The honorable Ailn eum-Creid was a lout, womanizer, and coward. Born with almost no holy aura, he was the family defect who let his shame get the better of him. While his nobler kin risked their lives fighting the shadows, he squandered his away in debauchery.

That was the popular opinion, at least. But Sir Kylian of Varant had his doubts.

He couldn’t speak to the disgraced second son’s bravery or his worldly indulgences, but the few times Kylian had seen Ailn, he was working the fields. That honest work, the knight guessed, was the true source of the young, misunderstood noble’s poor reputation.

Ailn had lived a quiet life that naturally drew attention.

He was hard to miss—his silver hair and blue eyes marked him as a eum-Creid, yet he wore the dirty tunic of a peasant. He’d toil away, tilling the fields without so much as an oxen, the color of his hair screaming his noble lineage all the while.

It left an impression like tarnishing silver. The truth was, he would’ve been less of a stain on his family name if he’d just kept out of sight.

The young noble wasn't even thirteen when his family had all but disowned him. He was ‘gifted’ a cottage deep in the family’s private woods, and the message was clear: “Don’t embarrass us any further.”

But Ailn didn’t listen. Either dense or thick-skinned, he openly joined the commoners in their agricultural lifestyle, never afraid to show his face around the city of Varant.

His good intentions to do what he could, even if it meant dirtying his hands, earned him more ridicule than admiration. Yet he held his head high, living a modest life in his cottage without actually hiding in it.

Now that he was dead, even this small act of dignity would be forgotten.

Ailn eum-Creid’s corpse lay still in the middle of the castle courtyard, his sword laid next to him and shattered around the hilt. It was a death ironic as they come: in an unprecedented attack on the eum-Creid estate at the heart of Varant, he’d been killed by the shadow beasts he never faced in proper battle.

Or so the rest of the knights seemed to believe. Again, Kylian had his doubts.

It was dark and terribly cold out in the courtyard. The knight stood by restlessly while Cairn, the court physician, finished his preliminary examination. Perhaps because the young noble was about his own age, Kylian found that Ailn's corpse unnerved him more than most he’d ever seen.

Or it could’ve been that the examination by lantern-light simply made the wounds on the corpse seem more ghastly. At the very least, they were bizarre.

His body was covered in lacerations. That could be expected from a shadow beast attack, but none were deep enough to kill; he also lacked bite wounds. The shadow beasts the guards reported had apparently resembled wolves. But they hadn't bit?

Next, he’d suffered a clear blow to the back of his head, which Kylian suspected was the true cause of death. Just how would a wolf-like beast possibly produce that? It might make sense if he was forcibly thrown into one of the stone walls, and yet he was found in the middle of the courtyard.

Strangest of all were what looked like burn marks on his jaw and neck, with singed hairs on the back of his head—surrounding the area where he’d been struck.

"What's your assessment, Cairn? Have you ever seen wounds like this?" Kylian asked.

"Lacerations, blunt force trauma, and burns? No. Can't say I have. Not together like this," Cairn said, prodding the back of the victim’s neck. The skull gave way to even a soft touch. "But shadow beasts can take on a lot of forms. It's not beyond the pale."

Cairn grimaced, taking one last glance at the clouding eyes of Ailn eum-Creid, before he gently shut both of the young man's lids.

"... I don't believe he was killed by shadow beasts," Kylian muttered.

Kylian had been a peacekeeper in Varant long enough to know what it looked like when a criminal tried to hide their secrets. This death was staged, and he was certain it was murder.

Cairn only shook his head in reply. Whether or not he thought Ailn’s death hinted at foul play, he clearly had little desire to pursue it—at least not at this time of night.

"Isn't it about time you got some rest, Sir Kylian?" Cairn asked, standing up. "We’d be better off coming back in the morning."

"Are we not going to move the body?" Kylian glanced towards Cairn.

"I'd prefer to have more hands. Unfortunately.” Cairn’s reply was curt, with a tone of disapproval.

Partly due to necessity, and partly due to apathy, Kylian and Cairn were the only two left investigating.

