Chapter 95: The Relic Case
Nearly an hour had passed before Seraphina finally returned to her usual office and seated herself behind the heavy desk, her cold gaze fixed on the empty space as she waited for Arwyn to come back. She had suspected that there was something irregular about Caelum's case, and for that reason she had sent Arwyn to collect the complete details once again, this time with no allowance for loose ends.
When the silence was disturbed by a knock at her doors, Seraphina lifted her eyes and replied with restrained calm, "Enter."
The door opened and, to her quiet expectation, Arwyn stepped in carrying several papers. Beside her stood Lyra who had other things to report. The two women crossed the room with disciplined composure, stopping before the desk and offering Seraphina the usual salute.
"Report," Seraphina said, her tone sharp and controlled.
Arwyn released a measured breath, then spoke. "As you suspected, Captain, the files tell us very little. I have gone through them several times to be certain, but there is no record describing how Knight Rowen truly arrested Caelum. The only written statement claims that he was taken for stealing a relic. What is more troubling is that Rowen never witnessed the act himself. He wrote that someone told him a relic had been stolen, and that suspicion alone led him to Caelum's home. There, he claimed to find the relic and made the arrest."
Seraphina pressed her fingers lightly against her temple, her cold eyes narrowing as a thin spark of calculation burned within them. "So then, according to this logic, a relic goes missing, Rowen receives word from no one in particular, and immediately searches Caelum's home where he conveniently discovers it. Should I believe such a tale? If he knew where to search from the start, then the entire matter reeks of careful planning."
Lyra, who had been silent until then, shifted slightly as though unsettled by the weight of her Captain's words, while Arwyn stepped forward, placed the documents neatly upon the desk, and continued with steadiness. "That is the most likely conclusion, Captain. Furthermore, there is no record of who this mysterious 'someone' was. I even questioned the receptionist at the front desk. According to her, Rowen returned on his own, filed the case himself, and threw Caelum into prison without explaining much to anyone."
Seraphina's voice carried across the room with cold clarity. "Anything else?"
Arwyn's expression altered as though something unpleasant pressed at the back of her thoughts. "Yes, Captain. I am convinced that Rowen held some form of personal resentment toward Caelum."
One of Seraphina's brows rose. "And what persuades you to think so?"
Arwyn drew in a small breath before replying. "When I spoke with several knights who once served in the same division, they told me that among all the prisoners, Caelum endured the harshest treatment. His punishment may have been lawful in theory, yet the severity far exceeded what was deserved. The way they described it, had he remained in that prison for another week, he would likely have been found dead."
Lyra raised her hand halfway to her lips, her eyes widening. "Dead? What do you mean, Lieutenant?"
Arwyn turned her gaze briefly toward Lyra, then back to Seraphina. "The punishment for theft should have been two hours of torture each day for a month. That alone is cruel enough. However, in Caelum's case, they forced him through sessions of nearly twelve hours daily. To endure such cruelty for an entire month is beyond justice. He did not deserve that level of torment."
Seraphina's eyes sharpened with ice. "I see. Then it would not surprise me if he has been broken in spirit, perhaps even driven to lash out at his wife in madness. But that does not excuse his actions. It only makes it more likely that he is being used, dragged into this chaos by another man's grudge." Her gaze shifted toward Lyra, and her words carried weight. "You appear unsettled, Lyra. Speak."
Lyra steadied herself before answering. "Yes, Captain. After your order, I had someone find Caelum and follow him and observe him for a while. What was discovered is troubling. He returned home, shouted at shadows, broke furniture, and locked himself inside for most of the day. When night fell, he left for a nearby tavern and drowned himself in wine and went home, so the knight returned without finding anything. His mind is no longer good, that much is clear."
Seraphina's eyes lingered on her, then swept the room. "So, he did insult Eska, that much seems certain. Yet the idea that he hired bandits begins to appear less likely. Now tell me, has MIMR reported anything about the manner of their deaths? Was it poison?"
