Interlude 3: Investigation of the Rose

Moira watched as her bullied underclassman sped away, a sad expression on her face. There was a sad irony that for all her power, there was next to nothing she could do to prevent the ‘strong’ of this school from preying on the weak.

‘Not that I could do anything about it today,’ the imposing redhead thought; the note, sealed within the pocket space of the shield pin she wore on her uniform, weighed heavily on her. What she thought was perhaps some foolish and juvenile attempt to win her favor at first glance turned out to be something far more serious and she took such matters with the proper mindset. She shook her head and marched her way out of the school, purpose in her steps.

She politely brushed off the few interactions she had with other students, explaining away her abruptness as she needed to attend some urgent matter. She reached her motorcycle and jammed the key into the ignition, revving it to life and peeling out of the academy’s parking lot, her usual aggressive driving amplified as she hit the road. Instead of racing towards home, she turned the other way, and after a few minutes she pulled into an almost empty lot, a pristinely polished black car idling in the center.

Moira pulled next to that car and pulled off her helmet as two men stepped out of it. She smiled at the older of the two as he smoothed out his black suit.

“Reggie,” she greeted warmly.

“Lady Moira,” the salt and pepper haired man said, bowing slightly at the waist. “Your timing is, as always, impeccable. Now, I believe circumstances are pressing so we should get on our way.”

“Of course,” Moira said, handing her bike key to the other man, Charles.

“I will take the utmost care, my Lady,” the younger man said seriously, bowing as he took the keys and picked up his own helmet from the car’s dashboard.

Moira only nodded as the butler moved to restart the motorcycle as Reggie approached Moira and took her bag.

“I assume what you phoned about is in a secure place?” he asked as he placed his hand on the rear passenger side door handle.

Moira nodded, a finger lightly touching the shield pinned to her shirt. Reggie remained silent as he opened the door and gestured for Moira to enter. She did so, gracefully settling into the back of the vehicle.

‘Hopefully, this process won’t take too long,’ she thought as she secured her seatbelt. ‘Protocol is protocol, but I have faith the Lady wouldn’t let me fall under some dastardly spell.’

The examination, while painless, was tedious but Moira took it in stride. The Order had a long history, and in that time, there were no reported instances of the Wardens falling victim to mind altering magics. However, those that followed them did not have the same spotless record. Long established protocol had it that any contact with Abyssal linked materials not vetted by the Order’s scribes were to be tested to ensure no harmful magic had ensnared them, regardless of rank.

This meant being isolated as healing mages went over her with a fine tooth comb. In addition to checking to see if she had become bewitched, they made sure no other enchantments or curses had taken root. The Golden Rose’s track record went unbroken today as she came out unmarked by enemy magic and now she waited for the letter to be declared safe to handle, an outcome she believed would happen.

‘I may not be the best at sensing magic, but I’m sure I would feel something after directly touching it,’ she thought as she sat in a small antechamber next to the manor’s library, her schoolwork open and half done. ‘Although, today has taught me to be more cautious at school.’

She thought back to the small touch of magic she felt at the start of the day, frowning.

‘I waved it off, but what if that was whoever left the note?’ she wondered, searching her memory for anything that stood out. The crowded hallway of her peers in their uniforms made picking out that mage from a glance impossible.

But why do things this way?’ she continued to ponder. ‘Are they unable to freely come forward? The note made it sound like they were a victim, but what if they’re under the control of this group and had to play things covertly to let us know?’

A knock on the door broke Moira from her thoughts, and she quickly stood up from her work.

“Enter,” she ordered, and a maid opened the door.

“The Lord-Protector requests your presence in his office, my Lady,” the young woman, a few years older than Moira, said, her head bowed.

Moira dismissed the maid with a quick word of thanks and made her way to her father’s study. She politely greeted the few workers and Order members she passed and soon found herself before the study’s oak door. After making sure her appearance was acceptable, she knocked.

“Enter,” came her father’s curt voice.

