Author's Notes: School. Lot of work. Not much time or energy. Inconsistent uploads until things settle down.

Anyhow, some may feel put off by how it's a heavy mystery right now. I'm surprised myself it developed like this, but I enjoy writing how it is developing into a slight conspiracy -- almost like Cthulhu worshipers.

If you read my other story, no 3 chapters a week -- will try for 1 a week. As Always, Thanks for Reading.

Horatio threw the last servant out of the governor’s room. He slammed the door shut and crashed, stomach down, onto one of the couches. The boy glared at the person sitting at the desk. She ignored the stifling black eyes and flipped through the next set of documents.

“What the fuck are we doing?”

Anise glanced up and met Horatio’s eyes, before quickly turning them back onto the ink dotted along the white pages. She chewed on her cheeks. Then she sighed and turned her attention at the ceiling.

She responded, “Investigating.”

“Investigating is when we make progress. This, this is a waste of time.”

“We learned more about the domestic circumstances. I am sure the others are making progress as well,” Anise responded. She rummaged through the remainder of the governor’s drawers and paused at the one farthest left.

“Progress? The only things we’ve learned is meaningless gossip.”

“Gossip is irreplaceable as the true depths of society,” Anise responded. She furrowed her brows at the contents of the leftmost drawer: an accounting book.

Horatio rolled his eyes and got up. He marched over to the desk and pounded his palms flat, scattering paper. Hardening his tone, he said, “Pray that they are safe.”

Anise lapped at her lips. She returned the cold stare and said, “I will save Sofie.”

Horatio formed his hands into claws and gripped Anise’s shoulders. Drawing his face close, he whispered, “You better save her.”

Anise pulled his hands from her body with ease. Yet those black depths yielded to nothing and a great premonition of decay screamed out for release. The young lady placed a hand on her neck and found it lathered with sweat. And on further inspection, the faint impression of claws and traces of strangulation.

“This boy is interesting,” Usha laughed. There was a shrillness to it: fear, anxiety, and anticipation.

“Even I do not know what he did. I do know the faint red marks are real.”

Anise pounced on Horatio. Caught off-guard by the assault, he fell over. Anise quickly restrained him: barring his neck with his own arms.

With tears and a shortness of breath, she asked, “Why won't you hit me?”

“Because that would be too easy,” Horatio forced the words out.

Anise got off of Horatio. The young man brushed the dust from his clothing. Anise offered up her hand. He took it. Pulling Horatio up, Anise jammed a powerful hook into his stomach.

Horatio keeled over; Anise deftly kicked his shoulders. Launching out like a marble, he slammed into one of the walls.

Anise went over to him and cried, “Punch me. Punch me, dammit! I even assaulted you.”

Horatio looked at Anise and smiled. He spat blood from his mouth and responded, “No. That would be too easy. You’ll be relieved that you’ve been punished for your sins. I want you to suffer through this guilt.”

Anise stomped her foot. She growled, “This isn’t about whether it will make me feel; it’s about whether it will make you feel better. You feel guilty too, don’t you?”

“I do feel guilty. I should never have complied to your idea in the first place.”

“There was no other choice,” Anise interrupted. “Now punch me.”

“You’re still going on with that?” Horatio pulled himself up and looked at Anise with annoyance.

“How do you expect us to even rescue Sofie if you’re like this? I do not want your frustration and

resentment to explode during a life-or-death situation, Horatio. And it will make both of us feel

lighter. If you are being swallowed up by self-loathing and anger at me, then simply let loose on me.”

“I never expected a noble to be such an uncivilized brute.”

“I was not born an elite. I was born into the better parts of the slums, but the slums nonetheless.”

Anise smiled. “Beating each other up was how all the children bonded. Ah, don’t hit my face though. After all, I did not hit yours.”

Horatio breathed in and sighed. His black depths looked at Anise. Rather than torrents crackled with storms, those eyes were smooth like a calm lake. He asked, “You really want me to beat you up?”

“It’s probably not going to make you trust me again or feel perfect. I can guarantee you will feel better though. Besides, you have been holding yourself back anyways.”

With an odd laugh, Horatio rubbed his head.

Anise’s head flew back and she stumbled backwards. Cradling her nose, the young lady sprouted profanities not taught in any etiquette class. Blood dripped down her face like melting wax, quickly covering her jawline with a trail. Though Horatio seemed frail, his punch proved the contrary. Anise’s nose was crooked — broken — and a gash ran on the bridge of soft flesh.

