The Zombie Knight

Chapter Two Hundred One: 'The house of the hushed...'

It was nice to be out on patrol. Hector hadn't had much time for it over the last few days. Between all the meetings, training, and maintenance around Warrenhold, he had started to wonder if he would ever be able to do this again.

Even now, he wasn't entirely on patrol. He was just sort of taking his sweet time as he went to look into something else. The fact that he was able to stop a burglary and a murder along the way was technically just a coincidence, though Hector had gone quite a bit out of his way to do so.

It was a bit annoying how every criminal just started running as soon as they saw him, but it also served as good practice for various mobility techniques that he'd wanted to try out. Flight, in particular.

Creating iron that could counteract gravity and support his weight was certainly doable, but exercising tight control over it was still rather difficult. And he was very hesitant about ramping up its speed in these situations. If he went too fast and accidentally barreled into someone while in full plate armor, that person would probably die.

When it came to dealing with normal human beings, he always tried to err on the side of caution, especially when practicing relatively new things. All of his really dangerous ideas, he intended to save for Zeff.

And possibly Asad.

The Najirs had left Warrenhold a few days ago now, but not without a promise to return soon. Hector got the impression that Asad's wife, Samira, had not found the underground castle to be a very pleasant place to stay. Whether that was because of all the Rainlords around or because all the construction going on was bothering her, Hector couldn't say.

Or maybe she just didn't like Warrenhold in general. It wasn't exactly a five-star resort.

Whatever it was, Hector tried not to take it personally. It was kinda hard, though. He hadn't been the Lord of Warrenhold for very long, all things considered, but he was already quite attached to it.

As for the meetings regarding the tentatively titled "Bank of Darksteel," those had been progressing a bit as well. Hector was able to get a better picture of the kinds of people whom Amelia Carthrace was planning to bring on board to help manage the project; and thus far, Hector hadn't seen anything that discouraged him.

Other than, of course, the whole problem with lacking the necessary funding. But that was a different matter. And he and Garovel were working on it.

Right now, Hector's biggest concern was what he was going to do with Leo. The day when he was supposed to meet with that man again was fast approaching, and the last thing that Hector wanted to do was go in without a solid plan.

He was hoping that his task this evening might be able to offer some help on that front, but Garovel kept telling him not to get his hopes up too much.

Apparently, the address that the reaper was leading him to was part of an ongoing investigation for the Gray Rock Police Department.

'There's been a string of rather mysterious deaths over the last several years,' the reaper had told him before they set out. 'And do you remember that guy whose drink was laced with potassium cyanide?'

'Yeah?'

'Well, he didn't die, thanks to you, so the police haven't quite put the pieces together on this yet, but I suspect that was meant to be another person along that string.'

'...Are you talking about a serial killer, Garovel?'

'Mm, possibly, but no, I don't think so.'

'Then what do you think is behind these mysterious deaths?'

'Well, I don't know, Hector. That's why we're investigating further. I think the police could do with some more clues on this one.'

Beyond that, the reaper hadn't been able to provide him with much more information. Hector was starting to worry that this whole "case" would ultimately turn out to be some kind of dead end or otherwise not worth his time, but at least it gave him an excuse to go out on the town for a while.

When they arrived at their destination, Hector wasn't sure what to think. It was a large house surrounded by a tall gate, and in the pale moonlight of the late evening, the building had a bit of an ominous look to it.

'This place isn't haunted, is it?' said Hector.

'About as haunted as Warrenhold is,' said Garovel.

'...I can't tell if that's a "yes" or a "no."'

'It's a "no." Ghosts aren't real, Hector. And therefore, hauntings aren't real, either.'

'I feel like I've heard this conversation before...'

The reaper phased through the gate's black bars, not waiting for him. 'Don't tell me you're scared of some old building without its lights on.'

Hector used an iron platform to leapfrog over the gate, then employed a descending platform on the other side to ease himself back down the ground without making a big thud.

The courtyard was more expansive than it had seemed from the other side of the gate, and the house, a bit farther away. The plants were overgrown, crowding the narrow walkway.

'So why did you pick this place to search?'

