#eher'dorei

Murder. Preposterous. Who could he have even murdered?

In the past two or so years, he had traveled widely, never lingering, and never long enough to wish anyone dead. He frowned, tugging his cuffs as he ruminated. He didn’t think he’d even encountered anyone who even mattered enough to kill. At the very least, he knew for a fact that there was no one he’d murdered with his own hands.

Myro’s steps had taken him to one of the overlooks he frequented; one where no street lights interrupted the serene quiet. It was hard enough to get to, but refreshing to a beleaguered mind when he had too much to think about. Ambling towards his perch, he could see a large portion of the Cajhi and the hill leading to the residential district. A bench crumbled stately against one overgrown wall, the air of disuse lingering. Despite it, this felt like his own personal spot in the city. 

He settled onto the stone bench, the press of the ivy and tangling vines against his back. For a moment, he stilled in anticipation; as if expecting someone to follow. His eyes alighted over the angles and shadows of the world below, sliding to the small stairs that were the only path in and out. 

Only when he was satisfied that he was alone, did he allow himself to relax, the tension flooding out of him. Myro pulled his legs up, crossing his arms to rest on his knees. Folded so neatly, he could lie his cheek on his forearms. Even so tucked up, he made sure he could peek out to the world around.

It was a childish comfort, but a comfort all the same. The lassitude of being out of sight,-- away from judgment, from expectation– was incalculable. He was glad that he had the privacy for it, far away from his family and friends. All of them. For this moment, he was just… alone in his world. Myro’s thoughts drifted back to the accusation levied against him. Murder. It was true, of course, that someone had been murdered. An old clerk that worked– used to work– at the compendium Myro and his cohorts had frequented, had been found with unknown wounds, an unknown cause for the untimely death. The Anchli had kept it well under wraps, for the good of the city, he assumed. Murder was not a frequent occurance, and it was even more so alarming that no action had been taken up till this point.

He frowned from the cradle of his arms. It didn’t add up. He knew that they were circumstantial connections between his cohort and this crime: the timing, the location, the person themselves. But… he didn’t do it. If he had, he thought sourly, he wouldn’t have been caught. Yet it hung over him, and the question remained: who the hell had?

Myro harrumphed quietly as he racked his brain, eyes narrowing as he thought. The others surely wouldn’t. He would have been able to tell if they had killed someone they weren’t so careful with their secrets and he had learned from the best. That limited the culprits, if he could strike those he had worked with. Had it been a coincidence, really? Was there someone else that had been there that night? He was missing information, which irked him because he hated not knowing everything when it was important, and he couldn’t even find the holes in his knowledge– what was he missing?

“Struggling to sleep, Myrollan?”

Quineven stood at the stairs, his features unreadable. He had been entirely silent in his approach, a feat considering the state of the stair. He was alone; a blessing, or a curse.

Immediately, Myro scrambled up, his face flush. Quickly, he tried to school himself; it wasn’t as if he was found like some missing child. He was an adult. He was allowed to be here. He covered his discomfort with a respectful bow of his head, before answering, “I didn’t mean to make my absence known. I just wanted some air, Adeir. I can go back now.”

Without waiting for an answer, he began to walk away from his secluded spot. He did not want to be alone under his grandfather's scrutiny, especially since both of them knew about the visit to the island. 

He didn’t get far. After only a few steps, his feet slowed as if going through some thick mud that went too deep.

“No. I wanted to speak with you, actually, before today.” Quiniven said and walked past the slowed Myro, settling on the bench the young man had vacated. Weariness seemed to settle over him, and for a moment, he wore every one of his many, many years. “It’s exactly what you think it’s about, and more. You’ll give me the time, won’t you?”

Quineven’s single blue eye focused on Myro, and the weight on his legs dissipated. He frowned at his elder, as though considering his options, but he knew it was the illusion of choice. The questions would be presented and answered; it was merely a choice of doing it now, with Quineven alone, or to admit it in front of the whole council perhaps.

He released a long, slow breath, and tried to ignore the sinking feeling that he was being treated like a child. He hated it… but of course, it was always going to be the case when he was here. Slowly, he turned back and stiffly returned to his seat.

He said nothing, so after a moment, Quineven spoke. “How much of the situation do you know?”

“I know that Cayde was murdered, but I don’t know the details on how it was done. I know that Nirndil, Eldanil, Tusil, and I are all suspects, even though we very clearly haven’t done anything.” His words came out sharp, instinctively defensive in Quineven’s presence, “What I don’t know is why we’re being called back to this years later.”

