Sir Tristan’s story checked out: the servants in the kitchen had heard the wailing at least. But perhaps because he’d been the only one outside, it was only Tristan who testified to hearing blasting noises.

A few of the servants had heard that Sophie was present at the scene. However, Sophie’s status differed greatly from theirs, despite being a maid, and the servants knew surprisingly little about her.

She even slept in the lord’s chamber with the central family. Ailn found this particularly odd.

Hence, Ailn and Kylian found themselves entering the Great Hall, so that they could visit the family solar. The solar contained both the ducal study and the lord’s chamber, and Ailn wished to see both for himself.

“I understand a lady-in-waiting is different from your typical maid—but I still have a hard time understanding it,” Ailn said.

“Lady Renea has always been joined at the hip with Miss Sophie. To the point Miss Sophie even attends to her when she tours the northern wall,” Kylian said.

“She follows her to the battlefield?” Ailn asked. He looked taken aback. “That’s a lot to ask of a maid, isn’t it?”

“Miss Sophie is very protective of Lady Renea. She’s older, and the two were raised like sisters.” Kylian hesitated a moment. “Some call it Lady Renea’s one vice: that she is still a bit coddled. Many think she puts her lady-in-waiting in unnecessary danger. But as far as I’ve seen, it’s always been Miss Sophie’s decision.”

Ailn and Kylian strenuously pushed open the Great Hall’s tall oak door.

To the left, a great hearth with a roaring fire. To the right, tucked away in the corner, an unassuming staircase leading up to the eum-Creid’s private space on the castle’s second floor. A throne sat at the back of the room, elevated by a dais.

Of greatest interest to Ailn, however, were the portraits which adorned the walls.

It was the portrait gallery of the eum-Creid family.

Most of the men, women, and children on the wall shared Ailn’s silver hair and blue eyes, but few possessed as pure and striking as his. Some had hair grayer than silver, and many had eyes of colors other than blue, yet the family resemblance they all shared was unmistakable.

“Isn’t this convenient, Kylian? It’s like a big gallery of murder suspects,” Ailn said.

A few guards gazed suspiciously in their direction. Kylian did his best to ignore their stares.

Ailn walked up and down the length of the Great Hall slowly, taking in all the portraits of his family. He stopped in his tracks, a curious expression breaking out on his face.

“Is this me?” Ailn asked.

“...That’s right,” Kylian said.

“Looks like it’s been a while since I’ve been portrayed,” Ailn mumbled. “Why?”

Kylian hesitated, not sure how to explain Ailn’s circumstances gently. He’d previously explained Ailn’s low standing within the family, yet hadn’t fully emphasized the extent of it.

“You’ve nearly been disowned, Your Grace,” Kylian admitted. “Though you still retain your name, it has largely been so the family can save face.” The knight raised his gaze to the portrait of Ailn as a child. “Hence, your portrait has never been taken down. Yet, they’ve also neglected to update it.”

“...I see,” Ailn said.

He stared at the portrait of ‘himself.’

It made for a strange experience. Playing a role was one thing; acknowledging the human behind it was another. Though he had no intention to meaningfully carry on the legacy of the original Ailn, that didn’t mean he was free of regret.

Next to his portrait were two others. By their arrangement, they were clearly meant to be considered as a trio. One was a portrait of a young man, who looked a bit older than Ailn was now. The other was a portrait of a teenaged girl.

Both had silver hair and blue eyes.

“And these two are my siblings I assume?” Ailn asked.

“That’s right. His Highness Sigurd and Her Grace Renea,” Kylian said.

“Why doesn’t Renea have a grand portrait with the other family heads?” Ailn asked.

Ailn looked over to the area behind the throne. The half-dome gallery was clearly reserved for heads of the family.

If Renea was the future Saintess, she should be there as well.

“Because she’s still not the head of the family,” Kylian answered. “Until she comes of age, Sigurd is acting as regent; meanwhile Sigurd, as the highest-ranking male eum-Creid, holds the title of duke without actually being the family head.”

Ailn nodded along to Kylian’s explanation.

“Alright. So, which one of them is trying to kill me?” Ailn asked.

“...Your sister is known to care for you dearly,” Kylian kept his voice low, answering the question indirectly.

“So you think it’s Sigurd,” Ailn’s eyes went back to the portrait of his brother.

“I didn’t say that,” Kylian said hesitantly, glancing over his shoulder.

“So you think it’s Sigurd,” Ailn repeated. “Where do we find him?”

“A thousand miles away at the capital,” Kylian said.

Ailn looked at Kylian, confused. “And you suspect him because…?”

“He could’ve hired an assassin, or had one of the Azure Knights acting as his extended hand. Rather—no one else would have the resources or influence,” Kylian said.

“What about mom and dad? What are they up to?” Ailn asked.

“Your parents are dead, Ailn.” Kylian peered over with a look of subtle consolation.

“Oh. Huh.” Ailn looked apologetic. “Sorry to hear that.”

