Klober could hear the click of his boots grow uncomfortably loud as he ran to the adjacent chamber, to assist in whatever fresh horror the witch had uncovered.

And yet, for all his haste barging through the door, he came to nothing.

It was an ordinary office, complete with a small cot in the corner, covered in books so the covers could scarcely be seen.

Or at least, mostly ordinary. Ancient vellum texts and rolled-up papyrus scrolls from the north lay carefully arranged around the study. Tracts covering topics the officer couldn't even pronounce, much less discuss, interspersed with small vials and trinkets of unknown origin.

“This isn't good at all,” Katarina said quietly, interrupting his examination, “Look. Look at this.”

She was holding a skull in her hand, examining it with a gingerness that seemed more reminiscent of one handling a hot plate.

Klober went silent. He didn't see what the fuss was about. Certainly not in comparison to the worrisome display that he had seen throughout the remainder of the laboratory. In comparison, a lone skull with some fracture lines seemed completely normal.

“Help me clear the office, quickly,” she said suddenly, setting the skull back on the table with a daintiness that spoke of the seriousness with which she viewed the bleached relic, “We need to find that journal.”

The officer felt his brows furrow as he spied the prominent canines jutting out of the upper jaw, elongated in a way no natural humans should be.

“Stop staring and move,” the witch snapped bluntly, the veneer of calm control slipping ever so slightly as she began emptying the contents of Orrin's desk with a single-minded focus, dumping priceless years of research on the floor without the slightest decorum.

That was enough of a cue for Klober, and he joined her in the search, sifting through the texts and treatises in search of Orrin's journal, setting aside what he could in orderly piles on the stone floor as the pair quietly plied the eclectic collection.

Books on healing and medicine mixed with essays on the occult and religious dogma, all clustered in the same space.

Strange man.

The dragoon thought to himself, doing his best not to think of the revolting sights in the lab itself. H needed a distraction of some sort.

“What is with the skull? It looks like-”

“A vampire?”

He nodded warily, feeling ever so slightly foolish for the notion. To his surprise, Katarina made no remark about the concern, simply nodding her own acknowledgment.

“I won't speculate until I know more. It's imperative we find his journal.”

“Does he have a secret safe somewhere? A lockbox or something?” Klober queried curiously, dumping out another stack of weather-worn parchment.

“He could, where, however, is another question entirely.”

The dragoon wondered if that skull was the reason the mage had been killed. Certainly, it may have been. If this place were anything to go by, there would have been plenty of motive-

“Focus. Find the journal.”

“Will do.”

Suddenly, the witch twitched, her eyes slitting as if realizing something.

Stolen novel; please report.

“We have company upstairs.”

“Shall I go-”

“No. I know exactly who it is. Damn Gustav. Parasite.”

“Gustav Lautier?” Klober asked, shaking his head in disbelief

“One and the same,” she nodded.

What the king's personal representative to the Sorcerers Conclave could have to do here, he could not say, but he doubted he'd have much good say after seeing this- sight.

“Work quick. Ignore it,” the witch said.

Klober almost jumped as an empty bookcase suddenly shifted, Katarina leveraging her power to shift the heavy wooden construction with contemptuous ease.

Nothing. Nothing to be seen.

He knelt down alongside the wizard's cot, hand reaching underneath the bed and feeling around for anything of interest.

“I think- I think I got it,” he hissed, his hands sliding alongside the distinct outline of a lockbox, pushed far back against the stone wall.

“Excellent,” the witch said, reaching down to open the iron-bound container as soon as Klober had pushed it clear, “Excellent.”

“No magic lock, huh,” the woman chuckled to herself, “You really didn't want anyone finding- Ah, there we are.”

The dragoon watched in shock as the lock holding it shut melted and clattered to the ground, making him stagger away from the heated metal as if burned.

Sure enough. The only contents of the lockbox. A leather-bound journal. If it was hydra, he could not say, but the strange shade of gray certainly didn't seem like some ordinary animal.

“Is that it?”

“No doubt,” the witch said abruptly, snapping the book shut and shoving it in his hand, “Hold on to it. I will examine it on the road.”

“But-”

“But nothing. I won't be explaining this to Gustav, and he certainly isn't going to question you,” she said brusquely, “This place needs to be dissected, purified, and burned.”

No doubt, to hide the evidence.

It sickened Klober, to think this would all just be swept under the rug. Never to be known by the kingdom.

Then again, what does it matter? The man's dead is he not?

