We reach the altar in no time. Julian stands on the steps, speaking with General Hadrian. His uncle is a fair man, honest and hardworking. He’s a little shorter than Julian with curly brown hair and a well-trimmed beard. Hadrian is thirty years my senior and a brilliant military strategist. He won key battles as a young general just before the Senate ended the Hundred Year War.
“General, Commander,” I say. “Where is the senator?”
Julian points. “Here. Well…what’s left of him.”
He steps to the side and there, on the sculpted white altar, is the headless body of a man.
River of Death. I now understand why the sentries said he “may have” been found.
The victim is naked and splayed out, robbing him of any dignity in death. He is the correct height and build, but it’s impossible to confirm that it is, in fact, Senator Verhardt with the head missing. The torso is cut open, and all of his organs are gone, leaving nothing but an empty, bloody cavity.
He must’ve been butchered here on the altar. That’s the only explanation for the lack of a trail with this much blood. But it would’ve been incredibly bold to eviscerate the Senate Leader in the Forum during the Revelry.
“That could be anyone,” I finally say.
I don’t mean it. I’m just hoping against hope that it’s someone else.
General Hadrian gestures with his hand out, giving me permission to investigate. While I only report to the Senate Council, as General of the Legions of Pryor, Hadrian has seniority over just about everyone, and my position is technically still in the legions.
IfI keep my position.
Cold dread claws at me, but I move closer, inspecting the scene. I focus, my senses sharpening until there’s just the body and me. Not the republic, not the ramifications. Just the evidence.
There’s no off odor to him, just the copper scent of blood. No discoloration or obvious signs of poisoning on his skin, although his face would tell me more. The cut at the neck is remarkably smooth and clean—meaning his head was taken off in one professional motion with an axe or sword.
The corpse is still slightly warm to the touch. With his chest open like this, that means he was murdered recently—within the last hour, two at maximum.
I catch the gleam of a stone on the man’s right hand. I turn his wrist and slowly close my eyes. It’s the emerald ring of Pryor, once the king’s and now worn by Verhardt on his little finger. The diamond ring of the republic is missing, but there’s no doubt that this is Verhardt.
A thousand curses. Someone butchered the Senate Leader on the fucking altar of peace. It’s a loud message, but to and from whom?
I stand and inspect the base of the altar, praying for a clue, a lead. There’s nothing. No bloody hand- or footprints. No blood splatter aside from the cascade by the neck. And no weapon.
“Send men to Verhardt’s villa,” I command.
“Already done,” Julian says. “He is not at home. Lady Verhardt was the one who reported him missing when she awoke, but nothing was awry at their residence—no sign of struggle or break-in. Initial indications are that he left willingly or he was unconscious at the time.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Why wasn’t I notified?”
“Because he was immediately found…we think.”
I nod. Without the head, we can’t fully confirm the identity, but there’s enough evidence to say it is the Senate Leader.
I finish my preliminary inspection and stand by the general and Jules. The weight of the murder sits heavily among us, but I try to focus on what needs to be done. I will have to solve this case and deliver the killer to even stand a chance at keeping my position. And I will have to explain how this happened under my watch.
First things first. We need to set up a perimeter and search for witnesses, interview Lady Verhardt and their entire household, and inspect their residence. Something may have been missed by the sentries. The smallest clue can be the largest lead, and I don’t trust anyone else to conduct an investigation of this magnitude.
As I consider the fallout, Julian wears his normal pleasant expression, but General Hadrian is off. There are creases in his brow, and they aren’t from the state of the body. The murder is unpleasant, but he’s seen and done far worse.
We both have.
“What’s troubling you, General?” I ask.
The general strokes his beard. “Other than the murder of the Senate Leader?”
I nod, because I know him well enough to be certain there is more.
He gives me a small smile, but then it fades quickly in the mire of this situation. “Last night, the Kingdom of Arthago incurred into our land, taking more of the sixth province. The Council will now decide if we acquiesce or go to war.”
