'What we'd like to know is rather straightforward,' said Arin. 'Where did those cursed flowers come from?'
'Ah…' The village head bowed his head, looking pensive. Then, he said, 'That, I do not know for certain.'
'You see, these past few years, we've always decorated our estate with these wildflowers. Elina, my late wife, had liked them quite a bit. She'd said that they were some kind of lily - and we never did get around to finding out if that was true.' The shadow of a fond smile appeared on Sir Grif's face, lingering for a few seconds before fading. 'In any case, we - well, I mostly, I suppose - find some comfort in seeing them about the place.'
'I must have only mentioned this once in passing, within earshot of my Elara. Ever since, I've come across Elina's lilies carefully placed in bowls and vases in near every room of the house.'
'I see,' said Siel, nodding empathetically. In the meantime, Arin was observing the teacup he held in his hand. After a moment's consideration, he took a small sip from it. The tea was a little sweeter than he typically liked, and unfortunately, did not seem to possess the gentle healing qualities of the white-haired tower master's strange concoctions.
To put it simply, it was no good.
His head continued throbbing painfully.
'And as for who does the duty og bringing those flowers every few days,' Sir Grif was still speaking. 'Well, I'd say the answer is everyone in my estate, and several of those on the outside. I've seen sweet Elara do so herself from time to time. The maids also often carry it out as a task part and parcel with their own around the house.'
'Even some of the younger children of Silvershade - who've seen my daughter collect them sometimes - bring over small bunches from their forays into the mountainside. Everyone loves Elara, after all,' he ended proudly.
Good to know, my guy. Sucks that that doesn't really help us narrow down the suspects.
Siel had put down his own cup. Brows wrinkling into a small frown, the boy leaned towards Sir Grif, looking him in the eye.
'Then, is there one amongst any of these individuals who might bear some ill will towards your household? Or, perhaps, towards the village itself?' he asked, voice uncharacteristically serious.
The village head looked stricken at the thought. 'No,' he said, and then, 'No!' a little more vehemently. 'There's no such terrible animosity in our village, Sir Siel. We have our fights and our troubles, but to go so far as to plant a curse strong enough to take down the whole of Silvershade…'
'Well, there is no such thing here. The way I see it, there must've been some mistake, some small accident, wherein one of the children had the misfortune of picking out a - a -'
'Hm, perhaps it was a distorted phenomenon…' Siel offered helpfully, noticing the man's distress.
…now what on earth was a distorted phenomenon!? C'mon Siel.
'Yes! Yes, that is what it must've been!' Sir Grif exclaimed, throwing a grateful look at the younger boy. 'Terrible, unfortunate, but ultimately, just a stroke of misfortune. Misfortune that has, thankfully, been verily averted by the presence of you two tower magicians!'
Arin and Siel exchanged a quick glance.
This wasn't going to work…