“Horatio, you damn aswang!”

Horatio’s eye twitched. “Aswang? You dare call me an aswang, you bloody mamuna scum!”

With a heated yawp, the two lunged at each other.

Tanya frowned as she applied some of her blood onto Anise’s and Horatio’s wounds. Once the blood was applied carefully with a handkerchief, the many gashes, cuts, and lumps healed.

Anise asked, “Doesn’t the healing of Denana involve light, not blood?”

Tanya ignored the question. She then flicked her finger at both the troublemakers’ foreheads.

Tanya sat opposite them and continued to frown. Anise and Horatio exchanged glances. The young man shrugged slightly. Then the healer spoke.

“You two are the biggest idiots I’ve ever met. Who the hell thought this was a good idea?”

“Clearly, the princess,” Horatio answered with a chuckle.

Tanya groaned and muttered something under her breath. Then she faced Anise and scolded her

harshly. “Honestly! I thought you would be smarter than this, Annie.”

“Wait, Annie?” Anise asked out of confusion.

Tanya smiled. “Yep, Annie. I think it’s a great nickname.”

Anise frowned, “I’m not a child, Tanya.”

“You are if you’re only still sixteen~” Tanya giggled. Then she smiled at Horatio. “At least it seems Horatio isn’t as constipated as before.”

“C-constipated?” Horatio shouted.

Tanya shrugged and pulled out her knife to cut her wrist. She waved it around as she explained. “I mean, this morning, your face was all scrunched up like this. And your eyes were all squinty. And when you looked at Annie, it looked like you were desperately holding it in! I’m glad that’s all over now. I would kill you if you make a mess.”

“N-nevermind that,” Horatio scowled. “How’s Belford?”

“In perfect care,” Tanya answered as she smiled at how her arm became flawless once more, devoid of cuts. “That old lady really did give him the best care. Besides, Belford’s lineage kicked in.”

“Lineage?” Anise asked.

“Yeah, Annie, you don’t know,” Tanya gasped. Then she leaned forward excitedly. She motioned for Anise to lean forward as well. Finally, the healer whispered, “Dragonborn.”

Anise pulled back with a nod. She remarked, “I see.”

Then she asked Usha, “Did you know of that?”

“Remember what I told you when you first asked? A lineage as primal and ancient as mine; perhaps taboo.”

Tanya interrupted Anise’s conversation with the fallen goddess with a question of her own. “Annie, why aren’t you surprised at all?”

“Most people would throw up blood, hearing someone is Dragonborn,” Horatio remarked.

Anise chuckled to herself. Afterall, she herself acted as a vessel for some fallen goddess — what was Dragonborn compared to that. Then she furrowed her brows and asked, “I thought the Emperor stopped all tributes to the dragons years ago.”

“Ever heard of rape, princess?” Horatio chuckled wryly.

“Let’s stop the story here,” Garth interrupted as he entered the room. He greeted everyone and took a seat next to Tanya.

“Indeed,” Anise nodded. “I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

“So, Old Man Garth, what did you find out?” Horatio asked eagerly.

“Let’s compare notes.” Garth responded and produced a single piece of paper on which he had scribbled the fruits of his labor.

Horatio frowned. “So little information.”

“Lad, ever heard of the saying, ‘Gossip is irreplaceable as the true depths of society’?”

“Yes,” he turned his attention to Anise seated next to him. “That’s from a famous mystery series, right? Old man, I didn’t know you liked to read.”

Garth smiled. “An old hobby.”

Tanya peeked at the list and read it out loud, “Remil Montescarpe. Jules Capulet. Erach Capulet. Sena Cideil. Borge Oui. Jacqueline Yvor. Gray-lurkers.”

“Miss Tanya, thank you for reading it for me,” Garth smiled. “As we know, Remil is the guard in love with the governor’s daughter, Jules. Erach Capulet is the man we must find. Sena is the temporary head of Wolfsheimburg. The last two are this house’s head servants. And these six are the most influential in Wolfsheimburg. I will speak more of the beasts after.”

“The head servants are more influential than Captain Fenik?” Anise asked with a raised brow.

“Captain Fenik is a public servant of sorts. The head servants are constantly in the

proximity of national secrets. Besides, the head servants of the head of this settlement have been held in good standing since olden times: the left and right hands of the master.”

Garth gave a summary of the information he has found from the villagers.

