𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑎𝑤𝑛 | 𝐆𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐃𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐎𝐍

31⋆☾⋆Valour

The tall Ranger plucked the black leather gloves off his fingers as he approached the Scotii quarters in the castle. Scones with torches lining the wall flickered in the dim morning light, casting nervous shadows on the floors. There was a lone man in a tunic sharpening his sword, while looking out of the window. His tunic was that of Caraway and he seemed vaguely familiar to Gilan, but that happened all the time, because he had been away for years. He opened the heavy oak door with ease.

The red headed girl sat with her legs in the air, resting them against a wooden poster of her bed, a book in front of her hooked nose. She didn't turn to look at him as she asked: "What news do you have for me?"

"One of your men is dead," Gilan stood with his hands behind his body, posture similar to that of a soldier giving a debrief, "the other I found no signs of."

A suffocating silence filled the room. The shadows of flickering candles danced over the handsome man's sharp cheekbones- accentuated by his signature loose brown curl- and jawline. His jaw was tense, his heart shaped lips pursed and his bright green eyes were hard. His black tunic, dark brown pants and long cloak gave made him seem taller and broader than he already was. Normally he had worn supple leather boots, but they had been replaced by heavy Scotii boots: a gift from his new father-in-law.

Enox was very well aware that she had perhaps one of the most dangerous warriors in all of Araluen in her private chambers. However, he couldn't ever kill her, so, she liked to tease him like a wild animal in a cage.

"How was Sir Alda killed?" she questioned, finally putting down her book, allowing Gilan a better look at the title. He always found her reading, however they were never novels, but history books; Araluanian history. His brows furrowed slightly as it worried him a slight bit, but he quickly raised his chin again to look at the wall behind his fiancée.

"I brought his body to the hospital wing, you can see for yourself that he committed suicide."

Her geen eyes widened and her brows shot down like heavy thunder clouds. "What is that? Is it a new poison? A new method of torture? Why don't I know it?"

The questions spilled out of her like venom, and Gilan was left very confused and surprised.

"It's-" he halted, for a second granting her one look, "when, someone kills themselves."

She straightened her back and tilted her head. "For a ritual?"

"Because they don't want to live anymore."

Enox looked quite taken aback, it must've been a sort of culture shock to her. "When they have been captured by an enemy? That seems logical, our soldiers do it all the time, why is there a different word for that?"

"Not always when they've been captured, sometimes because the circumstances people live in are too difficult to bear." He swallowed, when he had still been an apprentice under Halt, they sometimes found corpses with fatal wounds, but no sign of struggle or another pair of steps. These were most of the time peasants. In his third year, Gilan's mentor had finally explained why they only buried those people and never looked for a murderer. He had thought it incredibly sad that the concept existed, but his mentor also told him that there wasn't anything they could do about it. 

The girl nodded and threw her hair over her shoulder. "And the other one?" 

"What?" Gilan questioned, his brows furrowing. His heart dropped, because a witness was the last thing he needed.