The Divine Hunter

them the moment they came in.
Roy frowned, pinching his nose.
“They don’t even have a guard here?”

Dennis shrugged.
“The dead would have been swiped clean of their coins before they got sent here.
Not even the poorest bandit would raid this place.
There ain’t anything but corpses here.”

“That means you have to look out for corpse eaters.
And don’t forget that the killer might try to erase the evidence.”

***

The dark corridor was illuminated by nothing but some dim torches.
Roy and Dennis went past a few rooms that were filled with cabinets that stored dead bodies, and there were even rooms where deformed corpses made by stitching together different body parts were lying on the steel table, much to Roy’s shock.

Dennis explained, “You might think there are a lot of corpses here, but that’s because someone always drops dead in Ellander.
Accidents, diseases, turf fights, assassinations… The list goes on.
More than a third of the bodies are unclaimed, and more than half of the cases are still unsolved.” He sighed.
“Six victims might seem like a lot, but if it weren’t for the fact they’d died near the castle and drew his majesty’s ire, the knights wouldn’t even have cared about it.
It’s the same in every city.
Everyone’s stretched as thin enough as is.
It’s impossible to crack every case, so we only pick the ones that the powers deem important.”

Roy agreed.
It was a medieval world where the rulers saw the lives of peasants as nothing but mere commodities.

They eventually came before a table splattered with blood.
A man in an apron and face mask had his back turned to them as he handled a corpse.

“How’s it going, Francia? Any new clues?”

The coroner kept working, ignoring Dennis.
He raised his right arm into the air, revealing a needle between his fingers that gleamed under the light.
He pulled the thread and strung it across the body.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of needle poking meat in the room.
The coroner was stitching the body together with perfect precision, as if he were dancing to a tune.
It was as if he were working on a piece of art, not a body.

A few minutes later, he finished the final stitch.
The coroner pulled his face mask off with his hand that was stained with blood and flesh, then he bit off the thread.
He sighed, plopping down on the chair.
“Dennis Cranmer.” He waved Dennis off.
“I told you to keep quiet when I’m working.
Don’t blame me if the dead come crawling to you because I failed to put their bodies back together.” His voice was hoarse but charismatic.
Anyone who heard it would end up wanting more.

But Roy’s attention was on something else.
He noticed that the coroner had a spider tattooed on his right forearm.

Dennis scoffed.
“Superstitious, as usual.
I’ll welcome the dead with open arms and a lot of wine.
That is, if they can come to me in the first place.
But enough about that.
I’m here for business.
Specifically about that serial killer.”

Francis turned around, taking off his face mask and coat languidly.
The coroner was a man in his thirties.
He had a femininely handsome face, a beautiful nose, and deep-set eyes, though the bags under them didn’t help his looks.
His lips were crimson, but his skin was pale, probably from the lack of sunlight because of his job.
His attire was clean, and he radiated a dark, noble air.

The coroner leaned against the chair sluggishly, yawning.
Then he turned his head to Roy.
“Hey, new kid.” He grinned toothily.
“Don’t look at me like that.
If you want some fun, try the House of Peacocks in Goldmine.
It’s in the northern part of the city.
The ladies there are hot.
Speaking from experience.”

Roy didn’t budge.
“We can leave the brothels for another day, Mr.
Francis.
I need you to take me to the corpses.”

Dennis introduced, “This is Roy, Letho’s — ”

“That baldy’s disciple, probably.” The coroner started giving him a dirty look.
“Your getup is weird,” he commented.
“Black and yellow armor, grey cloak, a rose on the chest, and an ugly hood.
You witchers have the same taste for fashion.
Didn’t you get the memo? You’re a few hundred years behind on the trend.” He stretched his arm and stood up.
“Right, that’s all I have to say.
Now, come with me, but be warned, boy,” he said impatiently.
“Brace yourself, or you’re going to piss your pants at what you’re about to see.” Then he went away without even looking back.

“Um, he’s weird, but he’s a nice guy.” Dennis gave him an apologetic look.

“It’s fine.” Roy observed Francis closely.
He had never seen anyone be so nonchalant when a witcher was around them.