As the pair headed toward the infirmary, Kylian’s mind was in a rush. Partially from the implications of the burnt wood, but partially because with every discovery this case made less and less sense. And this last revelation made the least sense of all.

If the killer used holy aura to assault Ailn, then it definitively limited the list of candidates. It couldn’t have been a servant, nor an assassin hired from the outside.

It had to be someone from the Order.

That did potentially explain the sword that had been left shattered by the body. An orichalcum sword like that should belong to someone possessed of an exceptional holy aura. That would limit the possibilities to a few of the order’s best knights. There was Aldous, and Sir Jean… Sir Dartune as well.

And yet, all the strongest knights had been at the bestowal ceremony. Kylian saw them himself. At least, all of the strongest knights who were currently at the castle. It was possible a knight who should have been posted at the northern wall had discreetly returned.

Not every knight received the divine blessing at the same time. The majority of the knights would always be located at the northern wall; a member of the Azure Knights actually only needed to go through the bestowal ceremony around once a year.

There was a chance that such a knight, acting under orders, could have covertly entered the castle. Kylian had no idea how they might have managed to sneak in unnoticed by a gatekeeper—he had checked the log just last night and seen no such entries—but it was far from impossible.

Alternatively, it could have been one of the few knights assigned to guard duty during the ceremony. Of these guards, he knew Sir Reynard’s aura was quite powerful.

All of this left a terrible taste in Kylian’s mouth. Even though he had suspected the involvement of a member of the Order from the beginning, it was different entirely to see proof of the hidden and dirtied hand.

“Don’t jump to conclusions yet, Kylian,” Ailn gently chided him as they made their way through the keep. “Give it time to slow cook.”

“I hardly think I’m jumping to conclusions,” Kylian said. His own tired voice surprised him. “You may as well have drawn them for me.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ailn shrugged. “Sometimes it’s what you think the first time. Sometimes it’s not. But at the end of the day, there’s only one way it could have happened.”

“That seems a given,” Kylian said, frowning.

“It’s a matter of not fixating,” Ailn said casually. “You consider the facts as a whole. Whatever happened, happened. There’s only one world where all the facts can co-exist, and it’s the one we already live in.”

“Could you elaborate on that?” Kylian glanced at him.

“Well… facts that contradict are like squabbling neighbors, right?” Ailn remarked. “Ask yourself how they ever managed to get along. Then, naturally, the missing links reveal themselves. That’s how I reasoned out the existence of the cistern.”

It was a novel way of thinking to say the least. Kylian wasn’t sure if it was substantive at the end of the day, but he had to admit that he felt some instinctual resonance. More than anything else, he couldn’t deny that Ailn’s distinctive process had clearly borne fruit.

“...I suppose you could say it prods the mind in a more deductive direction,” Kylian mused.

“Right. It’s like chess. Do you have chess here?” Ailn asked.

“Here?” Kylian repeated, ever puzzled by Ailn’s wording. “Yes. There is chess here in the duchy.”

“Every piece on the board leaves proof of how it moved,” Ailn said. “You can always work a chess game backwards from the final position.”

“...What?” Kylian stopped in his tracks and eyed Ailn warily. “That’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true. Think about it,” Ailn narrowed his eyes at Kylian.

“You do realize you can just move knights back and forth indefinitely from the start position, don’t you?” Kylian asked.

Now Ailn stopped in his tracks. His eyes narrowed further as he presumably pondered it. After a moment, he averted his gaze.

“Oh look. There’s the infirmary.” Ailn proceeded to ignore Kylian’s statement.

Of course, there were those times—like now—when Kylian found himself less than impressed by Ailn.

In contrast to the rest of the keep, the infirmary was quite sunny. All in all it gave a rather idyllic impression.

Ailn took it in with some surprise. He hadn’t exactly expected it to be dusty and dark, but it was one of the brightest places in the entire keep. Lots of light came in through the wide, mullioned windows at the back, but it was all soft and diffuse.

It was a pleasant sight, which was wearying in its own way; both Ailn and Kylian were reminded of just how tired they were.

