Chapter 62: Hot Wax
Stepping out of the Palace building, Ivan stopped in his tracks when his gaze fell upon the lifeless body that had been brought back as evidence to their report, and the guards that surrounded the body swiftly moved back for Ivan to have a clear view.
On the cold floor lay the body of a female servant he hardly recognized, her skin had turned pale, and her eyes devoid of any form of life.
When he stooped down to observe the bleeding area on her chest, he could tell from years of diligent practice that her attacker had aimed specifically for her heart. The arrow wasn’t strayed, it was a deliberate attempt to kill.
"Where’s the weapon?" Ivan turned to the guards who stepped forward to hand him the arrow that had been used to assassinate the servant.
"It’s a bodkin arrow." Holding it lightly in his grip, his crimson eyes studied the shaft all the way to the narrowed pointed head - he didn’t need any prior notification to know the bloodstain on the arrow belonged to the servant, he could smell it, and it made accurate sense why she had to flee from the Palace in a rush.
Whoever she saw that night had been after her.
"The arrow can only be crafted by a master-level Fletcher, it’s easy to tell from the tip." Alistair validly butted in, directing Ivan’s gaze to the brown feathers attached to the nock of the arrow. "They work hand-in-hand with bow makers. I can assemble a group of guards and we’ll visit the nearest town and villages at mid-noon to find out who bought the last brown feathered arrow piece."
"Every Fletcher keeps a register of the customer’s purchases." Ivan quietly murmured to himself before glancing at Alistair and giving him a go-ahead nod. It wasn’t the smartest idea, but it wasn’t the dullest either. The bodkin arrow was specifically crafted for battle, and the extremely sharp, narrow pointed head could pierce through armor, talk more of human skin.
If they don’t deal with the matter crucially, more people might die from this unknown archery master.
"The stress...." he hissed out.
The death of the servant proves one thing, and he was more than convinced that his Grandmother never committed suicide. If he hadn’t left for the hunting ground on that day, all of this hoax would have been avoided. Partly, he was also to blame for the death of the servant.