William Brighton sat behind a sturdy oak desk, well made but unassuming, looking as composed as he always was. The study was as orderly as usual; the only thing that stood out was the creased missive delivered to her sat on the center of the desktop, a stark contrast to the pristine paperwork on either side.

“I’m glad to see you are well,” her father said, a small smile breaking through his normally stoic face.

“I take it there were no spells laid on the letter?” Moira asked, walking into the chamber and stopping halfway between the doorway and the desk, her posture immaculate.

“None,” William reported. “And our seers report no magic was employed on or near it at any point. They could only determine that there were three individuals that handled it, besides you, one far more dominant than the others.”

“That would likely be whoever delivered it,” Moira mused.

“A likely conjecture,” her father agreed, stroking his well trimmed beard. “However, beyond the high likelihood of that person being a man, they were unable to divine anything that could reveal their identity, not without undertaking a more focused ritual. They believe he only held this for a short time before slipping it to you.”

While not knowing the identity of their would-be informant was a detriment, Moira was more curious about the contents of the letter and their plan of action regarding the intel.

“What are we going to do regarding the information?” she asked.

“I have sent a scouting team to the location,” was Lord Brighton’s reply. “If the information is accurate and the location is not a trap, I’ll dispatch a full investigation unit.”

“If you would let me, I would like to lead that team,” Moira requested. “It’s possible that something in there may give me insight into who left this note. A detail that I can look for among the students.”

“You believe whoever left this is a peer of yours?” her father questioned.

“It makes the most sense,” Moira answered. “An outsider would be taking a large risk to deliver something to a student’s locker. A teacher or faculty member could have easily employed the postal service as our address is on record. That is something a student would not have easy access to. Plus, the whole plan to slip a note in my locker is rather juvenile.”

A small smile broke through Lord Brighton’s stern facade for a moment, his expression returning to his usual neutral mask.

“Your logic is sound,” he praised. “However, there is also the possibility that the writer simply paid off one of your peers to deliver this.”

“True,” Moira admitted. “However, generally the most simple answer is the most correct.”

“Occam’s Razor,” her father said. “That line of thinking may hold true for many things, but we must not discount that a more complex plan is in play. Mistakes and improper assumptions are not things we can afford to make.”

“I am not advocating to abandon other theories,” Moira said. “Only if we discount the most simple one, we could end up missing a vital clue.”

Before her father could issue his counter to her reasoning, a knock on the door signaled a visitor.

“Enter,” Lord Brighton commanded, his voice full of his authority.

The door swung open, revealing a young faced man a few years older than Moira. He was clad in the Order’s civilian attire making him indistinguishable from a mundane office worker. He entered the room, closed the door behind himself without taking his eyes from a spot just above his lord’s head and stood at attention.

“Sir,” he said. “The recon team has sent their report.”

“Then let’s hear it, Squire Thomson,” Brighton ordered.

“Sir. Recon Team Epsilon has secured the perimeter of a Barrier located at the coordinates provided,” Thomson reported. “They have not detected any lingering magic beyond the innate power of the Barrier which they estimate will collapse within the next twelve hours without intervention.”

Lord Brighton looked pensive for a moment then shifted his gaze from his subordinate to Moira.

“Your request is granted. You have command of Investigation Unit Three,” he decreed, then quickly produced a pen. He made a few marks on one of the pages before him then offered it to Thomson. “Deliver this to Captain Harlow. Dismissed.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Thomson chanted, then he took the order and marched out of the study.

“Thank you, Father,” Moira said once the door was firmly shut once more.

Lord Brighton’s stern expression softened slightly as he stood from his seat.

“I am wary of this business,” he confessed. “Blood magic is dark, and if the rest of this letter is accurate, we may have a foul group amassing power right at our doorstep.”

“I will strive to find everything we can,” Moira promised.

“I know you will,” he replied proudly, the leader of the Order falling away, leaving only the father. “The Lady’s Grace is with you. Perhaps this delivery is Her work. Our flawed eyes failed to see this.”

