“Mason, sir, you’re still here for the graveyard shift?”

“No rest for the wicked as they say,” Tray replied to his younger colleague, Issa Fledge, a light honey-toned Elf guard with short mousy hair, letting out a sigh as he entered the guard station. “About that case earlier, do you have the file on the young man I questioned about the mana burst? A Mr… Kamao?”  

“Yes, sir!” The Elf’s emerald green eyes brightened and he rummaged through the files, pulling one out. “I got your notes all sorted. His name is Kasla Kamao. A young man at the age of sixteen. There’s no records of him in the Adventurers' Guild nor in the city registry. However, he just arrived here in the early afternoon. In the interview the guards conducted, his purpose for entering the city was to register at the Adventurers' Guild and start his job as an Adventurer here.”

“Hm, he did say he was looking for the Guild earlier. I think he was telling the truth, but why was he attacked by the perpetrators? He didn’t seem to have any valuables on him. Let me see the personal effects list.” Tray took the offered inventory list from during the interview, confirming the teenager had barely any possessions. “He just entered the city so I highly doubt he’d happen to piss someone off in such a short amount of time…”

He slipped into thought as he scanned over the interview notes and what the other guards had submitted after their handling of the scene. Could he be just a victim of unfortunate events or could he be perhaps… a target for human trafficking? Is he the merchandise that they were talking about? Something is not adding up… 

If this was a possible kidnapping attempt, then… could it be that they are targeting another age group this time around? I need to keep an eye on him. Maybe he could help me with the missing children case and find the people responsible for it. Then that mana burst… Perhaps the person who caused it truly was Mr. Kamao’s savior and not a rival party…

“Sir?” Fledge gave Tray a curious as well as concerned look as he stood there in deep thought despite the hour. “Would you like some coffee or are you heading to bed? It’s nearly two…”

“No, thank you, Fledge. How about the three perps? They still quiet?”

“It seems they won’t talk about their so-called boss and merchandise they were heard mentioning during their arrest. I do think that it has something to do with whoever caused the mana burst in the city.”

“What about their backgrounds?”

“Ritter, Ladd. Age: 27. Race: Human. Occupation: N/A. Previous criminal record: Assault; Shernn, Teb. Age: 32. Race: Human. Occupation: Merchant. Previous criminal record: Assault; Ona, Yan. Age: 30 Race: Human. Occupation: Previous Lumberjack, Previous Criminal Record: Murder.” Fledge rattled off the rap sheets he had out on the desk.

“Hm, they seem to be in our records, but then… Are they affiliated in some way? Mercenaries for hire?” Tray asked as he looked at the files as Fledge handed them over.

“We don’t know yet, sir. Given it’s a recent incident we are still conducting an investigation. It's a skeleton crew until morning.” Fledge shook his head, shrugging.  

Tray let out an exhausted sigh, returning the files. “I don’t know how the King expects us to make headway on the kidnappings if we can’t put our full attention on it around the clock. Not that he’s acknowledged it formally.” 

The door swung open and the two looked to see who was venturing through their doors at such an ungodly hour. A Dwarf with auburn hair, his beard in three braids, and dressed in a guard uniform grinned at the sight of his comrades. “Yo, I was tired of waitin’ so I got some grub. Know a great little pub for these swing shifts. Managed ta get at least ya two somethin’.” He threw a bag at each of his comrades, both managing to catch despite the surprise. 

“Thank you, Ironbranch, sir.” Fledge eyed the food with much appreciation, eyes brighting.

“Thanks, how thoughtful,” replied Tray rather stiffly and doleful, wary of the bag.  

“Can ya light’n up a bit? This would be the reason why ladies don’t like ya, friend. Ya won’t get women like that! Don’t even think about our coworkers!” Finnegan Ironbranch let out a boisterous laugh that was hardly fitting the hour and winked, gray-green eyes sparkling. 

“How ironic…” Tray murmured, a bitter smile forming at a memory.

“Hm?”

“Never mind. Anything new to report about our guests? I was just asking Officer Fledge about any developments.”

“Last I checked an hour or so ago nary a peep. Like they welded their mouths shut except for when it came to cussin’. Even bribin’ won’t work.” Ironbranch shrugged, shaking his head. “It’s possible that we’re dealin’ with dangerous people here for ’em ta still keep their mouths shut. Despite our assurance of protection if they spill they’re keepin’ mum. Been doin’ this job for years and there are cases like this. We’re just not the biggest man puttin’ the fear of the gods into ‘em.”

“That is a possibility…” Tray’s frown deepened as he hit yet another dead end.

“Rhedd’s inside keepin’ an eye on the perps if ya want to take a crack at them. His shift’s almost up for me to swap with him, I’ll bring him some coffee. I know ya got pulled away before ya could conduct yer own interrogation.”

“Alright, I’ll see if I can get them to talk.” Tray headed towards the detainment cells with Ironbranch in tow as Fledge quickly handed over a fresh cup of coffee. As Tray reached the door he paused, wondering if it was perhaps too quiet. Thinking everyone inside was asleep aside from the night guard, he swung open the door. 

He was not prepared for the sight within, expecting the sleeping if not surly faces of the thugs. The room was bathed crimson, splatters covering the walls with bloody handprints that seemed erratically placed, as if struggling to escape. The floors were covered with pools of blood. The gore was the most shocking thing, Tray’s mind flip flopping to understand what he was seeing.

Various body parts were strewn about as if a wild animal had attacked, ripping off appendages indiscriminately. An eye lay abandoned on the side while a few hands remained in the cuffs, the rest of their bodies gone. Near the door was a leg belonging to the unfortunate Rhedd, identifiable only by his uniform.

“Wha—” Ironbranch halted behind Tray. His eyes bulged at the scene, his jaw going slack. Tray was thankful he hadn’t eaten for hours as his stomach churned and he felt bile rise to his throat as his stomach prepared its rebellion.

The shock and silence was broken as the coffee mug fell from Ironbranch’s trembling hands, shattering against the ground in an explosion of ceramics and hot liquid. Tray’s stomach began to heave as the smell finally reached his nose and his brain registered the savage massacre, the blood draining from his face. 

“Sweet Mother Ina!”