'It was where the first death on the list occurred, eight years ago.'

Hector quickened his pace to catch up with the reaper. 'And how are all these deaths connected, again?' He was pretty sure that Garovel had already told him that part, but he'd only partially been listening, since he'd been busy chasing an attempted murderer down at the time.

'Poisoning,' said Garovel. 'Remember? The potassium cyanide in the alcohol? Like I literally just mentioned?'

'Right, but, uh... are you saying ALL of them were killed with cyanide? 'Cuz that seems kinda, er...'

'No, no, the poisons themselves have varied. As far as I could tell, that was the first case of cyanide poisoning in Gray Rock in the last two hundred years.'

'Hmm.' That made Hector curious, though. 'What happened two hundred years ago?'

'Heh, I looked into that, actually. Apparently, it was a "scientist" experimenting with the stuff. His notes mentioned a hypothesis that cyanide might be the key to increasing human intelligence to astonishing new heights.' A beat passed. 'It killed him, instead.'

Hector just kind of pursed his lips together flatly as he imagined that.

When they reached the main entrance, Garovel just phased through it, and Hector was left standing there. He tried the curved handle, but as expected, the door was locked.

Garovel poked his head back out through the door. 'Sucks being corporeal sometimes, doesn't it?'

'How do I get inside?'

'I mean, you could just break the door down.'

'Garovel.'

'What? Do we have to be law-abiding citizens ALL the time?'

Answering that question seemed like it would open up a can of worms, so Hector decided to ignore it and look around the front of the building another time. There were several windows, but they were all boarded up. He supposed there might be a chimney to he could go through somewhere.

'Can't you just do something clever with materialization?' said Garovel.

'Hmm. Like what?'

'Like make a key for yourself.'

'How would I--?' As he thought about it, though, he wondered if that might actually be possible.

He hunched forward a little and found the keyhole in the evening darkness. Relying on the Scarf of Amordiin, he focused on the air flowing through it, trying to get an image in his mind of what the space inside the lock was like.

Not knowing much about how locks actually worked, Hector wasn't sure if this would be as simple of a task as it seemed. He gave it a shot, though.

He pressed his gloved right hand against the keyhole and filled it with iron. He made a flat protrusion for himself to grab onto, and then tried turning it.

It resisted, but it turned, and Hector heard a low shunk.

He pulled his materialized "key" back out and stared at it, a little surprised with himself.

'There you go,' said Garovel. 'Easy, right?'

Hector was somewhat disconcerted by this revelation, however. 'Garovel, if all materialization users can pick locks like this, then this is a serious design flaw.'

'Well, not all materialization users can use the Scarf of Amordiin to sense the inside of the lock,' said Garovel.

Hector remained unconvinced. 'I barely used it. In fact, I basically just filled the hole with iron, turned, and it worked on the first try. That seems way too simple...'

'Are you actually complaining because something went RIGHT for a change?'

'I'm not--I mean--that's not what I'm trying to say!

'Then what ARE you trying to say, exactly?'

He took a breath and scratched his head, examining the house and the lock another time. 'How old is this place, anyway?'

'Pretty old, I suspect. By your standards, at least. Why? What difference does it make?'

Hector rubbed his chin. 'Er... was this particular lock just super old and shitty? But you said someone was living here eight years ago, didn't you?'

'I did.'

'Then the lock shouldn't be THAT old...'

'Hector. We didn't come here to examine locks.'

That was a fair point, but Hector felt like being stubborn. 'No, we came here to investigate the place. And I think this lock is suspicious. This is a form of investigation, isn't it?'

The reaper sighed. 'Technically. I guess.'

'You seriously don't think that was weird at all?'

Garovel just stared at him, not saying anything.

Hector persevered. 'Aren't locks supposed to have, like, tumblers in them or something?'

'Do you even know what a tumbler is?'

'No, but I'm sure I could find out.' He whipped out his phone.

'Please DO NOT start surfing the internet in the middle of our murder investigation.'

'It's research!'

'Is it, though?'

'Garovel, just... have a look around while I do this.'

'I need your flashlight, goddammit. It's too dark.'

