At the very north of the Radoscht Empire, the eum-Creid duchy exists as the last strand of civilization, beyond which lies the darkness.

Through the lens of romance and honor, the duchy is the shield which protects the empire; yet through the eyes of its residents, it is a hopeless mass of land in the sticks. And to most of the empire’s citizens, it is merely a garrison—a buffer against the shadow beasts.

Upon the duchy’s crown sits its capital Varant, a fortress city enclosed in granite walls. Regarded by the central nobles as little more than a glorified outpost, Varant is tasked with the management of the great northern wall.

There, the Azure Knights serve as the eum-Creid family’s extended arm. Salvation in their swords, they patrol the northern wall, ready to wield their holy aura and cut down the shadows which threaten to break through.

The shadow beasts are strange creatures, seemingly impervious to death by normal means, destructible only by the divine blessing which flows through the blood of the eum-Creids. But this gift does not belong to the knights. It must be bestowed.

Hence, the knights must regularly return to the castle, where the Saintess performs the bestowal ceremony. Last evening, during this ceremony, shadow beasts were found in the castle, an inner sanctum with its own holy barrier—the one place they should not be.

Because the Saintess was in the process of bestowing, the holy barrier would have been at its weakest. The knights guarding the estate were at their fewest, as they were attending the ceremony to receive that blessing.

A number of servants were injured. A handful of knights were attacked. And the body of the honorable Ailn eum-Creid—at the time thought dead—was found in a lonely courtyard, an unused space that used to hold servants’ quarters when they were little more than shanties.

What Ailn was doing there, however, was a mystery.

These were the rough details of the case. And now, Ailn and Kylian were back at the courtyard so Ailn could give it his own thorough investigation.

“Wow. That’s a lot of context for me to ‘forget.’ Would’ve been nice to ‘remember’ how this world works,” Ailn said, looking slightly irritated.

Kylian found it a rather odd way of phrasing things.

“So, the night of the attack, almost every knight was at the bestowal chamber?” Ailn asked. He apparently shook off whatever was bothering him. “That narrows down the range of suspects, don’t you think?”

“It does,” Kylian admitted. “That’s why I’ve been so baffled, and why my suspicions of attempted murder have been given so little credence. I was at the ceremony myself, and can confirm all the knights who were in attendance.”

“You have holy powers, too?” Ailn asked. He gazed around the open courtyard, now in a muddy state of thaw.

“I do, though the strength of my holy aura is modest compared to many knights patrolling the northern wall. Though I’ve performed my duties at the wall, I currently serve as a peacekeeper,” Kylian replied.

“So, do I have holy powers?” Ailn asked.

“Holy aura,” Kylian corrected him. “Your standing within your family was low, as your aura was weaker than any of the knights.” Then he added, honestly, “It was not strong enough for combat.”

“Holy magic, huh?” Ailn stared at his hands for a moment, before turning his attention to the courtyard.

If Kylian were being honest, he found the specifics of what Ailn remembered strange. If he didn’t remember what holy aura or shadow beasts were, why would he remember what a sword was? It gave him severe doubts about this investigative endeavor.

Nonetheless, he wished to give the young noble a chance, and see where it may lead.

The courtyard was organized around the fountain at its very center, surrounded by withered shrubs, cobblestone leading out in cardinal directions. Near the back were remnants of stone and wood sheds decaying.

At some point, there might have been an abortive attempt to turn it into a garden. All that remained, though, were the broken fountain, rotting sheds, and random scraps of ground—dead grass, bare dirt, rocks, or mulch.

The body was found close to its entrance. Fragmented spackles of chalk marked a patch of mud, along with the shattered sword that was discovered with the body.

“There’s definitely some discoloration from blood here, but I knew that much,” Ailn said, kneeling down. “Wish I had a body to work with.”

“That’s the very definition of putting the cart before the horse,” Kylian said exasperatedly. “Could you not show a little more gratitude toward your survival?”