Moira kept the thought that if The Lady had interceded in this case, then perhaps things were more dire than they knew, private. She was fully aware of all her father had to juggle as leader of this branch of the Order, both the drudgery of keeping everything running and having to fight against the harsher elements of the Abyss. Slavers, **** pushers, those that twisted The Lady’s gift of magic to purposely harm the innocent.

‘My Lady, please, let this not be as bad as I fear.’

The Chinatown warehouse was in rundown shape, which marked it as a perfect place to set up a Barrier. Moira stepped out of the discrete van she and Investigation Unit 3 took from the manor into the side alley that ran next to the building. A small illusion set up by the recon team hid them from view, so they emerged in full Order regalia, chainmail, plate armor, and weapons in plain view.

“Lady Warden, Captain Harlow,” the leader of the recon team, a stern looking woman dressed in military-style fatigues, greeted them with a salute.

“Commander Darrell,” Moira said, returning the gesture. “At ease. Anything new to report?”

“Negative, ma’am,” she reported.

“Right,” Captain Harlow said, drawing his blade. The 30 year old man slid his simple helmet onto his bald head and marched towards the Barrier’s edge. “I’ll take point.”

Moira nodded. Despite being the lead of this operation, she deferred to the squad captain. He knew his team and had an exemplary record. The armored man disappeared into the Barrier and the rest of the assembled men waited for him to report. A second later, his voice broadcasted from the radio.

“All clear,” he reported. “No hostiles.”

“Alright, standard formation,” Moira ordered. The rest of the unit quietly got into position behind her and they moved into the Barrier.

The interior matched the rundown feel of the exterior, further enhanced by the stale air that stank of decay. Harlow stood not far from where they entered, a sour look on his face.

“Captain?” Moira asked.

“Certainly something foul happened here,” he answered the unspoken question. Moira nodded. Members of the Investigation Squads were chosen in part due to their ability to detect various magical energies. They generally weren’t the specialists that examined the letter, but for entering into possible dangerous territory and uncovering information, they were the best suited, boasting a good mix of martial skill and deductive ability.

“If our tip is accurate, we’re likely to find deceased victims,” Moira said. “As dreadful as it is to say, they may reveal something to clue us in to what happened. Fan out!”

The squad dispersed and Moira went off as well, hammer grasped tightly in her free hand. She rounded a corner and stopped as she saw a withered corpse. Its skin was pulled tight against its bones and the ripped clothing it wore looked several sizes too large.

Moira solemnly regarded the body, her mind drifting back to the letter and how it described the dead.

‘Blood drained,’ she recalled, her gaze shifting to the corpse’s face. It was hard to tell, but she thought the face looked to be twisted in pain as it died. Footsteps steadily approached and Moira turned to see Harlow drawing near, his eyes hard.

“Lady Warden,” he said. “If I may examine the body.”

“Of course, Captain,” Moira remarked and stepped back, allowing Harlow to kneel down to closely inspect the corpse. After a few moments of merely looking, he brought his hand to its forehead, hovering his palm just above the mummified skin.

Sensing magic was not something Moira was gifted with, to her minor annoyance. She wasn’t completely oblivious to workings cast near or towards her, but subtle things, like Harlow’s examination or whoever had cast on her this morning were harder to feel and track back to the source. Still, this close to his spell and knowing he was casting let Moira feel a whisper of it.

It was like fine gossamer threads spreading over the body, but beyond that, Moira couldn’t tell what it was doing. She knew from Harlow’s file and records that he could pick out magics clinging to objects and people, though his somewhat low mana kept him from being able to use his talent to the level required to join the more scholarly focused groups of the Order.

‘Not that his limits bother him,’ Moira thought, recalling the glowing comments he had received from both superiors and those he led.

Harlow let out a gasp as his magic disappeared like cobwebs blown away in the wind. Moira let him gather his breath and composure.

“He died quickly,” he finally said. “There definitely was a spell used. Felt like fingers poking through his flesh then pulling out, drawing his blood with them.”

“They were alive when this happened,” Moira whispered, righteous heat peppering her words.

