“The priests need your help”, said the mayor as Rosomil arrived in the main room.

  The others sat already at the table, eating breakfast, with Aswald sitting at the side. He looked towards them with a curious expression. At the same time, Lodwin raised his spoon slower than usual and watched them with some weariness.

  “Do they, now?”, Rosomil asked with a frown and stopped at the food of the stairs. “What’s the matter? Did they find another corpse?”

  “No, nothing of the like, Sire”, the major replied hasty with a nervous laugh while waving his hand. “It’s just… While I made my rounds assessing the damage last night’s storm had done, I came across their house and found not only one of the windows broken, but both of them injured. Since I lack the necessary knowledge to offer adequate care, I thought it wise to talk to you knights.”

  “Than I shall immediately accompany you and tend to their wounds”, Rosomil said.

  “What about breakfast?”, asked Lodwin from across the table.

  “I’ll eat at a later point”, he replied and headed back towards the stairs. “I’ll go and fetch my medical equipment.”

  Once he had the major necessities in a small leather bag, Rosomil headed back down the stairs and left the inn with the mayor in tow. While they walked to the residence of the priests, Rosomil used his chance to speak with the old man.

  “How long are the priests with you?”, he asked, somber.

  “For three or four months”, he answered.

  “Do you know to which they were assigned before?”

  “No. They were ordered here upon the bishop’s wish. I neither know to which parish they had been assigned before coming here nor why exact they were chosen for this place.”

  “You never asked?”

  “No. It seemed ill fitted to ask them any such questions. After all, the bishop pointed out that he wanted someone to take care of the salvation of our souls because of the two murders preceding their arrival here.”

  “How was the bishop informed of the first murders?”

  “That… uhm…”, the mayor hesitated and stopped.

  “You don’t know?”, Rosomil asked, intrigued.

  “I’m not certain how, Sir Knight”, he insisted. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Don’t be, I’ll ask the priests giving the chance is right around the corner”, he said and gave the mayor a sign to continue.

  “Around the corner is actually a good word, we’re almost there”, he said, somewhat amused despite the situation.

  “I’ve still one question, I would like to ask”, said Rosomil, looking straight ahead.

  “Just ask, I’ll answer if I can.”

  “Has the bishop always been interested in Harren?”

  “I… I don’t think so. I’m among the oldest people here in Harren, but I don’t remember receiving any news from the bishop. Among the people of Harren, I guess, I was just among a handful who did know of his existence. And I only did know of him or rather his role because of the old priest we had about six years ago. I guess someone with the necessary connections did inform the bishop who then saw to it the priests came here.”

  “Interesting…”, murmured Rosomil with a frown.

  A few moments later, they arrived at the house. Their home was one of the bigger, better kept houses. Rosomil suspected that the lack of apparent upkeep in the rest of the village was intentional, as the people seemed too well-adjusted to let their homes fall into disrepair. It also held up with the rumors he had heard about before coming to Harren. Well off people, hiding their wealth behind a facade of decrepit buildings. A good deterrent against a common thief, but with rumors like this circling, questionable if still that smart of a move.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The major went to the door with some reluctance and knocked.

  “Father Iain? Father Hamish? I’ve brought the leader of the knights!”, he announced them after there was no response. “Please open the door!”

  A moment later, something seemed to fall over behind the door. Alarmed Rosomil pushed the old man aside and knocked against the door. Before he could call out, the door was opened a few inches by an exhausted looking Father Iain.

  “I told you, we just need medicine”, Iain said, glaring at the mayor across the border of his glasses, of which one side now had a crack.

  “You only get my medicine along with my expertise”, Rosomil replied stern. “May I come in?”

  For a moment, the young priest, who seemed just a little older than him, continued to glare. He held the eye contact and frowned. A moment later, Father Iain opened the door fully and stepped tentatively aside.

  “Come in, but only go where I tell you to go, Sir Knight”, he said and looked over at the major, as if daring the man to enter as well.

