Arim grunted in pain as Silas pulled a healing needle from his neck. The sharp sting was immediate, but Arim knew he had to speak quickly. His voice, though strained, carried an urgency.

"Lord Magistrate," Arim began, locking eyes with Lachlan. "The Heavenly Flame Sect’s Heiress came to me requesting my alchemical skills. We were discussing the details when I smelled the scent of blood."

Lachlan's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing as he listened intently.

"The Priest from earlier arrived, covered in blood and panic-stricken," Arim continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I foolishly approached him as he yelled about an assailant. When I got close enough, he collapsed, coughing."

Arim paused to catch his breath, clearly distressed by the memory. Silas watched him closely, ensuring the story unfolded as planned.

"I got closer," Arim said, his voice growing weaker. "And when I was within reach, the Priest leaped past me and threw a [Punishment Order] at my back."

Lachlan's fists clenched at the reminder. The severity of such an attack was not lost on him.

"It connected," Arim said through gritted teeth. "It greatly weakened me for the fight that followed."

He took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze flickering to Emma's still form nearby.

"The Heiress tried to help me," Arim said, his voice filled with a mix of gratitude and regret. "But she was outmatched. I had to defend both myself and her, almost sacrificing myself to keep her alive."

Arim's body trembled with the effort of speaking, but he pressed on.

"The Priest... he was more than likely a Heretic, I have failed you. My loss of consciousness is beyond shameful. There is nothing more I can offer accept an apology." Arim concluded, his voice a whisper now.

Lachlan's expression grew darker at this revelation. The implications of a Heretic within their midst were dire.

Silas returned the needle to its place, allowing Arim some respite as the healing elixirs began to relieve his pain. He watched as Arim's body relaxed slightly, though the tension in the room remained palpable.

Silas mentally noted to himself, "Perhaps he took too much of a beating to the head? Now he has to mess with the kid's memory to fit his story... hmm."

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Lachlan and Silas stood alone in the storage room of the auction hall, surrounded by the aftermath of chaos. Shelves were overturned, and shattered glass littered the floor. It was clear that the Priest had known exactly what he was after, taking only the most valuable items.

"Do you have a way of tracking down the Priest?" Lachlan's voice was grim, his eyes scanning the wreckage.

Silas shook his head. "I do not. This matter was unexpected to me. I came for a bit of entertainment and to feed my nostalgia. I had no reason to prepare trackers onto a random Priest."

Lachlan sighed, muttering under his breath, "Thought as much."

Silas tilted his head slightly, considering Lachlan's demeanor. "Have you made enemies among the groups that venerate False Gods?"

Lachlan's brow furrowed in thought. "I may have, during one of the campaigns I served under. Yet, I can't remember anything particularly horrible that I did."

"Perhaps there is something bigger afoot," Silas suggested, his tone even.

Lachlan looked at him sharply. "Please, enlighten me."

Silas placed a finger to his chin, contemplating his words carefully. "This may not be an isolated incident. Maybe a group of Heretics is making moves."

"The Church of Probitas should be informed of this incident," Silas continued. "More than likely, their actual Priest has been dead for a while."

Lachlan nodded in agreement. "If it is heretics, their patron deity needs to be found out… To grant the ability to cast miracles, it has to be a potent one."

"Indeed," Silas said with a nod. "I would send out word for unusual activity in the surrounding settlements and then…"

They discussed various aspects of the incident for several minutes more, each detail adding another layer to their understanding of what had transpired.

"Senior Ji," Lachlan began cautiously, "would you be willing to help us investigate this?"

Silas's expression remained neutral as he considered the request. "Unfortunately, I wish to continue on my travels. Unless there is activity in Sichal—my next destination—the only help I can give is my thoughts on the events and aid in Arim's recovery while I am here."

Lachlan's shoulders slumped slightly but he nodded in understanding. "Your insights have been invaluable already."

Silas offered a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I will always offer what aid I can when it comes to matters of such gravity."

Their conversation shifted back to practicalities—how best to secure the remaining items and ensure no further breaches occurred. Silas provided suggestions on reinforcing security measures while Lachlan took mental notes.

As they wrapped up their discussion, Lachlan extended a hand toward Silas. "Thank you for your assistance tonight."

Silas clasped Lachlan's hand firmly but briefly before turning toward the door.