“I’d have to look at a few more of them to say it definitely, but that is my current theory,” Harlow stated, his eyes falling to a spot on the corpse’s arm. Moira followed his gaze to what looked like a gash upon the forearm.

“I think they were all wounded in some way,” Harlow continued. “Attacked with enough **** to inflict minor cuts, and from those open wounds, the blood was extracted. And it was done fast. He likely died right here.”

“That’s what the tip said,” Moira said, frowning as the offered information continued to match with what they were finding.

The pair moved on, finding the other members of the team examining corpses of their own or inspecting the environment to further illuminate the battle that had taken place. They stopped and spoke with their subordinates when they were able, collating their info.

“Twelve dead,” Moira said, watching as the team began to carefully gather the bodies to transport back to the manor for a proper autopsy.

“Eleven humanoids and one fae of unknown distinction,” Harlow added. “No identifying paperwork. Even if they were held in pocket dimensions, their deaths would have released them. That seems to point to the perpetrators collecting them before leaving. But why would the Barrier remain active? Assuming our intel is correct, this took place Sunday night or early Monday morning.”

“It is a bit odd,” Moira remarked. “It would seem they left the bodies to fall into oblivion when the Barrier collapsed and maybe only took their wallets for money if there were any to be had.”

“Unless they sent the info themselves,” Harlow postulated. “But that doesn’t mesh with taking any identifying paperwork.”

“Someone knows about this attack,” Moira said. “It’s likely they are connected to either the victims or the attackers. Perhaps they reinforced the Barrier so it wouldn’t collapse when it should have?”

“They certainly cut it close with the timing then,” Harlow pointed out. “Darrell said this would have fallen in half a day if we didn’t enter.”

Moira nodded and sighed. There was no easily found answer and more investigation was needed.

Night had fallen by the time Moira and Captain Harlow returned to the manor and now stood before Lord Brighton. He met them in one of the briefing rooms, the letter affixed to a whiteboard.

“It would seem we have been caught unawares,” the Lord Protector of the Golden Rose said, his tone gravely serious. “I fear that what we have uncovered is not some first attempt. It is too well done and with too many dead for it to be anything but a practiced ritual. And such dark magics have a way to grow more brazen with time. By the Lady’s Grace, we must, and will, stand against them. For if we don’t, then who will?”

He took a breath then regarded the two before him.

“Moira, Captain, you two will continue this investigation,” he ordered. “We cannot let this rot fester into something worse than it already is. I have instructed our seers to begin preparations to divine the identity of our tipsters, but until they do, focus on the victims and how they came to know their killers.”

“Yes sir!” Harlow curtly said. Moira followed suit, but knew they were likely going to not have anything concrete for a while. The autopsies and detailed magical examinations would take time, time they might not be able to lose.

“You are dismissed, Captain,” Lord Brighton commanded. “Moira, we have more to discuss.”

Harlow saluted, executed a perfect turn and left the room.

“Father?” Moira asked, wondering what he needed her for that he didn’t want Harlow to hear.

“Just after you left, we received a report about a Natural Barrier,” he said. “One that was devoid of any sign of living creatures.”

Moira frowned. While that was a bit unusual, she didn’t see why her father would hold her for this.

“Or at least it is now devoid of creatures,” her father continued. “There were several bodies, all goblins of a tribe we haven’t documented. Some of them appeared to have had their blood drained.”

When Moira’s eyes widened, Lord Brighton nodded. “Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, I believe the saying goes, but I’m not going to wait to see if there is a third instance. I’m treating that Barrier as connected to your case. If there is a strong link, I’ll combine the units working on them into one ****.”

“Why are you not informing Captain Harlow of this?” Moira asked.

“Until we have a strong link, I want him focusing only on this event,” her father answered. “Being pulled in two or more different directions will only limit what might be found. Best to treat them as separate until a link can be established.”

Moira nodded, seeing the wisdom in her father’s words. And it only crystalized her will towards doing something she was uniquely situated to pull off.

Finding whoever left the note for her the mundane way.