Ailn continued to study the portraits of his family intently, while Kylian gave careful, if idle, thought to the anomalies of Ailn’s behavior.

Of all the ways Ailn had reacted peculiarly to his own life circumstances, this was the most extreme.

Even if Ailn had lost his memory—would he not at least have some emotional response to the unexpected reminder of his parents’ death?

Kylian tried to quiet down the nagging doubt in the back of his mind. It truly felt as though Ailn were a complete stranger to the entire duchy. No, perhaps he was looking at this from the wrong perspective.

Could it be that Ailn’s amnesia was a way of coping with the trauma of his near-death experience?

What if the culprit truly had been someone dear to him? If he’d caught sight of them at the moment of attack, then it might have broken his heart, right before he suffered a severe head injury. That would mean this new personality he fashioned for himself was an elaborate form of self-protection.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

If that were the case…

“Is that the late Saintess?” Ailn asked, breaking Kylian out of his thoughts. He pointed toward the portraits of the family heads.

The last head of the family, Celine—Ailn’s mother—was the rightmost portrait. To her immediate left was Ailn’s grandfather, the late Duke Aaron. He was, of course, Celine’s father, and the head of the family before her.

Father and daughter alike had a proud, regal look—an air of nobility suggested by their high cheekbones. Both were portrayed with an unwavering gaze: Aaron with a look so serious it bordered on spite, Celine with a gentle smile that softened the impression of her sharp features.

“That’s right. It’s a portrait of your mother,” Kylian said.

Ailn had an uncharacteristically somber expression. Kylian would have naturally thought it was a look of nostalgia, and yet he didn’t sense any yearning in Ailn’s gaze. Rather, the young noble seemed like a traveler in his own body, paying respect to the memories he didn’t have.

“I see.” Ailn’s gaze was still on his mother’s portrait. “What kind of person was she?”

“She was a kind and grounded woman who performed her duties admirably.” Kylian glanced at Ailn who simply kept his gaze upon his mother’s portrait. “She’s been dead for seven years.”

Looking at the solemnity Ailn was currently carrying himself with, Kylian felt a slight guilt. He didn’t believe he was best suited for the task of helping Ailn remember the tragedies of his own family.

Ailn’s grave expression disappeared, however, and he tilted his head curiously.

“...Who’s still alive, exactly?” Ailn asked Kylian.

Kylian turned toward Ailn warily. He didn’t quite understand the intent of Ailn’s question, but something in his tone of voice gave Kylian the sense they weren’t seeing eye to eye.

“In your family?” Kylian asked.

“Right. If you’re suspicious of my family, who else is a potential culprit?” Ailn asked.

“Well, there is your Aunt Ennieux, but…” Kylian trailed off.

He pointed at a portrait of a fair woman with silver hair, whose brown eyes stood out from the rest of the family.

“I don’t believe it’s her,” Kylian said honestly. “I’d suspect her children before her, and even then… I very much doubt it.”

“Why?” Ailn asked.

“You just have to meet her.”

“Is she so kind you can’t believe she’d hurt anybody?”

“No,” Kylian grimaced. “Not quite.”

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

Kylian and Ailn went up the stairs at the back of the Great Hall, entering the solar reserved for the noble family.

“Sophie really does sleep here…” Ailn peered into the lord’s chamber. “There isn’t much here besides beds.”

The solar was small, a practical use of the second floor above the Great Hall rather than a lavish accommodation built for its own sake.

Frankly, it was an intimate familial space Kylian should never have had access to; the beds were even still unmade. It felt like an act of insubordination and an invasion of privacy at the same time.

Doubling as an informal parlor within the solar was the ducal study.

Like everything else eum-Creid, it was modest by noble standards. Where most nobles went out of their way to construct splendid libraries—often filled with books they didn’t actually read—the ducal study hardly even earned its moniker.

In fact, it was less of a proper room and more of a distinguished partition, separated out from the rest of the lord’s chamber by way of wood and rich tapestry.

Said tapestry, which displayed the heraldic emblem of the eum-Creids, was probably the closest thing to opulence on the estate. A proud silver wolf against an azure sky: rendered with silver thread, on a base of silk weft on cotton warp.

“You guys have real books—I’m surprised. I mean, with spines and everything. That’s great,” Ailn mused, flipping through a book on governance.

“Your Grace, sometimes you say inexplicable things that feel subtly insulting,” Kylian said with a wince. “I would be remiss if I didn’t warn you of it.”

“Does it bother you?” Ailn asked.

“It is a little chafing, yes,” Kylian replied.

“Fair enough,” Ailn said, placing the book back on the shelf. “I’ll try to be more subtle.”

“That is precisely the least helpful action,” Kylian frowned, following Ailn’s gaze.

Ailn picked books off the shelf one by one. Examining each in turn, he’d flip to the start of the book, then flip to the end, before sporadically checking pages in the middle.