After the attack, Renea eum-Creid, expected successor to the Saintess, had taken most of the Azure Knights who were at the castle with her. Shadow beasts breaching the city's holy barrier was unheard of.

The barrier needed to be investigated immediately, despite the late hour.

The knights who remained at the castle didn’t care enough to properly investigate Ailn’s death. After quick and gestural efforts, they’d tried to take Ailn straight to the morgue without so much as checking the body. If Kylian hadn’t resisted, Cairn wouldn’t have even had a chance to perform a proper examination.

The only silver lining was that they didn’t obstruct Kylian from investigating himself. That suited them just fine, as long as he was the only one who had to put in any extra effort. Figuring he'd pace himself cold and tired soon enough, the rest of the knights left him to it.

As lazy and contemptible as they were, though, their cynicism wasn’t entirely misplaced. Kylian was losing hope fast, and the dropping temperature wasn’t helping. Convinced as he was that this was murder, he still had no idea who was behind it, or why. He was just as clueless as when he’d arrived.

"I'll certainly follow you soon," Kylian replied. "Thank you for your work."

Cairn closed his eyes and sighed. To his mind, staying alone in a courtyard to keep a corpse company sounded like a particularly unpleasant act of futility. Even if Kylian found something, who’s to say the Order of the Azure Knights would give it any credence?

"Suit yourself. Be careful, Kylian," Cairn gave a wave of goodbye. “Don’t wake me up before dawn.”

With that, Cairn left, and Kylian was left alone, wondering what he hoped to achieve. He’d always been moved by a sense of justice disproportionate to what could actually be done in a city like Varant, an almost painful sense of pity for victims whose families didn’t even have the consolation of truth.

He stepped outside the courtyard to collect himself, just for a moment.

As the night reached its darkest point, even the pulsing light of his own holy aura began to unnerve him. Nothing made sense. Yet no one cared. Unsure what to even search for, Kylian was close to giving up.

"Aaarghh! That hurts!"

Kylian froze. Not only did he hear a pained scream, but the knight swore it came from…

He wasn’t an easy man to sneak up on, and he was even harder to scare. And yet for that first terrifying moment, he couldn’t bring himself to actually enter the courtyard.

With a trembling hand, he reached for his sword hilt…

Then he stayed stock still, until he thought he heard the voice again. Quieter this time—it was at speaking levels, if he wasn’t just hallucinating it. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage and stepped in.

“… just murdered?”

Then, Sir Kylian walked into the courtyard and made eye contact with the allegedly dead Ailn eum-Creid.

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

The detective—now in his new body—had slipped up.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He woke up in this medieval-looking courtyard, in a body that had just been murdered. And while he was thoughtlessly complaining about the young god who sent him here, he failed to notice the knight coming into earshot.

“I don’t believe it…”

Said knight was now staring at him in disbelief, and had presumably just seen him as a corpse. It was likely the knight had heard him say some rather suspect things.

Of course, anything was ‘suspect’ when it came out of the mouth of a recent corpse.

It was an uncharacteristically inattentive showing by the detective, who usually would’ve noticed the knight coming. But waking from being murdered made him pretty groggy. And now the knight looked like he might pull his sword.

The detective thought fast. He scanned his surroundings and took an educated guess at his situation.

The knight probably hadn’t been the one to kill him.

If that were the case, the detective should’ve been sliced through or stabbed. He couldn’t be certain—resurrection may have fully healed fatal wounds like pierced organs—but he had other reasons to believe the knight hadn’t been involved.

More than anything, the flashing light and chalk outline made it clear why the knight was here.

This knight was in the same profession. There weren’t a lot of reasons to hang around a corpse, after all.

“Could you tell me my name?” the detective asked, breaking the silence. The best thing he could do was act disarming and harmless.

The knight and the detective stared at each other for a good minute, tense and cold.

“… Ailn eum-Creid?” the knight answered. A moment ago he looked shocked and terrified. But some of that gave way to concern. “You don’t remember?”

“Ailn eum-Creid,” Ailn repeated. Guess that was his name now. “Alright. I’m Ailn. I take it you’re the guy who was investigating my murder?”

