Diego sat on the roof of a small building, eating a churro with one hand and holding a spyglass with another. He’d found where his targets rested, and considered trying to get them in their sleep. The only reason he didn’t was that they had some type of ghost of spectre which stood vigil over them, one he connected to the snakewoman he tried to off yesterday.

  “Diego!” A feminine voice shouted at him, “There you are. What are you doing, eating?”

  This woman was no one ordinary - she was, for lack of a more appropriate term, his boss, by the name of Ramona. And while their relationship was always somewhat frosty, she appeared to be particularly nonplussed at the moment. She held a stern, powerful gaze and stood over his lower form, glaring down at him.

  He gulped in response, attempting to hold her gaze and not psis her off any further. Ramona had already snuck up undetected, and that was as much a message (a message that she had access to him and could kill him at any time) as it was a simple matter of course.

  “I was just recuperating,” He replied, eyeing and weighing the possibility of attacking her, just in case the whole thing went south, “What are you doing here?”

  “Our patrons aren’t happy,” She warned, taking a step closer to him, “I understand you can’t have killed all of them yet, but not even one?”

  “There were more than anticipated,” He stood up, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, “But I know now - there are six of them, and I know their faces.”

  A convenient fact that he had left out was that he had completely mistaken the identity of his target. By some strange, and in some ways quite humorous coincidence, Paracelsus had simply had a very similar visage to the man who he was to frame. Said man was long gone, only having been in Castego for the party and leaving, completely unaware of the fact that his reputation and freedom was in danger.

  Ramona stood there, pondering and weighing the pros and cons of simply gutting her subordinate then and there, “Fine. If they’re all alive by the end of today, I will consider you a failure, and your contract will be formally terminated.” Diego gulped at the implicit threat and nodded submissively before Ramona walked away, disappearing around a corner.

  He exhaled, and returned to eating his churro (which was at this point thoroughly crushed in his nervous grip).

  —

  “Now, now, I know what you’re thinking!” Paracelsus shouted, being dragged by the arms to a table, at which point one his arms was forced onto it and his sleeve rolled up, “But you know that torture won’t get you anywhere!”

  He bit his lip until it bled, bracing himself to suddenly be down a hand, and it seemed like his fear was about to be confirmed as he heard the swish of the cleaver, but it never quite fell on his wrist.

  “Where is she?” Federico asked.

  “I let her out last night.” The Captain admitted, “I stayed as a sign of good faith - I could’ve left, and I could’ve been well on my way by now, but I stayed!”

  “Where is she?!” Federico repeated, louder.

  “I don’t know!” Paracelsus’ volume grew in proportion, even though a glare that threatened physical retaliation proved it was a mistake, “Let’s operate under the assumption that you’re correct for a second. I lead two of my associates here - only for one to escape on his own and the other other to escape otherwise. Why?”

  “I don’t know.” The heir replied sorrowfully, his adrenaline giving way to a profound confusion and sadness, “But let’s say you’re telling the truth - Why wouldn’t you want to leave?”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve lost someone close to me,” The Captain sympathized, “We weren’t married, but… he meant a lot to me.”

  “Joaquin!” Federico twitched his head in the direction of an isolated corner, and walked with his friend over to it to convene, “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

  “It’s hard to say,” The guard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “On the one hand - his story seems exceptionally hard to believe; he just happened to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time? But at the same time, he makes a fair point - why would he introduce us to two of his associates only for them to disappear without him?”

  “My only worry is that he’s lying about being able to escape,” Federico argued, “And that he’s just buying time.”

  “We could always ask him to prove it.” Joaquin offered.

  “That’s a good idea, Joaquin," The heir clapped his guard on the shoulder, “Let’s go with that.” He walked back over to the alchemist, who was twiddling his thumbs waiting, “Prove it.”

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  “Prove what?” He asked.

  “Prove that you can escape, then we can cooperate.” He replied.

  “Certainly,” Paracelsus smiled warmly, walking over to the wall of his cell and putting his hand on it, “Behold.”

  He let his gift flow through the wall, changing the flat stony surface into a wooden door, which he opened without difficulty before closing it and undoing his work. The two Scaularese men stood dumbfounded, looking at each other before regaining their wits.

  “And here I just assumed you’d concealed a knife,” Federico remarked, grinding his teeth, “Alright, fine. How do you suggest we find the assassin?”

  “Well, to start - you need to ask yourself why your wife was the target,” Paracelsus said, “And who might have such a motivation.”

  “Trust me, I’ve been wondering that exact thing!” The heir shouted, frustrated, “But she wasn’t the daughter of anyone important - she didn’t own much except her house, she wasn’t in politics, either. Maybe I should ask my brother…”

  “I wouldn’t recommend it,” The Captain replied with a pointed finger, “Without ascribing any malicious intent: it’s simply better to limit the number of variables.”

  “Se?or -” Joaquin said, but was silenced by his boss raising a flat palm.

  “Fine then, Mr. Paracelsus,” Federico said, “I’m going to investigate; I need sun, anyway. Joaquin, I want him under constant watch.”

