The sun is setting over the emerald horizon of leaves, marking the end of the day period and passing now into one of the planet’s two twilights. Love and Lain whom, after having looked over some bodies and their obviously-magical causes of death, are led by a dwarf with a really, very wacky hat to the scene of the crime.

“Righto’ me mates. Here we be,” the dwarf, by the name of Buzzums the Bad-Smelling, says with a presenting wave. Love and Lain look over the place.

They stand in a clearing near one of the residential areas, the foliage and grass burnt with what seems like assault fire. Loitering nearby are a couple of very-disgruntled spirits.

“Hmm, thank you, Buzzums,” Love says with a dreamy look in her eyes, calmly looking over the scene a bit more as she decides on what to do first.

“Aye, missy. Best be careful though, those spirits over there were good friends of some of the victims, they likely aren’t much in the mood to see people who use that sort’o magic peepin’ around.”

“No worries, they won’t mind us taking a look around at all,” Lain says with a surprisingly confidant glare.

“Eh, yeah, alright mate. Can I go grab a drink now?” Buzzums asks with a tired look. Love nods.

“We’ll be fine for now, thank you,” she says, sending the dwarf on his way to the nearby tavern.

There’s short pause as she gently shakes out her features with such confidence to her, Lain could swear she already knows what they’re going to find. “Hmm, okie dokie, let’s take us a look-see,” Love says with a relaxed smile, stepping forward to take a better look at the burns. Lain follows along with a sharp smile, waiting for the perfect moment to come out and reveal his secret.

Love begins looking at the various markings in the ground. She’s doing this for appearances, of course. She already knows what’s going on, as all proper Realmancers do.

In the next moment, a trope of spirits approach, incited by their investigation of the scene.

“By Omniverse’s Edge, you humans best get out of our sight. You caused enough trouble blackening up our friends with your depraved magic,” the front-most spirit says, giving the two an incorporeal scowl.

“Yeah.”

“Hell yeah!”

“You tell ‘em!” the other spirits snap in encouragement.

“Yeah?” Lain asks, allowing Love to continue inspecting the scene.

“Yeah!”

“Well how do you know it wasn’t a fairy? It’s not like magic is exclusive to humans,” Lain says, bringing up a perfectly reasonable point.

“Ha! Nice try, human! Everyone knows that fairy kingdom law doesn’t allow the teaching of assault magic! It had to be one of those Kanvaneians!” the spirit responds.

“Yeah!”

“Totally! You got this!”

“Humans suck! Breathing air is for looosers!” the others quickly add, sensibly contributing to the conversation by adding each their own unique and valued perspectives on the matter. Lain pauses a moment in surprise, and thinks of an effective response.

“Proves nothing! Could have been a self-taught mage, so it still could have been a fairy!”

“Too bad the selling of assault magic books is banned!”

“They could have gone outside the Fairy Kingdom to learn it!”

The spirit puts its hands to its hips with enough smarm to melt someone. “Yeah right, as if a fairy would ever go and spend time with a bunch of dumb, bootless, swarbling, bedrizzled humans!” the front-most spirit snaps, his voice echoing through Lain, though he just smirks in response.

“Do you even know who you’re talking to? I would know how fine both humans and spirits are because of my upbringing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And how’s that?’

‘I’m half fairy!” Lain exclaims a brief moment before revealing his neck, showing his strange-mark, a glowing birthmark received any time a fairy bears a child with a non-fairy partner- that said, Lain is genetically fifty percent high fairy, and fifty percent human.

There is a long pause while the spirits exchange glances, and then the front one turns back.

“Gross, this kid’s got Algandar’s,” he spits, causing his companions to erupt into laughter. Lain’s eyes widen; the sparks of indignancy and shock rise up within.

“W-what?! It’s an honor to be of the fairies and the humans. It’s ... it’s well rounded!”

“Well rounded for janitor work,” the spirit says, gaining another round of laughs from the others.

“H-how dare you! My mother-” By this point, Love stopped listening when she found a suspicious set of tracks. Thanks to her expertise in realmancy, she can locate, know and see things that no longer or shouldn’t exist. The tracks are have been covered smartly, but even the act of covering leaves a trail to her. For certain, these were made around the time of the killing. She smirks as she confirms her suspicions as to the owner of the tracks, having a small, though heavy demeanor. She nods, and turns to Lain, who is just now realizing that being half-blooded is considered incredibly lame in Liefland.

“Mmm, Lain,” Love addresses. Lain turns his head quickly.

“Yeah?”

“I got a lead, you stay here and entertain the spirits for me- mmkay?”

He squints an eye. If she says so, his hands are tied, though he’d rather stay here and justify himself anyway. “Eh, yeah, alright. As I was saying-” at that, Lain returns to his monologue and Love steps off into the dark of the forest’s edge.

As the irritated tones of voices ring away from earshot, Love weaves through the ink-black silhouettes of the wood, following the trail that no common eyes could see. She follows the trail of her suspect through the warm, whimsical air, and comes into a small clearing. The foliage seems less healthy in a single spot, about the size of a person, and it is here where the trail ends. Love steps up to the path of dying grass, and quietly equips her bow. For certain now, she knows the true nature of the culprit, just as she read. Necromancers have a strange love for waiting underground; she must have caught it waiting for more fairies to kill, and create more fake proofs pointing to Kanvane’s involvement.

At the same moment she creates her first arrow, the patch of dirt explodes to reveal a necromancer, another abomination of objects, flesh, and rags. This one is dressed in the robes of a standard Kanvanian magic soldier, and has designed its body to look especially human, but only from afar would one be tricked by such a weak disguise. The necromancer, quickly identifying the newcomer as more than a match, rushes away to escape.

Love fires six bolts in rapid succession, severing the necromancer from its arms, legs, and one for the neck, tearing its makeshift head from the body. In response, the necromancer quickly spouts out new, cruder legs from its body, and begins its dash again. Love shoots those down too, her impeccable aim serving her perfectly even in deep dark. Love makes the finishing move, reaching into her dimensional sheath, a magitech device that leads to a pocket dimension for holding things of unruly size, and pulls out a door; yes, a door.

Love slams it into the ground, turns the handle, and throws it open, the handled-side pointing towards the necromancer. As if a force from behind were pushing it open, the door swings wide, revealing an incomprehensible opening of horrifying madness. The undead is quickly assailed by grasping appendages of every imaginable variety coming out of the door way, arresting their target and pulling it inside. Love makes a smooth wave of the hand, magically closing the door-portal. Now that the door is shut, she picks it up and forces it back into her dimensional sheath. She brushes her hands, shaking off the dust, and turns around, showing the very same smile she had when the necromancer was pulled into an alternate dimension by horrific arms of any imaginable variety.

She’s going to have to tell Order about this. If Oa is sending its forces as a distraction, she can guess that the great monstrosity of teeth and flesh is planning something, as necromancers never, ever travel alone.