“Where was he found.” His voice remained level but he was ready to burst out his skin. Tacitus stared down at the missive in his hand, silently listening to the details being said to him in a breathless rush, jotting notes down on the edge of the missive. Eventually he started repeating himself so he was dismissed. He stared down at his note for a long moment. The second he moved so many things would have to happen at once, a full investigation, speaking to the family of the deceased, the head of the family, but as long as he stood here nothing was quite real. He floated in the dusty haze of the moment, holding his breath before a long sigh. He pivoted on his heel and walked out into the main courtyard.
He loved the flowers of the courtyard, even now as he jogged across the paved walking path he couldn't help but leave his hands out to brush into the petals as strode by. He stopped before the House Umbra library, taking a moment to set his jaw and make sure he was as presentable as possible. He took a deep breath and opened the door.
“Tiberius, I have news for you.” he said walking over master of the house, who looked deep in some research. “I regret to inform you that one of our guardsman was found dead an hour ago not too far from here.” He pulled the missive out of his robe and opened in front of him. “Konstance Adamo was on extended leave as of a week ago unfortunately has turned up dead outside of a drinking establishment downtown.” slowly his brain beginning to wake up. “They last served as a guard to the attaché to House Verax but their rotation ended and their mandatory leave began.” He looked up at Tiberius, who had missed the last 5 years of politics within the houses. “This is most unusual. I intend to investigate immediately.” He nodded in a half bow and stood ready to pivot and round up a retinue. “On your leave I shall see to it.”
Tiberius sat behind a small wall of his grandfather’s journals, painstakingly translating the contents according to the cypher Enzo and he had pierced together. (Mostly Enzo, were he being honest.) It was painfully slow going, making even the revelation of forbidden magical secrets into a boring chore. Just what Lukios would have wanted.
He was feeling quite cheerful about the interruption, at least until his perpetually dour and grumpy armsman started speaking.
“Oh.” Someone by the name of Konstance Adamo was dead. He didn’t even recognize the family name. Verax, on the other hand …
Not too much better, to be honest. They were very new among the Houses, without much of an established culture or identity yet. Just dangerous ambition, with the hint they might otherwise be for sale. Not entirely a criticism – Umbra was not above similar tactics.
“Do we have the body? I could come with you and ask Adamo what happened to them.” As long as the death was recent, and it sounded like this was. Otherwise, the spell might call a spirit or demon to fill the guardsman’s vacated flesh. Potentially more difficult to get rid of when they were done, if it was a powerful example of either. Tiberius slid a bookmark into the diary and pushed up from the desk.
He was learning so many new things about Tacitus. Mainly, that he liked to work alone and that the quiet dramas which played out on his face when he was put-upon were very entertaining.
“As you wish Ser.” He bowed, Master Umbra expertise would be invaluable and would keep the investigation in house, but placed him in danger, and perhaps more importantly made a semi official audit of the guard and it's dealings with House Verax. That was Tacitus loot lately, a host of dark corners that he had swept the houses dust into were being brought into light. Sacrifices that were needful and obvious at the time seemed foolishness in the noonday light of hindsight. His own crisis of confidence would have to wait however, work always first. “He's been left on site, our own guards have the area confined. I'll have the horses prepared immediately.” He strode of the room immediately and toward the stables.
A short while later they were riding. A pace between a canter and gallop, nearing either as foot traffic allowed. The city's winding narrow paths and frankly unnecessary verticality often vexed Tacitus. Constant doubling back and scrabbling hooves as horses slanted down in a way they disliked. Eventually they arrived at the Tallow house, and met with one his men. “Darrius, has anyone been allowed in?” He called out before greeting him with a brisk salute. “Just the owner. I legally can't remove him so he's just been sitting behind the bar looking upset.” Darrius said returning the salute before turning down the alley to the side of the building.
There lay Konstance, face down on the still rain slicked cobble. His hands lay still balled in tight fists and at his side. His legs were ramrod straight and feet were bent down, the tops of his shoes laying against the cobble. Tacitus knelt beside him and took a deep breath. Mixed in with the earthly smells he expected was a unmistakable floral aroma. He frowned then joined his hands, his right tracing a glyph on his left. His eyes took a light blue glow as his senses honed. He could see flecks of skin and near bruises where Konstance spasmed on the stone before he died. The floral smell originated not from his mouth but from the pocket of his overcoat. The traces of brushed off water showed a pair of slender footprints leaving the scene. He held his breath a moment before asking. “Well, What do you think Milord.”
“Ah, no, I’ll want Bel for this.” Tiberius had never shared his dear friend Enzo’s love for horses. They were too skittish by half. Once possessed, they were much more reliable but they didn’t heal naturally. They did not quite rot or generate an odor, either – but it tended to leave irritating grease stains on your clothes.