Ailn had only gotten a few hours of sleep sitting against a stone wall. Kylian was even worse off—he’d nodded off a few times, but for the most part, he stayed awake to ensure Ailn’s head injury didn’t worsen while he slept.

They caught sight of a young physician’s assistant.

“Can I help you? Oh! Sir Kylian, and… Your Grace,” the assistant walked over to them. “Did you need Physician Cairn?”

“That’s right,” Kylian said. “Could you retrieve him for us?”

“Certainly.” The assistant gave a quick bow, before heading deeper inside the infirmary to retrieve Cairn—past all the sick beds, which currently held no soldiers, and into what was presumably Cairn’s office.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Ailn stared enviously at the beds in the infirmary.

“Kylian,” Ailn started, “where do I actually sleep?”

Thinking back to the family solar, he noticed there hadn’t been a bed for him in there. That made sense, if he wasn’t held in high esteem.

He didn’t sleep in the servants’ quarters, did he?”

“You live in a small cottage in the woods that was once used for hunting,” Kylian said.

“...That bad, huh?” Ailn muttered, remembering his dirty tunic.

“You are notoriously impoverished,” Kylian replied. “You live gracefully with little to your name.”

Ailn’s posture drooped.

With Lady Renea’s expected return tomorrow, and the inquest the day after, they didn’t have time to waste. However, since it was barely afternoon, that also meant they had a long day ahead of them.

Even in another world, Ailn was feeling the 2PM slump.

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

Cairn’s office was less orderly than you’d expect. It certainly wasn’t a pigsty, but its stone shelves clearly weren’t organized. Plants, scrolls, and apothecary jars lived together in happy disharmony, while the blots of ink all over the unfurled parchment on his desk revealed his sloppy handwriting.

“There’s a doctor’s signature if I ever saw one,” Ailn whistled, extending a hand to Cairn.

“Can it,” Cairn said, reciprocating the handshake. “Doctors have messy signatures because they keep busy.”

“Hey, I didn’t say it was a bad thing. I’d say it’s proof you’re the genuine article,” Ailn shrugged. His brow furrowed. “So you change that death report to an injury report yet?”

“I did,” Cairn sighed, taking a seat behind his desk. “Took me forever because I’m not used to… well, lying.”

“It’s a good thing for a… physician to have a hard time distorting the truth,” Kylian said. He paused to think about it himself.

“Yeah, I’d be more worried if you were good at ‘creative’ work,” Ailn said. “Speaking of my injuries—you know, we learned something interesting, Cairn. Those burn marks on my neck were probably from holy power.”

“...What?” Cairn looked up.

Ailn shrugged amiably, as if he was talking about the weather.

“I had Kylian take a big holy swing at one of those training posts in the yard. Took out a chunk of it,” Ailn said. “...Wasn’t nearly enough aura to take out a shed, though.”

“Are you saying one of the knights did it?” Cairn spoke quietly. He seemed genuinely shocked. “Or—”

“I don’t know what I’m saying, Cairn. Especially since so many people with holy aura were all held up at the bestowal ceremony,” Ailn walked up to Cairn’s desk. “That said, I’ve got some questions for you. I need you to help me with my amnesia, and a few of these questions might get awkward.”

“Okay?” Cairn looked at Ailn testily. “I’ll happily answer anything you ask. What kind of awkward?”

Cairn leaned back in his chair, turning his palms upward—almost like he was showing there was nothing to hide.

But Ailn wasn’t focused on Cairn himself. He pulled a number of sheets of rolled up parchment out of a scroll case attached to his belt.

“The scandalous kind,” Ailn said, dropping the stack of parchment onto the desk in front of him. The way he loomed over Cairn almost made it look like an interrogation.

“Did you… rip that out of a book?!” Kylian glared at Ailn.

“Sometimes you need to shove proof in someone’s face to corner them, Kylian,” Ailn turned his head toward Cairn, almost looking apologetic. Almost. “Cairn, I need to know about Sophie.”

“About Sophie?” Cairn made a face.

A little confused, but mostly annoyed, he glanced at the document on top of the stack, his movements slowly stilling as he realized what it was. A birth document.

