Innocent

“By chance, have you seen a beastkin lady who looks like this?” Osric points at the painting Randolf is holding.

“No, I haven’t. Now out of my way, I’m busy.” The well-dressed man cuts between Osric and Randolf. His long black overcoat flaps up, smacking Osric in the face as he passes by.

Osric tries to slap at it, but the man and the cloak are already gone.

“So, where is my mother, do you know where she is yet?” Elayne asks.

“No — I don’t. Stop asking me that after every person we question!” Osric turns to yell in her face.

Her face recoils. She shoves him away. The movement makes both of their hoods fall. She raises her hands again, but they are grabbed by the maid.

“It’s not my place to speak, but, if I may. This does not look like it is working.” The maid says, letting go of Elayne’s arms and pulling her hood back up.

Osric follows, hiding his face as well.

“I agree, we’ve been doing this for hours,” Randolf adds.

“We haven’t been doing it long enough, it’s going to work.” Osric argues.

There’s no way this doesn’t work. This is how you find a missing person. I saw it in so many crime dramas, he thinks as he surveys the street, looking for another person to ask. He sees four guards talking amongst themselves, forming a circle in the middle of the street, clogging the foot traffic. Maybe the guards? He keeps scanning, catching a tavern.

“Here.” He points at the tavern’s sign. “A tavern is full of gossip, right? Surely someone in there knows.”

He takes off toward the tavern across the street.

He swings open the half-height saloon doors. I always wanted to do that!

Several tired-looking men wearing rough tunics gaze at him. They set their wooden cups down on the wooden tables.

Oh, not that many people in here. Osric glances at the few patrons. Well, it is the early afternoon. No matter, they surely have juicy information.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, I have a question to ask you.” He deepens his voice, initiating his sage-like persona. “My associate here has a painting I’d like you to look at.” He gestures to his side — Randolf isn’t there.

He looks behind, out the door. Randolf is stopped by the guards.

“I will be right back, gentlemen.” He dashes out the door.

“Sir, please come with us,” a guard says to Randolf.

“What for?” Randolf questions.

“What’s this all about?” Osric yells in his deep voice.

“This man has been accused of murdering multiple citizens!” the guard announces.

“What.” Osric drops his act, stepping away from the guards.

“This must be a misunderstanding.” Randolf argues

“Just come with us to the guardhouse for further questioning.” The guard grabs at his arm.

“Fine!” Randolf yanks his arm away. “Show me to it.”

The guards gesture down the street and start walking. Randolf follows.

Osric grabs at Randolf’s tunic, he stops.

Osric beckons him to bend down.

“What’s going on, I thought you said we wouldn’t be in trouble?” Osric whispers.

“It’s fine, I’ll go with them, explain the misunderstanding, and come right back,” Randolf whispers.

“What are you saying?” Elayne walks over, sticking her face between theirs.

“Nothing, nothing.” Osric backs away. “We’re just going to the guardhouse real quick.”

“I can go by myself, I’ll be right back,” Randolf insists.

“No, we’re all going. You’re here for protection, right? How can you protect us if you’re not here.” Osric steps forward, signaling the other three to follow him.

>>>

Osric starts to lag behind the group. Ugh! how far is this place? We've been walking forever.

Osric hears a thud to his left, a man carrying a basket of apples trips on the other side of the road, apples roll across the street.

He watches Elayne in front of him survey the area before reaching down to pick one up. The maid slaps it out of her hand. Elayne's ears droop as the maid grabs her arm, pulling her along.

How come the maid can touch her like that and she doesn’t freak out? Osric catches up to them.

“Hey Elayne.” He puts his hand on her shoulder.

She smacks it away.

Osric nods in confirmation. Yep, just what I thought.

“How come miss... uh, what’s your name again?”

“Your grandfather calls me Cinder,” the maid replies.

“How come Cinder can be all chummy with you but I can’t?”

“Humans are bad.” Elayne barks at him.

“Yeah but — you were fine with Catalina,” Osric argues.

“Who?” Elayne tilts her head.

“The lady with blonde hair and big—” he clears his throat. “The pretty lady?”

“She’s okay, she’s nice.”

Osric’s brow furrows, trying to understand her logic.

Lost in thought, Osric doesn't realize everyone had stopped. He bumps into the maid.

The guards have brought them to a stone-brick building. Its gray color and angular roof stand out against the flat-topped, warm-colored buildings around it. A golden emblem of two swords clashing in front of a scale shines near the roofline.