Remil Montescarpe was not native to Wolfsheimburg, but from one of the neighboring villages under its jurisdiction. The young man was described as boorish, but kind. Captain Fenik held Remil’s skills to a high regard, as did Erach Capulet. He was in love with Jules Capulet — a sentiment not enjoyed by Governor Capulet.

Jules Capulet was the daughter of the governor. She rarely left the mansion. Few knew of her, besides the odd glimpses of her beauty. As such, many rumors sprouted: She was cursed. She was disdainful of commoners. She was allergic to sunlight. She was not right in the head. A peculiarity was the lack of suitors, except for Remil.

Erach Capulet. Governor of Wolfsheimburg. A man reared in Dragonsfell with an education in the Capital. The older generations disliked him for he was an outsider. The younger generation was of a neutral opinion of the man. He was loved when his ventures brought in business; he was scorned when his outside perspective clashed with internal policies. Erach was described to be of plump size and heavy breathing.

Sena Cideil was from a long line of shamans, an extensive root in the Old Ways. The Cideil family was the ruling line of shaman in Wolfsheimburg before the Empire engulfed their culture and forced submission. Everyone revered her. Not just out of respect for her lineage, but for her wit and cunning.

Borge Oui. The head butler from a lineage of head butlers. He was described to be deeply and widely educated in all manners of things. The villagers refused to tell Garth much more than that as he was an outsider.

Jacqueline Yvor. The head maid from a lineage of head maids. She was described as prettier than the governor’s daughter. There was a relation between the Yvor House and the Cideil House. The child who told Garth such a detail was promptly shut up by the father. Many villagers described her as the perfect wife, akin to a goddess.

Of the gray-lurkers, Garth found two particular pieces of information. To consume the vast nutrient-filled soul and flesh of a witch, the beasts needed at least a week of preparation. However, that is changed to 11 days when offered to the King — which they will surely do. And despite the beasts being solitary creatures by nature, due to the existence of a King, all gray-lurkers are compelled to gather in the King’s den.

“Anything on your end?” Garth asked when he finished.

Horatio shook his head, “Only gossip. Though, I suppose you want to hear it. The few maids who stayed stayed for different reasons. One stayed because she has a thing for older men — like Borge. One stayed because she has a thing for women — like Miss Yvor. The last stayed because she was an orphan. The first two are contemplating leaving due to beliefs that Borge and Miss Yvor are lovers, as the two head servants often disappear during the night only to come back before dawn, beaming. They also share quite many looks and notes throughout the day.”

“Their actions are quite suspicious.” Garth remarked.

“But it was not like we didn’t suspect them before,” Horatio shrugged his shoulders. Then he frowned. “I’m more interested in the girl who stayed.”

“You finally becoming a man, Horatio?” Tanya giggled.

“I think she lied,” Anise responded in Horatio’s place. “The reason she stayed. The way she responded — it was odd.”

“Was that all we’ve found today?” Garth asked.

Anise moved over to the desk and showed everyone the second accounting book.

“Isn’t it strange how there is an extra accounting book?” Anise asked. “I’ve checked the contents of the other one, and there’s still pages left to be used. And this accounting book is not empty either.”

The young lady pulled out the book and showed the pages. Only on some pages were there ink.

“These numbers are too inconsistent,” Garth remarked with concern. “No one can possibly spend over a billion gold pounds on children’s clothing. This must be code of some sort.”

“And I also found this under the book,” Anise said and pulled out a letter. The seal had the imprint of an elk. “The seal is magical in nature — I can’t open it. Me and Horatio had tried after fighting.”

“If we put a knife to it, the seal gains movement and starts to attack us,” Horatio scowled and rubbed his cheek. “We risk the burning of the contents if we set fire to the seal.”

“This would be so much easier if you were better at controlling the Script,” Tanya pouted. “This is totally your job, Horatio.”

Before Horatio could retort, a scream came echoing throughout the large mansion. Everyone sprinted toward the source: Jules Capulet’s bedroom.

A young maid was on her bum, pointing at the interior of the room. Anise rushed past the girl and into the room.

Blood and gray fur covered the walls. Entrails from beasts — humans? — scattered on the floor to spell out: “Beware”. A beautiful woman lied in the bed. Anise rushed to her. There was no bruise, scar, or cut. However, the woman did not breathe nor did her chest rise.

Jules Capulet, gone missing in a locked room with no windows after her father’s disappearance, was found dead -- back in the same room she disappeared.