System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 123
He woke the next day from six hours of deep meditation to find his Mana fully restored and breathed a relieved sigh.
If a single meditation could not refill his Mana, Guided Bolt’s usefulness would be greatly diminished.
After all, future Signs would also consume large amounts of Mana.
After washing he hurried to the princely palace and, following Dwarf Cranmer, walked over the white marble toward the servants’ quarters. Today he would investigate the servant who had died.
From the main hall a few paces off, a group of silver-plated knights strode toward them.
Leading them was Grand Master Cleveland of the Order of the White Rose, flanked by two tall companions, all of them wearing anxious expressions. Cleveland paced along, muttering curses under his breath.
Roy could hear every word.
“Damn it, tell me, the wanted posters have been up for days and we still have no suspicious leads? At this rate how can the Order keep any standing in Ellander? How is anyone to trust the Prince’s Palace now?”
“Grand Master Cleveland, please temper your anger for now. The killer’s likeness is blurred, so it’s not surprising if we find nothing quickly. Besides, Master Letho is missing. Without his aid, the Order alone has little chance of finding a man determined to hide in a big city like Ellander.”
“Then what do we do?!”
“A witcher ... yes.”
Cleveland’s eyes caught the cloaked figure; they brightened and he strode forward.
“Master Roy, have you found any leads these past two days?”
The youth shook his head. “My teacher Letho took one or two months to catch a killer’s mistake. I’ve only been here a short while. Your expectations are a bit high.”
“True enough.” Embarrassment flickered across Cleveland’s face and he sighed, “I fear if this drags on there will be more deaths. Six are gone already; the killer will strike again.”
“I am investigating as fast as I can, but give me more time.” As Roy spoke he felt two glances from behind Cleveland flick his way.
“And who are these two knights?”
“They are my lieutenants, core members of the Order of the White Rose of Ellander: Sir Sylvester Peddie and—”
“Sir Simon Patrick-Laddin.”
The first was broad shouldered, a large scar by his jaw, his whole presence radiating a warning to strangers.
Simon’s hair was bright gold, his features sharp and leonine; half his neck showed above his cuirass, bearing a small, neat tattoo of a blue rose.
Roy remembered both names from Old Hark’s list.
“That will do for now, Grand Master Cleveland. If I discover anything I shall inform the Order at once.”
“Master Roy, should you require assistance do not hesitate to ask.” Cleveland shot a hard look at the Dwarf and turned away.
After the three knights had gone, Roy asked the Dwarf, “Patrick-Laddin, is he of noble descent?”
“Why the interest in him?”
“He’s so handsome it takes one’s breath away, and there’s a peculiar air about him. I was curious.”
The Dwarf walked into the palace’s flowerbeds and inhaled deeply.
“You asked the right man. As Captain of the Guard I’ve had to study the heraldry and lineages of many great houses. The name Patrick-Laddin originally comes from a great noble family in the Nazair kingdom south of Cintra.
“When Nilfgaard swallowed Nazair and turned it into a province, some of that noble line moved to Temeria and settled there; generations earned their status through service and sacrifice.”
“And the scarred knight?”
“A local of Vizima, a stubborn fellow, dispatched here like Grand Master Cleveland.”
“You know the Order’s knights well?” Roy thought of Old Hark’s list. “I mean full knights, not squires.”
“There are only about twenty knights of the White Rose in Ellander. I’ve dealt with them all.” The Dwarf stroked his beard and considered, “Our Guard and the knights have never been fond of each other. I have men to watch over, so I keep tabs on them to avoid dirty tricks.”
“Could you help check these knights for me?” Roy drew out the list Old Hark had given him. “I want to know their family backgrounds, habits, who they are.”
A glint came into the Dwarf’s eyes as he appraised the youth. He took the list without asking why and said readily, “You help me catch the killer, I’ll check the White Rose knights. Fair enough. Wait for news.”
...
They soon found their target, Alexis, the roommate and close friend of the dead manservant Shazo.
He, too, was young.
He wore a rust-coloured jacket, blue-and-white breeches and mud-yellow boots. His cheekbones were cleanly kept and his face was somewhat effeminate; a faint cosmetic powder brightened his skin. His black hair, slick with oil, was tied back, and he smelled faintly of perfume.
He looked like the sort of male kept about noble houses. His voice was thin and deliberately high, which made Roy uneasy.
His bearing and manner, however, remained decorous and not overtly feminine.
Roy bore with it and asked, “Alexis, I won’t repeat the Order’s questions. I have other matters to ask.”
The Dwarf stood by, voice hard, adding, “This is serious. You must tell the truth. Any concealment or lies and you know the consequences.”
“My lord, ask what you will. Alexis would never lie!” The manservant bowed so low he seemed about to break.
“How was Shazo with colleagues? How did he behave?”
Roy’s gaze pinned him and Alexis dropped his head.
“He got on well with others, greeted people, was polite. I’ve never heard of quarrels.”
“Did he have bad habits? Stealing, thieving?” Roy wondered of the palace manservant in light of the bank clerk’s embezzlement.
“My lord, you overstate,” Alexis stammered. “Even a brazen man would never steal from the princely palace; he’d be hanged. No one dares.”
“Was he lazy, shirking chores?” That had been the beggar’s complaint.
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