The knight flinched and just stared at Ailn wordlessly.

“Well… yes,” the knight said. He took a step back warily, and his right hand tensed—it was a tell that he was on the verge of pulling his sword.

Ailn raised both of his hands non-threateningly. That was a universal sign of nonaggression, right?

“It’s not a mystery—er, your name?” Ailn asked.

“Kylian,” the knight replied.

“Sir Kylian?” Ailn asked.

“You’re the noble here… Your Grace,” Kylian said.

“Really?” Ailn, glanced down at his shabby tunic. “I’ll take your word for it. Anyway, your footprints are all over the place.”

Ailn waited for some sort of response, but Kylian simply stood there in stillness and shock. Ailn sighed, making light conversation as best he could.

“Head trauma, right? This body—I, died of head trauma,” Ailn said. “...Strong chance my death was staged.”

“How—” Kylian started.

“It’s literally on me, Kylian, plain as day.” Ailn gestured toward the numerous cuts, then toward his other arm. “I’ve got superficial lacerations all over my body. But no meaningful defense wounds. Amateur mistake when someone wants to obscure the form of death.”

Ailn’s fingers ran underneath his collar, and pressed against the burn marks on his neck. “Though… not sure what this was about. I woke up in a pretty interesting state, to say the least,” he said, starting to put some strength into his arms. “Who discovered my body? You?”

Kylian slowly approached.

“A maid found you,” Kylian said. He extended his hand, realizing Ailn was contending with his injuries.

Soon, with Kylian’s help, Ailn managed to stand up and brushed himself off, a little surprised the body was already seaworthy. But he was freezing. As soon as life had returned to the body, so did all of its physiological function; it took a moment, but he started shivering.

Despite this, he amiably shook the hand that had helped him up.

Kylian stared back confused, and the chilling air whistled through the two of them.

“C-could we get someplace warm, actually?” Ailn asked through chattering teeth.

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

Kylian took Ailn to an oft-empty guardroom nearby. Nominally meant for surveilling the parapets that stood over the steeper face of the hill the castle sat on, it was never a high priority for actual guard postings.

It was a safe place to keep Ailn while he sorted his thoughts. At least for tonight, the highest priority would be making sure the young noble survived.

Though Kylian was not exactly devout, he’d be a fool to question what was right before him. He didn’t know whether Ailn’s resurrection was a miracle, or the work of the devil. But the most urgent matter was keeping a man who had just come back to life from promptly dying of hypothermia.

Ailn took a seat against the stone wall. Despite his shivering, he looked contemplative; thoughtful, almost lively in the way he scanned the guardroom.

How are you alive?

The question plagued Kylian’s mind. But the knight held back, opting instead to light the hearth. It was the expedient course of action: keep him alive, worry about theology later.

“You’re probably wondering why I’m alive,” Ailn said.

Kylian didn’t respond, and merely continued striking the flint over the bundle of tinder. His head was starting to ache terribly. His uncertainties were growing, while the rush of seeing a man come back to life was wearing off.

“You’re not gonna get me put to death for sacrilege, are you?”

Wincing at his straightforwardness, Kylian gave a weary glance over his shoulder.

“I would not,” he said. “But I cannot guarantee how others are going to act.”

The fire was starting to catch, at least. Dry leaves caught sparks, and with some gentle blowing they turned into proper embers.

“That’s a problem, then.” Ailn crossed his arms and closed his eyes.

What he was thinking about, Kylian had no idea. If the knights truly did think Ailn was a demon, it would be more than just a ‘problem.’ Nor would it be solvable with a moment of contemplation.

Finally, Ailn opened his eyes. “Look. What do you think happened?”

Kylian froze for a moment, pausing his fire tending activities.

“I don’t know what happened.”

“I’m asking you what you think,” Ailn said.

Now that the hearth was lit, the guardroom was starting to warm up. Rather than take a seat against the stone wall like Ailn, Kylian continued to stare awkwardly at the fire.