Lyra inclined her head. "Yes, Captain, poison indeed. Yet there is a problem."
Arwyn glanced toward her with a faint crease in her brow. "What problem?"
Lyra looked between the two women and spoke with careful words. "It's the timing. All of the bandits died at the same exact moment. Human bodies never react identically to poison. Even if they consumed it at the same time, one would fall before the others. For them to perish simultaneously, it suggests that this was not ordinary poison. Either it was laced with elemental power, or something else entirely."
Arwyn gave a thoughtful nod. "That is a great point. I had not considered it. What is your judgment, Captain?"
Seraphina's silence stretched, her cold eyes unreadable, then she answered with deliberate precision. "This grows complicated. Our first priority is to uncover who paid those men. Bandits would not stroll into the heart of the town without reason. Someone brought them here, and to me it appears tied to the masked figure, just as the earlier murders were. Still, the Knight's case must take precedence for now."
Arwyn responded, "In that case, I suggest we try to locate the owner of that relic. If such a person even exists."
Seraphina's reply was sharp, cold. "What if there is no owner? What if Rowen fabricated every word and constructed this case from nothing? He may have thought that his badge as a Knight placed him beyond question. And for a time, he was correct. That alone is the greatest shame. I am deeply disappointed, not only in my knights but in myself as their leader. If a Knight chooses to act like a criminal, then what hope remains for the people who trust us to deliver justice? Imagine their despair when those they believe to be guardians of law are revealed as the very criminals they fear. This failure is mine, for I was blind to it..."
Lyra's face softened with quiet sadness at her Captain's heavy words, but Arwyn did not share the sentiment. She crossed her arms, her tone almost cutting. "Captain, you should not fall into self-pity. Instead, consider the punishment for the prison guards who permitted such cruelty under their duty."
Seraphina raised her eyes and looked at her without expression. "Who said I was lamenting? I have yet to finish my thoughts. Learn to listen before you assume."
Lyra gave a small, awkward laugh, though when Arwyn's cold gaze turned to her, she hurriedly pressed a hand to her mouth and looked away.
Arwyn exhaled and refocused on Seraphina. "Then what course shall we take, Captain?"
Seraphina paused in thought before answering. "First, speak with Eska since she was hiding various things and her husband. Though I doubt her husband will be welcoming, still, it is necessary. At the same time, send someone to uncover every detail about Rowen's final days. Where he went, who he met, the nature of his dealings... I want it all. Only by knowing his life can we suspect who might have joined him in this."
Arwyn gave a slow nod, then tilted her head slightly as if recalling something. "That reminds me, Captain. Auren mentioned to me when I asked him that Rowen frequently visited a small tavern near the Knight Orders Prison almost every day. If he conducted any private dealings, I believe that would be the place. Since he was a regular, the waitresses there should know him well."
Lyra cleared her throat softly, almost as if she had been holding back. "Captain… Lieutenant."
Both women turned their gaze upon her, their voices overlapping in cool inquiry. "What is it? Do you know this place?"
Lyra shook her head, though her expression shifted into something uneasy. "No, I do not know the owner. But that tavern the Lieutenant spoke of with such confidence... it is the same one where Eska works as a waitress."
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Kael, meanwhile, had found himself back in his own room. After Seraphina left for her office, he of course could not resist the urge to search for the diary and the tome, so without delay he began opening drawers and rummaging through the smaller boxes placed in the furniture. He had already checked several compartments, yet what he discovered was nothing beyond the ordinary... only his own clothes neatly folded or half-forgotten, with nothing that carried the weight of secrets or hidden truths.
With a sigh that carried both disappointment and confusion, Kael sat back for a moment, muttering in thought, "Where in the world did I put them? It seems I cannot even remember."
This time it was not like his memories had been stripped away entirely, it was instead more like he had truly forgotten where he had placed the diary and the tome, as though the hiding spot had slipped from his mind with cruel simplicity. But what weighed heavier than the mere act of forgetting was the matter of the diary itself.
The diary… whose diary was it, really?
