Chapter 82
"King Henry greatly admires the Byzantine City, sir.
He often tells us about the beauty of this city, about the wisdom of its rulers, about the courage of its soldiers.
And when he heard that we would be traveling eastward, he advised us not to miss the opportunity to stop here, to experience firsthand the grandeur that he had only heard about from merchants and pilgrims who journey back and forth."
Ashita took over gracefully, her smile unchanged, her tone unchanged, but her eyes now briefly shifted toward Nirma before returning to Ioannis Taronites.
"However, sir, when we arrived in this city, when we had just passed through the gates and begun to feel the true pulse of life in Constantinople, heartbreaking news spread among us.
News of a murder, sir.
A tragic murder that befell a soldier of the crusader army, a man named Étienne d'Arques."
She let out a soft sigh, her slender hand moving to her chest in a gesture of sorrow that was practiced, too practiced to be genuine yet convincing enough for those who did not know her well.
"We did not know the deceased personally, sir, but as fellow followers of the cross, as fellow warriors who will depart for the Holy Land to liberate Jerusalem from the rule of the infidels, we mourn with you.
And we hope, from the deepest depths of our hearts, that the investigators appointed by Emperor Alexios will soon find the culprit and deliver a fitting punishment."
Nirma's left eye narrowed, shrinking until it was almost a thin line above her cheek, pale beneath the light of the oil lamps.
Behind the white bandage covering her right eye, the muscles of her face tightened, sending a signal that could only be read by those who truly knew her.
That she was restraining herself.
That she was counting to ten before doing something she might later regret.
Arya beside her moved with a speed invisible to ordinary eyes.
His left hand lowered to his lap, and within seconds a small knife had moved from the folds of his robe into the space between his fingers.
It was hidden from the sight of Ioannis Taronites, who continued to smile diplomatically behind the desk, yet it was clear enough for Nirma to see that he was ready to throw it at any moment, ready to end the game if Ashita's words went too far, ready to protect his partner by any means necessary.
But Ashita, as if sensing the tension thickening in that corner of the room, simply smiled wider.
Not a victorious smile.
Not a mocking smile.
But a smile that suggested she knew exactly what was happening, that she could feel the knife in Arya's hand even though her eyes never once left the face of Ioannis Taronites.
She continued speaking in the same tone, the same practiced sorrow, the same artificial sympathy.
Yet behind that tone, Nirma could hear something else, something only ears accustomed to lies could detect.
"I cannot imagine, Master Ioannis, how deep the grief must be for the family of the deceased, how great the loss must be for his comrades in the crusader army.
The act committed by this murderer is truly barbaric, sir.
It is hardly different from that of beasts, of savage creatures who know nothing of humanity.
I can only pray, pray to the Almighty God, that the investigators assigned to this case will soon find his trail and bring him before justice."
She paused for a moment.
Her beautiful eyes, marked by a thin scar at the corner, shifted away from Ioannis Taronites and turned toward Nirma.
Her gaze pierced, searching for something behind Nirma's sharply narrowed left eye.
And when she spoke again, her tone changed.
It became lower, more personal, more like a challenge than a simple question.
"Nirma, I am curious. How far has your investigation progressed at this point?
Surely with the direct mandate of Emperor Alexios, you have already moved swiftly, already gathered evidence, already interrogated witnesses.
I simply wish to know, as a foreign guest who has just arrived in this city and who also mourns the death of a crusader soldier, whether you have found any clarity. Or are there still riddles yet to be solved?"
Nirma did not answer.
Her eyes shifted toward Arya, a quick signal that required only a fraction of a second to be sent and received.
Arya caught it perfectly, as always, just as he had done through thousands of difficult moments they had faced together.
His left hand still held the knife.
But his right hand now moved, reaching for the wax tablet that had been tucked inside the folds of his robe.
He opened it with a calm and controlled motion.
His eyes traced the scratches carved into the wax surface, rereading the notes they had written throughout the day that had barely reached its halfway point.
And when he finally spoke, his voice was flat, emotionless, like a secretary reporting facts to his superior.
"Based on the investigation we have conducted, Lady Ashita, we have currently identified four individuals closely connected to the murder of Étienne d'Arques."
Arya paused briefly.
His eyes remained on the wax tablet, but his ears caught every sound in the room, every change in breathing, every small movement that might signal danger.
"The four of them have already been interrogated, and each has provided statements that complement one another yet also contradict each other at certain points.
If this audience with Master Ioannis Taronites truly concludes soon, we will only need to interrogate one more individual before we can finally draw a conclusion.
After that, with the assistance of the Prefect's soldiers who faithfully escort us, an arrest will be carried out immediately, and the perpetrator will be brought before the law to answer for his crime."
He slowly closed the wax tablet.
The sound of wood meeting wood created a small noise in the quiet room.
He placed it neatly beside his left palm, a position that allowed him to retrieve it again at any moment while also ensuring it would not hinder his movement should he suddenly need to draw a knife or sword.
Ashita's fingers moved slowly, touching her chest four times in a gesture that might have originated from the ritual of some distant land.
It was a motion that appeared solemn yet not deep enough to be considered a true prayer.
"I am very pleased to hear that, Nirma, Arya."
Her voice was soft, filled with manufactured admiration.
Yet her eyes remained sharp, alert, calculating every possibility that could unfold in this room.
"Truly remarkable.
In only a few hours, you who have been entrusted by Emperor Alexios with handling this case have already managed to identify four potential suspects.
That is a speed worthy of praise.
Even in our distant land across the sea, perhaps even the finest investigators would struggle to match such performance."
She exhaled slowly.
Her hands returned to her lap.
Her posture remained graceful and composed, like a statue of a goddess speaking from an altar.
"However, Nirma, Arya, allow me to offer something."
Her tone changed again.
It became lower, more secretive, as though she were sharing information not meant for other ears.
"Tegar and I have indeed only arrived in this city a few days ago.
We do indeed come from the island of Nesia ton Breton, a land so distant that it may not even appear on any map in the libraries of Constantinople.
But our intentions are sincere, Nirma.
Our determination to capture the heartless killer who took the life of Étienne d'Arques is no trivial matter."
She paused for a moment.
Her eyes stared directly at Nirma, trying to read what was hidden behind that narrowed left eye.
To be continued…