The Divine Hunter
chapter-118

Roy and Dennis were walking down the lonely street when a gust of wind blew against Roy’s cloak, causing it to billow in the air. He lowered his head and held the strap on his chest with one hand, holding the sword on his back with the other. The chilling sensation from the metal sobered him, calming him down.

“Roy…” Dennis pinched his beard. “Why don’t we forget about it. Even Mr. Letho lost to that bastard. I can’t drag you into this. Just rest up in an inn and wait for the news.”

Roy shook his head adamantly. “My mentor is missing, and you expect me to desert him? No witcher worth their salt would do that. I’d be unworthy of your friendship if I ran away.”

“You’re right.” Dennis sighed. “You’d lose my respect if you turned tail and ran.”

“One more question. What did you guys find out before Letho went missing?”

Dennis gripped his beard in frustration. “Honestly, I have some complaints about that. Mr. Letho’s a lone wolf. He probably didn’t want us to drag him down, so he operated all by himself. Never told us about his findings. The only time he let us work with him was right before the ambush.”

Roy raised his head and took a deep breath. He knew Letho was a lone wolf, since he was speaking from experience, after all, but he’d never expected he’d take it to the extreme. Roy thought there was no need for him to keep all the clues to himself and hunt the killer alone. Was he protecting them because the killer was too strong? Or was there something more to the case?

They went down the street, where only a few pedestrians were treading. And they arrived at the Hanged Man’s Tree. It was a gloomy alley set between a grey building and a wall filled with grime and moss. It was dark and narrow, stretching one hundred feet, leading to a dead end.

Roy picked up a peculiar scent the moment he went into the alley. He followed it and wound up seeing a few patches of dried blood on the ground. That was the only clue. The only one visible to the human eye, anyway.

He hunkered down and scraped some dried blood, then sniffed it and closed his eyes to process what he smelled. There’s a faint smell of blood and rotten flesh. Smells like human blood, so it’s probably Letho’s. But I’ve never come across that other smell. What did Letho run into?

When he opened his eyes, his pupils contracted into slits. Two invisible ribbons started floating in the air, extending beyond the alley he was in. One of the ribbons was red, while the other was black. That was something only witchers could see.

Why’d it split in two? Roy pondered on it.

On the other hand, Dennis was shocked when he saw the change in Roy’s eyes. He instinctively grabbed his sword, ready to defend himself. For a moment there, it felt as if an apex predator had set its eyes on him. Roy’s eyes reminded him of the legendary dragons, for they possessed the same color. But I thought he was from Viper School. His mentor’s eyes were amber in color.

Roy stood up, frowning. He scanned his surroundings and hesitated for a moment before deciding to follow the red ribbon’s trail. The trail would thin at times, but it would become darker whenever Roy came across a patch of dried blood. Since he had a lead, Roy followed it.

Dennis didn’t know what was going on, since he couldn’t see the smell, but he was experienced enough to not disturb a witcher during an investigation. Quietly, he followed Roy.

Five minutes later, Roy stopped before an old, nearly abandoned street. His face fell, but he turned around and followed the black ribbon. He even parkoured through the roofs of the city in pursuit of the lead, but it didn’t take long for him to stop in dejection.

“Did you find anything, Roy?” Dennis finally asked, sounding urgent.

“Sorry. I’m not as good as Letho, so I found nothing.” The trail suddenly went cold. It was either because too much time had passed, or Roy wasn’t skilful enough yet.

“The trail went cold, huh?” Dennis looked disappointed. “Are we still gonna go on with this?”

“Yes, but not here.” Roy wanted to look into something else. “Are the bodies at the morgue?”

“Yes. All six of them.”

“Take me there.”

They went in another direction and travelled for half an hour. Finally, they came to a cold, looming tower at the end of a street. A staircase leading to the morgue underground was hidden behind a half-opened door.

A strong stench of rotten flesh assailed them the moment they came in. Roy frowned, pinching his nose. “They don’t even have a guard here?”