“...I wouldn’t mistake a dead body for an unconscious one. You were certainly dead.” Kylian spoke honestly. “Past that, I don’t know what to make of it.”

Ailn simply shrugged in response.

“Let’s just say some kind of miracle happened and leave it at that,” Ailn said.

“Are you not afraid?” Kylian asked. “The other knights who saw your corpse are wont to believe evil was involved in your resurrection.”

“Guys like that are more afraid of demotions than demons, frankly,” Ailn said. “If you act like they were this close to leaving an aristocrat to die in the cold, but you’re such a nice guy you’ll let them get away with it, they’ll be grateful.”

That certainly made sense, but…

Kylian let out a frustrated and grunting sigh, instinctively steadying himself against the stone wall. He felt dizzy. Maybe this really was a demon.

“From who you are, to the moments of your death—you don’t remember anything?” Kylian asked. “You don’t have, say, a flash of memory involving the courtyard, or an emotional reaction to hearing the name eum-Creid? Renea? Sigurd?”

“None,” Ailn replied.

“Do you know where you live?” Kylian asked.

“I don’t,” Ailn replied.

“It’s Varant,” Kylian said slowly, as if he were speaking to someone infirm. “The capital of the eum-Creid duchy is Varant, which is in the Radoscht Empire.”

“You’re telling me I’m part of the ruling nobility?” Ailn asked.

“You weren’t exactly in good standing within the duchy, Your Grace,” Kylian said, his voice low. “The situation’s precarious. It may very well be your own kin who wished to see you dead.”

“All in the family, huh?” Ailn muttered thoughtfully, while scanning the room. “Ah.”

Getting up with a stretch, he walked over to a kite shield that hung from an armor hook, taking a moment to stare at its reflective surface. “Would you look at that? I’m straight out of a painting. Seriously? White hair?”

Kylian felt a vein throb in his temple, but he ignored it, taking the wrought iron poker and stoking the embers within the hearth.

“Perhaps the smartest course of option is to spirit you away. No one else knows you’re alive save for me,” Kylian said, thinking aloud to himself. “I could pull in favors with a merchant whose smuggling I lent a blind eye to.”

Once again, Ailn crossed his arms and closed his eyes to think. For a while he just stood there, tapping his finger on his elbow, deep in thought.

“I think I’m good staying here,” Ailn finally said.

“This is your life at stake, Your Grace,” Kylian’s eyes narrowed. “As painful as it might be to say goodbye to your homeland—”

“How reliable is this city’s rule of law?” Ailn asked. “Suppose we found out someone important was behind my murder, and we could prove it conclusively. Would they get away with it?”

“No,” Kylian blinked. “Certainly not. The Azure Knights are fair-handed and bound to the laws of the empire.”

“Then as long as the culprit is caught, things should work themselves out, right?” Ailn asked.

“That’s a dubious hypothetical,” Kylian said. “How do you expect them to be caught?”

“We’ll catch them. First light tomorrow, we’ll head out and examine the crime scene,” Ailn said.

“You plan to solve your own murder?” Kylian stared at him, disbelieving, trying to keep the edge from entering his voice. “I admit you’re sharp. But it’s clear some of your baseless confidence is a symptom of your head injury.”

“Tag along if you want—or don’t. I know what I’m doing,” Ailn said. There wasn’t a hint of doubt in his voice. “As long as no one obstructs me, I’m good.”

“That’s absurd,” Kylian whispered hoarsely, mostly to himself. He was actively massaging his temple. “...You don’t even know who you are.”

“Relax. You can fill me in on the details at breakfast,” Ailn said. “Say, what do you eat around here anyway?”

His headache continually getting worse, Kylian didn’t bother answering his last question. He felt as if he was being pulled into Ailn’s pace.

In a sense, Ailn’s candor made him trustworthy. But Kylian couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that someone who earns your trust fast might be the most dangerous type of person.

The hearth crackled on, as Kylian struggled to find his words.

“It’s as if… you’re a completely different person,” Kylian finally said. “Are you really Ailn eum-Creid?”

“That's what you told me,” Ailn shrugged.