Begrudgingly, Hector pulled out his flashlight with one hand while he tried to search the internet with the other.

Garovel just turned and shook his head as they both entered the building together.

Hector only spared a quick glance around the dusty old antechamber before returning his eyes to his phone. After a while of silent browsing and considerable reading, he decided to share his findings.

'Hmm, I think that might've been what's called a "warded" lock.'

'And what is that?' said Garovel.

'Well, according to this website, it's a really old type of lock that doesn't get used much anymore because of a major design flaw.'

'Which is?'

'Skeleton keys,' said Hector. 'It says here that all you have to do is take a key that belongs to one warded lock, file down some of the bumpy parts, and then bam. It'll open any other warded lock you want. I think.'

'That's fascinating, Hector.'

'I can tell you really mean that and aren't being sarcastic at all.'

'Sorry,' said Garovel. 'I don't mean to be rude. I'm just a little preoccupied at the moment. Y'know, with trying to solve a case of multiple homicides.'

Hector put his phone away and started looking around more carefully. 'I still think that lock is weird.'

'Of course you do.'

'What if there's a reason why it's there?'

'A reason, huh?'

'Yeah. A reason it was never replaced with a more modern lock.'

'I dunno, Hector. Perhaps the owner just never got around to it.'

'But warded locks fell out of usage like 150 years ago or something. That would mean that EVERY owner since then never got around to it. And how many owners do you think this place has had?'

At that, the reaper actually stopped hovering and slowly turned to look at him. 'That is... a decent point, I suppose...'

'Right?' Hector couldn't conceal the smile that accompanied his sudden feeling of accomplishment. 'That lock might be an important clue!'

Garovel was looking more worried than intrigued, however.

Hector hadn't expected the reaper to share in his enthusiasm, but the expression on Garovel's skeletal face still caused him some concern. 'Something wrong?'

'...I hope not.' Garovel floated onward again. 'Let's just keep looking, for now.'

Hector wanted to press further, but he figured that Garovel would tell him in his own time if it was important. However, after a while of looking around the first floor and not finding much besides empty rooms full of dust, Hector's mind began to wander.

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'I wonder if I would be able to pick a more modern lock with materialization.'

'Still going on about that, huh? What's with the sudden interest in locks?'

'I just feel like I should learn a lot more about locksmithing in general,' said Hector.

The reaper gave him a flat look. But then Garovel shook his head, laughed a little, and said, 'Y'know what? Good for you. I was about to try and rain on your parade, but if you're really so eager to educate yourself on a new subject, then I think that's great, Hector. I admire your enthusiasm--even if you DO have about a thousand other things on your plate, right now.'

'Well, we need to make sure that Warrenhod has good, strong locks, right?'

'Oh my GOD. Is THAT what this has all been about?! Your castle fetish again?!'

Hector just kind of stood there awkwardly.

Garovel lowered his voice. 'Alright, maybe that was an overreaction on my part. Look, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at myself. For not seeing that coming. Of course you would care about locksmithing, because it's tangentially related to castles. I just feel dumb, now.'

Hector gave a sympathetic chuckle. 'You seem a little high-strung, Garovel.'

'And YOU seem weirdly chill. It's making me uncomfortable.'

'Sorry. I'll try to freak out more often for you.'

'Hmph. Is this the effect of those few morsels of praise that Zeff has been giving you, lately?'

Ah. He'd noticed that, too, huh? Of course he did. Hector wasn't sure what to say now.

They found some stairs leading into a lower level and took them. This area was also empty, but Garovel stopped.

'Hmm. I think there's another floor below this one,' said Garovel.

'How can you tell?'

'Bugs. The way that their tiny little soul-masses are congregating below us--it's vaguely room-shaped. If it were just regular dirt down there, I would sense them filling the whole area.'

'I don't see any more stairs, though.'

'Mm. That's a big "uh-oh," then.'

'What do you mean?'

'Let's have another look around the rest of the house first, but if we aren't able to find a way down there, then guess what? That means it's a secret room. And maybe I'm just jaded, but when I think of a secret room, I start imagining some pretty fucked up shit inside it.'

