'Where are they?' he asked a volunteer who was passing by.
The woman stopped in place. 'Those officials...' she said uncertainly, somewhat taken aback by the look on Arin's face.
'Did they say why they took them?'
He had a feeling those officials hadn't collected the bodies out of the kindness of their hearts. It was unlikely that they'd be taking it upon themselves to arrange respectful funerals for the lot.
'They - they did say something a-about harmful residual magic,' the volunteer stuttered. 'That it would not be wise for us to remain exposed to it. Th-that it would be better if they handled the... disposal.'
She shrunk back, as though worried she'd be blamed for it.
Arin immediately forced his face to relax, and thanked her.
He then turned and looked around searchingly for -
'Sir Veylor!'
The haggard-looking man had spent much of the morning running around to offer his assistance. At a certain point, however, he had finally sank down by the beds of his father and sister, only looking upon their faces in anticipation of them awakening.
It seemed that the man had gotten up again sometime ago, and was now walking his way from where his friend, sir Arro, was also still asleep.
'Sir Rin?' The man hurried over to him. 'What is the matter?'
'I was just wondering if you knew what has become of the village head?' Arin asked.
'Ah.' The man nodded. 'An official had carried him away earlier. It seems the damned man had more of an involvement with this curse business than we might've guessed.'
'I see...' Arin sighed. 'Thank you, sir Veylor.'
The man offered him a tired smile, before leaving to, no doubt, accompany his family once again.
Arin stood there, kneading his forehead.
Even before his encounter with those officials, he'd already known that all matters relating to the distortion would be covered up. That, precisely, was why he'd been so confident of not having to worry about the fame Siel had predicted.
It made sense, of course. For something the Empire regulated so strictly, it wasn't a stretch to believe there might be any number of cases that had already been covered up.
Those six recorded distortions that the younger tower magician had mentioned, were probably just the ones that had grown too big, killed too many people, and spiraled too out of control, for them to have done anything about.
Had Arin not successfully carried Elara away in time, this too might've ended up that way; with the residents of not just Silvershade, but also Willowshade and all other surrounding villages and hamlets keeling over dead with no notice.
In that case, despite the relative remoteness of the region, perhaps they'd have been forced to record a seventh mass-casualty distortion incident.
But since things were relatively under control, the officials had started cleaning things up and leaving no evidence behind.
He knew then, for certain, that madam Seren must've also been taken away.
Lana's body, from where she'd been unceremoniously buried, along with the bodies of whoever else had been the earliest victims, must also already be gone. Even if they ever received any form of justice, it wouldn't be for whatever had really happened to them.
Most likely, though, no one would ever know the whole truth of the matter. After all, it made no sense for the officials to overcomplicate things and dig up that which had already been buried.
Even Elara's body was probably not on the outskirts of the village, where Tarra had left it.
None of them would ever be seen again.
The people would be fed stories about some sinister plot to curse the villagers, cooked up entirely by a headman who had lost his mind after his wife's death, and concealed by selfish old nanny who had raised him.
They'd be told of the tower magicians who had answered an assignment and destroyed the cursed artefact, or tool, or whatever it had been - that had become attached to the depressed, dying young lady.
They'd be told of the measures taken thereafter to erase all remaining traces of the harmful curse. They'd learn of why it had been necessary for the officials to remove everything that might've carried any trace of it.
And the people, hurt and exhausted, would sigh in relief that things had finally been taken care of. They'd mourn their dead, and try to pick up the pieces and move on, and never even consider something like a distortion again.
Because that would be too unrealistic. Too frightening.
And so, everything would simply... disappear.
...
Just in case, Arin decided to confirm for himself. After dropping off the trays he'd been carrying the whole time, he left for the building where the old maid had been detained.
The couple who had been keeping watch over her were sitting on log stools, sipping small cups of tea just outside the house.
'The magistrate himself relieved us of our duties,' shrugged the wife when he asked.
And when he directed Rin's familiar to lead him to where she'd left the young lady's body, sure enough, the spot was entirely empty.
The small, silvery-white mouse chittered at him, repeatedly tapping its pink nose on the ground underneath a willow tree.
'I know, girl. It's ok. I knew she'd be gone. Thanks anyway.'
The mouse blinked up at him, before turning into a dusty moth and fluttering to hide up his sleeve once again.
And Arin stood there for a few more minutes, silent in the shade of the countless willow trees.