Quineven appeared unphased by the sharp tone, “I agree that this has gone on for too long, however it was not up to me on the time taken.” He looked away from Myro again, letting out a slow breath, “Cayde’s death was caused by all of his mana being burned out of his body. There were no exterior markings to it, however other examinations showed tampering elsewhere and severe damage as a result within him. It would have been a very painful end. Because of that, the others had made the decision to discreetly deal with the investigation. The close family and the council are all that have known of it for the past two years.”

Myro listened quietly as Quineven continued, “I’ve had to get everything I can on similar instances. Most lead back to demons and the hounds of older times. Some match more closely to what we were wanting. The problem is, however, that there was no motive that could be discerned. It stalled our investigation until we finally found out that you four had been there the night it happened.”

“Well we didn’t do it or know who could have. Couldn’t that just have been asked to us? Why take us all the way here?” Myro sniped back.

“It’s the way of things. Even I can’t change the choices they make, only do what I can to shed more light on the situation. That is the role I have taken, and the role that I keep.” Quineven smoothly returned.

“You could do more.” Myro frowned.

Quineven’s voice remained even. “No, I can’t.” 

It was a quick response and offered no room for Myro to argue. He shrank back, torn between defending himself in frustration and the immense respect he had for his grandfather. He swallowed his words, averting his eyes.

After a moment, Quineven continued. “You are young, so you don’t understand why we may do things our ways. Sometimes, you’ll find that it’s better for you to play your part than it is to push yourself beyond. In this case, I am doing what I can to make sure that you are heard and understood, not to point a finger and put senseless blame on you.” 

He paused for a moment in consideration, and when he continued his voice had softened very slightly. “I know you didn’t kill Cayde, Myrollan. However, what’s to come must happen. All you need to do is allow them to see what they need. You are not to blame, but you may know things they do not.”

Myro’s brows came together, his lips thinned as he tried to understand and failed.

It seemed Quineven noticed, as soon after, he went on, “They are going to open your mind. It won’t be painful, but your memories will be displayed for all to see. It’s revealing, but if you have nothing to hide, then there is nothing to worry about.” 

He glanced at Myro, his gaze weighing. In turn, Myro’s features screwed in discomfort, lips thinning. He did not like the idea of it, and it showed in his face. “But there’s no reason for that- I’m being honest.” His voice was petulant to his own ears, but he had to try.

Any hope he had quickly died. Quineven shook his head. “This is how it’s going to happen, and it doesn’t matter what’s to be said. If you don’t let yourself be open to this, then it will only put more scrutiny on you. Rather than do that, you should focus on doing what is more important. That is, you should focus on what you might have seen, and why it is that this happened while you were there. Don’t be a fool to think that it’s entirely unrelated, Myrollan.”

It was the way the man said his name– Myro immediately looked up at his grandfather, meeting the one eyed gaze that was as intense as it was understanding. That was probably the worst part of it, the understanding. The weight of the words finally sank in. He still was troubled and uncomfortable, but… the point was made. 

It made sense he had to grudgingly admit. He didn’t have anything to hide. He would let the interested parties see into his mind, his memories, and show that he trusted them– that he was free of blame. But that didn’t mean he would remain idle while they trudged through their archaic investigation. 

It was true that there was something tying him and his… cohorts to the crime; this could be more than coincidence. This could be an intentional distraction– something to muddy the waters, complicate, waste time– distract from the real killer.

Myro wasn’t going to be pinned for a crime he didn’t commit.

Steeling his resolve quietly, he nodded once before looking back to Quineven. “What do I have to do?” He finally asked.

Quineven smiled, ever so slightly. “For now? Wait. Answer when asked and let them see what they want. You’ve nothing to hide, and if anything, you’ll be given a better chance at figuring out another piece to this puzzle yourself. From that point, though? Who knows. That’s for the future to know…”

“And the present to wonder.” Myro finished, nodding his head and looking away entirely. It made sense, but he couldn’t help but feel inadequate to the task, and worse, he didn’t even want to try. He wanted to go back to his new home, away from this tangle of crime and suspicion, away from the complication. He took a steadying breath. What he wanted was… irrelevant, because this investigation held much more weight than his desires, even if he could make them known.

As if reading his thoughts, Quineven smoothly shifted topics. “You’ve a nice home you’ve built for yourself. The island seems like a good resting place.”

Myro blinked, a very subtle heat rising to his cheeks. “It was an obvious choice. A new port bringing in plenty of ships, and no other informant.”

Quineven nodded, his voice as considering as ever despite the topic. “Yes, it is an obvious choice. The people around do not seem terrible. Such as Dylaine Sharpe. He seems to be very attached to you.”

