Thump, thump, thump….

As soon as he heard the news, Chris had no choice but to abandon the couple, who fought for their lives until the bitter-end. He rushed to Archeko’s town hall, where the murderer was kept. He scrambled, rushing out the door without care. 

Perhaps this murderer blew that trumpet; perhaps this was God giving him a chance to fix his mistake. His chest felt heavy as it tightened. His breathing was laboured. Sweat formed from his forehead, dropping  from the side of his face.

He could at least avenge the couple that just died. He laughed as he ran, looking like a madman. A priest, looking for revenge? How ironic. 

Soon, he halted as he arrived at his destination: The Townhall. That was where he saw a young girl, same age or younger than Matthias, sitting on one of the benches available. He recognised her because this was one of the children who attended the classes he offered.

Leila met his gaze, eyes shining brighter, as if seeing a ray of hope. She immediately stood up and rushed towards him. “Teacher!” 

“I-I…Matthias, he's in the dungeon, Sir! I kept telling the guards it wasn't him who had done that! We found Harry in an alleyway, dead!” She yelled. She grasped his sleeves tightly, desperate. 

Chris’ eyes hardened. He knew damn well it could not be him. Is the murderer they were referring to, Matthias? 

“Please, you have to help him!” Leila’s voice snapped him out of his trance. 

“Leila?” A voice grabbed Leila's attention. She looked behind her, eyes widened as she realised who it was. 

“Henry!” She said with a delighted smile. She rushed to the man. Henry greeted the young woman with a kind smile—not the same could be said for how he greeted Chris. 

No, Henry looked at him with disdain. He ignored Chris. Like an insect. 

Henry smiled. “Aren't you supposed to be home now? Nana might be looking for you,”

“But Matthias is here—I can't leave him here!” She insisted,  dewy  eyes staring deeply at Henry’s soul. 

Chris felt like he had to step in, looking at the young woman. “Here, I'll walk you home. Don't worry about Matthias for now. Me and Henry will handle it.”

“But…”

“He's correct for once,” spat Henry bitterly. Dismay and anger was not hidden, and clear hostility sparked within the air.

“Come on now, Leila. I'll bring you home.”

Henry's not-so calloused hand waved back with a kind smile, his teeth gritted and he kept his act well until both disappeared from his sight. 

June soon appeared, like a shadow, behind Henry, “Master.” 

“No need to follow them. They don't need an eye. I've heard that a body was…”

“Yes, a couple was burned alive. They did not survive.”

Henry's eyes shone with something akin to happiness and delight, his smile stretched across his cheeks, “Collect those bodies. Make haste.” 

“As you wish, my lord.” June disappeared, just how he entered. Without a trace.

Henry soon heard the chiming of bells. A signal for a lot of people to go inside their houses and hide. In Archeko, murderers prevailed—even those with money were not spared. His eyebrows raised as he heard the creaking of the two big arched doors. Two guards are pulling on it to close it, not paying Henry any special attention. 

Perhaps the attendant—a tall, lanky old man—noticed him and immediately ambled towards him. His footsteps echoed through the building, sounds bouncing off from the walls, accompanied with the painful screeching of the grand arched doors—it  closed with  a bang. The sound vibrated and permeated into Henry’s skull.

“Young lord Henry,” The attendant’s voice was frail and shaky as he bowed in front of the younger man.

Henry’s eyes quickly scanned the name tag. Harold. Perfect name, fitting for someone about to drop dead. 

“Harold, I heard some interesting news—”

“Shall we take this to the attendant’s consultation room?”

Henry looked around. Prying eyes. Filled with hatred, envy, jealousy and admiration. He could not help but let out a lazy smile, understanding why.  “It’s not my fault that you people are born poor—if you so hate me, why don’t you become richer than me and show me how it’s done?” His voice was laced with slyness and boredom—higher than usual, as if trying to rile up these jealous peasants even further. 

“Stop staring at me or else I’ll pluck all your eyes out. You know me.” His voice turned sharp, booming within the enclosed space. His eyes were cold and ruthless, a sadistic glint never leaving his features. 

He turned his attention back to the attendant, “Lead the way. Talking in this area would just make my clothes dirty.”

The attendant did not reply, but ambled. Slowly, painfully, which made Henry click his tongue. “I guess age could never lie, it is catching up on you. How about you try and find someone to replace you soon?”

“Young Master,” Harold's voice was cold. He stopped walking. He turned his head towards him. “It would be really a great idea if you could keep your opinions to yourself, or even I would not know what I could do to you.”

For the first time in his life, Henry felt something—fear? No.

A challenge. 

He smirked. “Alright, alright, old man. Can’t take a joke, I suppose.”

The old man laughed, “It does come with age, young master Henry.” 

The attendant opened the door, and soon Henry disappeared with him inside, leaving the guards stationed within the hall. Most have their own sleeping bags—foods, it looked like a mini town.

The Townhall is where most of Archeko’s guard forces live, eat and sleep. It was just like the bazaar: rowdy, noisy and full of laughter despite the continuous issues of murder, death and the mysterious disappearance of people. 

The question is—will these murders be ever solved or will it continue to plague Archeko’s past, present and future—like a chain that continues to grip and tug on one’s skin, begging to never be forgotten?