Kylian found Ailn’s manner of ‘reading’ worth observing in and of itself. He’d been skeptical about how useful a trip to the ducal study could be. Even if there was somehow something relevant in the study’s corpus of information, Kylian didn’t believe it would be a practical avenue to explore.

There were many books, and only two days. If they’d had a more focused inquiry, it might be manageable, but as it stood Kylian felt they’d be better off exhaustively interviewing residents of the castle.

Still, Ailn was a great deal more efficient than Kylian had thought possible. Just a few minutes in the study, and he’d already searched through a dozen or so books to his personal satisfaction.

Occasionally one book’s contents would interest Ailn enough to skim a page or two fully, but most books found themselves back on the shelf within a few seconds.

Frankly, the cavalier way in which Ailn handled the books bothered Kylian. The pages would likely stretch.

“What’s this one?” Ailn flipped open a tome that looked particularly worn and regal. “I can’t read it.”

Kylian glanced at the book Ailn had opened.

“It would be more surprising if you could. It’s in the ancient language,” Kylian said. “The last ones left who can read it are either wizards or scholars.”

“Do you think it talks about ghosts? ” Ailn asked.

“Ghosts?” Kylian raised an eyebrow. “Are you jesting? Do you sincerely believe there was a ghost wailing in the walls?”

Ailn shrugged.

“Kylian, I came back to life last night. If you believe that, why would ghosts be a step too far?” Ailn asked.

He had a point. Still, it was doubtful such a book existed; Kylian had never even heard a ghost story growing up. Varant was already always at battle with death and shadow. Who needed ghosts? The culture of the city was too hard-nosed to fear apparitions of such an ethereal nature.

“Ah,” Ailn picked a new book out—one that was the furthest thing from fictitious or fanciful. He flipped through it for a while, before Kylian’s curiosity got the better of him.

“The castle archive?” Kylian asked.

“That’s right,” Ailn said. “Check this out.”

Ailn showed Kylian the page he was looking at: records for Sophie, Renea’s lady-in-waiting. Lacking a surname, she only had her first name. And…

“The more I learned about Sophie, the more curious I got. And what do you know? She has no parents documented,” Ailn said.

“Is that really so telling? War orphans are unfortunately common here,” Kylian said. “You’ll find plenty of children like that.”

“You’re right—that alone doesn’t mean anything.” Ailn seemed to fiddle with something on his wrist that wasn’t actually there. “But…”

“But?” Kylian asked.

“But I’ll keep what I’m thinking close to the vest for now,” Ailn said, starting to grimace. “No point casting aspersions without any real evidence.”

Ailn said nothing for a moment. Then, before Kylian could even say anything, or press him to elaborate, he seemed to wince at his own thought.

“I’m curious,” Ailn gave Kylian a questioning look, “why are you so convinced the ultimate culprit is someone in my family?”

Why indeed? The moment he saw the body, Kylian’s suspicions had ventured in that direction.

First, he had reason to believe Ailn was targeted specifically. It was rare for him to be at the castle at all. And it seemed implausible that his presence would coincide with the only shadow beast attack in its history.

As for why Kylian suspected his family… he wasn’t entirely sure. There was a personal touch to how Ailn’s body had been left in the courtyard—a pointedness which had led to Kylian disqualifying outside influence instinctually.

In Kylian’s experience as a peacekeeper, that typically meant motives romantic or familial. But it would be impossible for a mere scorned lover to orchestrate such an elaborate attack, especially one involving shadow beasts.

With romance ruled out, that left Ailn’s family. Of the eum-Creids, the only likely candidate would be Sigurd, who held no shortage of contempt for Ailn.

But was this chain of reasoning truly sound? He wondered briefly if he harbored resentments toward Sigurd that were hidden even from himself, such that he’d unfairly narrowed his own view.

“...Just a hunch,” Kylian said somberly. “One that, in retrospect, I find increasingly difficult to justify.”

“No need to doubt yourself. Intuition is just reasoning still waiting to be articulated.” Ailn tapped his temple. “Make it explicit, and you can see if it’s sound.”

“Intuition, is it?” Kylian mumbled. He closed his eyes, calling to mind the appearance of the body. He retraced the grim emotions that ran through him, as he watched Cairn examine the seeming corpse. “It was as if... you were meant to be on display. The staging wasn’t merely meant to hide the nature of the crime. There was an emotionality to it.”

“What you’re saying is the key motive is humiliation,” Ailn said bluntly.

Hearing the quiet thing said out loud brought clarity to Kylian’s thoughts.

The culprit intended to humiliate Ailn. He was already considered a disgrace, and yet the culprit wanted more: a should-be paladin cut down by the weakest creatures of the dark—shadow beasts so unthreatening that the young timid guard of the cafeteria held them at bay with a thick wooden door.

His death was meant to cement a shameful legacy, by justifying the insults that had always followed him in life. And in the courtyard, his corpse would have been left as a cruel joke, to be heard by those who cared the least about him, and cared the most about everything wrong with him.

Whoever had tried to murder Ailn was motivated by hatred.