As expected, it was a month later, during Christmas, when the promised help from the bishop finally arrived. Despite there being no victim this time, there was little to no festivity among the people of Harren. Everybody was tense and had no mind for any merriment. But the moment the bishop’s investigators arrived, some relief took hold, but as the people left their homes to look at the newcomers, the relief evaporated like fog in the sun.

  All in all, it was an almost laughable small group of six men. Five of them looked about Alistair’s age, with the sixth appearing more like a chaperone than a leader. While no one had held any special expectations, this seemed like an ill fitted joke. Just six men, and the majority so youthful that they couldn’t hold much experience. Still, the way they rode into the village, especially the blond man at the helm, made it clear they were serious business.

  Silent and with stern looks, they directed their horses into the village square, where the mayor waited with the two priests. Alistair had thought about joining them to meet those knights head on, but ultimately had decided against it. Something he didn’t regret at all, as their leader looked quite intimidating despite his youth and strange beauty. Still, he and Aila had chosen a close enough spot with a few other villagers to watch what was going on.

  The riders stopped their horses some distance away and dismounted without haste. They wore only little armor, and above their tunics they wore white scapulars with a crimson hand and a cross printed across. Their weapons were on clear display and left no doubt that they at least knew how to fight. As they approached the mayor and the priests, the oldest member of the group kept to the back with the watchful gaze of an instructor.

  “Welcome to Harren, highborn knights of the Crimson Hand”, the mayor greeted them and bowed to them with the priests.

  “You don’t need to bow, good man”, the blond said calm and collected. “Neither of us is highborn.”

  “Then what farce is this?”, asked Father Hamish angry. “Hasn’t the bishop understood the danger this place is in?”

  “One doesn’t need to be highborn, Father, in order to become a member of the Crimson Hand”, the leader of the group explained without raising his voice. “All that is needed is the unwavering will to defend humanity from the forces of the Devil or any other otherworldly power.”

  As he said this, there was clear distaste in his eyes for Father Hamish and his brother, who held him back at the shoulder. He then looked around those present, sizing them up one by one with a gaze as cold as ice. The only people he seemingly lingered for longer than a second were Aila and Alistair. Instinctively, she reached for Alistair’s hand and pulled herself close. The leader then looked back at the mayor with a calculating expression.

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  “My name is Rosomil, and I’ll be handling this investigation”, he explained matter-of-fact. “All inquiries will go through me or my vice captain, Lodwin.”

  As he said this, he pointed at the tall red haired man right next to him, who seemed slightly amused by the situation.

  “We would rather not offend you, Sire”, the mayor said, after silently pleading with the brothers to back down. “It’s just that the tensions are hight here in Harren. People keep looking over their shoulders.”

  “Rest assured that whatever evil has befallen this hamlet, we will take care of it. Be it human or inhuman”, Rosomil explained. “The first measure will be a thorough questioning of those who have found the bodies. My companions and I expect to hear about every little detail and nothing but the truth.”

  Aila tightened the grip around Alistair’s hand. He reassured her by squeezing hers back. He didn’t intend to tell this man about her true nature. Likewise, he wasn’t even sure if his webbed feet weren’t grounds enough to have suspicions fall on him.

  “Is there a suitable place for us to stay during this investigation?”, the leader of the group asked. “An inn or an abandoned house?”

  “This village has just one inn, which I run”, the mayor explained. “You can stay there while I provide everything for you and your companions free of charge.”

  “That much isn’t necessary, as we’ll pay for the roof and the food you’ll provide us”, the blond replied dry. “It is one of the Orders tenants to not let hospitality remain unrewarded.”

  “Then allow me to see you to your lodgings”, he said formally, and headed towards the inn, which also doubled as home for his family.

  The knights followed while some of the servants were tending to their horses and bringing them to the stable right next to the inn. Alistair watched them weary as they went past him and Aila, his eyes drawn to the crimson hand, which was prominently displayed not just on their scapulars but also on the few banners they had brought along.

  “They’re dangerous”, Aila whispered to him once they were out of earshot. “Especially their leader. He seems… He seems to already know what I am.”

  “I don’t think so”, Alistair tried to reassure her. “How should he? He’s just human.”

  “But the way he looked at… I don’t know. He doesn’t look human to me.”

  “He works for the bishop. I don’t think the clergy would suffer any nonhumans to serve them.”

  “I… No, you’re right. I’m just so nervous all the time.”

  “Everything’ll be alright soon”, he reassured her and held her close.

  They remained standing for some time with the other curious villagers. But as soon as it became apparent that nothing of further interest would happen, the people dispersed and headed back to their homes or workstations.

  As they left, they came across Father Hamish, who seemed just as fidgety as usual. Yet, there was something tense about him, that made Alistair pull Aila slightly behind himself as they went past him. It didn’t help that he watched them like a hawk.