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The streets of Rhysling, usually filled with the vibrant energy of merchants, artisans, and townsfolk, carried a heavy atmosphere that morning. The events of the previous night had cast a pall over the city. People spoke in hushed whispers, their eyes darting nervously as they recounted the rumors about the slaughter at the Church and the auction hall. The lockdown imposed by Magistrate Lachlan only added to their anxiety.

At the Starlight Bidders' Hall, a somber scene unfolded. Guests who had made purchases were being sorted out by overworked clerks. Those fortunate enough to have their items intact left quickly, eager to escape the oppressive mood. Others, whose treasures had been stolen in the chaos, were directed towards Castle Rhysling for reparations from the Magistrate's coffers. Their disgruntled mutterings added to the tension in the air.

Outside both locations, kind souls left offerings for the deceased. Flowers, candles, and small tokens were placed reverently on makeshift altars. Prayers to Necrimia, the Goddess of Blessed Death, were whispered for the souls lost in the night's violence.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Inside his room at the Merry Minstrel Lodge, Silas held Nyx upside down by his talons. The crow squawked in what could only be described as laughter, waving him off with an air of nonchalance.

"Where is the mace?" Silas's voice was low but firm.

Nyx flapped his wings dismissively and slipped through Silas's fingers, perching himself on his master's shoulder. He squawked a few more times, as if telling Silas not to worry.

Silas sighed deeply. "All went decently enough," he admitted. "But don't make me improvise too much now. We can't afford to run out of time."

Nyx responded by placing a comforting wing around the back of Silas's head. With his other wing, he somehow managed to shift his feathers into a shape resembling a thumbs-up.

Silas's eye twitched slightly at the display but he nodded nonetheless. "Go to Zinnia and inform her of her role today," he instructed. "I need to visit Arim for some final confirmations. We should be able to leave Rhysling as soon as the real Selen starts claiming her stolen identity."

Nyx nodded and threw himself off Silas's shoulder into the shadows, disappearing from sight.

Silas took a moment to gather himself before opening the door and stepping out into Rhysling's tense streets. His destination was Castle Rhysling where Arim and Emma were recovering from their ordeal.

As he walked through the city, Silas noted how different it felt from just a day ago. The usual sounds of commerce and chatter were replaced by an eerie quiet punctuated by murmurs of fear and uncertainty. Guards patrolled more visibly than before, their presence a blunt reminder of last night's events.

Reaching Castle Rhysling, Silas was met with increased security at the gates. After identifying himself and stating his business, he was allowed entry.

Inside, he moved through opulent halls that seemed almost out of place given the current state of affairs outside. Servants moved about, but there was an underlying tension in their movements.

Silas found Arim's recovery room easily enough. It was guarded by two stern-faced men who stepped aside upon recognizing him.

Entering quietly, Silas saw Arim lying on a bed looking pale but conscious.

"Senior Ji," Arim greeted weakly but with respect.

"Arim," Silas acknowledged with a nod before closing the door.

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Zinnia screamed into her pillow, the muffled sound barely containing her frustration. She lifted her head, eyes blazing, and hurled the pillow across the room. "HOW THE FUCK IS THAT AN INCIDENT, YOU HOMICIDAL JACKASS!" Her voice echoed off the private stone walls of her quarters in Castle Rhysling.

Grabbing another pillow, she screamed into it again before tossing it aside with the first. "If I'm associated with this, I AM F-U-C-K-E-D," she thought, panic creeping into her mind. "This is the kind of shit that can get sent up to the Empress! Screw robbing the capital if we will be screwed over here!"

She snatched a third pillow, screamed into it and flung it away. Her hands moved to her temples, pressing hard as if she could force a solution out of her brain. "Think, think, think... mmmmhhhh~," she muttered.

"But... he's gotta be full of loot now... If I get a decent piece... maybe..." Her thoughts trailed off into another scream of frustration. She reached for yet another pillow, but this time it seemed to leap up and smack her in the face. The impact sent her tumbling off the bed onto the pile of discarded pillows.

"Ouch!" she yelped, glaring up at Nyx who perched on the edge of the bed, looking down at her with what could only be described as amusement.

"What’s your problem?" she snapped at him.

Nyx shrugged his wings nonchalantly before using his beak to pluck out one of his feathers. Before Zinnia could react, he lunged at her and pricked her upper arm with the feather's sharp tip, drawing a small bead of blood.

"Asshole," she muttered under her breath as she rubbed her arm.

Ignoring her insult, Nyx dropped the feather and caught it deftly with his talon. He hopped over to her desk where some paper lay scattered and began to scribble furiously.

Zinnia stood up and approached him cautiously. "Is that a message from Ji?" she asked.

