324Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡImFD1OUffj
“We knew that this was coming.”
Sitting outside on the steps of the church after the service had been held, dressed in a suit and tie for the most somber of occasions, Alaric sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, we did. But that doesn’t make it any better, does it? Kennina was like a sister to me, and I know that she was to you too not that you’d ever admit it; we’ve been friends since our first year in the academy, we were always there to pick each other up when we fell, to watch each other’s backs when we needed it, and now…!” He gritted his teeth, hands clenching into fists. “All because of them!”
“Alaric, you’re not the only one who is angry about all of this. Believe me. Especially given that that bastard actually had the balls to get up in front of everyone and talk about her like he cared; like he didn’t order her death. But we don’t have the time to sit pretty seeing red.” Etain told him, getting to her feet and pulling the bottom of her dress back down where it had started to ruck up. “I don’t know about you, but I want to get the hell out of this damn dress! Not to mention that she left us with a job to do.”
“You’re right, we should get down to things. The sooner we can make them pay for what they’ve done the better.”
“Meet at your apartment once we’ve changed out of these monkey suits?”
“I’ll see you then.”
Leaving Etain standing on the stairs of the church, Alaric headed out into the lot and got into his car to drive home. He changed quickly into a t-shirt and sweatpants under the watchful eyes of the kitten who sat perched atop the package that had been sent to him from London, and let her in quickly when Etain showed up at his door.
“So, we’re opening the book aren’t we?”
“Not yet, no; she sent me a few other things from London about two months ago. Historical documents that were in the custody of some of the other documents that were in the custody of some of the other Hunters who also died on the same mission.” Dropping the box onto the kitchen table, he ripped off the packing tape and pulled the flaps open. “They said that they were letters, or diary entries or something. That one was even written by the Ash Hand himself.”
“Well, it’s a good thing that you’re such a Latin-nerd because those aren’t in English.” Etain told him, picking up one of the ancient letters; handling the thin yellow paper carefully in her hands. “Though, I suppose, no one said that this would be easy.”
“Read off a few lines,” Alaric instructed as he searched through the duffle bag for the notebook that Kennina had given them.
“Mă tem pedeapsă pentru moartea Trist-Inimă.” Squinting at the writing, Etain turned the letter upside down to observe it from another angle. “At least, I think that’s what it says.”
“This ‘not being easy’ is an understatement.” He grumbled, foregoing the search for the notebook to look at the letter himself. “That isn’t Latin. It’s something else, though what that could be I’ve no idea.”
“And it looks like whoever sent this forgot to include any translations,” she noted, sifting through the remaining contents. “Now what?”
“It seems like it’s a European language, rather than an Asian one; the best move would probably be for us to find an expert on European languages who isn’t connected in any way to the Guild and try to have it identified.”
“And translate it ourselves from there?” he nodded. “Well, if this isn’t DIY hell. I’ll go and get the computer.”
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