A new chapter for Scars is here! An excerpt below, the full chapter in the link provided. Enjoy!
~
The woman had been laid on her bed, though the rope that she’d hung herself from still dangled from a sturdy rafter, its frayed end showing where it had been cut through to get her down. Her eyes were locked open, red with burst blood vessels, and the severed noose that had strangled her sat on a table nearby. There was a single Kingsguard in the room, with another outside the door. From farther down the corridor, voices could be heard. A deep, steady man’s voice with a questioning tone and a shaky female voice that was trying to answer.
“Yhil Perltin,” Holeish explained as the guard at the door allowed the noble and the adventurers into the room, closing it behind them. “Protege of Magister Unhart. She had a rare gift for using Heal upon bones. I’m told she had potential to be a true osteomancer. She tended to His Majesty in the past.” And likely would have again, but the baron did not say aloud. “The Kingsguard have spoken with the magister. Perltin did not show up to studies with the other mages this morning. Assuming she had worked another long night and overslept, Unhart sent a servant to fetch her. The woman found her there,” he nodded towards the dangling rope and toppled chair beneath it, “and the commotion brought the attention of the Kingsguard.”
All deaths within Castle Talos fell under the jurisdiction of the Kingsguard and until proven otherwise, even the most clear-cut of accidents was investigated, particularly when a killer remained at large. Holeish took a piece of paper from the dead girl’s vanity and handed it to Curlin. “This note was discovered on the dresser next to her bed.”
Justir read it. It was short and described a woman overwhelmed by despair at the failure to help her king. In this case, it seemed as if ‘clear-cut’ was the best explanation for this unfortunate event. He didn’t know this woman, but exhaustion and hopelessness could sunder even strong wills.
He handed the paper to Kevac, studying the scene. He’d long ago learned that while not everything was as it seemed, not everything wasn’t, either. He looked back at the young mage, sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. If those who’d found her had tried to close them, rigor mortis had pulled them open again.
Gods of the Twelve, weigh her soul for her actions in life and not the moment of her death. In his darkest moments after Galin, he’d thought about taking this path, too. He hadn’t wanted to shame his family further, nor had he wanted to prove everyone who said he’d been weak right. Mattio had been correct in that – he did have a haughty sense of pride.
After a few seconds, he offered a second brief prayer. Old gods of snow and ice, if she should find her way to you, let this soul find warmth by your hearth. He didn’t know why he offered that benediction. He had never prayed to Jherland’s old gods, and as a paladin he should have found the concept heretical. Certainly Perltin would have, but… he gave it nonetheless. No one, not even the Church could truly say with certainty what lay beyond death. If there was any chance for this tormented soul to find succour, then he would hope she had.
~
My Patreon / subscribestar / twitter
Proximal Flame's Fiction 