A few dozen servants were standing in a line in the corridor outside the castle's storeroom. Most of them were young ladies. They were slim, beautiful, and their skin was soft. They were polite, and their attire was beautiful. It was a nice sight to behold. The baron can be really decadent. Roy scanned the ladies, and he thought, Can he even deal with so many ladies at his age? He tossed that thought out and shook his head. Observe told him that every single one of these servants were regular people. They did not have an ounce of mana or special skills. The best of them only had stats on par with a regular adult.
They were shivering in fear every time the witchers looked at them. Not even a whisper was heard. It doesn't look like the servants did anything. Someone else might have hurt Aryan and taken his valuables. Or… that's what the culprit wants us to think! Roy looked at the servants once more. "I assume Sylvia told you everything. Work with us and answer our questions. It won't take too long."
Sylvia was leading them. She said solemnly, "Sir Aryan's life is at stake here. Please work with the witchers. You know what happens to anyone who lies or hides the truth." Sylvia made sure everyone heard that, and she had a steely resolve in her eyes. "You first, Adele."
"Yes, Sylvia." A cute, thin girl came forward and followed the witchers into the storeroom. The witchers locked the door, and the servants shivered. A heavier silence fell on the corridor. Not a soul stirred.
"Were you assigned a guest that night, Adele?" The witchers crossed their arms, standing side by side. They stared intently at the young lady who had her back against the corner of the wall.
The girl gulped, looking like a scared little deer. "I-I was assigned to Elvis that night, witchers."
"Elvis. The baron's main seller for his spices." Roy whipped the guest list out again and looked closely. "You stayed with Elvis all the way through?"
Adele frowned, trying to remember that night. "The lord specifically told us to never leave our assigned guests, witcher. I-I didn't slack off!"
"Good." The witchers exchanged smiles. "Do you remember what Elvis did between eight fifty to nine twenty? Did he leave the hall?"
Adele looked perplexed. Apparently she had no idea of the exact timeframe they were talking about. Roy said, "Alright, simply speaking, that's the time after the performance has ended and before Aryan was found."
Adele patted her chest and heaved a sigh of relief. "Witchers, I promise Elvis had never stepped out of the hall. He remained in it the whole banquet."
"Think closely, girl," Letho said. "We need the truth. Are you sure he didn't sneak out when you weren't looking? He could have been gone for five minutes or even less."
Adele stared at the bald, deadpan witcher dumbly. "Trust me, witchers. One of the Vivaldi Bank's managers was there. His name is Austen. He was talking business with Elvis for the whole banquet. Adeline can prove that. She was assigned to Austen."
"I see." The witchers exchanged looks and asked a few more questions. Adele thought it was confusing and irrelevant, though. "That's all we needed to ask, girl. Call Adeline in."
***
The witchers' interrogation went on smoothly. They had gone through eighteen servants in an hour, and all of them said the same thing. The guests they were assigned to never left the hall. Half an hour was just enough for them to get a few glasses of wine. Besides, all the guests that night came from upper society. They had a lot of mutual interests. Women, business, political games, and things that were happening near Amell. They had a lot of fun just chatting with one another. None of them had time to leave. The servants could prove that their colleagues were telling the truth, so the witchers had no reason to doubt.
Some of them were being too nervous, so the witchers would just cast Axii on them to get the answers they wanted. Nobody knew what was happening inside anyway. The door was locked. In the end, the witchers found out that it was just the servants being really jittery. They failed to provide any valuable clues for the witchers.
Until the nineteenth servant came in.
"Beattie. That's my name, witchers." A plump woman with long brown hair and some freckles beside her nose came in. She was about thirty years old and a lot more mature than the other girls.
"Who's the guest you were assigned to?"
"Setlov." Beattie looked at the witchers and answered carefully, "A guest from Vizima."
A smile curled Roy's lips. He raised his voice, "Well, that's an important guest alright."
Beattie agreed. "The lord wanted to spend some time with Setlov himself, but Setlov dislikes too much attention and formalities, so the lord assigned me to him." Beattie looked a little smug and muttered to herself, "Perhaps the baron thought I was the smartest of them all, so he assigned me to him."
"So you stayed with Setlov all the way through the banquet then?"
The servant pulled her hair and answered, "I remember him watching the troupe's performance for a while. Even had a few glasses of wine too."
"Did he talk to anyone?" Roy asked.
Beattie had a surprised look on her face. "Now that you mention it, he only did talk to the lord for a while. Probably doesn't know the other guests very well. He is from Vizima after all."
Roy thought this was a clue. He asked, "Did he stay in the hall after the performance ended?"
"No. He had a little too much wine. It's starting to make him tipsy and stuffy," she said. "He told me he wanted to get some fresh air."
The witchers heaved a sigh of relief. Finally, a different answer. "So where did he go? Did you follow him?"
"There's an open air garden about two minutes away from the banquet hall. The servants' room is further than that. Setlov must have gone to that garden." Beattie smiled dryly. "The lord told me to serve him well and never go against his orders. He wanted to be alone, so I didn't follow him. I stayed back in the hall."
Roy fell silent for a while, and an idea struck him. A dangerous idea. "Do you remember how long he was gone for?"
"About fifteen minutes?" The servant was not sure. "I'm sorry, witchers. All I remember was that Sir Aryan was found unconscious not long after Set—" Beattie came to an abrupt halt. She covered her mouth, and her eyes widened in horror. A while later, she asked, "Witchers, are you saying—"
An inverted triangle appeared in her beautiful blue eyes, and she tensed up like a puppet on strings. The witchers then whispered to her. It felt like an instant, but also an eternity at the same time. When she snapped out of it, she forgot almost everything she said. "Sorry, witchers. I spaced out for a moment. Where was I?"
"The baron assigned you to Setlov. You're an older servant, but you're smart and considerate." Roy grinned toothily. "We're done here, Beattie. You may leave now, but tell the next servant to come in five minutes later."
"Okay." Beattie was a little surprised. I haven't even said that much, and they're already done? Still, that was the witchers' orders, so she obliged.
"Remember. We need some time to sort our clues out. Send the next servant in five minutes."
"Of course, witcher." The door creaked shut.
***
"This is too weird to be a coincidence. Aryan fell after Setlov left?" Letho looked at Roy. "But you know who he is, don't you? You sounded really weird when Sylvia gave you the list. And you were acting really weird just now."
"You still don't get it? You really need to train your mind more instead of your body, Letho." Letho shot him a warning look, and Roy smiled sheepishly. "Oh, you know this guy too. Auckes, Serrit, and I met him once. Read the name in reverse and you'll see."
"Voltes?"
"Read it a few more times."
"Voltes… Voltes… Fol—" Letho froze up and stared down in silence.
"I see you figured out who the guy is." Roy spaced out at the wall and said grimly, "The servants' room is only a stone's throw away from the garden, and the garden is the best place to practice Gwent tricks. It's possible the culprit moved Aryan from the garden to the servants' room. There were no patrols there, so voilà. We found our prime suspect. But the problem is, we have no proof, nor do we know what his motives are. More importantly, we both know how sensitive his identity is. We need to be really careful. Can't tell anyone about this."
"Then we'll have to check the garden out after this." Letho leaned back against the chair and sighed. He had no idea what to feel. This was a hassle, and he couldn't solve it with violence alone. "We should see the victim now."
***
***
