The night prior, in the keep, Ailn had given Kylian his trust.

‘I trust you Kylian. You’ll do the right thing, I’m sure.’

He vowed to make good on it.

Try to do the right thing. That was all he could do. However low a standard for virtue that was, seven years ago, he’d done many things he felt were wrong.

And many times today, Kylian felt the doubt creeping up, worsening his headache, murking his thoughts.

When the inquest had so swiftly progressed to inquisition, he was more shocked than anyone at how smoothly it went. He could not believe how thoroughly they’d trapped Lady Renea. And that disturbed him.

It disturbed him how the surging emotions in the abbey were speeding the inquisition’s pace, ‘till it was something wild and nearly unmanageable.

And now that he’d learned of Sir Tristan’s lapse of judgment and honesty, he felt his own emotions surging. This entire inquisition, they’d been operating under a false time frame. The stress he’d built up was threatening to overtake him all at once.

He had to stop himself from punching Tristan.

“You stayed quiet this entire inquisition?!” Kylian barely stopped himself from screaming.

“T-that’s…” Tristan couldn’t finish his response.

He was not one to give physical expression to rage. But it truly felt like he might crack his molars any moment now. Would Tristan have kept mum even as they sent someone to the gallows? Was he going to come shouting out only when the floor beneath the noose was about to drop?

“Easy, Kylian.” Ailn looked Tristan over. “... It looks like this wasn’t easy for him at all. I’m not saying that makes it right, but just look at him.”

Ailn was right. Taking a moment to calm himself, Kylian saw that Tristan was more than simply nervous, or even frightened. He was dripping with sweat, and the pallor of his face made him look like a man deathly ill.

Aldous’s voice boomed from the front of the pews.

“Sir Tristan. You dare sully this inquisition, and the name of the Azure Knights with your craven inaction?!”

“Sir Aldous, I—ack!”

The older knight walked to the center of the processional aisle to grab the cowardly knight by the collar. Aldous’s cloak wrinkled with his violent action, the silver wolf embroidered on its back almost seeming to snarl.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?” Aldous’s imposing figure loomed over Tristan. “We’ve been led around in circles!”

Ailn seemed to smile a little bitterly at the sight.

Aldous picked the younger knight up and threw him all the way back to his original seat in the pews, where crashed upon his fellow knights.

It reminded those present in the abbey just how monstrously strong Aldous was, despite how long it had been since he’d seen battle.

“My apologies for losing my temper so, Your Grace,” Aldous fell to one knee at the spot where Tristan had just been. “It would seem at least some of the facts of the case need to be more fully considered.”

“... Sure. Much appreciated, Aldous.” Ailn said.

“Then His Grace will give further testimony in defense of his sister,” Kylian said. By now his mental energy was truly flagging, and his thoughts were beginning to stretch thin.

Right now the best thing he could do was continue the inquisition in good faith, and give Ailn as much opportunity as possible.

Ailn must have had a plan in mind. He’d gone out of his way to make sure they maintained the independence of their thoughts.

So, Kylian would perform his role of bailiff, and let Ailn perform his.

Kylian trusted in Ailn’s dogged intuition. He knew he was being hypocritical, since he’d kept him in the dark. But if there was one thing he could rely on, it was this: if Lady Renea was truly innocent, her brother would not let her down.

Kylian just had to trust in his plan.

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

Ailn did not have a plan.

It was already a tall order trying to catch a criminal in a world without forensics. Then there was the fact he was fighting uphill against the friendly neighborhood Order of the Azure Knights.

What he had was circumstantial evidence. Unfortunately, he lacked the explicit physical proof to clinch it.

It would be great if he could grab a smoke right now, clear his thoughts. If he could just do that, he was sure he could blow the case wide open, find the smoking gun, and pin the culprit down.

For now, he had to play it by ear.

“The shadow beasts didn’t pass through any gates, or any secret passages. Nor did they have to pass through the holy barrier. In fact, they didn’t come from the outside at all.” Ailn said, giving that usual arms-crossed, eyes closed, wincing look of his. “They came from inside the castle.”

“...Inside the castle?” Kylian asked. “I don’t understand.”

“They came from the castle because they were born within it,” Ailn said. “There’s one spot in the castle where they could’ve come from.”