Ailn stared at the shattered sword.

“Doesn’t it seem like… there’s missing material here?” Ailn asked suddenly.

“Missing what exactly?” Kylian asked.

“The sword,” Ailn said. “It’d be about two feet with this much steel. Are all the knights’ swords standard issue?”

“In length and appearance, yes,” Kylian replied, visually examining the shattered sword himself. “The only difference between any swords produced in the grand forge is the amount of orichalcum mixed in.”

“Got some kind of bag?” Ailn asked. “We’ll visit that forge later.”

Kylian presently deposited the steel shards in a leather pouch he had on his person. Ailn, still kneeling, began prowling the courtyard methodically.

“… Do you want me to start from the opposite end?” Kylian asked. He couldn’t help but feel the exercise was fruitless, since he’d checked the courtyard so thoroughly the day prior.

“Just follow me for now so you can learn,” Ailn said.

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

Kylian was patient, thorough, and had keen eyes. Hence, he found Ailn’s remark obnoxious, yet he refrained from saying anything. Even as the knight thought about calling the young noble’s bluff and taking control of the situation, he noticed how agonizingly slowly Ailn searched the ground.

Once again, he found himself pulled into Ailn’s rhythm, and wondered why.

At times, Ailn seemed to be contemplating bare dirt which clearly had nothing to show. He rifled meticulously through the weeds, as if he had a specific object in mind.

It went on half an hour and they hadn’t even reached the stone fountain. Though he was convinced of the search’s futility, Kylian somehow found himself more impressed than irritated.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Kylian asked.

“Anything really,” Ailn replied. “The boring work is the most important work. I can tell you understand that more than most.”

Kylian did, in fact.

“But that doesn’t mean you fully get it,” Ailn shrugged. “The best detectives in the world are the ones who can handle the most boredom.”

“I don’t know what a detective is.”

“We’re detectives, Kylian. Because we’re the guys willing to be bored.”

It was definitely boring. And even if Kylian hardly believed Ailn could find anything he hadn’t—he had paced the area for hours after all—he began to feel a sense of kinship.

Theft and violent crime were common in Varant, and the number of knights that could be devoted to peacekeeping were few. There could only be so many watchful eyes.

They did not have the hands necessary to meaningfully deter every murder, and Kylian harbored no illusions of changing that. But what he did believe was that most of the murders in Varant could be solved.

Aging knights in the Order liked to say that truth was a luxury too costly for those trying merely to survive—and Kylian particularly detested this empty pretension. It was apathy and laziness disguised as realism, and Kylian had seen the helpless anger of those left behind, as the trails grew colder, and the chance for justice faded away.

So if nothing else, he respected Ailn’s dedication to the truth. He admired the mundanity of his efforts, because they reminded him of a simple fact: truth was not a luxury. It was a necessity, and it was ludicrous to point at the consistent failures of men as proof of its decadence.

“Where would the water for this fountain have come from? When it was working,” Ailn asked.

“I’d assume the… well…?” Kylian started, but immediately realized his error. That made no sense for a flowing fountain.

“Is there a kitchen? Adjacent to this courtyard.”

“Not quite, but nearby, yes. How did you ascertain that?”

“Because there’s probably a cistern somewhere up there,” Ailn said, pointing up toward the courtyard’s inner wall. “Something as frivolous as a fountain wouldn’t have been built unless the water flow already existed. Plus, those shacks probably belonged to kitchen staff.”

“It is odd that a fountain would’ve been made for servants…” Kylian said, putting together just how strange this courtyard was.

“I doubt it was. Some time ago, this held servants’ quarters,” Ailn pointed to the shacks. Then he pointed to the fountain, tracing his finger along one of the cobblestone paths. “But even longer ago, this courtyard was meant to be pretty. The cistern came first, and priorities changed with the times—until the courtyard fell into total disuse.”

