Days passed. As the body of Bertus Bockenbower lay cooled on a slab in the safety of the Ossuary, life went on inside the Jewel of the Desert. The incident received little more than a footnote in the local news. It was still infinitely more than the public notice Wintrop Figgenbottom had received, and equally jarring in the manner of itself. Brass Blade investigation had turned up no wrong-doing or suspicious parameters of the trader's demise and if not for a random passing chance in the lane, that's all anyone would have thought of it. Warren Castille wasn't so sure given the parties involved, but there was a dilemma with that. Of the three known names tangled together by circumstance, two of them were dead men and the third had turned into a ghost.
The public service for Withrop Figgenbottom was a formality before his body was cremated. The man had lost everything in his life due to folly trade practices, if you believed what the public line was, and Ul'dah had long been in practice of immolating the remains of those who did not have the coin for proper burial or safekeeping. Besides a few of Thal's children keeping watchful eye, hushed prayers to the Lord of the Dead whispered to and amongst themselves, only Warren had gone to watch the deceased's time on the material plane come to an end.
"Gone is this lamb's body, but the spirit shall live on." Quiet prayers on unlistening ears.
More days passed. Warren's time was spent on patrol as it ever was, but his attention was divided. The features of the elezen woman named Valeria Verene were etched in his mind but he had only seen them once, in passing. Already the woman's identity was slipping from his memory; What were the colors of her eyes? How long, precisely, was her hair? Did he think he could pick her out of a crowd still, even if she did turn up in Ul'dah again? That was the most vexing part of all of it, and he had labored over the task of it. How could one woman with nothing vanish from the city without anyone knowing she had gone?
The services of Bertus Bockenbower were, compared to Figgenbottom's, far more expansive and attended. Friends spoke about his efforts at building his business from the ground up. Colleagues spoke kind words about his service to his country. Every word was a blessing, and every blessing dripping with sincerity. For a few fleeting bells, Bertus Bockenbower's corpse was spoken more highly of than his person ever had been.
Unlike the bonfire that awaited Figgenbottom, Bertus' remains were taken back into the Ossuary for proper keeping. Whatever the state of his fortunes, they were commensurate with what was required to be properly blessed and tended to for the rest of Ul'dah's days. Vanity of the highest order, but anything less tempted the wrath of the Death Traders. The political positioning of Ul'dah did not end when your life did.
Warren kept an eye out during these services. The former squeeze of the first dead man hadn't bothered to visit him in his last days. It was a long shot she would bother showing up to witness the end of her current dead beau either. Still, it was the only lead he had. His presence was noticed in enough bars that if anyone had been sympathetic to the elezen's situation she would have surely been tipped off. The thought dawned on him that perhaps he was the reason she hadn't bothered to show, but the bruise on her face pushed that thought aside with similar force that caused it to exist in the first place.
As ceremony ended and the crowds began to leave and the first of many who would never think of Bertus Bockenbower again had departed from the Ossuary, Warren prepared his final gambit in his investigation. The paladin, adorned not in his typical armor but merely as a citizen, approached the altar in the center of the Ossuary and knelt in prayer. One of the attending clergymen presided over the body of the deceased trader, covered from head to toe in traditional shroud.
"Come, brother. Did you know the deceased?" The gentle, friendly voice of the lalafellan follower came from beneath a hood raised over head.
"Only of him. We never met face to face, and now he is gone while I still have much left to ask." Warren kept his head bowed in reverence, and was careful to tell no lies.
"Not all questions would go unanswered. In Thal's realm and under his gaze all is possible. With, proper supplication, of course."
The crowd behind him was thinning out. The Ossuary doors would close following service and the corpse would be left with his eternal keepers. Still, the lalafell's tone was clear and after a moment the telltale sound of a purse heavy with coin clinked softly against stone.
"May your questions be answered swiftly, paladin." The lalafell rose from his position and took an incense burner with him, setting away to begin the proper admittance rites.
