Chương 72: Guilty!

Lira stood at the highest window of the library tower, her eyes fixed on a man who did not know he was already dead. Far below, Thadwick laughed with a group of soldiers in the courtyard. The man seemed completely at ease with the world. He traded jokes with guards changing shifts, mocked younger recruits during training, and spent an embarrassing amount of time attempting to flirt with every maid unfortunate enough to walk within earshot.

Dira and Juliet received the worst of it that afternoon while carrying baskets of linen for laundry. He blocked their path and harassed them for a few minutes while neither maid even acknowledged his existence, though that didn't stop him from trying. For a murderer, Thadwick seemed to be enjoying life, far too much for Lira's liking. He also didn't seem to be liked by his peers either. Later that evening, he was thoroughly humiliated during a sparring match by Sir Deren.

The knight sent him sprawling into the dirt hard enough that half the watching soldiers burst into laughter. Lira was able to observe all those details thanks to her newest spell: she called it Eagle Sight. Pika. Cipos. Syneth. Mind. Amplification. Interpretation. Since she still lacked a proper magical word for sight, she used Syneth, as it had worked well enough when paired with perception-based magic. The spell itself was surprisingly elegant. It enhanced her own mind rather than projecting mana outward.

As a result, it produced almost no magical disturbance; the spell simply made her better at seeing from a distance. She had found the word "Cipos" inside her father's ledger. It was the counterpart of a word she already knew, "Picos"; Amplification instead of Diminution. Initially, identifying Thadwick had been remarkably easy. One conversation with Tessa had provided enough information for Lira to recognize him immediately. Every maid in the palace knew who Thadwick was.

Unfortunately, that wasn't because anybody liked him. The man had a reputation for chasing maids and cornering servants and was well known for it. At first, Lira had assumed the stories were exaggerated, but after nearly a week of observing him herself through enhanced vision, she concluded the complaints had probably been understated. The man was a pig, so she was glad to see that no one was giving him the time of day. Either the maids possessed excellent instincts, or the man was simply that repulsive.

During that time, she learned his habits, his schedule, and his routines. She learned that he had his own room in the military keep, but that he only slept there on weekdays. On the weekends, he left the castle with Salvek, probably working on their mud-fishing operations. Lira considered following them but concluded it would be too risky. Instead, she decided to do her dirty work on a weekday here on palace grounds. Thadwick was going to die first. The choice wasn't entirely emotional.

There were practical considerations. Unlike Kaverd and Salvek, he was a commoner. His death wouldn't shake the kingdom. More importantly, Lira had a plan. If everything worked perfectly, she could expose other people while diverting suspicion away from herself. Lira had spent the last several days preparing, gathering information, and looking for reasons to delay. Eventually, she ran out of excuses. Tonight was the night.

After dinner, she returned to the library and followed the same routine she had used during Maren's escape. She slept for several hours, woke shortly before midnight, and immediately began preparations. The paper rope coiled around her waist beneath her dress, while the ordinary hemp rope was hidden along one leg. She removed her boots entirely, preferring bare feet over noisy footwear, especially since she was going to be walking on stone floors. Finally, she layered several spells upon herself.

"Pika. Terran. Frushum." Earth manipulation prevented footprints from forming.

"Kisar. Riad. Luneth. Tarasana. Kurur." Air purification to remove her scent.

"Kisar. Maja. Tureth. Tarasana. Kurur… Kisar. Maja. Veshar. Tarasana. Kurur." One bookmark for mana obfuscation and stabilization.

"Kisar. Yorad. Veshar. Tarasana. Kurur." And another to conceal her body from sight. Finally, "Paldina. Ladar. Pristana. Turat. Oshkan." For danger sense. When she finally stepped out of the library, she felt less like a maid and more like a ghost. The palace grounds were quiet at that hour. Moonlight painted the stone pathways silver while long shadows stretched between buildings.

Lira moved carefully through the darkness, the earth manipulation spell taking much of her focus as she removed all traces of her footsteps. Twice she froze as her danger sense alerted her to passing soldiers nearby, and once more when a knight wandered sleepily toward an outhouse. Eventually, she reached the military keep, the squat building looking extra eerie at night without cheerful guards and knights practicing combat.

She had only been inside the building once when she had been investigating the maid disappearances. Back then, her divination spell had highlighted two spots. One was Salvek's office, and the other was deeper in the dormitory, a room she now knew belonged to Thadwick. This time, she took the second option. Due to his rank, Thadwick enjoyed his own quarters, which made Lira's plans a bit easier. Lira stopped outside the door and whispered softly.

"Ladar. Oshkan. Kalaba." The Find Life spell answered immediately, pinpointing a human-shaped presence beyond the door. It was horizontal and motionless, meaning he was probably asleep. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. Perfect. She slowly turned the handle and stepped inside. The dark room was small and unimpressive, but it offered him something most soldiers lacked: privacy.

A narrow bed occupied one corner, and a desk sat against the far wall. Several pieces of military equipment rested haphazardly beside a wooden chest. The door clicked shut behind her, and the sound seemed deafening in the silence. Lira's heart beat faster, but Thadwick never stirred. For several long moments, Lira simply stood there staring at him. This was the point of no return. Saving Maren had been one thing, but murder was something else entirely.

Once she crossed this line, she could never honestly claim she was different from them. The thought lingered only briefly, then the image of a tiny skeleton curled inside its mother's ribs flashed through her mind. No. She was nothing like them. Her face hardened, and her hesitation vanished.

"Pika. Asatan. Farshum." The paper rope emerged from beneath her dress and slithered silently across the floor. Guided by her magic, it climbed the bed frame and slipped beneath the sleeping man's pillow. Thadwick shifted slightly during his sleep, letting out a long snore before settling again. The rope continued moving slowly and carefully until it reached past his pillow and started floating in the air. It formed a large loop above him. Then it abruptly snapped tight.