  —

  “Alright - from now on, we all go in pairs.” Serpaiinno ordered, taking a mental count of their numbers, “Sally - Lonceré, Tariq - Gareland.”

  “What about you?” The fairy asked, concerned.

  “Why am I with the womanizer?” Sally asked.

  “As if you’re any better!” Lonceré replied back with an offended scoff.

  “Regardless!” The swordswoman interrupted, “I’m never alone with this.” She rang her bell and summoned forth her ghostly aid.

  “Well, what are we doing?” Tariq asked, contently at rest.

  “I’m going to go look for clues at his house.” She replied, mentally checking to make sure everything was prepared, “You all are the bait.”

  “What?!” They all asked in unison, with Tariq continuing, “What do you mean - the bait?”

  “Well it’s obvious he’s trying to kill us all.” She stated matter-of-factly, "Clearly he wouldn’t attack the strongest of us.”

  “I object to that!” The cook huffed, pouting and crossing his arms, yet still finding himself more invisible than the helmsman, “Clearly I’m the strongest.”

  Serpacinno predictably ignored him as he complained, both at the snub and the unpersonable partner he was duly placed with. Regardless, the first mate departed on her own path.

  —

  Shortly thereafter, she arrived at her destination, having been informed already of its rough location. She pushed the door open delicately, and brought her sword to drag against the ground a few inches in front of her to check for any plates or wires that she figured an assassin would have rigged to traps in their home.

  Eventually, her sword did catch on a small string, which she cut. She heard a whizz of an arrow flying perpendicular to her path, set off at such a timing that, had she continued, it surely would’ve gored her ruthlessly. After waiting a few seconds, and seeing no further projectiles, she stepped forward, continuing her search.

  The entryway gave way to a rather large foyer, it seemed that for someone stealthy, he lived a rather lavish life. There was nothing discernable as either evidence or a trap, so she continued past the nice chairs and heavy furniture. Being a rather short woman, she was unable to see the tops of some of the cabinets and dressers, but waving her sword around on top of them didn’t yield any results.

  “Damn,” She clicked her tongue, slamming open a bureau which contained only porcelain dishware, “He didn’t keep any records, or anything?”

  Continuing on to the kitchen, she found some documents, but being in Scaularese, she had no idea what they said, and pocketed them just in case. Other than a slice of beef she was happy to eat, there was nothing else of note, and she scratched her head in confusion.

  Only two more rooms to go, which she thought was strange, given the fact that it looked a bit larger outside than its inside would suggest. Regardless, she checked the water closet, finding it unsurprisingly empty, before she moved to the bedroom.

  “Aha!” She exclaimed, dragging a trunk out from under the bed.

  It was heavy and metal, and she found herself unable to move it an inch. She ceased her fruitless efforts and wiped the sweat from her brow as she formulated a plan. She took her sword and carefully placed it under the chest, leveraging it to try and lift the container if only a bit. A smile appeared on her face as she saw it raise, before that smile disappeared as she heard a click.

  “What the f -” A snare fell from the ceiling and hooked onto her neck, dragging her up to the ceiling. She flailed about, having dropped her sword, to try and free herself, but to no avail.

  Just as it seemed she was about to meet her end, and her arms fell to her sides, she heard some slithering, shuffling noise before the rope snapped and she fell with a dull thud to the ground. As she coughed and sputtered, she wasn’t sure if it was the lack of oxygen or the truth, but she could’ve sworn she saw vines retracting into the sleeve of her savior.

  “You’re -” She continued hacking, trying to catch her breath.

  “Federico.” He introduced himself, helping her to her feet, “I’m glad I found you.”

  “Shit, you!” She backed up, taking her sword up again in a defensive position.

  “I’m not here to pick a fight -” Federico put his hands up, before lowering them back down to his hips, “Just to talk.”

  “Then talk,” She said, keeping her guard up, “Speak your piece.”

  “I spoke to Paracelsus,” He replied, “I’m not fully convinced he’s innocent, but he’s willing to stay in custody until he can clear his name.”

  “And how did you know where to find me?” She asked.

  “The police here all cooperate with my family.” He replied, not breaking her gaze.

  “Alright then,” She kept her sword aloft, still unwavering in her distrust, “What do you propose?”

  “Well, for one,” He started, “Please put the sword down. Second,” He crouched and although it seemed like his arms couldn’t reach, he miraculously found purchase on the box with his arm under the bed, “I suggest we open this!” He grunted with exertion as he threw it to the bed.

  Not taking her eyes off of the heir, Serpacinno carefully placed her sword under the lock, wresting the contraption before seeing it hit the floor. The heir was immediately on it, disregarding the possibility of a trap, but luckily not finding one, as he tore open the box and inspected the contents.

  “Wire, gun, knife,” He listed off the contents, carefully and professionally placing them aside, “Ah! Here we go.”

  He dumped the rest of the contents - a collection of documents - onto the bed, which were joined shortly by Serpacinno’s own, for the heir to peruse and discern at his pace.