26 March 1686 of the 6th Era, New Market Square, West District

  Antony shivered slightly as they finally descended the seemingly endless spiral stairs and began walking along an equally long corridor. He always felt uneasy in these premises, no matter how many times he came down here. Perhaps it was the lack of windows, given that the morgue was situated in the cellar of the SIU office building. Or the stale air with the barely traceable smell of death and decay. He only knew he wanted to spend as little time here as possible.

  Charlotte, on the other hand, seemed completely unfazed by the surroundings. From time to time, a somewhat bitter expression crossed her face, and she would gently shake her head to whatever thought was occurring to her in that moment.

  Mr Placek walked in front of the two of them, showing the way. He had brought a candle with him, more out of habit than necessity, as none of them had trouble seeing in the dark. Yet, right now Antony was rather thankful for that beacon of warmth in front of him. Just a bit, but it made the experience of being here more tolerable.

  “Almost there,” Mr Placek pushed a large door that looked equally gloomy and unwelcoming, and led them into a small room with a few offices. He cleared his throat, politely knocking on one of the doors.

  A noise of a chair being dragged could be heard from the other side, then it opened wide, revealing a tall and burly dusk elf woman with bright pink messy hair, slightly reddish eyes, and dark complexion. She was wearing a lab coat over her civilian clothes, though it was hard to say if she had just finished her shift or was about to begin one.

  She could wrestle an owlbear with her bare hands, Antony thought as he watched her loom over Mr Placek, who, presently, looked like a mini version of her.

  “Whatcha need?” She asked cheerfully, looking at the lot of them, then suddenly gasped, “Charlie?”

  “Long time no see, Agnes,” Charlotte chuckled as the woman briskly walked over to her and embraced her, defying all rules of etiquette in that moment.

  “Oh, how I missed you! You do realise you should write from time to time, and by from time to time I mean every couple of months, or at least once a year. I’ve not received anything from you, not even a postcard, in five years! Charlie, do you know how long five years is? I was beginning to think that–”

  “Ahem,” Antony put his hands behind his back, “I think you’re smothering her.”

  “Oh,” Agnes quickly let go, and it took a couple of seconds for Charlotte to catch her breath.

  “I’m really happy to see you, too,” she finally croaked. “Ms Agnes Liebheart, this is Mr Antony Levy.”

  “I’ve seen him around here on a few occasions,” Agnes scratched the back of her head, “Mostly helping Mr Placek here with a thing or two. But really, Charlie, you disappearing like that… I was beginning to believe that you…”

  “When it happens, you’ll know. Everyone will know,” she straightened her skirt. “I’m pretty certain I have sent you postcards for Solstice at least.”

  “Those just get lost in the mail,” Agnes waved her hand dismissively.

  “Whatever you say.”

  Ha… She found her match, Antony tried to keep a straight face while listening to the exchange, knowing too well he might just find out what the wrath of not one, but two women scorned looks like if he so much as dared to smile.

  “So… Why are ya lot here?” Agnes finally decided to drop the subject.

  “Right,” Mr Placek nodded energetically, “Ms Liebheart, Miss Dawntreader here wants to look into Lord Welz’s murder.”

  “Huh? Why’d ya want that?”

  “A university friend of mine was to marry the main suspect,” Charlotte said simply. “I promised to look into it.”

  “Ah, love eternal, star crossed lovers, and our dearest Charlie helping them reunite. You just can’t say no to a good romantic story, can you,” she winked.

  “Agnes, this is quite enough,” she rolled her eyes.

  “Fine, fine. Wait in the breakroom, I need to find the file,” she pointed towards one of the doors. “Also, I won’t let you go till we’ve agreed on a day to have lunch together.”

