Blood-Stained Pages. Vol. 1

– I see… So, the groups are gone. To where? – the VST agent enquired.

– How in the swamp should I know… – The orderist chuckled, a smug glint in her eye. – We ran them stupid gits clean outta the city… Don’t need their kind here. Got problems enough o’ our own.

True enough. But no attempt at interrogation. A wasted opportunity.

– Was it the first such group?

– Nah. There was two… or three. Not rightly sure. Not on my watch.

– Noted… Three groups.

He frowned. Definitely needed to inform Sandra. How… inconvenient.

– We need no more o’ them devourers here…

“Devourers”, huh? Bestowing catchy nicknames – a hallmark of local wit. Kantinians were truly unmatched in that. Their attention to detail, knack for spotting nuances, and innate cunning cleverness were undeniable assets.

– …Let the stupid Youllians stew in their own swamp now. An’ no elves’ll threaten us. Won’t dare poke their pointy noses here. We ain’t some lily-livered, witchy weaklin’s.

The local woman warmed to her jingoistic theme, while Kyle shook his head slowly, his expression deeply sceptical.

– Elves are formidable. If they desired… well, any lands, they could have claimed them long ago. In the blink of an eye. Without subterfuge. – he remarked with calm reason.

– Must be scared o’ us proper, else they’d showed by now. – his companion retorted, lips pursed stubbornly. – An’ them swampy northerners… Best keep ‘em far off. Nothin’ but grief from that lot.

Practical Kantinese bog-wisdom in full flow. Amelia might grudgingly appreciate the pragmatism, if nothing else.

– Alright. However, I reiterate: keep a very close watch on anyone who had contact with… ahem… the suspects. We’ll need to carefully examine the victims for common signs of possible illness or wounds… even if you insist no weapon was found.

– No weapon… Look. Takin’ the mickey? Gather everyone who swapped a ‘good light’? We’d have to round up the whole bleedin’ Kantine! Our folk are mighty sociable, ya know.

– There’s a clear and present danger. – Kyle reminded her, his tone firm but weary.

The Kantinese officer scratched her head, genuinely bewildered by the scale.

– I hear ya, but… An’ them… violent ‘uns. How d’ya even *examine* ‘em? Who’s fool enough to crawl into their cages? Ours have already barricaded ‘em shut tighter’n a drum with cabinets from the Archives… We ain’t stupid. Let ‘em cool their heels ‘til they simmer down.

…No comment.

No treatment. Left to die behind furniture. Exemplary care.

Officially, he had no further questions for the Kantinian authorities regarding their attitude.

– Very well… Examine them once they’ve “simmered down”. – The investigator sighed, conceding the point. – One way or another. Look for anomalies. Pay particular attention to unusual wounds. Cuts, suppurations, rashes, punctures. I won’t presume to tell you how to perform your duties.

…My role is to render an opinion on the incident. That’s what I was summoned for. I’m finished here.

Kyle decisively stood up from the ground and brushed the dirt from his trousers.

– So. Done here? We… clean up? – the officer enquired with matter-of-fact pragmatism.

– Yes, – the VST agent confirmed with a nod.

Sighing deeply, Kyle turned and walked thoughtfully toward the makeshift field lab allocated to him within the Kantine Temples complex.

He would definitely need to take his own safety precautions very seriously. Because if the general security of this investigation rested with the Kantinese orderers… everyone involved was standing on perilously thin ice.

It was probably best to depart the city swiftly once the medical expert arrived. Analyse the situation from the relative safety of the VST office and thereby complete the assignment. He had, frankly, little concrete to accomplish here alone.

Likely poisoning or disease, yes. Though its precise nature remained frustratingly opaque, he’d gathered useful data. The expert would elucidate more.

No systematic tracking of contacts was being implemented. But that was the locals’ cross to bear. The healers at the Healer’s Hut were most exposed, but they likely grasped the threat already.

And… Marla. They absolutely needed approximate contact lists compiled. Behavior monitored. Perhaps *that* would yield the key and indicate the method of infection and spread.

That would form the core of his written recommendations.

He’d pack his things immediately… were it not for the vanishingly slim chance of tracing Inga’s path here…

…And the fate of the Kantinese?

Why *should* he care?

It felt profound, as if the people here themselves had no desire to confront the problem. They didn’t care about their own citizens or the escalating crisis. They didn’t want solutions or investigations. Their Head merely wanted to report *something* done to the populace. They simply craved a swift return to their well-fed complacency.

Even if the only path to that was wilful ignorance of the problem itself.

What could *he* possibly achieve in a situation where no one genuinely sought resolution? Again.

So… it would inevitably spread across the Mainland. Reach Prime, his VST office, Omill, and beyond… On a catastrophic scale. Inaction wasn’t a viable option? And while there remained that faintest glimmer of hope to trace Inga here… He needed to think.

He *was* profoundly tired, nearing burnout, yes. But. If he stayed. Hypothetically. He couldn’t allow this to be swept under the rug again. He wouldn’t be sidelined this time. They *would* provide answers.

And. One medical assistant clearly wouldn’t suffice. He would formally request reinforcements. Definitely. He needed a *team* here. A… new team.

Nervous insomnia and the irritability born of chronic fatigue had become his constant companions. Instead of Inga and Ami. A woefully inadequate substitution.

Whether VST would grant a reinforcement… that was another battle, but the request was essential. The matter felt lethally serious.

He needed to focus, draft a clear, compelling requisition. Not only to Prime VST. To the Omill Alliance as well.

…Because this case was inextricably linked to Youlle. It clearly originated there.

Like the prior cases. Like all the recent, large-scale anomalies they’d encountered.

There was a definite, implicit connection to past events…

This was where Kyle’s weary intuition and his fatigued reason locked horns once more.