It was an impressive deduction to be sure, Kylian thought. Still, he failed to see the immediate relevance. He was about to question Ailn further, but the young noble was already back to his meticulous examination.

He held up a scrap of clothing which looked like it came from a blue dress.

Kylian gaped. How had he possibly missed that?

“From whe—”

“The fountain,” Ailn replied, cutting him off. He held it against the jagged remnants of a stone ornament sitting on the fountain’s rim. The decoration had likely once been a deep azure, but by now was a pale blue. “It would’ve been pretty easy to miss.”

“...It would have been,” Kylian admitted. That didn’t make it any less shameful, or vexing. “It appears to be from a maid’s kirtle. I… don't know what to make of it.”

“Hm.”

He continued his long search through the courtyard, and Kylian made no move to question him, even in his own mind.

It was another hour before they reached the decaying shacks, during which time the two had been entirely silent. Most of the courtyard’s structures had been almost completely erased by time, with only crumbling stone foundations left.

A few still had haphazard wooden beams standing. One shack even had the remains of a collapsed roof.

But something about the sight of them bothered Ailn.

“Have these always been destroyed?” Ailn asked.

“As far back as I can remember these shacks have been rotting,” Kylian replied, hesitation in his voice. He then walked to the collapsed shack. “But…”

The knight paused, questioning his own memory and perception. The shacks had always drawn so little of his attention. Now, he wished he had given them more than a lingering glance, even two days ago.

“...I don’t believe this one’s roof was destroyed, even just a few days prior,” Kylian said truthfully. “I’m not certain.”

Ailn peered at a pile of debris behind the shack. Then he examined a beam that looked snapped in half. “Seems implausible this would just be wind… Did you ever find anything like splinters on my body?”

“Nothing of the sort. You think you were flung into these sheds?”

“Maybe.” Ailn walked over to the debris, and started picking through it.

Here, he enlisted Kylian’s help searching through the debris, and this task was performed even more painstakingly. However, meticulous as they were, nothing of interest turned up. A couple of times, Ailn came across a tool’s rusted remains, before shaking his head and throwing it to the already-sorted debris.

Nothing. At least, until Ailn picked up a piece of broken wood that seemingly looked like all the others.

“Take a look at this.” Ailn tossed the piece of wood to Kylian.

“This is…” Kylian realized immediately why Ailn had singled it out.

There were burn marks. And they had a strong resemblance to those that had been on Ailn’s neck. It wasn’t certain. But it was highly suggestive.

What if they’d been produced by the same force—at the very same instant?

A force that was kinetic, and strong enough to destroy a shed, yet which would also leave burn marks. It was suggestive of the black powder used in siege weaponry. And yet such a thing would leave far more residual evidence.

Though Kylian could not quite cohere the facts, the discovery of these marks was a stunning revelation… which only produced more questions. It gave the knight a sense of foreboding he couldn’t explain.

“I owe you an apology, Your Grace,” Kylian said with some resignation. “I had little faith you’d find anything. Yet, here I am after the fact, questioning my own competence…”

His gaze settled on the rotting shacks, as if to etch them into memory.

The burn marks were neither obvious nor extremely subtle. Would he have found this piece of wood, if he’d returned by himself to re-examine the courtyard? Would he have come back at all?

He remembered how he was on the verge of giving up the night prior. Another day, and these pieces of evidence would have surely been fully forgotten, erased by the natural elements.

There could have been more he missed, that already had.

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Ailn said. “I wouldn’t have given it that much attention if you hadn’t noticed the shack’s state.”

“...Is that so?” Kylian asked. “It’s admirable nonetheless—your meticulousness and perspicacity.”

“It has long been an axiom of mine,” Ailn grinned, “that the little things are infinitely the most important.”

“A good saying. It’s of your own creation?” Kylian asked.

“Absolutely.”

If nothing else, Kylian was impressed with Ailn’s ability to turn a good phrase.