Ironspur was a man of pomp and ceremony. He loved the
meticulous rigmarole that went into the Grapnel rituals. On the other hand
however his physique was lacking. He did not possess the will or the resolve to
improve his athleticism. These two facts made him a major candidate to be Prime
Blade Reader, not Glaive Keeper. His
office was furnished with the fineries of life; voluminous cloth, finely
crafted sculpture and exotic fruits on his desk to name a few. Lily, who sat
opposite him, felt like she was in a merchant's coffin than a Glaive Keeper's sanctum.
She noted the filigree on his thin metal plate armour. The sword on display that
had gathered dust on its hilt, betraying the polished metal. Even for a Grapnel
of little strength, he should have had a least a weapon holster on him. His
image was crafted, a little too perfect for Lily. He was a man who was past his youthful prime
with an elegant stature that hunched at the top of his back. Flecks of grey
seemed almost decorative in his combed hair. She wanted answers and fast.
He asked her if she knew why she was here and she replied
she did not. He explained that she was slow, that her end of the agreement was
not being met and their mutual employer had to unfortunately step in. There was
strength in his eyes, a bladed look. He explained that he had been put into
this position, not by choice but because she had failed to interview Zivians.
By failure, he meant his Zivian's death. As he did not die by her hand, he
would have more than likely to be almost impossible to get to as a corpse. This, he explained was her one free pass from
their employer. They had apparently high hopes her unique skills but failure meant termination of not just her contract. She nodded and he passed her a note and told
her to walk left down the corridor till the walls were covered in frost. The
dead, guards, prisoners and victims alike were all stored there for either
further study, or discrete burial.
As she walked she saw into what she presumed to be a waiting
area for servants with Chloe sitting almost peacefully. Every few moments
however she would twitch and mumble to herself, stoking her hair flat. Nobody
paid attention to her, which was probably the safest for both them and her.
Further down to the right she looked into an interview taking place between
Shroud and a Grapnel. Unfortunately for the guard he kept forgetting why he
walked into the room and was constantly leaving to remember why Shroud needed
to be interviewed in the first place. She flexed her shoulders slightly, at
least the guards wouldn't be prepared if things turned on her and the group. Lily's
breath started to cling to the air and she dragged her fingers across the wall,
her touch barely melting the frost on the stone. She passed over a grate which
gave off a sweet smelling blast of hot air. It's smell however gave way to
synthetic chemicals, which made Lily cough. Past the vent were two fur-lined Grapnel. Their noses red and their lips with a
hint of purple. They would not let her
pass. She tried to barge through but they resisted. She grunted and clenched
her first and then whipped out the letter she had been given and shoved it in
front of the guards. They apologised instantly and let her through.
The morgue's walls were like stone carved from frozen
mountains, a cobalt grey. The ironwork on the handles for each cell had a
frosted blue tint that refused to melt under her touch. She stood for a second
to enjoy where she was, she felt the icy air tickle her lungs and batted her
breath away from her. According to the note, the handle she now held led to
where Zivians was stored. She pulled out
the now obviously badly injured corpse. Defensive and a few offensive knife
wounds were carved into his body. His eyes however were stained with blue
veins. Lily was a little confused, she placed her hands on the sides of
Zivian's head and felt the bones from her finger tips dig like roots into his
brain. She asked him who had killed him? He told her it was by his own hand.
She asked about his wounds. He had been attacked by a man dressed in dark
cloth, demanding to know where the princess was. He attacked when Zivian's
refused to answer but he was the victor, the better combatant. She asked why he
didn't die of his wounds? He had taken a slow acting poison the day the
ceremony failed. The people wanted him dead for his failure, and he too felt
like he had deserved it. The only true and fitting end would be a slow and excruciating
poison, one last endurance test. He died to the poison before the wounds could
have. She asked him what he knew of the
princess? He replied that he had last seen
her after some sort of dark green dye had gotten onto her dress during a
Grapnel ceremony rehearsal over seven solar days ago, which she and the King attended.
Zivians had escorted her out to her servants after the event. He further
explained that it was two days later that it was announced she had gone
missing. Lily demanded to know if he was lying, as many people she had asked
had said the princess did not exist. He confided that he was told she was the
Princess and that he knew nothing more. With that he shattered into bone then dust.
Lily was happy now, perhaps this would
redeem her in her employer's eyes, whoever they were.
Out of curiosity she wanted to check a few of the other
deceased. She was always intrigued about how they died and in that moment, what
their dying thoughts were. Most were not interesting, with only a few that she
would ever comment on again. The dead were slowing being outnumbered by the
mounds of dust they left behind. Lily wanted to check one last corpse. She said
a rhyme she knew as a child and picked the resulting casket. She slowly opened
it, wanting to savour the last time she would be here. She peered in and
stumbled backwards. The corpse was of a woman, Neave.
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