That surprised Myro, and he let out a small breath. “He’s useful and amusing to talk to.” Myro did not wish to linger over this topic, and he lifted his jaw, mimicking Quineven himself when a conversation was done. He told himself he didn’t have more to say. Whatever else did not need spoken here. 

“Amusing enough to set up a commune enchantment?” Quineven raised his brows.

Myro shrugged dismissively. “I have to keep up to date on what’s happening on the island. You do the same.” He paused, then said, “Don’t you?” It was quieter than his other words, and he glanced sidelong to Quineven.

The older man nodded. “Of course. Although I doubt that he sees it that way. You might want to be mindful of that.”

“Oh.” Myro pursed his lips, uncertain. After a moment, he shrugged again. “It won’t cause any problems.” His assurance was broad… though perhaps meant for them both. 

He glanced away. Unfortunately, he couldn’t actually promise that it wouldn’t. Even as he turned over the implications, he realized… perhaps it was a mistake to continue to lead Dylaine on.  Yet, equally he didn’t want to shut Dylaine out– he genuinely enjoyed talking to his far-too-sincere friend.

A friend whom he was taking advantage of, most certainly. 

Quineven made a low, thoughtful sound, then spoke. “Tread carefully with that boy. He holds something unseen and powerful in him that may not be something you wish for.”

Myro’s brows came together, but not in worry. That was not a warning Quineven gave often, and his interest sparked. “What do you mean? What did you sense?”

Despite Myro’s interes, Quineven merely shook his head, slowly pushing to his feet. “I merely mean that you need to watch what you do with that boy. I will not intervene in your actions, but I offer that as my advice to you, Myrollan.”

Myro rose as Quineven did, not wanting to be disrespectful to the man he looked up to so much. “Yes, Adeir. Thank you for your time.” 

A warm hand settled on his cheek, and Myro met Quineven’s eye. There was a smile on the elders face again, wider now, more affectionate.

“Go with wisdom in your mind and strength in your body, Myrollan. Trust that we will both take care of this.” As Quineven spoke, he moved his hand and brushed his fingers across Myro’s forehead. The touch was cool, leaving a faint tingle; a simple blessing, customary but from Quineven, made special.

Myro flushed. He may have been a grown adult, but it still made him feel better to receive Quineven’s blessing, and advice. It wasn’t often he got to see him, and while these circumstances were… not the best, it was better than not seeing him at all.

His wisdom given and purpose completed, Quineven stepped away, his footsteps light and slow. He didn’t even make it to the stairs before he seemed to shift, growing more translucent with each step, before he disappeared completely. 

Myro was left alone in the space he had so recently called his own– and it felt emptier for it.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he slid back onto the bench. Perching, he cupped his jaw as he rehashed the conversation over in his mind, turning it this way and that as he tried to puzzle out the deeper wisdoms of Quineven’s precise words. After a time, his brows came together. No matter how he shifted the situation…he wasn’t sure that he could do anything other than precisely what Quineven had laid out.

He made a face. The realization was not the one he had wanted. Slowly, Myro curled himself up again, legs pressed to his chest. A pleasant quiet had returned, the emptiness of Quineven’s absence abating to something more serene. Perhaps… it would be fine to spend a bit more time here. Focus on seeing the familiar sights. 

His thoughts drifted, empty and aimless. As he shifted, though, Myro realized that while he had been thinking, one of his hands had moved to his earlobe, his thumb idly pressing against the earring there. 

Myro stilled, his fingers stiff over the metal as he considered Quineven’s words. A part of him wondered if he could just ask the young man what that Quineven might have seen. Knowing him, Dylaine probably would tell. And yet… he tapped the metal of the star, lips pulling sideways. Another part of him wondered just why Quineven felt the need to warn him; what exactly had he seen that Myro had not? What secrets was Dylaine keeping– Dylaine, of all people?

Slowly, he pulled his hand away from his ear, burying his face into his arms. His thoughts muddled and slogged just as his feet had in Quineven’s spell, and try as he might he could not make them turn. With a frown, he gripped his legs. He didn’t need to know right now. He wouldn’t bother. It wasn’t important, not with everything else happening. 

He certainly wouldn’t admit even to himself that… a part of him was starting to miss Dylaine.

Myro shook his head, the thoughts dissipating. Most certainly not. Not with a murder mucking up his plans, a murderer on the loose while the investigators wasted time with false leads. He would Instead focus on what he needed to do right now. Anything else– any complication– could come later.

Much, much later.

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