Ailn counted with his hand, as he made his points: “It’s hidden by obscurity, a place where the shadow beasts could be kept—at the very least—on the night of the ceremony without being discovered. It has proximity to the locations of every attack. And most of all… it has evidence, in the form of a timed release mechanism.”

“A timed release mechanism…” Kylian’s expression shifted to one of slowly dawning realization. “You can’t possibly mean —”

“That’s right. I’m talking about the burnt rope we found, in Sir Envont’s quarters,” Ailn paused for effect. “The shadow beasts were born in the kennel.”

‘This is completely absurd…!’

‘How can a shadow beast possibly be raised?’

‘The young master has hardly ever seen a shadow beast...’’

Ailn had to manage this right.

“The rope around the gate for Sir Envont’s room—the former warden’s room—was lit indirectly. Ailn said. “This let the culprit roughly time the release of the shadow beasts that were kept in there,”

“It’s—an odd contraption,” Kylian admitted. Having seen the rope himself, he readily accepted that a timed mechanism was a strongly plausible explanation. “But that hardly seems to suffice as proof…”

“Don’t you remember, Kylian? The wrought iron gates were battered and worn—from the inside,” Ailn said.

Kylian’s eyes widened.

Unconsciously placing his hand to his mouth, his gaze darting back and forth across the ground in front of him, Kylian seemed in a state of rapid assessment, muttering to himself all the while.

“Then… according to your theory… Sir Envont would have been raising the shadow beasts?” Kylian prodded Ailn for clarification.

“...I don’t know for certain exactly what happened to Sir Envont,” Ailn said honestly. “Not yet. But I’m almost certain the real culprit killed him.”

“What makes you so certain?” Kylian frowned.

“Because the culprit wanted free rein over the dogs the kennel master managed. They were the most essential part of his plan,” Ailn said. “Kylian, do you remember how many dogs were missing?”

“...Ten. There should’ve been twenty-four in total, but there were fourteen instead,” Kylian’s brow furrowed. He seemed to have an inkling of where Ailn was going. “You… you can’t be serious.”

“Now count up the shadow beasts. Three attacked Sir Tristan near the mess hall. Three more entered the keep and attacked near the Great Hall. And four more met Sir Tristan in the southwest bailey,” Ailn said. “Don’t you think it’s strange? Ten dogs disappeared without blood nor bark. There’s not a single trace of them left, unless…”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Your Grace,” Kylian wearily placed hand to forehead. Perhaps it was doubt. Or perhaps he realized what an uphill task lay ahead of them if Ailn’s conjecture were true. “You’re suggesting that the culprit… transformed the dogs into shadow beasts.”

“...That’s right.”

Ailn swallowed hard, as he once again eyed the reactions of the knights. The abbey, at first, was silent. Unfortunately, after a few tense moments, the abbey started breaking out into a roar.

‘The boy is making up tales!’

‘What proof has he of the dogs’ transformation?!’

‘It’s clear he’s just trying to protect his sister…’

‘Quiet! All of you quiet, the young master will certainly prove the innocence of Lady Renea!’

“I understand it’s a rather hard theory to swallow. But considering no one knows how shadow beasts are born, I’d say it’s as plausible as any other conjecture,” Ailn said. Then he paused, his tone equanimous. “...In any case, I have more proof. I need something to write on.”

Kylian gestured for a squire to retrieve some quills and parchment from the abbey’s storeroom. He came scurrying back, but only with a quill and ink.

“Here,” Kylian said, turning over the writ of appointment that had been sitting on top of the bailiff’s desk. “Write on this.”

“Again, pay attention to where the shadow beasts attacked, ” Ailn said, drawing on the parchment, “They all show up in the west side of the castle. Specifically, the northwest bailey, the southwest bailey, and the within the keep—close to its western entrance.”

Kylian said nothing. It was clear the cogs in his mind were moving fast.

“The kennel is also on the west side of the keep. Leaving the kennel, they’d pop out at 9 o’clock. Now imagine they split up evenly. Some go clockwise, some go counterclockwise, and the rest enter the keep’s west entrance—”

“Then they’d likely meet guards… at the locations of every attack,” Kylian said. “Northwest at 11 o’clock. Southwest at 7 o’clock. And inside the keep itself. It… it would track.”

