Thinking of how guarded the streets would be at night, I decided that we could perhaps retrieve our spoils from the outer perimeter of the town instead. For quite some time now, I had posed as a member of the volunteer militia in order to secure my position alongside you in the streets. But as the days passed, our ranks grew and grew until there was little opportunity to slip away unnoticed. Moreover, I did not want to test my luck under the exorcist's watchful eye.
As we left through the back of the garden and stealthily circled around the walls of the town, we soon came across a small contingent of soldiers making their rounds. You tensed at the sight of them from our hiding place behind a tree, and I nodded in return. With that, you leapt towards them in one practised bound.
As I turned my head to observe the carnage, I heard a scream from one of the soldiers, and then a flash of bright light momentarily obscured my entire vision. When it faded, I saw you hunched over the bodies of the soldiers, already beginning your feast.
Jogging up to you, I held my axe at the ready, but you held your arm out, as if telling me to back off. You believed the light may have been serving as a beacon to other soldiers in our vicinity, and that we would have to get moving quickly. Straightening yourself, you began to walk at a brisk pace in the direction from whence we came. But as you moved, I noticed something strange. There was a faint golden shimmer emanating from your right foot. Saying nothing, I accompanied you back to the cellar as swiftly as I could, knowing that we would have to be quick to avoid detection.
It was there that I realised you had been wounded. When I asked what happened, you told me that some strange magic had been planted in trinkets on the soldiers' bodies. As you went for the kill, you had accidentally broken one of them, causing the magic from within to spill out and contaminate your body. An image of Miss Lottbrung's collected expression suddenly sprung to my mind, causing a frown to tug at my lips.
I furrowed my brow in concern and asked you if you would recover soon. You told me you had no way of knowing such things.
The next day, I had intended to spend my leisure time searching the books in the cellar, so that I may possibly find information on the powerful magic Miss Lottbrung had cast on you. However, Master Halvatt had been feeling particularly unhappy as of late, and thus organised an impromptu hunting trip to the nearby woods to make use of his restless energy.
Taking me and two other bodyguards, we departed shortly after I served him lunch, and we made it to our destination within the hour. Despite the massacres that had been going on in the town, the wildlife had largely been undisturbed, and it wasn't long until we found our first target; a healthy, sprightly doe.Tracking it for quite some time, Master Halvatt eventually managed to fell the animal with a clean shot of his bow, and I watched as the animal slumped to the ground, lifeless. The thought that there was something unsatisfying about the way it had died tugged at the back of my mind.
After we loaded the carcass onto the cart, we stopped for a short rest. During this break, Master Halvatt began to make some tea out of rosehips from the garden. I watched him intently, lost in the scent of the roses' fragrance momentarily, and he must've noticed, for he scowled at me most unpleasantly.
Trying to make conversation instead, I asked him if he made this tea because he missed you. He never talked much about you after your passing, something I attributed to his internal grief, as his emotions seemed to be in marked turmoil during these past months.
Master Halvatt tilted his head, as if considering something. Then, he told me he did not brew this tea out of choice. The magic of the roses helped keep his vigor, and that was that.
The response stirred something in me. Before I could stop myself, be it from lack of sleep or my worries surrounding your situation, I said something most improper. I told him it seemed that he cared more about the roses than he ever cared for you as a person, and that the only times he had ever showed concern for you was when social standing was at stake.
What I did not expect was for him to laugh. It was a bitter, dark laugh, and afterwards, he sipped the rest of his tea and began putting things away. As he did so, he told me that there was something I might find most interesting. Hesitant, but curious, I inquired as to the nature of this information.
Master Halvatt remained silent for a moment before speaking. Since the founding of House Ravanel, there was a disease passed down through the bloodline in male members of the family. Most men in the family died young, barely after they had become fathers in their prime. When the angel blessed House Ravanel with the magic of life through the rose garden, it seemed that the disease would no longer cast such a dark shadow over the lives of the Ravanel heirs.
But the magic of the rose garden was only imbued in the women of the line. And without the women nearby to sustain the roses, they would wilt and become powerless. Thus, in order to protect the Ravanel name and continue on the bloodline and make it flourish, the women of the house could never stray too far from home.
Suddenly, it made sense to me as to why he had you buried in the rose garden out of all places. With this realisation, I began to raise my voice, accusing him of placing his own life over yours. Master Halvatt looked at me condescendingly and reminded me to act as one of my station. But he continued, telling me that it was indeed true. He cared more about his own life than he ever did yours. He would be the one to carry on the line. And that was precisely the reason why he had ordered all your lovers killed, so that you would have ever remained by his side and kept him well.
I do not know what happened in the next few moments. A primal fury consumed me, erupted from the core of my chest like steam that had been trapped too long, and with a vigor I had never experienced, I drew my hunting knife and lunged for Master Halvatt's throat, cutting it open with a swift strike.