History Degree

Osric, Randolf, and Cinder carry a sleeping Elayne on her back. All gaze up at the large building before them.

“This hospital has a place where dead bodies are stored, Lady Veronica?” Osric asks.

“Yes, the corpses of the civilians, along with the foreign mercenaries should be here,” she replies.

Osric scans the long, flat red-brick building. Two lines of perfectly spaced windows run along it, broken into three taller segments: one in the middle, the other two at the ends. Angled, shingled roofs top the segments. A tall spire juts out from the shingles, at the top is, what looks like, watchtowers. Stone guardrails run along the edges.

Lady Veronica leads them down the long cobbled path.

“This is a waste of time,” Broadhold grumbles, he and his slaves lagging behind.

Osric looks back, tracing the winding cobblestone path that eventually leads back to the city, peeking over a grassy hill in the distance.

“This place is quite far from the city,” Osric thinks aloud.

“It’s to keep the miasma away,” Lady Veronica replies.

“Miasma?” Osric raises an eyebrow.

“The sick air. We wouldn’t want it blowing into the city.”

“Oh,” Osric nods. They don’t understand how germs work here, he thinks. My plan holds even more water now.

“Were those stops really necessary?” Lady Veronica asks, swinging open the large metal gate.

Behind the gate is a a garden, with beds a yellow and red flowers. Neatly trimmed hedges behind the beds line the front wall.

“Most definitely,” Osric replies.

Entering the hospital, they pass grand stone staircases on either side. Osric’s eyes follow one, leading him to gaze at the beige stone railing across the walkway above them.

They arrive at the front desk, where a nurse, a white apron over a dark dress, sits behind the wooden counter. A black-and-white striped cap rests on her tied-back brown hair. She greets them with a smile.

“I’m here on official business with the city guards,” Lady Veronica says, flashing the sword-and-scale crest on her sword’s sheath.

“Lady Veronica! Lord Silveren has barred you from investigating this case any further!” The nurse’s smile disappears. She stands abruptly, slamming her hands on the counter.

“Hmm,” Osric thinks audibly. There really is something suspicious going on here.

She strides to the hallway behind the counter, blocking it. Lady Veronica pushes past her without a word. The nurse stumbles, falling to the floor.

“Is it okay to even be here?” Cinder asks, adjusting Elayne on her back.

“Come on, show me this justice of yours.” Lady Veronica gestures for the rest to follow.

The hallway opens onto a courtyard. What Osric thought was a straight line of a building is actually a square. A covered cobbled sidewalk wraps around the grassy center. Trees sit in corner beds, and a white stone fountain in the middle.

Lady Veronica cuts through the grass.

The group heads across the lawn, passing the fountain.

Osric grabs Randolf’s sleeve, his head swiveling from the courtyard to the doors lining the sidewalk, then tracking a nurse jogging down the walkway.

He turns to Osric. “A whole building for treating the sick and injured, huh?”

Osric shushes him, pulling on his arm. “Just to confirm, you killed the mercenary with a thrust to the chest,” he whispers in Randolf’s ear.

“Yes, I wouldn’t misremember that,” Randolf whispers, a tinge of frustration in his tone.

“And remember the plan. If I snap my fingers, make some distraction so everyone turns away from me,” Osric says.

“What exactly will that do?” Randolf whispers back.

Osric scratches his chin, thumbing the small glass jar and chalk in his pocket. “Don’t worry about it. The Grand Sage has an idea.”

To think I’m betting my life on the history degree I never finished — and a kids’ science experiment, he thinks, still fiddling with the contents of his pocket.

Lady Veronica stops in front of the last room on the right wall — two wooden doors reinforced with black metal tracings. A heavy chain and lock wraps the metal bar handles together. She draws her sword, slices through the chain, and pushes the doors open before stepping inside.

Everyone follows. The large room is filled with rows of stone slab counters, each slab supported by a chiseled stone beam. Only the first rows is occupied, with decaying bodies covered in white cloth.

The rotten smell smacks Osric’s nose — he plugs it, wincing. Ugh, this smell isn’t helping my nerves. His heartbeat only quickens. I feel like I’m about to perform a play — well, I do kinda have to put on a performance here. He glances toward the doorway. Elayne’s mother stands there, silent, surrounded by Broadhold’s slaves. Breathe. I’ve got this.

