Palace Ghosts

Chapter 4

The rest was a blur, not just that I don't remember much, but also because I was surrounded by ghost. Word spread quickly to each ghost, and soon there were hundreds surrounding me. Trying to comfort me and give me advice at the same time. Finally the lieutenant ordered all suspects to return to their rooms, and the investigations would resume in the morning. Wearily I made my way back to my room, Rhys, the scholar ghost, led me. A Royal Guard followed me all the way back and stood outside my door the whole night, making sure I didn't try to escape. My room was soon crowded with ghosts. Luckily only about twenty had followed me
"Did any of you see anything suspicious?" I asked, quietly.
"Yes, when I first saw the dead king, I remember passing someone in the hall who was all dressed up in black, the person wore gloves a mask, and a scarf over their face, so no details or defining features were visible," said Fudin the mercenary.
"What about the shape, and height, male or female?" I asked.
"The clothes were too baggy to tell the sex, but this person would be rather tall for a woman and medium height for a man," said Fudin.
"Okay, well that's barely helpful," I said with a sigh.
"Was there anything else distinctive?" asked Rhys the scholar.
Fudin shook his head. "Except that the person couldn't see ghosts."
"How could you tell?" I asked, curiously.
"Well, for us, the living world is faded, nothing is vibrant or as bright as it should be, but those who can see ghosts are unchanged, they're bright, warm and have a living aura around them," said Rhys.
"How come you've never told me this?" I asked.
"You never asked I guess," he replied, with a shrug.
"Well anything else distinctive about the murderer? A limp maybe? A dominant hand?" I asked.
"No limp, and he was just walking, so I don't know which hand is dominant," said Fudin, frowning.
"Did this person have blood on their clothes?" I asked.
The mercenary ghost thought for a moment. "I don't think so," said Fudin, with a shrug.

The night passed slowly, my council with the ghosts continued through the night. Rhys Caiden left my room several times to report what he saw of the body. He gave me a full inventory.
"Wait," I said interrupting Rhys. "Was he wearing anything around his neck?" I asked.
"Yes, he had a high collared shirt with a cravat," said Rhys.
"I see," I said thinking through the suspicious circumstances. The knife wound, the note, the person clad from head to toe in black. I had a suspicion nothing was as it seemed. I shared my thoughts with the ghosts. They thought my assumption was very plausible, after all the knife wound didn't bleed as much as a thrust to the heart should have...
The only plausible explanation was that the King was dead by the time he had received the wound.

We talked over the implications of such a thought. Many of the ghosts had stabbed someone before, or had been stabbed themselves, they all knew that the heart would have bled more.

Finally morning dawned, and the guard led me to a room I had never seen before. It was surprisingly small, with a single table in the centre, a chair on either side, and against one of the walls, six more chairs. A middle aged man stood up from one of the two chairs that sat at the table. He was sallow skinned with sunken eyes, a square jaw, blond greying hair and his height was impressive.
"Please have a seat Kianna," he said, gesturing to the chair opposite him. I gingerly sat down on the appointed chair. Rhys Caiden glided through the small room's wall and took a seat on one of the six chairs. He winked at me reassuringly. Three more men entered the room, though it was through the door. The lieutenant from the previous night, a second lieutenant and some form of military commander, who outranked the lieutenants.
"Close the door," the Commander ordered one of the two guards who stood outside the door.
"Yes sir, but the Queen approaches," said the guard.
"Let her enter then."
The Queen glided through the door. She looked regal, commanding and even merciless. I began to tremble.
"Do not ever presume to start an interrogation into my husband's death, without me present. Is that understood Commander?" she asked, commandingly.
"Perfectly understood your Highness, please let me know if I can be of any assistance in your grief," replied the Commander.
The Queen nodded and sat down in one of the chairs. Sweat began to bead on my forehead, never had I been in the audience of a Royal, let alone having their undivided attention.
"Begin," said the Queen.
The door was closed and the middle aged interrogator took his seat. "What is your full name?" he said in a clipped tone.
"Kianna Emilia Latricia," I replied, trying to stay calm.
"What is your reason for being in the palace?" he asked not missing a beat.
"I am a servant under Baron Elwinn," I replied, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
"How long have you been a servant under Baron Elwinn?"
"A month sir."
"What were you doing out last night, and what led you to the King's throne room?"
"I was exploring sir," I said my eyes downcast.
He didn't say anything for a minute, his eyes were fixed on my face, judging the credulity of what I had said. "Do you know the punishment for regicide?" he asked.
"Yes," I mumbled.
"Tell me then," he said with slow deliberation.
"One's whole family is killed by hanging," I mumbled.
"Would you want that to happen to your family?" he asked with narrowed eyes.
I didn't say anything, I just shrugged.
"You don't know? Or you wouldn't mind that happening to them?" he asked, his steely gaze looking deep into my soul.
"Kianna, act the good guy, say you would mind, it makes you look innocent," said Rhys, desperately.
I didn't say anything, I just shrugged again, not meeting the interrogator's gaze. The interrogator lunged across the table, and yanked my face towards his. He wasn't rough, just quick.
"You are not personifying innocence, Kianna," he said. "Try answering my questions with words, rather then non committal shrugs," he said.
Rhys Caiden sighed.
"Yes," I whispered.
"Do you own a knife?" he asked.
"Yes," I answered.
"Was it with you last night?"
"Yes," I answered.
"What kind of knife is it that you own?"
"A penknife."
"Do you have it on you now?"
"Yes."
"Let me see."
Reluctantly I pulled it out of my apron pocket and laid it on the table, it was about the length of my pointer finger, and as thick as my thumb.
"This is the only knife you own?"
"Yes."
He flicked it open and closed it again. He wrote something down on his parchment.
"Return to your room, you will stay there until you are summoned," said the interrogator, with a wave of his hand.
I stood up, slipped my penknife back into my pocket, and left the room.
Outside stood Taviq Elwinn, the young man who had heard the king scream. He glanced at me, but didn't say anything. Rhys Caiden followed me back to my room.