be kept private.”

“You’re right,” Humphrey agreed. “Actually, I’ve already tried that. So far, there have been no takers. Let’s just wait and see,” he continued, exhaling heavily. “However, let’s not get our hopes up. This incident wasn’t just a petty crime, involving some back alley thugs; it’s tied to the Crimson Talon, a very ruthless and dangerous organization. We all know people are terrified of them, but someone managed to wipe them out in Ironspire, which suggests an even more terrifying force has emerged. Worst of all, no one knows their identity. People are afraid they might be talking to the culprit themselves. If it were you, would you talk?”

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

‘He’s right. If it were me, I wouldn’t talk either.’

As Lysander pondered the point raised, he went silent for a while but ultimately agreed with his friend. He couldn’t really counter the soldier’s inference.

Humphrey smiled triumphantly when he saw his friend agree to his argument. Seizing the opportunity, he continued, “Also, we cannot discount the fact that no one actually saw anything. While they might have heard something, such as the victim’s scream during the torture, did they actually watch as this happened? I doubt any normal person would do so. Even though they might be curious, they don’t have the guts to look and see who was involved. I bet they locked their windows and doors tightly before soundly sleeping that night. The residents in these areas are accustomed to this and have learned that in such cases, it’s better to hear and see nothing.”

Glancing up at his friend, Lysander asked, “What do you suggest we do?”

“I’m just making it clear that I’m telling you this so that you don’t get disappointed and waste our limited resources on efforts that are unlikely to bear any fruit,” the soldier stated. When he saw the custodian nod, he continued, “Let’s proceed with your plan and conduct the investigation. This way, when you speak with Crimson Talon, they won’t readily suspect us.”

“Okay, do it.”

“Hmm… before we finish this,” Humphrey quipped, grinning widely. “Do you happen to know who was tortured?”

‘There he goes again.’

“You know I don’t have time for games. Just tell me!” Lysander exclaimed, his tone clearly irritated.

“He was one of the people your nephew fought in the pub,” Humphrey said, grinning as he watched the noble’s face freeze before transforming into shock. “Isn’t this quite an unexpected coincidence?”

“Where is Elysian?” Lysander growled.

----------------------------------------

‘Why do I keep makin’ foolish mistakes? If I hadn’t lost control of myself, maybe the Master wouldn’t be in this state. It’s all my fault. If anythin’ happened to Master, how can I ever forgive myself?’

“Hey, big fella, don’t blame yourself,” Osric muttered softly. Standing next to the older boy, he gently patted the servant’s back while studying Elysian’s unconscious body on the bed. “This isn’t your fault. These things happen. The Master has made his decision, and we must respect it.”

“But… What if I…”

“There is no ‘but’ or ‘what if’, big fella. This has already happened,” Osric responded. He realized that what he mentioned was true, but accepting it wasn’t easy. “The only thing we can do now is strive to do better next time to prevent this from happening again. However…” He paused, growing silent for a moment before sighing in resignation. “However, what we are feeling now will likely happen again. You must prepare yourself. It will keep repeating until we become numb to it. And if not, then… then, it will destroy us from within.”

Suddenly, Bran glanced at the other boy, his brow furrowing. “Why are you sayin’ that? I thought you were tryin’ to cheer me up,” he stated with a brooding expression. “You’re just makin’ me feel worse.”

“I’m sorry, big fella; I didn’t mean to,” Osric responded, chuckling as he patted the shoulder of the older boy once more. “I’m just being honest with you so that you won’t be deluded into thinking this won’t happen again. This will only make you more disheartened and eventually ruin you. So, prepare yourself for the pain that will come; brace for it. Because it will come, trust me. I’ve seen this before. And… and it had destroyed too many lives,” he muttered softly as his voice slowly grew quieter.

“Where?” Bran asked, studying him curiously.

“That’s for another time, big fella,” Osric responded, smiling at the older boy, though a tinge of unmistakable sadness lingered in his expression.

“Okay,” Bran replied, smiling back. The older boy’s sour expression had faded, replaced by a relaxed and carefree demeanor. This sudden shift in his emotions might lead someone to believe that he was only pretending to care for his Master, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Among the trio, he was the most genuine—but also the most naive and simple. “Can you tell me what happened? What did Amara tell you?”

“Nothing. She didn’t tell me anything,” Osric answered, exhaling in frustration. At that time, he was upset that they hadn’t shared any information with him; he thought they had dismissed him because he was a kid. Now that he had time to think about it, it seemed they were clueless about what happened. “She just told me to ask Master after he wakes up, but the old man didn’t respond. He stayed silent the whole time, looking concerned and fully focused on the Master.”

“What do you think happened?” Bran asked, glancing at Elysian. “I saw that he was stabbed in his leg and maybe his hand; I’m not sure, but there was blood there.”

Pondering for a moment, Osric answered, “I’m not sure either. When I arrived, our master was already on the ground, and the old man and Ms. Amara were attending to him.”

“Was the leader of the Crimson Talon really that scary? Or were there many enemies?” Bran inquired curiously, his questions coming one after another. “The old man was there, right? He’s pretty strong, so why was Master badly hurt? Couldn’t…”

“Hey, stop it, big fella,” Osrics hurriedly interjected, putting an end to his relentless probes. “I’m just one person here.”

“I’m sorry, Osi, I…”

“Osi?” the younger boy asked, raising a brow. The servant turned red. When he was about to respond, Osric quickly said, “I’m just playing with you, big fella. You can call me whatever you want; we are friends after all.”

“Friends? Really, we are friends?” Bran asked loudly, his eyes widening in shock.

“You seem surprised. Aren’t we friends?” the soldier asked, smirking at his reaction. “Hmm… Don’t tell me you don’t want to be my friend?”

“O-Of course, we are friends. We’re friends,” Bran hastily responded, his goofy smile widening. “I’m just happy to have a new friend. My first friend is Master, and now I have you,” he continued, giggling happily. “So, I’m very happy that I have two friends now!”

“Two?” Osric inquired, dumbfounded by the revelation. “Big fella, you’re joking, right? There must be many people who want to be your friends. You’re kind and nice, unlike me.”

“No… no one likes me,” Bran responded, his mood suddenly falling. “The other kids hate me. They keep callin’ me names—saying I’m fat and dumb. Growin’ up, I always hang out with my father and the other soldiers.”

As Osric listened to the servant’s story, he grew quiet, reflecting on his own life. He realized that they were similar in many ways. Smiling warmly, he said, “Don’t worry, big fella. I’ll be your friend, and you’ll be mine.”

“Okay,” Bran responded, giggling innocently.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Lysander barked as he entered the room.