“Now, before we examine the bodies, I want you to explain what was so suspicious about the incident again, Lady Veronica. I don’t think Broadhold was listening the first time,” Osric says, unplugging his nose so he can speak properly.

Broadhold mumbles something unintelligible by the doorway.

“Worried townsfolk flooded into the guardhouse, notifying me of the brawl. I rushed to the plaza — what I saw was a wretched sight. Three unarmed civilians, slain, lying in blood, along with two of my men.”

“No one else is in the plaza?” Osric asks.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Before I could take a closer look, Lord Silveren’s own personal troops came rushing onto the scene, stopping me. They forbade us from investigating further.”

“And you also said that Mister Broadhold wasn’t among the people to notify you of the brawl, correct?” Osric asks.

“Yes,” she replies.

“Is that not suspicious?” Osric adds.

“Well, I—I,” Broadhold stammers. “Well, you see—”

“We’ll come back to that later, Broadhold. Don’t lose it now,” Osric says, brushing him off.

“You little—!” Broadhold stomps toward Osric.

Randolf blocks his way. Broadhold cools off and returns to the doorway, leaning against it.

“Now, show me one of the citizens,” Osric says.

Lady Veronica walks over to the first occupied slab and pulls the sheet back. Underneath lies the body of a thin, balding man, a deep slice running down his torso. The cut is festering, and the stench intensifies as sunlight from the large window beside the door nearly cooks the flesh.

Osric walks over, stretching to his tiptoes to see the body. “Take a look at the cut,” he says.

Lady Veronica leans in slightly.

“From what I’ve read, the Empire of Dushkan trades mainly spices with Aurelith. They don’t trade swords or anything like that?” Osric asks.

“Correct, people from the Empire say they don’t want their military armaments coming into Kingdom hands,” Lady Veronica answers.

Osric rubs his chin again. Oh — the Kingdom and the Empire have bad blood? How come that part isn’t in the history books Angus gave me? That shouldn’t affect my plan.

“Well, the Empire uses curved swords, I saw them firsthand. Notice anything off about this cut...”

Lady Veronica leans in closer. “It’s curved."

Bingo! I’ve never been so glad to have studied history for four years, Osric celebrates internally. Sometime before World War One, the French fought a battle with a certain tribe somewhere in the Middle East — I can’t remember where. They were amazed by the tribe’s curved cavalry swords, which easily sliced off limbs and, most importantly, made deep arcing cuts. The French were actually so impressed that they adopted the idea for their own military.

Osric leans in, spreading the flap of skin on the body’s chest. Yuck! he thinks, turning away to catch his breath.

“Not only that, but look at how the cut is shallow at the start, near his shoulder, and gets deeper as it goes down. A straight blade can’t do that."

Lady Veronica studies the cut intently.

“Here, take a look at my father’s sword,” Osric says, looking to Randolf.

Randolf unsheathes his sword and hands it to her. She holds it in both hands, examining it carefully, flipping it over.

“This sword is similar to my own,” she says, handing it back to Randolf. “With my experience in swordsmanship, I would say this cut did come from his blade.”

“Now, where are the bodies of the mercenaries?”

Lady Veronica walks down the row of slabs, peeking under the sheets at several bodies before finally revealing the body of the Dushkan mercenary.

“Look at his chest,” Osric says.

They notice a wide, deep stab running through the center of his chest.

“I’m sure you're familiar with how armed sword combat works. My father, being a knight, knows stabbing his enemies is more effective than slicing, as it pierces armor more efficiently. So, the mercenary he killed — in self-defense, I will reiterate — is stabbed rather than sliced.”

“This is substantial — but where does the foul play come in? You said my suspicions weren’t unfounded,” she asks.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself. First, do you believe my father did not kill those civilians?” Osric asks.

“Let me check the other bodies first,” she says, peeking under more sheets.

>>>

After some time examining the two other victims, she covers them and steps back, leaning against the wall. She toys with the hilt of her sword.

“It does look like these wounds were not made with that man’s sword,” Lady Veronica finally says.

“You hear that, Broadhold?” Osric turns to him, smugly smiling.