Yet another corpse, yet another task that needs to be done. Edmond wasn’t pleased with this new developnt, but the look on Richard’s face was different from last ti. It wasn’t panic, but a strange mix of smugness and detachnt. This shift was unsettling, hinting at a growing darkness within Richard that Edmond couldn’t ignore, especially since he was now entangled in Richard’s ss for the sake of Prince Liam’s faction.
"I swear he ca at ... in my own chambers," Richard said, obviously lying without even trying to build up his lie.
Edmond looked upon the scene of utter criminality, staring blankly at the shaless killer. Even if he claid it to be self-defence, there is no way soone would actually destroy soone else’s face to that extent just for self-defence.
Also, there is a clear difference in power between Richard and that knight called Eric. Eric is... was a Silver-ranked knight; Richard was Bronze-ranked. The difference in strength alone is like night and day, and the fact that there was such minimal resistance from Eric ant that he was taken by surprise.
As Richard seed to have sloppily dressed Eric’s corpse, it was clear that the two were mingled together in an intimate act, suggesting a relationship that went beyond re acquaintance.
While such a relationship would be shaful if it were to go public, potentially damaging Richard’s reputation and standing within the knightly order, it was also known that many knights practised those ancient traditions with their juniors and even squires.
These relationships, though often kept secret, were not entirely uncommon. It was said that during ancient tis, there were sacred warbands that encouraged bonding between senior and junior warriors, fostering loyalty and camaraderie through shared experiences, including intimate ones. These bonds were believed to strengthen the warband’s effectiveness in battle, as warriors would fight harder to protect those they were close to.
What Richard did "twice" not only betrayed the trust of this type of companionship, but it revealed sothing dark growing within him. And while Edmond wasn’t pleased that he was helping him, he found no leeway out of it since he had to help Richard for the sake of Prince Liam’s faction.
"We need a scapegoat," Edmond said while massaging his temples. "Do you know if anyone held a grudge against him?"
Richard shook his head.
Edmond scratched his neck with mild frustration, trying to think straight through this predicant. After a minute, he spoke:
"Hiding the body would cause others to co looking for him. We will throw the body sowhere it can be found, and once it is, I will have to promote one of the suspects to be the pri one. anwhile, I want you to keep your fucking head low."
"I can do that," Richard said with a wide grin, not caring for the insulting words Edmond said to him, as if his mind was already occupied by sothing else.
Edmond didn’t want to find out what that could be, as he was utterly disgusted by Richard. Now, he had a lot of work to do just to fix this situation.
☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
The words of Lucius Black were as proactive as they were progressive and wild. The man held a very morally grey position on many things, as House Black wasn’t the House that would operate within the folds of law most of the ti. The records of their Dark Chronicles (the book where they keep those they executed) would testify to so much innocent blood shed just for the sake of protecting the Empire and holding it together.
With the pragmatic worldview of her father, Edith left his office deep in thought but with lingering bitterness. She was being exposed to the cruel reality of the world and couldn’t help but look for soone to understand her at the mont, preferably a kindred soul.
An hour later, she found herself at the front gate of the Moore Mansion with people looking at her with absolute fear.
Once she was let in, she was t with the fabulous Isabella De Clare, who was having her morning tea with the fad Morris De Brosa in what seed to be the pinkest, most out-of-place atmosphere she had to endure that day.
Edith apologised for appearing there without prior notice and requested to et Vivian if possible. What she was t with were the panicking faces of both Isabella and Morris, who seed to be trying to divert her from anything Vivian-related.
The situation was strange, but Edith respected Vivian’s privacy and was about to leave, but soon Esralda appeared, and without noticing Edith, she inford Isabella that Vivian had just recovered from her last episode.
Edith understood that Vivian was unwell, especially with how shifty Isabella acted to make Esralda notice Edith’s presence. The maid almost panicked, but at the sa mont, Vivian sent another maid to invite Edith up to her chambers.
Edith was taken aback by Vivian’s appearance; the once lively woman now seed like a re shadow of her forr self, bearing the marks of so intense suffering. Isabella further explained that Vivian was now enduring three distinct episodes each day, occurring at remarkably consistent intervals of approximately eight hours. During these episodes, Vivian would be struck by a sudden and overwhelming wave of pain and agony, so severe that it would occasionally render her unconscious.
Edith, visibly affected by what she observed, fixed her gaze upon Vivian, a particular detail catching her attention. Trying not to betray her thoughts, she subtly inquired about the specific tis when these episodes tended to occur.
The answer ca: once during the night, once in the morning, and once around midday.
Could it be a re coincidence?
Edith was reeling from the implications of what she had just learned about Vivian’s condition and the timing of her episodes; the pieces seed to fit together too perfectly to be a coincidence. Isabella’s brief absence provided the perfect opportunity for Edith to confront Vivian directly. Driven by suspicion, Edith stood before Vivian, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her blade, unsettling Vivian. Then, the question ca.
"Vivian Moore," Edith called as she drew her blade, "Are you the Bloody Swan?"
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