"It was the Norse sibling who investigated, Your Highness." Aramis started recounting what happened when they arrived last night. They traced the culprit to the waiter, who later on revealed that he was offered a hefty sum to tamper with the water, introducing the medicine that caused an upset stomach.
Alaric pursed his lips. He underestimated Reuben's cunning. But what was his purpose? He confirmed one thing, though. The mayor was his person, but why did he let the others die?
Alaric was thinking deeply for a few minutes, and Aramis hesitated before asking.
"When do we leave, Your Highness?"
"Let the soldiers rest for now. We shall depart around mid-morning." Alaric knew that his men were exhausted after a long night punctuated by the constant trips to the outhouse. The fatigue hung over them like a heavy shroud, and he felt a pang of sympathy for their plight.
"The other soldier, the one injured by the arrow, how is he?" Alaric inquired, concern etching lines across his brow.
