~ Unexpected Signs ~ 2011

Gragion shook his head, dipping his quill into the cinnamon-colored ink as he began to write. The brief remarks that filled the parchment were the same as each woeful letter he had penned before. It was his duty to inform the Council of Emeron of the Queen’s murder, a task made all the harder by the uncertain circumstances surrounding her death. The examination in her quarters had been brief. She was dead—that much was clear—and she had been savagely raped.

Half of what he knew he would not dare to disclose in a letter, and the other half... well, 'The Queen is dead' seemed hardly sufficient. He sighed, rubbing his tired, worn face, before staring down at the parchment once more. Finally, he began to write:

Council of Emeron,

Your presence is ordered by King Falem.

Be in your council chairs at 9 a.m. sharp.

A tragic event has occurred,

and we must discuss matters straight away.

Advisor to the King,

Gragion Silverbeck

So many unanswered questions clouded Gragion’s thoughts. His mind wandered to the twins—Eric and Nikale—who would turn fourteen this spring. They were too clever for their own good, a fact that worried Gragion more than he cared to admit. He was briefly lost in the memory of a time when... tap...tap...tap.

The rapping at the door jolted him out of his thoughts. Valintene Talbo stood just outside, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. Gragion rose from his chair, feeling the weight of the long day deep in his bones. When he opened the door, he wasn’t surprised to see the physician standing there, but the urgency in Valintene’s eyes was unmistakable.

For a moment, the two men simply stared at each other, taking in the sight. Gragion looked weary, while Valintene seemed to have a spark of fire in his eyes.

Before Gragion could speak, Valintene seized his arm and began dragging him out of the room. "Please, quickly, come with me. I’ve discovered the most unusual mark on the Queen."

Gragion barely managed to shut the door behind him as Valintene hurried him through the castle halls. "What mark? What in God’s name are you talking about?" Gragion demanded, his voice labored as he struggled to keep pace.

"There is a mark—a sort of branding, if you will—on the inside of her wrist." Valintene tugged at his own arm, thrusting a long finger at the inside of his right wrist. "I didn’t see it before. I believe it to be a significant clue about her murder. A symbol... not a crest," he muttered, more to himself than to Gragion, his words trailing off.

"Is it a symbol you recognize?" Gragion asked, his pace quickening as they descended a dark flight of stairs leading into an even darker hallway.

"No, never. Not that I’ve come across," Valintene replied, shaking his head.

The hallway led them straight to the mortuary. A tense feeling settled in the pit of Gragion’s stomach, but he tried to shake it off. The room was small and stark, illuminated only by oil lanterns suspended from the ceiling. Gragion thought the excessive light was to ward off any lurking shadows that might make the room feel even more foreboding.

His gaze fell on a long stone slab at the heart of the room. There she was, much cleaner than before, her hair washed and drying into perfect brunette waves. Valintene had been busy—the larger injuries were sutured so skillfully that from afar, they were barely noticeable. A clean white sheet covered her body, and Gragion felt that it had been freshly changed for his benefit, a gesture he appreciated.

Valintene rushed to her side, lifting her right arm and turning it slightly to reveal the marking. It was indeed a branding, burned into her skin. Though scabbed, the mark was unmistakable.

Gragion’s eyes widened as recognition set in. "What in God’s green earth... but how..." he murmured, his words hanging in the air. "Lore and legends... not things that actually happen..."

"What does it represent?" Valintene asked in a hushed tone, as though afraid of being overheard. He bent down, his fingers gently gliding across the burn. The contrast of the mark against her pale skin was striking. He looked up at Gragion, starting to speak, but was interrupted.

"I must talk with the King," Gragion said, his voice urgent. In one fluid motion, he was out the door before Valintene could react. Gragion turned back briefly. "I need to speak with the King alone," he added, not impolitely. "Thank you for all you’ve done—for what you’re doing. But this information goes no further than this room. No one can know about this until we understand more. Promise me."

"You have my word, Gragion. You know you can trust me with anything," Valintene replied, worry etched on his face.

Gragion offered a soft smile, then turned to leave, his robes catching the air behind him as he disappeared into the gloomy hall.