Sweeping back his hair, Kylian’s brows further knitted in worry as he tried to process the implications.

‘Drivel! All of it!.’

‘You mean to say we simply missed shadow beasts growing right underneath the keep?!’

Unfortunately, the knights seemed to have found Ailn’s assertion—that they had literally let shadow beasts grow under their noses—insulting.

“...To clarify,” Ailn addressed the knights, “if we don’t know how the dogs were transformed into shadow beasts, then that opens the possibility that they were transformed nearer to the time of the attack.”

Ailn continued: “Until then, anyone entering the kennel would only see dogs that were clearly neglected, with no kennel master present. The overwhelming odor alone would deter any knight from conducting a thorough investigation.”

Unexpectedly, Aldous strode over. Despite the murmurs of doubt and contempt spreading through the knights, he seemed to graciously listen to Ailn’s theory.

“Your Grace, may I examine the diagram you’ve created?” Aldous asked, gesturing politely toward it. When Ailn wordlessly handed the parchment over, Aldous took time to contemplate it, before closing his eyes and nodding.

“For as long as the history of the continent, the miasma has occupied the northern lands, impervious to expedition— the shadow beasts themselves resistant to scrutiny,” Aldous said. “Which is why…”

He opened his eyes.

“I believe your words, Your Grace,” Aldous said. “It is the way of the world to learn, and to illuminate the darkness—whatever way we can.”

Aldous turned to the knights in the pews, his countenance grave, and his voice filled with disappointment.

“Do you fools think we’ve learned all there is to know about the shadow beasts? The miasma? This land that we give our lives for?” Aldous asked. “Are you so arrogant you wouldn’t even listen to his words, or take a single moment out of your day to read a piece of parchment?”

The knights quieted down, surprised by his reprimand. But he spoke with such equanimity, it made them feel ashamed for conflating their anger with true and proper skepticism.

Ailn had a rough idea of what was coming next.

It was glaringly obvious why Aldous would be so eager to thrust himself into the discussion, and present himself as the voice of impartiality.

“If I may be so bold, however,” Aldous looked at the two of them with what seemed like genuine confusion, “I believe it is worth inquiring Lady Renea once again, if she has anything else to say on the matter.”

“Be clearer, Sir Aldous,” Kylian said. He sounded tired. “Inquire her as to what?”

“Merely if she wishes to rescind her confession,” Aldous said.

Ailn turned to Renea, kneeling pitifully in front of the altar. She’d been quiet for a long time, and that worried him.

At first, he’d been anxious she’d keep up her self-destructive, falsely self-incriminating behavior. He thought she might jump into the conversation just to shoot herself in the foot; let everyone know she killed Envont herself and made soup with his bones.

But she didn’t. And her complete silence was troubling in a different way.

They waited for her answer. For a while, the only sound in the abbey was her shallow breathing. Finally, she said just a single word.

“...Y-yes.”

“Oh?” Aldous asked. He seemed genuinely surprised. “So, you withdraw your testimony.” His brow knitted. "And it was not by your hand that your brother was so grievously injured."

“N-no. It wasn't. I never said it was,” Renea whispered.

“Then, let us clarify. You rescind your confession that you left without healing him, when you believed he was at death’s door.” Aldous asked, with arched eyebrow. “My Lady, did you heal him or not?”

This time she paused for much longer.

“I… did,” Renea said. She looked deflated.

“Then can you explain why he was still nearly dead, after you’d left? Cairn and Kylian very nearly dragged the sorry young master to the morgue.”

At this, Renea only bit her lip, her gaze still cast down.

The entire abbey waited. For clarification, for a single word. Anything at all, to help them understand how her brother should have been left for dead.

But none ever came.

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

Sir Reynard felt a lump in his throat as he glanced down at Renea. There was a terrible weight in his right hand—the sword poised at her neck which could so swiftly end her life.

Unlike Sir Tristan he was a simple man. He had the strength to live a life he felt was kind, upright, and just. That was enough for him.

It was only at times like this that he wished for a little more. Just a bit of cleverness, so he could firmly decide what was wrong and what was right.

He knew what he was doing now—holding the edge of his blade against this young girl’s throat—could never be called kind. But he was not so dull or naive that he believed a just life always meant acting with kindness.