Dennis shrugged. “The dead would have been swiped clean of their coins before they got sent here. Not even the poorest bandit would raid this place. There ain’t anything but corpses here.”

“That means you have to look out for corpse eaters. And don’t forget that the killer might try to erase the evidence.”

***

The dark corridor was illuminated by nothing but some dim torches. Roy and Dennis went past a few rooms that were filled with cabinets that stored dead bodies, and there were even rooms where deformed corpses made by stitching together different body parts were lying on the steel table, much to Roy’s shock.

Dennis explained, “You might think there are a lot of corpses here, but that’s because someone always drops dead in Ellander. Accidents, diseases, turf fights, assassinations… The list goes on. More than a third of the bodies are unclaimed, and more than half of the cases are still unsolved.” He sighed. “Six victims might seem like a lot, but if it weren’t for the fact they’d died near the castle and drew his majesty’s ire, the knights wouldn’t even have cared about it. It’s the same in every city. Everyone’s stretched as thin enough as is. It’s impossible to crack every case, so we only pick the ones that the powers deem important.”

Roy agreed. It was a medieval world where the rulers saw the lives of peasants as nothing but mere commodities.

They eventually came before a table splattered with blood. A man in an apron and face mask had his back turned to them as he handled a corpse.

“How’s it going, Francia? Any new clues?”

The coroner kept working, ignoring Dennis. He raised his right arm into the air, revealing a needle between his fingers that gleamed under the light. He pulled the thread and strung it across the body. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of needle poking meat in the room. The coroner was stitching the body together with perfect precision, as if he were dancing to a tune. It was as if he were working on a piece of art, not a body.

A few minutes later, he finished the final stitch. The coroner pulled his face mask off with his hand that was stained with blood and flesh, then he bit off the thread. He sighed, plopping down on the chair. “Dennis Cranmer.” He waved Dennis off. “I told you to keep quiet when I’m working. Don’t blame me if the dead come crawling to you because I failed to put their bodies back together.” His voice was hoarse but charismatic. Anyone who heard it would end up wanting more.

But Roy’s attention was on something else. He noticed that the coroner had a spider tattooed on his right forearm.

Dennis scoffed. “Superstitious, as usual. I’ll welcome the dead with open arms and a lot of wine. That is, if they can come to me in the first place. But enough about that. I’m here for business. Specifically about that serial killer.”

Francis turned around, taking off his face mask and coat languidly. The coroner was a man in his thirties. He had a femininely handsome face, a beautiful nose, and deep-set eyes, though the bags under them didn’t help his looks. His lips were crimson, but his skin was pale, probably from the lack of sunlight because of his job. His attire was clean, and he radiated a dark, noble air.

The coroner leaned against the chair sluggishly, yawning. Then he turned his head to Roy. “Hey, new kid.” He grinned toothily. “Don’t look at me like that. If you want some fun, try the House of Peacocks in Goldmine. It’s in the northern part of the city. The ladies there are hot. Speaking from experience.”

Roy didn’t budge. “We can leave the brothels for another day, Mr. Francis. I need you to take me to the corpses.”

Dennis introduced, “This is Roy, Letho’s — ”

“That baldy’s disciple, probably.” The coroner started giving him a dirty look. “Your getup is weird,” he commented. “Black and yellow armor, grey cloak, a rose on the chest, and an ugly hood. You witchers have the same taste for fashion. Didn’t you get the memo? You’re a few hundred years behind on the trend.” He stretched his arm and stood up. “Right, that’s all I have to say. Now, come with me, but be warned, boy,” he said impatiently. “Brace yourself, or you’re going to piss your pants at what you’re about to see.” Then he went away without even looking back.

“Um, he’s weird, but he’s a nice guy.” Dennis gave him an apologetic look.

“It’s fine.” Roy observed Francis closely. He had never seen anyone be so nonchalant when a witcher was around them.