  She disappeared back into her office while Mr Placek led Charlotte and Antony into a surprisingly cozy, though windowless, sitting room. A sofa that was large enough to let even a giant comfortably stretch out and take a nap, two reclining chairs, and a coffee table with an assortment of books and newspapers scattered across it. There was also a rather messy bookshelf with anatomy atlasses and popular literature mixed together. And, finally, a bunch of tacky paintings scattered across the wall as if the one hanging them wanted to be done with it as quickly as possible and had no concept of proper height to hang them… and knew not that hanging one painting in the middle of the other, with a nail run through it was a bad idea.

  Mr Placek lit up a lamp and disapprovingly shook his head at the mess on the coffee table, but refrained from trying to clean it. Antony understood his hesitation. With Ms Liebheart and the other coroners, there was no knowing if the mess was just that, a mess, or an intentional arrangement of items in a specific order for ease of access.

  “Ms Liebheart and I worked on a number of cases back in Lundhaven,” Charlotte offered an explanation, correctly interpreting Antony’s posture before he could even utter a word. “She was only starting work in the field, but was very eager to learn things. At some point we became good acquaintances, I’d dare say even good friends.”

  “Found it,” Agnes triumphantly walked into the room, waving a yellow folder above her head. “It was even in the right place. Hue is finally learning.”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Good to hear that,” Mr Placek nodded.

  Charlotte opened the folder and fell silent, her finger tracing over the lines of carefully written text, while the others waited. Antony craned his neck to get a better look, but with his vision being as poor as it was, promptly gave up. She frowned slightly as she came across something, then looked at Agnes.

  “It says here ‘a weapon of unknown type and origin, possibly some sort of sword’, what do you mean?”

  “Oh, that,” Agnes messed with her hair, making it resemble a crow’s nest even more than before. “That’s the only thing weird about the state the body was in. Beheading, I get. If they knew Lord Welz had seen them or had reason to believe he had seen them, it’s only natural. Stabbing the way it happened… Someone was either very lucky or had a slightly higher than basic understanding of human anatomy. Lord Welz didn’t fight back, either, so perhaps easier to do. Or, again, it was sheer luck to hit the heart so precisely.

  “However, the wound… You know, I didn’t write it down cause that just sounded crazy, but your murder weapon is a giant needle.”

  “A spear, maybe?”

  “No, no. An actual needle, just large enough to stab right through the human body,” she vigorously shook her head. “Rounded, not flat, no nicks, no notches, extremely sharp and thin end. The closest thing I could think of was some sort of custom-made rapier, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen one in the form of a needle.

  “All I can say is that it was a clean wound, no traces or fragments of the weapon left to indicate what it was made of. The only thing I can say is that we can safely rule out something made out of wood.”

  “Got it. There is no possibility of the body not being Lord Welz’s,” Charlotte concluded, her expression puzzled. Antony, too, did not know what to do with the piece of information regarding the murder weapon, but duly noted it. “There are more than just two traits that correspond, plus there’s a medical record made available by his family physician. Somewhat weird though that Lord Welz wasn’t as physically fit as during his latest regular check-up, which happened in January.”

  “Was he perhaps ill? Recovering from illness?” Mr Placek offered, stroking his beard. “Elderly are like that. Age giveth, age taketh away.”

  “Mr Brook did mention that Lord Welz’s health was declining, or at least that was the reason he gave for staying in Ledavia instead of attending the festivities in Stolberg, as he usually did, but it doesn’t sound exactly convincing. We will need to ask his family about it,” Charlotte pursed her lips. “No other abnormalities found.

  “Agnes, how much force would have been required to inflict such a wound? And how tall did the attacker have to be?”

  “I’m still not sure. It really depends on so many factors… But let’s suppose my eyes are seeing right for a minute and there’s nothing else,” Agnes raised her finger. “It didn’t require much force because the weapon was unnaturally sharp. It went through Lord Welz’s body like a hot knife through butter, striking directly at his heart. The angle suggests that the hit was slightly from above. Mr Welz was not a short person, so I’d say… Mr Levy over here makes a perfect candidate, though Mr Brook isn’t too far behind, especially if Lord Welz was, say, bending at that time,” she demonstrated by raising her hand and then plunging the imaginary needle downwards. “Before you ask if he could be sitting or lying on the floor… That thing went right through him. It had to leave a dent in the floor if he was already on the ground at the time of the attack. I instructed every inch of the carpet to be inspected, but found nothing.”