"It could be mine," Kael whispered to himself, his eyes drifting toward the light spilling through the window, "but if it is mine… then why did that strange man in the fog know about it?"
The thought unsettled him more than he wanted to admit. If that man had known of the diary, then had Kael himself revealed it to him long ago? If so, that would mean he had already been aware that his memories would one day falter, that his own self had planned such things from the very beginning.
But he did not know. There was no way to know.
And when his mind circled back to that strange man, Kael felt the same confusion tighten its hold. Who exactly was he? An old acquaintance, a long-lost friend perhaps? Why was it that he could only remember the final words spoken, yet nothing else of his figure or his presence? Where had that man gone, and if he were to search the town, would he even find him at all?
Huh?
Find who exactly? Search for who?
That strange man, of course.
But… but who was the strange man?
Wait... what was he thinking about again?
Huh? Why is he even thinking? He was not here to drown in thinking, he had come to read the diary and the tome, to uncover what little truth he could, so why was he sitting there wasting time?
He scratched the back of his neck, stood up, and forced his body into motion.
"Where did I put them?" he muttered, his gaze shifting to the bed before him. "Could it be here?"
He stepped forward, pulled away the bed sheet with some haste, yet nothing revealed itself. With a face of quiet disappointment he let out another sigh, then turned his attention toward the small wardrobe that stood at the side of his bed, a piece of furniture he rarely bothered to use.
"Could it be there?"
Without further thought he opened one of its doors, and at once a few old books tumbled from the shelf, their spines worn and their covers covered in dust as if they had been left untouched for years.
Crouching down, Kael picked them up one by one, brushing away the dirt as he did, until his gaze settled on two particular volumes. One was heavy, its surface buried under far more dust than the others, while the other was a smaller book bound in black, with surprisingly little dust covering it.
"Is this the diary?"
Kael's hand lingered on the small black book. When he lifted it and inspected the bookplate, he saw the word Diary written clearly across it, something he had not expected at all.
Something so crucial, so deeply tied to his own forgotten history, had been lying right there within easy reach. It almost angered him that his past self had been so careless, leaving something of such weight where anyone might notice, as though he had neither the caution nor the foresight to hide it properly.
Still kneeling on the floor, Kael did not move for a long moment. He simply opened the diary at once, his fingers careful as they turned the first page, his heart beating with a quiet hope that within these pages lay truths he had forgotten. But when his eyes fell upon the writing, his mind froze.
The page was not empty, but the words that filled it were written in a strange and foreign manner.
"What kind of language is this?" he murmured, staring in disbelief. "It looks foreign… but whoever wrote this clearly had no sense of how to write properly."
A realization struck him suddenly, and his lips curled in a wry grimace.
"Wait… am I the one who actually wrote this? Am I truly this bad at writing? Now that I think of it, when was the last time I even wrote anything? I cannot remember at all. Perhaps this is why I left it lying in plain sight... because no one would ever be able to understand such miserable handwriting."
He inhaled deeply, steadying himself, then forced his eyes to follow the clumsy script. It was the only path he had to learning about himself, after all, and if not this then the only other way would be through his father-in-law.
That thought gave him pause. If there was anyone alive who knew more about Kael than Kael himself, it was undoubtedly him. Yet Kael had no desire to travel back to the Capital, not when it meant crossing the mountains once again.
So he kept reading.
The first few pages were nearly illegible, so poorly written that he wanted to curse the one who had scrawled them... though that person was most likely himself. But as he turned further, the words began to form into something more readable.
Even then, the content proved disappointing. It told him little beyond what he already knew: that he was Seraphina's husband, that they had been married three years, and that her rules and commands were many, what she likes, what she doesn't, he behaved with a dramatic air and enjoyed teasing her and she that and she these, bluh, bluh, bluh.
Kael found himself growing bored, almost irritated, for none of this gave him new answers.
