Remnants: VI. The Investigator’s Misery

Weeks of whispers, coins in palms, Elites shrug, peasants drop no alms. Rumors swirl like smoke in wind— Nothing solid, nothing pinned. I chased her trail through market stalls, Bribed old maids behind high walls. Silver gone, then gold, then pride, Still no truth on either side. Pubs and alleys, night after night, Questions met with fear or spite. One more lead, one more dead end— I almost quit, almost bent. County tavern, last desperate call, Sat by a giant, broad and tall. Ale loosened tongue, regret spilled free— “I banished them, on Kaiser’s decree.” He spoke of tower, mother, child in rain, Regret in eyes, hand on daughter’s mane. I wrote it down by dying light— "The mother was a witch of the frozen tribe. " Oh my, he really likes to creep? Too close, dear Sir, Now you sleep. Knocked again, no answer came— Door creaked open all the same— Blood on floor, family still— He shocked, he fell— against my will. Candles flickered, door slammed tight, Monstrous shape filled all the night. Your highness, I failed your command.... Sent to "skin" me? Now you understand. One more scream cut short and gone, Oh Rozetria, forgive me my dear. Your sister breaks another pawn, And your turn draws truly near....