  “I’ll handle everything from here on out, thank you, mayor”, Rosomil said to deflate the tension, which seemed to relieve the old man greatly.

  Iain let him in and closed the door slowly behind them. Rosomil used the moment to get an overview of the small house, but before he could really settle on details, Father Iain ushered him forward with a strong hand on his shoulder. He didn’t like being touched so casually but forced his displeasure down. For now, he needed to play along and gain the priests’ trust. Still, he took note of the strong herbal sent within the house. A scent which permeated everything and originated not from the kitchen, Father Iain was pushing him in, but a room further back, close to the wall of the church.

  Upon entering the kitchen, Rosomil took a short visual assessment. By the looks of it, they had been eating breakfast while treating their wounds. Especially Father Hamish seemed worse for wear. He looked exhausted, and the smell of the herbs wafted around him like a thick cloud. His bare chest showed bruises and scratches, as well as a set of new bandages. Something was definitely off, but Rosomil could tell what it was.

  “What happened?”, he asked and stepped next to Father Hamish.

  “The storm broke a few windowpanes, and we got hurt by the shards”, explained Father Iain stern, without moving away from the door.

  “We got hurt?”, asked Rosomil and placed his bag beside the table before taking one of the chairs and placing it right next to Hamish, who stared at him as if in a drunken stupor.

  As he did so, he could smell the distinct scent of the ocean coming from Hamish below the herbal smell. There were also some salt crusts on the side of his face, as if he had been hastily cleaned.

  “Yes, Sire Knight”, Iain answered and moved closer, but still kept himself between Rosomil and the only entrance to the kitchen. “I would prefer if you could keep this visit short.”

  “You didn’t send the mayor to me?”

  “No. He went out of his own accord, despite me telling him we could take care of this on our own.”

  Rosomil nodded and undid the bandages as gently as he could. To his surprise, the wounds didn’t look like they had been caused by glass shards. They were too symmetrical, and the surrounding bruising was also uncommon for such a wound. This was clearly an animal bite.

  “The wound’s infected”, he said, and moved to his bag to get one of his ointments out. “I’ll leave some of this with you to apply with every new wound dressing.”

  “Yes, I’ll do just that”, Iain said with clear impatience in his voice.

  “What I’m also curious about is your brother’s mental state”, Rosomil continued after he had bandaged Hamish.

  “What about him?”

  “Why hasn’t he said a single word and let me treat him as if he’s just a doll?”

  “I’m only tired”, Hamish said with great difficulty.

  “You heard him, Sir Knight, now go”, said Iain with a tint of nervousness in his voice.

  “What about your injuries?”, Rosomil asked and glared at him.

  “I don’t need your help”, he insisted.

  “Your brother doesn’t have any shards stuck in his side, so I just want to make sure you won’t get an infection as well”, he insisted in return.

  For a moment, Iain seemed about to throw him out of the house. Yet, after a glance at his worse for wear brother, he took a deep breath and slowly undressed his upper body. Rosomil watched him intently and took note of the bruises and superficial scratches on his upper body, as well as the wounds on his arms. He and his brother looked like they got in a scuffle with some wild animal.

  Overall, Father Iain’s wounds were almost identical to his brothers. The form also points to it being rather a bite than being the aftermath of some broken glass shards. A bite made by something bigger than what bit Hamish. But Rosomil didn’t remark anything on it. On one hand, he doubted that they would be forthcoming with any information, nor did he want to show them that he knew that a lie was underfoot.

  “Are you done now?”, asked Father Iain, almost irate once he had bandaged him.

  “I am”, Rosomil replied cold and packed his things back together. “But what did you give your brother?”

  “A herbal remedy”, he answered after a moment of hesitation.

  “For what?”

  “Against pain. And anxiousness.”

  “Just that?”

  “Sir Knight, I ask you to go now.”

  For a moment, Rosomil wanted to push him but ultimately decided against it. With a sigh, he obeyed and let himself be escorted to the front door.