The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 66: The Spurred Decay

The sight of Alexander's corpse laying on a steel table, ready for an autopsy, was one that filled Charles Archibald with nothing but rage.

His fists were clenched, resting atop his blood-stained black pants. All he could do was stare as the coroner traced her latex-clad fingertips across his skin.

It had only been four hours since he had died. In that time, Anastasia Velda and the others brought his body to the Paladin. Every single minute up until now had blurred together. Blood had already dried on his hands, and as much as hated that sight, he couldn't wash them.

He couldn't find the strength of will to stand. If he did... He felt as if he would collapse immediately.

After all, he was the reason Alexander had been killed. He had chosen Alexander as a Virtue. All of the actions afterward– The battle against Mammon, the trial and its results, all of it were a product of Archibald.

And so, the Demon-Born's death was a product of him as well.

"Whoever he fought was strong," the coroner said through her surgical mask. "A heavily armed man who's at least a Grade 1," she told him, gently grabbing a hold of Alexander's hand and raising his arm. Three tears sat in the muscle of his forearm, the fresh muscle still bright red.

"Tell us something we don't know."

Her attention turned to the man who had just spoken. The black-haired man sat pressed against the concrete wall with his black coat beneath him. His head drooped over, leaving his eyes focused on the floor. Adam Lane.

"You do realize all of this is recorded, right?" she asked, aiming one of her fingers at the bright lamp that hovered above Alexander's corpse. "Everything I say and do is for research purposes. Not for you."

Adam spat out a sigh as she continued.

"Repeated incisions into the right forearm," she spoke again. "Similar to wounds received in right calf and quadricep. The corpse's lower half had been covered with a white sheet, but even that had grown crimsoned over the short span.

"She's got a point," John Smith told the Demon-Born. "Just let her do her job."

Smith was Archiblad's personal assistant. But, being a Paladin, there wasn't much he needed assistance in, making Smith's job effectively pointless, other than administration of matters concerning the Virtues. 

That was his purpose in being there. 

"This was planned by someone in a position of power, wasn't it?" Adam asked, thinking back on what Archibald had involved himself with during the trial. 

"...What do you mean?" Smith asked.

"I'm surprised you still don't understand how crooked this world is," the Paladin said plainly.

He continued. "This wasn't a mugging or a random attack. It was a simple assassination. It probably would've been the icing on the cake if the other two had been killed." Archibald ruffled his silver-grey hair before he spat out a sigh. "And this is all after I pulled some strings to prevent an actual execution."

Archibald brought himself to stand. And with that, he looked down at Adam. He told him, "Those crusty pieces of garbage are behind this, y'know."

"Yeah, I know," Adam said, his eyes still focused on the floor, his head still drooping over with his back flattened against the wall.

"Hey."

Adam finally looked up to see Archibald staring at him. "Maybe..." the Paladin said. "Maybe I should just kill all the higher-ups."