System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 259: A Window of Thirty Minutes
In the room beside the main banquet hall, where more than half the space was piled with odds and ends and several long benches had been set down, The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma had once taken their rest.
The storage room was close and airless, without so much as a single window.
The Witchers searched it carefully and were soon disappointed to find that this room too had been cleaned several times by the maids, leaving no useful clues behind. So Roy had Hill Vea bring over all the members of The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma.
“Aveline, do you remember roughly what time the troupe finished performing in the main hall and came here to rest? Be as precise as you can.”
“I am sorry, Roy...” Aveline had only just been dragged up from the dark cells by the soldiers, irons still locked around her ankles, and there was still a haze of confusion on her lovely face. “It has been too long. I truly do not remember every arrangement from that night clearly. I only have a vague impression. The troupe began performing sometime after seven in the evening, and after the performance ended ... we entered the rest room a little after eight.”
“And you, Kantila, can you remember?” Roy turned to the bronze-skinned girl at the other side. She too shook her head helplessly. “I am good with a sabre and a bow. Remembering details has never been my strength.”
As for Frozz the Jester, he looked half-detached from the world, dazed and empty, and the Witcher had never expected much from him in the first place.
At that moment, Aveline bit her red lip and said hesitantly, “Roy, Master Letho, actually, The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma troupe has always kept a schedule of every performance, including the time and sequence, so we could reflect on it and improve afterward. When Captain Aaron was still alive, he handled the record. After he died, the duty passed to me.”
“Where is it now?” Roy asked at once.
“All the troupe’s belongings were seized by the baron’s soldiers...” Aveline said, casting what looked like an offhand glance toward the squad of soldiers standing guard by the door.
Leading them was the same officer who had escorted The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma down from the execution ground, Dillon, the man responsible for the cells. He stood there with five soldiers, a heavy ring of iron keys and a black leather whip hanging at his side, his face tight with impatience and ill temper.
“Captain Dillon ... the logbook of The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma was taken by your men, was it not? Bring it to me at once.” A cold gleam flashed through Roy’s dark-gold pupils as he looked Dillon up and down once more, then nodded, having made up his mind. “It is valuable evidence. Nothing must happen to it. Otherwise I will have a difficult time explaining matters to your baron.”
A flash of irritation crossed the young officer’s face. The Witcher’s tone sounded far too much like that of a superior speaking to a subordinate. But constrained by the baron’s orders, he dared not refuse.
Not long after,
“Here. The thing you asked for...”
Roy took the thick, yellowed journal from him and studied the officer’s stifled, aggrieved expression. “Aveline, Kantila, and Frozz are essential witnesses. They must remain here and assist the investigation every step of the way. So if you have no further business, Captain Dillon, take your soldiers and leave.”
The officer’s face turned the color of liver. Meanwhile, the members of The Sea Scorpion’s Enigma showed a trace of grim satisfaction and cast Roy grateful looks.
“Witcher...” At last the officer could no longer contain his anger. “The baron will never permit dangerous suspects like these to move freely through the castle. I must keep them under strict guard!”
“Dillon...” Hill Vea, who had remained silent until then, suddenly spoke up. “With two masters present, there will be no danger. Withdraw at once!”
“Hill Vea, but...”
“That is enough. This is the master’s will, and the lady’s. You will cooperate!”
Still unwilling, the officer locked eyes with the Witcher, and all at once something in him seemed to break loose. Strange and terrible visions flooded his sight, a sky-high sea of blood reflected in his pupils. From behind the Witcher’s shoulders, out of a thick mire of clotted blood, countless writhing tentacles, rank with slaughter, came lunging at him.
They wrapped themselves around his body, constricting, tightening.
They pressed in from every side, making him convulse, smothering him.
Dillon stood rigid in place, the whites and blacks of his eyes rolling wildly, like some patient seized by epilepsy or possessed by a devil. His limbs, his belly, his chest, even the tips of his fingers shook violently.
In the span of two seconds, sweat poured from him. A clear dark stain spread down one trouser leg, carrying with it the stale reek of urine.
“Captain Dillon, men who have done too many guilty things are often sought out by the dead.” Roy smiled faintly.
His dark-gold slit pupils narrowed into diamonds, like a beast fixing on prey.
Utterly terrified, tears and snot running down his face, the officer did not dare say another word. He fled in disorder with his men.
“Master, just now you...” The maid covered her mouth in surprise.
“Mistress Hill Vea, as you saw, I never laid a hand on him. Plainly the man suffered some sudden affliction...” Roy clasped his hands behind his back and shook his head. “Very likely a terminal one. In any case, thank you for your trust...”
The maid, however, smiled with real pleasure. “Dillon has spent far too long in those dark cells. He has turned twisted and foul in word and deed. Most of the people in the castle dislike him. Seeing him humbled gave me no small satisfaction.”
“But ... I still hope the two of you can wake the young master as soon as possible.” With that, the maid continued to lead the way.
“Kid, threatening the baron’s man on the baron’s own ground,” the bald Letho murmured after a long silence, falling half a step behind to speak low beside his apprentice. “What was going through your head?”
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