by Arthur Stone
How I might find the rest, I had no idea.
Epilogue
The human body decomposes rapidly. It takes a lot of work to make it last a long time. There are hundreds of types of embalming, including the most complex, which can preserve a corpse for millennia. The best masters can even make a dead body look like it’s practically alive.
There are other options too. One can, for example, burn the body to ashes and use special magic abilities to convert those ashes to crystals. If this is done by a specialist with enough skill and the help of some expensive materials, an amulet can even be created containing a particle of the ancestor who has passed on. But especially perceptive experts will still be able to determine that they are viewing not just a powerful item but one made of your ancestor’s ashes.
Such perceptive experts were now halfway to Crow Estate. Once they arrived, they would dig everywhere, three feet deep, looking for any remains of the last clan member.
A man is a filthy creature. He leaves all kinds of traces behind. The people send there by Lord Resai would be able to find much. Nails, hair, feces, and even the skin cells lost over the course of life.
But they would not find the most important thing: the body itself. Nor evidence that it was destroyed.
Master Pence was sure of that. He also knew that looking for these remains outside of the estate would be a pointless exercise. They would not be found, not in this world nor in any other.
They were nowhere.
His confidence was not unfounded. Pence had a method of determining whether all of the Crows were dead or someone were left. Once, when he had come to visit, covered by the dark wing of night, he had seen that there were exactly two remaining.
Treya and her bastard.
Now, the mother of the Last Crow was dead. He had no doubt in this. The master had killed her himself, ensuring that death did not take her too quickly.
But there was a good deal of confusion regarding the Last Crow.
There was, however, one point that was crystal clear: the little monster was still alive. For thirteen years, with the help of his mother and her shudras, he had cheated the ORDER. Now, he continued that practice.
Once Lord Resai found this out, he and Master Pence would need to have quite a difficult conversation.
The latter would be very lucky to even have an audience with Resai himself.
There was only one way to avoid this unpleasant conversation, be it with Resai or a minion of his. He had to finish the job. Then, he could honestly look into the eyes of the man who had given the order—and nod quietly. A humble gesture that was more than sufficient, coming from a man bound by so many vows. They would believe him—and the storm would pass. He would not have to writhe his way out of trouble by means of ambiguous answers. Resai was not a very trusting man, and those above him were even less so.
Those people were above many others, not just Lord Resai. They had reached a level of power that was nearly beyond deception. Only Chaos itself would be able to trick them, and not even on the first attempt.
He had to find the boy himself. Pence was already looking.
And the longer it was until he found something, the more annoyed he became.
Reality was clearly different than the picture he had painted in his mind.
The degree zero boy should have perished upon birth. Or, at least, during the first few days of his worthless life. Yet he had lasted thirteen years.
Thirteen whole years!
Not only that—this bastard had survived in a place where shadows could not. A place where some of the world’s most dangerous killers had perished. Not long ago, they had earned infamy for taking the rebel castle in the Northern Baronies without losing a single man. This last task was a hundred times easier. Perhaps a thousand. Yet they had all died.
All except this bastard—and he had done more than just survive. He had managed to hide, taking advantage of the fact that Pence had to immediately return to his personal binding stone before making his way back to the estate. And he had done more than just hide. He had hidden without leaving any clues behind. Pence’s men slaughtered one northerner after another, beating all of the information they could out of each, and none had given them anything helpful.
Something was off about this boy. So, the picture which had been in Pence’s mind was not entirely true. He would have to begin again.
End of Book One.
Many thanks to my readers!
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