The guards lead them through the tall, wooden doors. Inside, the red rug on the polished stone floor leads Osric’s eyes to a wooden counter. A female guard sits behind it, her blonde hair in a braid is draped over her chest plate. Her blue eyes seem to be staring a hole through Osric, they then shift to the others.

Inspecting the room as he walks down the rug, Osric’s eyes stop at a wooden board up against the far-left wall. Brown posters are nailed to it. They’re wanted posters, he realizes, squinting at it. So the concept of police sketches does exist here.

He trots away from the group to get a closer look. He scans the board up and down. The posters have a written description of the suspect, then a crude sketch underneath.

Eh, not the best sketches but it gets the point across... He keeps perusing the board until — his heart sinks.

Near the middle, is a poster with a list of familiar features: brown hair with strands of gray, brown eyes, slight wrinkles, wearing a blue tunic, brown trousers. Wielding a gilded sword. A rough drawing of Randolf underneath.

His heart sinks deeper into his stomach. Next to that, a drawing of a young boy in a black cloak. That’s me!

I have my hood on, so they probably haven’t recognized me. But — They’ve seen Randolf. I’ve got a bad feeling about this!

“We need to leave, now!” Osric yells.

Osric bolts to the door, but it's blocked by one of the guards. He stops then jumps back.

“No you will not be leaving!” The deep, mature voice of the blonde lady echoes through the stone building.

She walks out from behind the counter. Her blue skirt flapping, her armor-plated legs clack. She strides up to Randolf pointing, “This is a wanted man, anyone trying to help him flee is guilty of the same crimes!” she yells.

“Lady, we're innocent, honest!” Osric pleads.

“Don’t listen to them, Lady Veronica, they’re Kingdom scum.”

A familiar and haunting voice bellows from the hallway behind the counter. Broadhold emerges, an entourage of beastkin slaves behind him.

Not him! Osric thinks, clenching his fists.

“This man, his slaves, and several other citizens say they witnessed you slice down guards and innocent bystanders alike,” Lady Veronica declares.

"I did no such thing." Randolf responds.

“No, he did,” Broadhold interjects. “It was horrible! I watched him hack down innocent citizens, then he did the same to the guards.”

“My slaves saw it too, right?” He looks back at his slaves, the row of wolf slaves all nodding in unison.

Yeah right, you fat bastard. Osric struggles to keep the thought from flying out of his mouth.

“Yes,” Lady Veronica adds. “We have several other eyewitness reports as well. Mister Lawrence, who owns a restaurant in the plaza, and Mister Munster, the slave trader, both said they witnessed it while hiding in their businesses. Two foreign Dushkan merchants said they saw him do it too.”

He definitely paid those guys to say that. I saw everyone flee the plaza... even if there were people hiding in buildings, they would have seen the mercenaries kill the guards! Osric postulates.

“And don't forget what you did, boy!” Broadhold yells.

Osric glares at Broadhold watching as the man fights a smile.

“How horribly you burned my precious mercenaries with that terrible magic.” A devilish grin spreads across Broadhold's face.

“Wait.” Lady Veronica looks back at Broadhold. “You mean this hooded boy is the tiny mage you told me about?”

Osric sighs, taking the hood off his head. Well, the jig’s up.

“He is!” Lady Veronica exclaims.

“Everything he said is lies! No one listen to anything he has to say!” Osric shouts, pointing at Broadhold.

"Mister Broadhold is the well-respected head of the merchant guild here in Silverquay. His word carries a lot of value," Lady Veronica states.

Well respected my tiny ass! Osric curses him in his mind, lowering his hand.

“Oh, I think you should listen to what I have to say — and I can give you a good reason why.” Broadhold steps aside.

The slaves part, revealing a lone female wolf beastkin behind them. The beastkin lady with dark-gray fur is shoved forward and falls to her knees.

Osric glances at the painting still in Randolf's hand, then back at the woman on the ground. There, on all fours in nothing but a long, ragged burlap tunic, is the beastkin lady from the canvas — Elayne's mother.

“Mama!” Elayne shouts.

She jolts forward, her hood flying down. Cinder grabs her shoulders.

“Let go!” She screams, struggling to pull herself toward her mother, Cinder’s grip is too strong.

“Elayne, sweetie!” her mother shouts, tears in her eyes.

She reaches a paw out to Elayne. A beastkin grabs her from behind by the slave collar, yanking her up. He presses a knife to her neck.