Hector wasn't about to argue.

They returned upstairs and gave the house another once over. There were second and third floors to examine as well, but they were just as empty as the first, so it wasn't long before Hector and Garovel were back down in the basement again, reevaluating their circumstances.

'Looks like you're gonna have to break in there, chief,' said Garovel.

'I'd rather not destroy someone's property,' said Hector, scanning the cobblestone walls. 'Shouldn't there be like a hidden lever that opens a path somewhere?'

'Maybe. It might not even be in this room, though.'

'Well, let's just... look a little harder before doing anything dramatic.'

'That's less fun, though.'

'Garovel, c'mon.'

Hector used the Scarf again. He looked for any strange movement in the air as he walked along the basement's walls.

There. In the corner. The air was flowing just a little bit differently. He moved closer to examine the location, and sure enough, the crevices around one of the stones were noticeably deeper than of those surrounding it.

A button, perhaps?

Hector tried pressing it, but it didn't budge. He tried pressing harder, but still nothing.

Hmm. Had he been wrong?

'Try one more time.' Garovel grabbed his shoulder, and Hector felt the undead strength surge through his muscles.

He did as the reaper requested. The stone resisted still, but only at first. It sunk deep into the wall, and Hector heard a kind of a rumbling click.

Abruptly, an opening in the seemingly dirt floor appeared, popping up like the trunk of a car and throwing a large cloud of dust into the air.

'Well, shit,' said Garovel.

Hector had a pretty good idea why he was saying that.

'That right there is a room only accessible to someone with superhuman strength,' the reaper said.

'Yes, it is...'

'And combined with your clue about the lock, then it's suddenly looking like a servant used to live here.'

'Yeah...'

'It's not proof that they were responsible to the mysterious deaths, buuut...'

'Not looking good, is it?'

'Not one bit.'

They descended into the lower room.

As Hector shined his flashlight around in the pitch blackness, it quickly became apparent that this hidden chamber was not empty like the rest of the house.

There were tables and shelves everywhere. Piles of documents and books. An old, bulb-shaped lamp.

Hector tried flipping the switch on the lamp, but it remained dark.

'I'd be worried if that thing had turned on,' said Garovel. 'That would mean someone was paying the electric bill.'

Hector inspected the nearest table more closely and began sifting through the documents thereon with his flashlight. There were lots of numbers and names, seemingly. Maybe street addresses as well. Hector couldn't really make heads or tails of most of it.

He tried another table, this one larger, and rifled through its drawers until he found a stack of small papers which seemed to have more substantial writing on them:

Citizenry still largely unaware of reaper presence. Recommend renewal of quarantine status.

Hector's eyes widened.

What the hell had he just read? His mind raced as he tried to process it, but there were still dozens more notes to go through:

Third cancellation this month. Possible leak. Think someone is scaring them off.

Garovel floated closer. Hector put his flashlight in his mouth and held up the notes that he'd finished for the reaper while he continued reading the others in the stack:

Asset missing. Unable to make contact. Will keep trying, but expect bad news.

The next one read:

Asset still missing. Friends and family uncooperative. Possible domestic dispute, but the coincidence is unsettling.

And the next:

Asset still not found. Expect never will be, at this point. Could have skipped country, but suspect foul play. Don't think it's A. Too quiet. Not their style. Might be local.

Hector stopped to reevaluate those words, especially the last part.

'"A," huh?' said Garovel, having apparently caught up to him in reading. 'Hmm.'

Hector was reluctant to say, but he had to. 'Please tell me that this isn't referring to Abolish...'

'Mm. Yeah. Wish I could, buddy, but I think it probably is.'

Agh.

'On the bright side,' said Garovel, 'the writer is saying that they DON'T think Abolish is behind this missing "asset" of theirs.'

'Except, Abolish DID come to Atreya.'

'Well, yeah, but given everything else we know about this house, these notes are at least eight years old. So I highly doubt this has anything to do with the group that attacked the Queen. Call me crazy, but they didn't seem like the type to make such long-term plans.'

'I guess you're right. But then... if whoever was writing these notes knew about Abolish, then... does that mean these were written by the Vanguard?'