The motion made the rope rise from beneath the pillow and close directly on his neck. Lira had practiced this with her own pillow and a decorative tree log multiple times in the past week. Thadwick's eyes flew open. His hands immediately shot toward his throat, fingers clawing desperately at the cord crushing his windpipe. The struggle was far more violent than Lira had expected. The bed rattled against the floor as he thrashed wildly beneath the blankets, kicking hard enough to nearly roll himself onto the ground.

His face rapidly darkened, first turning red and then an ugly shade of purple as panic replaced confusion. Somehow, for some reason, she had imagined death by strangulation would be quieter. Instead, every desperate movement filled the room with noise. The man fought desperately as his instincts refused to let him die. He tried pulling the rope away from his neck. He tried wedging fingers beneath it. He tried twisting his body free. But nothing worked. The paper cord wasn't merely wrapped around his throat.

It was being actively tightened by her magic. Lira found herself stepping closer, watching. Then, in a moment she would later struggle to explain, she whispered another spell.

"Eldra. Fila. Curad." A small flame appeared in the darkness. Unlike a candle flame, it floated freely in the air, costing her mana continuously. As the soft light illuminated the room, Thadwick saw her. His eyes widened as recognition flashed across his face, followed by fear. No, not recognition, since she doubted he knew her personally. It was understanding. Lira had opted not to remove the maid uniform this time. In his final moments, he knew exactly what was happening. A maid was killing him.

Perhaps he thought about Mara. Perhaps he thought about Amelia. Perhaps he thought about Carry. More likely, he thought only about himself. Lira didn't know, and she didn't care. She watched until eventually the struggling weakened and his movements became slower. The frantic clawing turned into twitching. The twitching became stillness. Even then, Lira didn't relax her hold on his neck. The Find Life spell still detected a faint presence.

She kept a firm hold on him until the glow disappeared and silence returned to the room. For several seconds, Lira simply stood there. That was it. The man who had helped murder women and children was dead. It was remarkably easy, just a rope in the darkness. A part of her expected to feel horrified at what she had done. Instead, she was just tired. Now that part was finished, it was time to do what she did best: fabricate a story.

"Ladar. Linasara. Oshkan. Cognar. Turat." Divination highlighted a bundle of papers hidden inside a drawer. It was the same evidence that had pinged her spell the last time she was in the keep. Lira crossed the room and retrieved them. Reading everything individually would have taken too much time, but fortunately, she possessed a faster method.

"Pika. Linasara. Cognar. Coopar. Nagla." Knowledge flooded into her mind. Most of the letters came from Thadwick's mother. Month after month, she had written asking about his health, telling him about life back home, and begging him to visit. From the context, he seemed to have replied regularly at first. Then the responses became less frequent until they stopped entirely. The old woman continued writing anyway, informing him of news and sounding increasingly worried.

But at the bottom of the bundle sat something far more interesting. A single unfinished letter from Thadwick to his mother. Apparently, Thadwick had possessed a conscience once. The draft was written directly after his encounter with Mara. It detailed how Salvek had sent him to help Prince Kavard and mentioned the pregnancy before ending abruptly halfway through a sentence. Whether he had lost his nerve or simply stopped caring, Lira couldn't know.

Looking at the corpse, she suspected the latter, especially since there was no convenient confession about Amelia's and Carry's murders. Luckily for her, that was easy to remedy. She pulled fresh paper from her pocket.

"Asatan. Tir. Kisar." The ink moved, and words appeared in perfect copies of Thadwick's penmanship. Years of work as a forger were coming in handy. She started a new letter talking about Amelia's murder. Then another letter detailed how he tracked down Carry after her attempted escape. This one was longer since Lira took the time to reveal the location of the grave. The final letter read like the farewell of a man crushed beneath years of guilt.

It described nightmares, regret, and an inability to continue serving Prince Kavard. He simply could not kill a fourth maid, and especially not Maren, who was so pretty and looked full of life. All documents also subtly implicated Salvek, and they mentioned Hesta accepting payment for falsifying records. She didn't push her chances too much. Instead, she wrote just enough to create questions. When she finished, she arranged them neatly atop the desk. Then she returned her attention to the corpse.

The paper rope had served its purpose. Now she retrieved the ordinary hemp rope hidden beneath her clothing and tied a proper noose by hand. Hours spent practicing knots paid off in spades. With magical assistance from the paper rope, now wrapped around the shoulders, she hauled the body upright and secured the noose around the neck, suspending the corpse from a ceiling beam. She then kicked the chair aside and stepped back to inspect her work. The result was convincing. A soldier overcome by guilt.

A man unable to live with his crimes. A suicide. Whoever investigated this would see the body first. Then the letters would provide the story. It was done.

"Pika. Maja. Syneth." Before leaving, Lira spent several additional minutes searching the room for any sign of magical disturbance. There was nothing. The bookmark had done its job.

"Pika. Velar. Syneth." As her mind expanded, her head started aching… she might have overused her magic. Still, the spell took hold, and she was able to notice a few details that she might have missed, like the bed being too disturbed from Thadwick's death struggles, and the lack of an ink pot and a quill near the letters. She arranged the bed in a way that seemed recently used, and located Thadwick's writing tools from his chest, tipping the quill in ink and letting it drip on the desk.

Once she was satisfied that everything was perfectly in its place, she extinguished the floating flame and allowed darkness to reclaim the chamber. Then she slipped out into the night. Leaving Thadwick alone with his supposed guilt and with the story she had written for him.