The chamber beside the banquet hall was filled with sundry items. There were a few long benches inside, and this was where the troupe stayed during the banquet. The room was stuffy, and not even a window was in sight. The witchers searched it carefully, but much to their disappointment, this room was also thoroughly cleaned. They failed to find any clues, so they asked Sylvia to bring all the troupe members over.
“Eveline, do you remember the exact time you guys retired to your room after the performance ended. Be as precise as you can.”
“I’m sorry, Roy.” The soldiers led Eveline up from the dark dungeon. Her feet were cuffed, and she had a confused look on her face. “It’s been a while, and I can’t remember the details. All I remember was the troupe started performing at about seven, and we retired for the night at about eight, after the performance was over.”
“What about you, Kantilla? Do you remember anything?” Roy turned to Kantilla, but she shook her head as well.
“I deal with blades and archery. Memory games aren’t my forte.”
Ferroz was useless. He looked like he had lost his soul. The man was just moving on instinct.
Eveline bit her lip. She hesitated for a moment, but she said, “Roy, Master Letho, we always record the flow of our performance, including the exact time they start and end. We need to reflect and gain experience from our mistakes, after all. Alan used to be the one making the records, but I took over after he died.”
“So where’s the journal?” Roy asked.
“The baron’s soldiers took all the troupe’s stuff away,” Eveline said. She glanced at the soldiers at the doorstep. The one in the lead was Dylan, the instructor who led them back from the plaza. He was in charge of the dungeon as well. The man had five soldiers behind him, and a big chain of keys and black whip hung from his waist. He looked frustrated and impatient.
“You took the journal, didn’t you? Give it to me right away.” Roy’s eyes glinted coldly. He looked at Dylan closely and nodded. The young witcher came to a decision. “This is precious evidence. Do not ruin it, or it’d make the investigation harder.”
Dylan was irked. He could see that the young witcher was ordering him around like a lackey, but the baron told them to work with these mutants, so he didn’t resist. He came back with the journal a while later. “Here’s the journal you want.”
Roy took the yellowing journal. It was as big as his hand. He looked at the frustrated Dylan and said, “Eveline, Kantilla, and Ferroz are important witnesses. They need to stay with me at all times for the investigation. You and your soldiers should leave if you have nothing else to say.”
Dylan’s face turned red with fury, while the troupe members looked smug, and they gave Roy looks of gratitude.
“Witcher!” Dylan finally couldn’t hold it in. “The baron won’t allow dangerous suspects like them to roam the castle. I have to keep an eye on them!”
Sylvia had been quiet until that moment. “Dylan, it’s safe as long as the witchers are around. Leave, now!
“But Sylvia—”
“Enough! This is the baron and the lady’s orders! And they allow no insubordination!”
Dylan glared at the young witcher, but then he froze. He saw an eerily horrifying scene unfurling before him. The world itself turned crimson, and terrifying tentacles protruded from the witcher’s back and the bloody pools on the ground. They lashed out at him and kept him wrapped, like a boa constrictor slowly tightening on its prey. They were everywhere, and he felt himself suffocate. Dylan froze up, his eyes rolling rapidly, as if he were having an episode of fits. It was like something had possessed Dylan. His limbs, chest, and fingers were trembling violently. He was already drenched in sweat in mere moments, and his pants had a wet patch on it. It reeked of urine.
“So who found Aryan then? And when was he found?”
The troupe members shook their heads. Too many things were happening at once. They were distracted by the scream and didn’t pay attention to the time.
“I can answer that, witcher.” Sylvia huddled closer and said, “I can’t remember most of the points in time in this case, but there’s one thing I won’t forget. I always put Sir Aryan to bed every night before ten. That’s the baron and the lady’s rule. It’s been that way for more than a decade.” Sylvia looked up and took another trip down memory lane. “It’s been a while since Sir Aryan was gone. I was worried it was time for him to sleep, so I looked at the time. It was nine twenty. There were forty minutes until bedtime. I even heaved a sigh of relief, but then Rosie screamed.”
“Who’s Rosie?”
“A good friend of mine. She’s also a servant. I talked with her about it after that. Someone toppled a glass of water over her in the hall, so she went back to her room and got changed. It was then she saw Sir Aryan unconscious beside her bed.” Sylvia paled. “It’s all my fault. None of this would have happened if I had checked on him sooner.”
“It’s not your fault, Sylvia.” Roy looked at her. She had not an ounce of muscle on her. Sylvia was a gentle and soft lady. She was not strong, nor was she a sorceress. “If you had checked on him sooner, the culprit could have killed you off easily. And let’s get back to the case. You said Rosie found Aryan unconscious in her room?”
“Servants don’t have any room all to themselves.” Sylvia explained, “Rosie and the other girls live in a common room. It’s on the most remote corner of the castle’s second floor.”
“Is the room usually locked? Are there any guards patrolling the place?”
Sylvia shook her head. “The guards were only patrolling the banquet hall’s gates and the stairs leading to the first and third floor.”
The witchers exchanged looks and sighed. They fell silent for a while. The culprit knows where to hide.
“Let’s go over all the clues we have. According to the troupe and Sylvia, Sir Aryan was attacked between eight fifty and nine twenty.” Roy looked at everyone sharply. “Eveline, you and your members have enough alibi to prove your innocence. Sylvia, I don’t think you’d hurt someone you raised either. Which means our suspects are: Amos, the guests who left the hall halfway through. Or…” Roy gazed at Sylvia. “The castle’s servants.”
Sylvia had a grim look on her face, and she shook her head. “I-I know the girls very well. They’ve been serving the baron for generations. They come from regular families. There’s no reason for them to hurt Sir Aryan. Nor are they brazen or powerful enough.”
“You have a point,” Roy said. “Honestly, we have almost no reason to suspect the servants, so our first course of action will be…” Roy took out the list of guests and looked at the names. “Finding out who left the hall between eight fifty to nine twenty.”
The banquet hall was huge. It was enough to house a hundred guests, but there were only twenty-four that night. It was less than a quarter of how many people this hall could house.
“Can we ask the guests to come back?”
“Sorry, but most of them have left La Valette. I need to ask the girls.” Sylvia said, “The lord and lady assigned one servant for each guest that night. It’s to show respect. I think they should know where the guests assigned to them went.”
***
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