'I'm thinking so. Could also be Sai-hee's group. Or even both.'

Hector blinked at that. 'Both?'

'I wouldn't say it was likely,' said Garovel, 'but Sai-hee has been known to work with the Vanguard in the protection of civilians. The Vanguard typically doesn't spare much personnel for regions with very low threat-levels. It would make a degree of sense if they both stationed some people here undercover in order to monitor things.'

'I got the impression that Sai-hee mostly just stuck to her own territory, though,' said Hector.

'She does. Monitoring isn't the same as actually intervening. Or, maybe she was considering expanding her territory to include Atreya.'

Hector had a hard time imagining that. 'You really think so?'

'No. But it's still a possibility.'

'What I really wanna know is what the hell happened to these people.'

'Looks like they might've just decided to leave on their own.' Garovel pointed at one of the several notes that Hector hadn't read yet. It was still half-covered by the others in his hand, so he brought it out to read it in full.

More trouble than this is worth. Potential value of intel here seems low. Recommend moving operations to Lorent.

Hector cocked an eyebrow.

'Seems like there was someone in Atreya who was aware of their presence,' said Garovel. 'And that someone was making their job difficult.' He pointed at yet another note:

Another asset lost. Poisoned. Operations here are compromised. Recommend immediate withdrawal and mission value reassessment.

'There's your poisoning,' said Hector.

'Indeed. Let's have another look around and see if we can find a name attached to this room.'

'Okay.' Hector sifted through the last few notes first, and though they had different handwriting, they were more of the same. Reports of failure and recommendations to leave the country. There must've been several agents reporting to whoever was working out of this place, he figured.

He moved on to the bookshelves on the other side of the room and spent a while searching through the reading material there.

'It's strange that they left all this evidence behind,' said Garovel.

'Maybe they had to leave in a hurry,' said Hector.

'Maybe. But none of those notes mentioned direct attacks on the agents themselves. It sounded more like someone was sabotaging their attempts to cultivate a network of informants. And if these agents decided to leave because that task became impossible, then they should've either destroyed all this stuff or taken it with them.'

At length, Hector found what appeared to be some sort of logbook. It was filled with nothing but names and timestamps, to the point that only the last few pages were blank. He showed it to Garovel.

'These appear to be the comings and goings of various personnel over the course of... several months? Maybe years, even. This thing is quite thick, isn't it?'

'If they were undercover, why would they document all this?' said Hector.

'Only one reason, really. Security concerns.'

'The notes did mention a leak. And being compromised. Do you recognize any of these names from your time with the Vanguard?'

'Mmmm. Keep flipping pages.'

Hector did so.

'Stop.'

Hector did that, too.

'Yep. That one's pretty distinct.' The reaper pointed to the middle of the page at a hastily scrawled name. 'Eckard. It doesn't seem to appear much in this book, which suggests that the guy didn't visit this place very often.'

'So... he was a high-ranking officer checking on his subordinates?'

'That's what I'm thinking. And as I recall, Eckard was also the name of a Captain General of the Vanguard.'

'So this really WAS their hideout, then.'

'Looks like it. Keep flipping.'

Hector did as the reaper asked. He tried to keep an eye out for the name Eckard now, but he didn't see it all--until the last few pages, that was, where it appeared several times.

'Well, now,' said Garovel.

'So he showed up again in order to close down operations here?' guessed Hector.

'It's possible. I'm not sure why he would need to show up in person for that, though. And again, it doesn't explain why they would leave all these documents behind.'

It was then that Hector noticed another name near the very end of the logbook. It was a name he'd only heard a few times before, but seeing it now in writing, he knew at once that this was no coincidence.

"Garovel," he whispered as he pointed at it.

'Hmm?'

The name read: Pauline Gaolanet.

On the night of the Atreyan Gala of Royal Associates, Hector had received an invitation to meet with virtually every lord in the country. He had not had time to do so in a single evening and had been forced to reschedule the vast majority of them for later dates.

However, there had been one house of Atreyan nobility that had been noticeably absent from that list of invitations.

House Gaolanet, the Lords of Gray Rock.

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