"I'm really glad that Seraphina didn't find it otherwise she would think I'm actually madly in love with her and care for her... which in truth I don't. She would have also thought I'm so creepy as well, which the writer of the book is... Oh, what a twist, that's actually myself... I really want to kill that bastard." Which he couldn't.
Yet one word caught his attention, appearing several times throughout the pages when he tried to read the first few pages.
A vow.
"What kind of vow?" Kael muttered under his breath. "Did I make some kind of vow? Perhaps in my childhood… but what kind of vow would it have been?"
He thought about it, but the more he tried to untangle the meaning, the more complicated it became. He had no memory to rely on, no clue beyond this repetition of a single word, and so at last he shut the diary with the conclusion that it was utterly useless and of course threw it away.
With a heavy sigh he lowered his gaze to the other book... the tome. He brushed the thick coat of dust from its cover and was surprised to find that beneath the dirt it did not look so bad at all.
The cover of the book actually seemed to be strong, which he couldn't know by the leather layer. In colour it was brown, decorated with ornate golden designs, and at the very center a sigil had been pressed into the leather. Within that sigil was the image of a proud sword, standing upright like a king, its tip shattered, marked by an emblem that spread outward like wings.
Kael ran his fingers lightly across the surface, letting the roughness of the aged leather and the raised golden patterns press against his skin. The book felt heavy, almost as if it carried more than mere parchment within.
He tried to open it once, then again, pulling harder each time, but no matter how much strength he poured into it the cover refused to part. His arms trembled, his jaw tightened, yet still nothing gave way. Only then did he notice the edges, sealed tight as though the book itself had rejected him.
A frown tugged at his lips as he whispered, half to himself, half to the silence that surrounded him, "That explains why it was lying here where anyone can find it easily. But how am I supposed to open it? Did the old man say anything? He did… yes, I opened it once before. But how? How did I do it?"
He pressed his fingers against his temples, trying to summon the memory, but it slipped away like water through his grasp. No matter how he forced his thoughts, nothing came. With a sigh, he lowered his hands again and began studying the cover more carefully. If he had opened it before, there had to be something... some trick, some hidden key.
Slowly his fingers moved over the sigil, tracing the edges of the sword carved into it. The designs were cold to the touch, ancient, almost alive. When his hand brushed across the sword's tip, a sharp sting pierced his skin.
He gasped and drew his hand back at once, only to see fresh drops of blood gathering at the broken tip of the sword and his finger as well. His breath caught as the crimson sank into the sword's engraving, swallowed without a trace.
His eyes widened. "So… that's it. Just a few drops of my blood. That's all it needed."
So, he moved his finger once again to let a few more drops of blood fall to confirm it and soon, the atmosphere shifted instantly. The air thickened around the book, heavy with pressure. The sigil drank the blood greedily, the sword glowing first before the entire symbol blazed to life.
It was not a simple glow, but a living brilliance that pulsed and spread outward. The sigil twisted and turned as though it had awoken from slumber, circling horizontally on itself before splitting apart into new shapes upward. One after another, new sigils were born. However, the size of the sigils was bigger than the one below, each painted in a color unlike the last, weaving patterns Kael dimly remembered seeing before though he could not place where.
The book trembled in his hands, then broke free and rose into the air until it floated level with his head. The glowing symbols scattered, filling the air in rings of color, and the book began to turn slowly as if caught in a silent wind. Then, with a sudden stillness, it halted, the cover opening by itself. Pages whipped violently as though unseen hands searched through them, faster and faster until every last one had been revealed.
At last the light dimmed, the circling sigils faded away, and silence fell again. The book dropped gently onto the floor, no longer sealed. This time, it remained open.
Kael still stayed kneeling there for a long breath, his eyes lingering on the opened tome, his chest rising and falling with quiet anticipation. Something stirred inside him, something that was both fear and eagerness.
He bent down, picked it up carefully as though it might vanish if he handled it too roughly, and drew it close. His gaze lowered to the first page.
At last, he was ready to dive into the tales of the hero's journey, and the truths about the demons waiting within.
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(Chapter Ended)