So of course a giant black-and-purple cat was a reasonable substitute mount for a gentleman. Besides, Belona had a special talent. Technically so did all of her smaller kin, but carrying a house cat under his arm all the way across town seemed like a very poor idea. He locked up the tower and met Ursus in the street. The ride was awkward – most beasts of burden found big cats unnerving at the least. Alas.
At least Bel seemed happy.
Soon enough they were outside the so-called drinking establishment. It was no place Tiberius was familiar with, catering to soldiers and sailors. A little strange though, to find a handful of his house guards already here in their blue-and-copper uniforms. He was still struggling to find the proper balance between deadly indolence and too overbearing by half.
Delegation was a skill. Grandfather had known that. Tiberius followed Tacitus into the alley, leading Bel by the reins.
Adamo had been on leave – producing a rather anonymous corpse dressed in common clothes. His shoes might have given him away: House-issued boots, perhaps the only good shoes he owned. The body’s posture was odd and unnatural, like he’d died in the middle of a fit. Face down in the rain, that was rather sad.
Tiberius glanced up sharply at the question, gaze narrowing. He hadn’t been paying attention to the other man’s not-quite-a-spell. The glow was eerie in the eyes of a non-mage.
“Well, we should roll him over. And be careful of Bel. If he’s been poisoned she might go for his innards.” Huh, perhaps a smarter person could make even better use of calinic cats this way. If they knew how long each poison under the sun might take to work its way through a body.
“Otherwise, I can ask him to talk. If you’ve no further insights to glean from things as they are.”
Flipping Konstance onto his back was a strange thing. Tacitus had dealt with his fair share of corpses during his military service, but the rigidity that Konstance held even hours latter was unnerving. He rolled him over on to his back and grimaced as he rocked slightly before settling into position. Tacitus dug through his coat before producing a small purse of coin, a 14 inch dagger, and a handkerchief with a red waxy smear on it. Tacitus brought the kerchief to his nose, clearly the source of the floral scent. He glared down at it, could be a clue, could be nonsense.
Tiberius massive fucking cat was clearly going to be a problem. Tacitus had heard that if you die in a house with a cat it would eat your face fairly soon after, but usually it was due to neglect and need, but this was something more feral. Tacitus had to work with one arm out, boxing the now lightly growling beast just behind him. Clearly something was primally driving the beast. Her ears back and eyes locked on Konstance. “Tiberius, I think that perhaps Bel is becoming a complication.” Tacitus shouldered back heavily into the chest of the big cat, moving it perhaps a foot and felt it start to arch it's back to think about jumping over him.
“Tiberius I think if you're gonna ask him questions, you should do it now before we lose control of Bel.” Tacitus let the strength of lyrium surge through his arms and pivoted to face the big cat. Bel continued to ignore him, pushing his head over his shoulder. Tacitus reached up around the cat's massive tree trunk neck and with both hands grabbed the loose skin on the top of the neck and pulled it tight above the cat. Bel froze in place, and thus did Tacitus, as both of them seemingly shut down. Through a strained voice he spoke to Tiberius, “I think I can buy you a minute or two before I tire out or Bel shrugs this off. Make it count.” Grimly Tacitus dug his heels in and remembered miserable books about holding the weight of the world on your shoulders.
“Ah, well. He was poisoned, then.” Perhaps not to death -- though he saw no other obvious cause. He turned his head, watching Tacitus struggle with the massive cat. “Sorry. I don’t think Bel can help it.” Calinic cats craved and devoured toxins even when they weren’t hungry. Bel happily disposed of all the poison garden’s trimmings and waste – as well as a few perfectly ordinary goats per week.
The knife seemed ordinary enough, if rather large to carry in town. In any case, Tacitus hadn’t been surprised by it. The handkerchief … Perhaps someone like Miss Jolfy might learn a great deal if she had it in her lab. Tiberius had no wish to handle it without, at the very least, some sturdy gloves.
“Alright.” The rain water drenching the cobbles posed some challenge when it came to drawing the appropriate runes. Usually corpses were more obliging; spilled blood was terribly easy to work with. Tiberius stood and stepped back, freezing the water into ice in a rough disk around poor unfortunate Konstance. Kneeling back down, he took Adamo’s knife and started to carve the spellwork into the ice itself.
Finally, he peered down at the dead man’s waxy face and let his magic pour forth into the empty vessel – an irresistible lure to all denizens of the Fade. If they were in luck, the dead man’s soul would be drawn through first.
Adamo’s eyes opened, lit with the sicky green of the Fade. He drew in a wet sounding breath and worked his stiff jaw.
“What–? My Lord, is that you?” The corpse twitched and struggled to stand but the ice held him fast, stuck belly up to the sky.
“I’m just a helper today, Guardsman. Please answer all of Seneschal Ursus’s questions.” Tiberius moved back to trade places with Tacitus. He did not have the raw strength to restrain the big cat, but scratches under her chin and along the bridge of her nose did much to calm her.