  “But you’re not sure if he could have been moved?”

  “Oh, he was definitely moved. Question is why. Just to, you know, easier cut his head off or for some other purpose – here we need to ask the culprit.”

  Charlotte once again looked at the report, “The neck was cut using something else?”

  “It wasn’t a clean wound at all,” Agnes nodded. “Especially in contrast to whatever actually killed him. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”

  “Could there be two people?” Antony proposed. “Or perhaps that was just an afterthought?”

  “Not impossible. I’d also say that whoever did it was either in a lot of hurry or didn’t know what they were doing. You know, the usual,” she looked at Charlotte and Mr Placek, who both grimly nodded in understanding.

  “One last question. Agnes, did you write down what Lord Welz was wearing? Or rather, if there was anything of note about his clothes?”

  “Just the usual list. Something wrong?”

  “Mr Brook claimed that the body was lying in a pool of blood and that Lord Welz’s morning coat was thoroughly buttoned up, so…”

  “Sorry, love, I don’t think I remember it in that much detail,” she looked at Mr Placek, who, too, shook his head.

  “Maybe he was wearing a morning coat, I don’t remember. But even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you if it was buttoned or not.”

  “No one from the household pointed it out as odd?”

  “Most definitely not, otherwise we would have made a note of it.”

  “Alright,” Charlotte wrote it down and stood up. “I think this is all I wanted to know for now.”

  “You know where to find me if you think of anything else,” Agnes nodded. “Now, what about that lunch?”

  ******

  “Freedom at last,” Antony let out a relieved sigh once they were outside of the morgue and once again walking down the busy streets of Ledavia. It was well past six, and the sun was almost gone behind the horizon, but its last rays still shone over their heads, painting the skies a fiery red. He wanted to stretch and perhaps even start whistling some happy tune or other, but realised that people would probably not appreciate the behaviour. Enua was a northern country, and the harsh climate had shaped and molded this society into following a strict set of rules. And if he wanted to keep his position as Lord Blackwater’s secretary, he had to follow them perfectly.

  “You’re returning to work tomorrow.”

  “Do you really have to spoil the moment?” He asked somewhat mockingly. “Honestly, just as it’s getting really intriguing.”

  “Not intriguing. I’m very concerned, Mr Levy. Darn it, I really wish I could see the crime scene and the body.”

  He turned to look at her. There wasn’t even a trace of a smile on her face. On the contrary, she looked utterly distraught and restless. The colourful crowd around her, the calls of merchants, even the sweets stall they had just walked past – none of it interested her anymore.

  “What’s the matter?” He lowered his voice.

  “I have a very bad feeling about all of this. Agnes might have made a mistake, and if she did, there will be a lot of trouble,” she uttered finally.

  “Dinner?”

  “Not particularly hungry.”

  “I promise cake,” he suddenly sounded so exasperated that Charlotte only gave him a slightly disapproving look. Antony took a deep breath, feeling his heart skip a few beats. “We can also return to your hotel and I can arrange for something to be delivered to your room if you don’t want to waste time to be waited.”

  “You do realise this is not the best time, don’t you?”

  There’s no going back if I say it. Don’t say it. Apologise for overstepping the line and walk away, Antony, before you get dragged into whatever this is turning out to be.

  “What I mean to say is, let’s go somewhere where we can talk in private. I… I might be able to help with your impossible request. I can help you get to the crime scene.”

  On a roof above them, a large fluffy cat covered its muzzle with its paw, sniggering as it did so, lost balance, and almost fell.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  "Shut up.”