“Looks like you get it,” Ailn said. “I need to know who Sophie’s parents are.”

Cairn’s expression grew dark. He tried to restrain it, to keep a calm facade, but the effort was clear; he wasn’t one for masking his emotions.

“How should I know?” Cairn asked, averting his eyes. “She’s probably a war orphan.”

Cairn tentatively grabbed the stack of parchment, bringing the second sheet to the front. His expression got even worse.

“You can play dumb Cairn, but this record of delivery shows she was delivered by the head assistant to the court physician.” Ailn pointed at the second sheet of parchment Cairn was now reading. “And according to this ducal warrant… that would have been you.”

Cairn shuffled uneasily behind his own desk. He set the stack of parchment down. Evidently, he didn’t want to see anymore.

“I think I remember her now. Yes—her mother was a vagrant, who left shortly after her birth,” Cairn said, waving his hand dismissively. “That’s why there’s no record of her parents. It happens all the time.”

“So you’re telling me she was just Moses in a basket of reeds? Why would the eum-Creids take her in as a lady-in-waiting, and put her on the easy path to being granted nobility?” Ailn asked.

“I don’t know what to tell you. The Saintess was a merciful woman. Is it so strange for a noble family to take her in? Sometimes children of similar age are adopted to become siblings and playmates—” Cairn pointed at Ailn, some confidence returning,“—even if they came floating down the riverbank. Just look at how close she is with Lady Renea!”

Kylian’s eyebrow raised in seeming puzzlement, while Ailn simply shook his head.

“Sophie’s older than Renea, Cairn. By more than a year. Here’s the real suspicious thing, though.” Ailn pulled out the last sheet from under the stack, and laid it back on top of the desk: an aged herald’s proclamation. “This is a herald’s call for jubilation at the recovery of the Saintess Celine. She’d suffered from a long illness that lasted about five months.”

He slowly pointed from one date on Sophie’s record of delivery, to the date of the proclamation.

“Celine’s illness ended… two days after Sophie’s birth,” Ailn said. “It’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

Cairn’s face flushed, while Kylian’s grew even paler. It seemed like every page Ailn threw on the desk threatened to give the knight a heart attack.

One hand to his forehead and deep in thought, Cairn stared at the proclamation for a long while before replying.

“Is there something you have against your family, Your Grace? I really don’t understand.” Cairn looked genuinely confused, if a little appalled. He gave a weary glance toward Kylian, a knight now unwittingly privy to the matters of the master. “Why ask me? Why ask here, right in front of Sir Kylian?”

Ailn seemed to think this one over, closing his eyes and crossing his arms.

“...He was going to need to know, anyway,” Ailn said, finally. He opened his eyes. “I told you this would be awkward.”

Cairn let out a deep and anxious sigh, before holding his face in his hands. “Talk to your family if you really want to know more. You're putting me in a difficult position, Your Grace!”

Kylian held his breath. But Ailn simply nodded.

“Alright, alright.” Ailn threw his hands up in the air. “I’ll quit bothering you, Cairn. You’re a tough nut to crack. Just remember the inquest is two days from now, and I’m sure you’ll need to testify.”

Ailn gave a wave as the two turned to leave. “We’ll be back if we need you.”

“Your Grace, you… weren’t exactly being subtle,” Kylian said, his eyes troubled. “If someone heard your accusation—even if she's your own mother—”

“What can I say? Subtlety’s not my forte,” Ailn shrugged.

With that, the two started to walk out. All the while, Kylian kept looking from Ailn to Cairn and back, consternation on his face. Just before they crossed the threshold, however, Ailn stopped in his tracks.

“Oh, by the way, Cairn… just one more thing,” Ailn tapped his forehead. He gave Kylian a subtle look. “I’ll catch up with you in a sec.”

“...Of course. Then I shall go on ahead and seek out Sir Reynard.” Kylian, seemingly catching onto the meaning in Ailn’s look, sighed and left the room.

Once the knight was gone, Cairn felt an inexplicable dread in his stomach as he watched Ailn slowly approach. What did the young noble want now?

“So, Cairn,” Ailn said, looming over him. “How long have you been in that body?”