“Konstance.” He said in an even tone. He wasn't quite sure if t he dead still held position within his house. He was likely to be interred there but it was a finer point of law that was best left for later. “Explain how you came to this alley, Guardsman.” His tone was softer than it would have been with the living in this situation. He was on leave after all, and hardly disgraced himself getting poisoned. Foolish perhaps but not disgraceful.
“I was meeting Hegemone here. We had been seeing each other for a month or so in private.” Konstance stated, emotionless. Tacitus' jaw tightened but he kept quiet. “We were pretty secret, or so I thought.” Tacitus thought he saw Konstance's face shy away a moment, but it was almost certainly projection. “Either way, after a few drinks tonight guards from her family house came in an dragged her away, I tried to give chase, but everything felt sluggish. I staggered out the bar and turned the corner and my legs just slammed straight and I teetered over without control. I blacked out when I hit the ground I think.”
It seemed unlike he knew much else relevant to this moment, but he had to cover one last unfortunate question. “What did you and Hegemone talk about?” It seemed unlikely that Konstance could be evasive or lie in this state, so no need to drive the point home further. “We talked about leaving town. She thought Orlais would be a good option but I had heard there was some kind of trouble in those parts. We were planning on leaving.” Tacitus chewed that information for a moment. Not quite treasonous, if he gave leave and notice of his intention to leave service. He hadn't leaked anything pertinent that he knew of. “So Master Tiberius” he turned back, his hand carefully tucked behind. “What do you think of this mess.”
“‘Mess’ is right. Poor kids.” Tiberius blew out a long sigh into Bel’s plush shoulder, then stepped away, toward Adamo. With a flick of his wrist, he encouraged the ice to creep up and around the body. He looked down into the dead man’s dreadfully young face. Did it help, knowing flight to Orlais would have brought only another tragic end?
No, not really.
“Thank you, Konstance. Now, back to sleep with you.” The spirit did not want to go, pleading and struggling futility as the ice encased him. Tiberius winced, picking apart the binding thread by thread until the muffled cries stopped and the light of the Fade vanished entirely. This time was so much worse than Ser Cog at the Archon’s party. He’d take the dead’s crude threats over heartbreak and confusion any day.
Dazed, he met Tacitus’s watchful gaze with a blank stare. Until Belona shoved past to sniff around the body. Thankfully, the big cat couldn’t get at him anymore – but it didn’t stop her licking the ice with obvious pleasure. A deep rumbling growl started in her chest, audible from the alleyway entrance.
“Hegemone … Of House Verax, I assume?” There couldn’t be that many women named Hegemone out there. Konstance spoke of Proserpina’s younger sister, if his memory was not failing him. Verax was a newly risen Low House, outspoken and ambitious. Difficult to anticipate when they weren’t following House Tilani’s example. “I could make myself a nuisance. Get his family what they are due – beyond what we'd usually pay out for an unmarried man’s contract.” With the class difference involved, it might be the best they could do. Not exactly justice, but an approximation of it in aurums.
“Though that raises more questions. What if the young lady is pregnant? I can think of few other reasons to suddenly decide to murder her lower caste lover.” Tiberius shook his head and led Bel back out of the alley. He swung up into the saddle and waited for Tacitus to mount his horse.
Or was.
“To House Verax. I’d like to know the full story.”
Tacitus nodded to Tiberius and dragged his fingernails down the length of his opposite arm, finishing with a ball of cyan energy perched just beyond his left hand finger tips. Tacitus flicked it into the air above his head and it colapsed upon itself releasing a shadowy corvid, flying in place. He stared at it for a moment before it took off back to the estate. Simple messages along clear lines of communications. Stage for an extraction at House Verax, Master of the house in tow. Do not act without cause. He knew based on the time and location who would respond. They'd have a fair number of guardsman at a gambling hall 3 blocks from house Verax within the hour, ready to cause abject and widespread misery at the drop of a hat.
They started down the street and Tacitus felt himself wondering how far this would go. The loss of a guardsman would half to be addressed sure, but this is the first time Tiberius had the buck stop with him on matters of face for the house. Tacitus stared at Tiberius and tried to see signs of emotion on his face, the anger of justice and retrubution. The cold calculation of someone preparing to commit murder as an unavoidable reaction of station. Unfortunately he just found himself unable to read the head of house. “We're nearing the compound soon, What is your command.” he left his town intentionally bland. If he couldn't read the new Patriarch it was important to see how he acted. And equally important he handled this on his command.
Tacitus stopped, the pearlescent stone walls of house Verax contrasted poorly with the wrought iron spikes that jutted angrily out of the top. Part heavy handed metaphor and part clumsy patch of a clear design oversight in the original walls height. The compound didn't seem overly large from their stopping point a near block from the gate. He stopped at a near military ready before Tiberius, his hands folded behind his back and feet evenly spaced part. “I would hear your plan, if I may be so bold.”