Nyx finished his scribbling and flipped the paper around with a flourish. Zinnia's eyes widened in disbelief as she saw a caricature of herself screaming into a pillow with a mocking title suggesting she needed to get laid if she was that frustrated.

"What the hell is this?!" she yelled.

Nyx squawked in laughter before flipping over the paper to reveal actual instructions written behind his doodle. A vein throbbed visibly on Zinnia's forehead as she glared at him.

"I get by just fine," she grumbled defensively.

She read through the instructions quickly and then looked back at Nyx with narrowed eyes. "Does Ji think I'm an idiot? This is exactly what we discussed at the Inn! Just some slight alterations I could have easily inferred."

Nyx pricked her again with the feather, causing Zinnia to curse under her breath. He scribbled out another message: "A fool assumes."

Zinnia clenched her fists but took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew better than to let his antics get under her skin too much—especially when there was work to be done.

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Lachlan sat in his audience hall, the torment of the previous night's events pressing heavily on his shoulders. The attack had left a trail of destruction that would cost Rhysling dearly. Paying for the damages was necessary to maintain both his reputation and the city's stability. He had followed Senior Ji's advice and quickly sent word throughout the Empire about possible Heretics—those who didn't venerate one of the twelve gods but still managed to channel faith into distorted miracles. They deserved nothing but loathing.

"Even if the Priests are no better…" he thought, but quickly shook his head to clear the stray thought.

The absence of his toupee felt oddly liberating, though it did little to ease his current burden. The strange disturbances in the Castle from before, they now seemed linked to the assumed fake Priest.

When he entered his room last night, he found the mace used in the attack placed above his door frame, ready to fall onto his head—a final insult from a more competent criminal than he had originally thought. Still, it wasn't enough to get them on the Blacklist.

A knock came at his door, and a guard informed him that Senior Ji wished to speak with him. Lachlan quickly ushered him in and offered him a seat.

Silas complied, sitting down. "I have just checked on Arim, he will recover quickly from his injuries," Silas began, "but the damage done to his cultivation with the [Punishment Order] is something I cannot undo."

Lachlan's eyes grew wide. "Is it really a [Punishment Order] from a Bishop of Probitas and not a Heretic?"

Silas nodded grimly. "Based on the symbols I could compare to my own knowledge, that style of inscription is indeed of Probitas. However," he added, "any Archbishop could negate it as well, even if they serve another God."

Lachlan's face grew stoic as he considered the implications. "If the Church of Probitas is behind this… there will be horrible consequences."

"It would be prudent to double-check this information with one of the church historians," Silas advised. "It's unlikely but possible that it was a stolen talisman."

At that moment, a guard announced once again that Master Selen wished to speak with the Lord Magistrate and Senior Ji.

"Approved," Lachlan said.

Zinnia walked in with a confident stride, giving Silas a flirty wink before placing her hands on her hips. "Any news on my Thorn? Can I help?"

Lachlan shook his head. "We haven't managed to find a trace of the thief, but you will be paid out the amount you are owed."

Silas interjected, "It's possible that the Thorn was one of the main targets as it was the most valuable item sold."

"No shit," Zinnia retorted as she sat herself down. "I still do want to help no matter what. The horrible events were just too much to ignore, some payback is in order!"

Lachlan laughed at this. "It will be good to have your assistance once Senior Ji leaves."

Zinnia looked surprised. "Leaving so soon?"

Silas nodded slightly. "I plan to leave after a couple more days when I'm sure Arim will be fine—that is if the Lord Magistrate will allow me to leave during lockdown."

"Of course," Lachlan answered without hesitation.

Zinnia pouted mockingly. "Abandoning me already?"

Silas gave a wry smile at her antics but turned serious as he addressed Lachlan again. "The events of last night were orchestrated with precision and malice. You need to consider your next steps carefully."

Lachlan nodded in agreement, leaning back in his chair as he pondered their options.

"Question anyone who might have seen something suspicious in the days prior?" Zinnia added.

"Agreed," Lachlan said thoughtfully. "I'll also need to send word to Lythoria for additional support in the investigation."

Silas leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing with intent focus. "And we mustn't forget about Arim's condition. If we can get confirmation on it's origin, we might find a way to reverse its effects sooner rather than later."

Lachlan sighed deeply but nodded once more. "I'll make sure those steps are taken immediately."

The conversation continued as they discussed further details about securing Rhysling and investigating any leads on potential Heretics or other threats lurking within their midst.