“This- All of this really cannot be allowed to get out. Gustav will understand that. And you should too,” the witch said with a shrug, as he fastened the journal to his ammunition pouch, “It brings me no more joy than it does you. But the man is dead. And this- this getting out would only do more harm.”

The dragoon nodded his acquiescence. It made sense, even if it was difficult to stomach the notion. For a brief moment, he wondered if they should try to mask their search, but swiftly dismissed it as Katarina began her march back up toward the stairs, sparing not even a backward glance at the horrors of the laboratory.

Try as he might, Klober could not do the same, the same revolting sensation welling up as he saw the pickled organs decorating the walls.

The only uplifting thought was that he wouldn't have to see the sight again.

The sounds of arguing reached his ears long before they exited the structure, Jaubert's harsh voice cut off by the sophisticated drawl Klober could only imagine fit in the King's court.

“I'm sorry sir. I-”

“Go get Katarina. Get her now sergeant.”

“My lord-”

“Don't worry about it, Gustav, I'm here already, we're done,” Katarina interjected, replacing her hat as they strode out into the open, “The scene is yours.”

Klober frowned at the sight before them, at least a dozen men of the Royal Guard, their breastplates and rifles polished to a gleam, were standing rigid opposite his own half-section, the blues of their uniform contrasting sharply with the green of the city's dragoons. Behind them, he could just make out a slight man dressed in exotic silk robes, strangely out of place in this dilapidated fortress.

Gustav Lautier.

He could almost envisage Katarina's lips curling upward in a sneer of disdain. Even though she made no such motion, the sense of contempt was impossible to miss. For his part, the king's representative smiled in amusement, his thin lips twitching ever so slightly with the motion.

“Ah, Madam Romme, a pleasure,” he said with a smug smile.

“Master Lautier,” she acknowledged him coldly.

“And to think- to think we all believed you were chasing the killer,” the man said innocently.

“I am. The investigation brought me here,” the witch shrugged, “A search for the killer's motivation. And I believe that motivation was found.”

“Oh, is that so?” the weak-looking man asked with mock surprise.

Klober would not have considered Katarina a tall woman. Even the hat didn't bring her to brow height. Yet drawn erect in militant fashion, she stood imposing over the diminutive wizard, the man's pathetic frame and strange dress only exaggerating the difference.

"It would appear his digging in Frolingen bore ill fruit."

"Are you saying the Gray were right?" the man said suddenly, the patronizing smile withering.

Though he couldn't be sure, the dragoon was confident the surprise was real. He wondered just how detached the man was from the Conclave, and if that was why Katarina resented him so.

"His Majesty would not be pleased to hear of that. I fear he would find that most distressing," the man continued warily.

"It is possible. Certainly, it may be so," the witch said, eyes flitting warily between Gustav and the guards behind him, "Though none save King Charles need know. Certainly not the wider public."

The man nodded his agreement, head bobbing like some strange bird as he considered the necessity of what had to be done.

"As you will find there is much that remains to be done. My recommendation is complete destruction, after thorough examination.”

The man slit his eyes suspiciously as she made her way toward the horses, motioning for the dragoons to follow suit.

"And what of you? Should you not partake in this search?" he asked loudly, the thin mask of civility barely hiding his irritation.

"I have a murderer to catch. A Malthorian as you might have heard," the sorceress said flatly, "And as far as I am concerned, the pertinent information has been found."

"So you move to pursue?" Gustav asked, brow raised and fingers clasped together.

"I move to rejoin with the rest of my retinue. They are pursuing the man closely," Katarina spoke the words with a confident impatience that made it clear she did not wish to discuss the matter further.

"Which way is he headed? Do you know where he may hide?" the man pressed in spite of his peer's demeanor.

"I believe we do. He is headed west, where this all began," she said the words without emotion, making sure to drag out every word, "West. To Donnerau."

A hiss of surprise escaped Sorcerer Lautier's lips, and it was all Klober could do not to express his own shocked dismay. And confusion. It made no sense at all. Katarina herself had said the man would never go there.

Gustav glanced at him for the first time, as if trying to glean if it was some kind of jest. It certainly was not. The officer was just as baffled.

"I wish you the best of luck, may your work here move with expediency," the witch said as she swung into the saddle.

"Yours- Yours as well," the king's representative nodded warily, turning back toward the abandoned fort.

It was only once they rode clear of Fort Heydeck's perimeter that Klober saw the witch's lips twitch ever so slightly, eyes glittering with undisguised glee as she glanced over toward him. As the last of the Royal Guard's standing watch at the perimeter disappeared behind them, Katarina turned back to the road, and smiled.