The dictums of his Order, and the limits of his critical thought could not justify sheathing his sword. This was simply the process, and always had been. Why should Renea eum-Creid be treated any different?

…He asked that question earnestly. He wished for a reason. Any reason that would let him stay his hand. He desperately hoped she’d say anything in her own defense.

Yet she did not. And so the loyal knight’s sword remained at Renea’s neck, even as the sight of her trembling filled him with nothing but shame.

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

Finally, as no response seemed forthcoming from Renea, Aldous let out a bitter sigh.

“Let me be straightforward—Sir Kylian, Your Grace.” Aldous’s voice was clear in tone, and reasonable in affect. “Lady Renea impersonated her lady-in-waiting. A falsehood begets questions, does it not?"

“That’s a reasonable way of viewing it,” Kylian said. His brow furrowed.

“If the culprit had released the shadow beasts during the ceremony to create an alibi, then who benefits more than Lady Renea?” Aldous asked.

“Unless you can furnish a culprit who better fits the evidence, of course,” Aldous said.

“We might not have the necessary evidence to determine the culprit at all,” Kylian said cautiously. “No matter how grim such a conclusion would be, I refuse to let zealousness lead me by the nose to a wrongful judgment.”

“...The girl cannot even explain why she left her brother for dead,” Aldous said. “You mean to say that isn’t sufficient?”

“Lady Renea is…” Kylian looked over at the girl who barely even seemed to be following their conversation now. “She does not seem to be fully of right mind, at this moment.”

“People of wrong mind are prone to do regretful things, Sir Kylian,” Aldous said. “And those wracked by guilt often act erratically. Would that not explain today’s strange behavior?”

By presuming Renea’s guilt to explain her behavior, Aldous was essentially begging the question. Not that pointing it out would do them any good.

Ailn took a different tack. He had one chance at this.

“I’ve got a question of my own Aldous,” Ailn said. “Same idea as yours.”

“...Certainly Your Grace,” Aldous said. “Though I hardly think I’m the proper person to ask.”

“No, no. You’re perfect,” Ailn waved his hand in assurance, and grinned. “See, I was just thinking. If someone in the Order tried to kill me—and they were in a position of power—I bet the proceedings would go a lot like today’s went.”

The knights in the abbey didn’t hide the anger on their faces, but they stayed silent nonetheless.

“An interesting hypothetical,” Aldous said, bidding him to continue.

“They’d probably force things through to rapid closure by abusing their clout. Might even set up an ambush the night before,” Ailn said. “But most of all, they’d keep everything right under their thumb—even if they weren’t officially in charge.”

Ailn and Aldous stared each other down.

“And in what manner do you suppose they could do that?” Aldous asked.

“Being a bully, mostly,” Ailn said with a shrug. “They’d use their presence to browbeat the knights, conduct the emotions in the abbey at will. To use an analogy you could say they’d…”

Ailn pointed.

“...Rely on their aura,” he said.

A quip to which, after a beat, Aldous gave a light chuckle.

Watching this exchange, Kylian froze. Ailn had made an abundance of shocking claims today. But none had seemed to affect him like the barbs Ailn and Aldous threw at each other now.

Kylian’s neck creaked like a rusty gate hinge as he turned slowly to look at Aldous.

“That certainly is a concern, isn’t it, Your Grace?” Aldous said. “You sound convinced it was one of our knights. Surely, then, you’d be forthright enough to provide us a name.”

“I’m just making sensible conjecture right now, high marshal,” Ailn said, raising his hands affably. “Hypothetically, if say, our bailiff Kylian here was trying to get away with it, we’d all be pretty screwed, wouldn’t we?”

Though Kylian didn’t say a word, Ailn was certain he saw his eye twitch in annoyance.

“I think you’re quite right,” Aldous couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “Perhaps we should restrain Sir Kylian, too!”

Both Ailn and Aldous seemed to think this was hilarious. Kylian, looking very tired, evidently did not.

“Anyway,” Ailn gave an exaggerated shrug, “since we’re all telling elaborate stories, I’d like to tell one of my own. It’s called ‘The Knight Who Tried to Kill Me.’”

“That’s quite the title, Your Grace,” Aldous said. “I never knew a eum-Creid with the gift of a silver tongue.”

“Just wait ‘till you hear the ending.”