Warren wasted no time. Around him the quiet shuffling of the devout moved around him, oblivious or uncaring to his deed. Without trepidation he removed the shroud and uncovered the face of the dead man. His face was not the peaceful calm of someone who departed in their sleep, and the coloration of his skin did not depict someone who had passed easily. An unnatural green had seeped into the tone and his face was contorted into a face of pain. As the wrappings were undone, Warren noticed why they were bundled so tightly; The man's limbs jerked to an uneasy position, one hand clenching closed again and the other arm crossing over his chest. Warren wasn't an alchemist but even he could see the man was poisoned to death somehow, and not just on an overdose of somnus.
Having lost track of time, Warren was surprised when the lalafell returned. He couldn't see the clergyman's eyes but the direction of the hood went from the highlander, then to the corpse and finally back to the highlander.
"Thal's going to be pretty cross with me about this, isn't he...?" Warren's gaze turned upwards to the symbol of the Trader above the altar. He pondered what sort of terrible fate he might have secured in his pursuit of knowledge.
"Nonsense. This one will not be staying with us, but joining the ashes with the rest." The lalafell's tone was soft and uncaring, though not with any sort of disrespect. "He cannot afford Thal's hospitality as much as he wished he could. Like so much of this lamb's life, his death is mostly for show. I hope you have found your answers, paladin, because there is work to be done before this one may pass."
With careful thanks and another glance at the mark of the Trader, Warren made his way through the doors of the Ossuary. It is there he ran face first into another departed soul.
"Warren Castille. I think they're trying to kill me." Despite the distressing words, there wasn't any outward sign of concern on Valeria Verene's face.
The public service for Withrop Figgenbottom was a formality before his body was cremated. The man had lost everything in his life due to folly trade practices, if you believed what the public line was, and Ul'dah had long been in practice of immolating the remains of those who did not have the coin for proper burial or safekeeping. Besides a few of Thal's children keeping watchful eye, hushed prayers to the Lord of the Dead whispered to and amongst themselves, only Warren had gone to watch the deceased's time on the material plane come to an end.
"Gone is this lamb's body, but the spirit shall live on." Quiet prayers on unlistening ears.
More days passed. Warren's time was spent on patrol as it ever was, but his attention was divided. The features of the elezen woman named Valeria Verene were etched in his mind but he had only seen them once, in passing. Already the woman's identity was slipping from his memory; What were the colors of her eyes? How long, precisely, was her hair? Did he think he could pick her out of a crowd still, even if she did turn up in Ul'dah again? That was the most vexing part of all of it, and he had labored over the task of it. How could one woman with nothing vanish from the city without anyone knowing she had gone?
The services of Bertus Bockenbower were, compared to Figgenbottom's, far more expansive and attended. Friends spoke about his efforts at building his business from the ground up. Colleagues spoke kind words about his service to his country. Every word was a blessing, and every blessing dripping with sincerity. For a few fleeting bells, Bertus Bockenbower's corpse was spoken more highly of than his person ever had been.
Unlike the bonfire that awaited Figgenbottom, Bertus' remains were taken back into the Ossuary for proper keeping. Whatever the state of his fortunes, they were commensurate with what was required to be properly blessed and tended to for the rest of Ul'dah's days. Vanity of the highest order, but anything less tempted the wrath of the Death Traders. The political positioning of Ul'dah did not end when your life did.
Warren kept an eye out during these services. The former squeeze of the first dead man hadn't bothered to visit him in his last days. It was a long shot she would bother showing up to witness the end of her current dead beau either. Still, it was the only lead he had. His presence was noticed in enough bars that if anyone had been sympathetic to the elezen's situation she would have surely been tipped off. The thought dawned on him that perhaps he was the reason she hadn't bothered to show, but the bruise on her face pushed that thought aside with similar force that caused it to exist in the first place.
As ceremony ended and the crowds began to leave and the first of many who would never think of Bertus Bockenbower again had departed from the Ossuary, Warren prepared his final gambit in his investigation. The paladin, adorned not in his typical armor but merely as a citizen, approached the altar in the center of the Ossuary and knelt in prayer. One of the attending clergymen presided over the body of the deceased trader, covered from head to toe in traditional shroud.
"Come, brother. Did you know the deceased?" The gentle, friendly voice of the lalafellan follower came from beneath a hood raised over head.
"Only of him. We never met face to face, and now he is gone while I still have much left to ask." Warren kept his head bowed in reverence, and was careful to tell no lies.
"Not all questions would go unanswered. In Thal's realm and under his gaze all is possible. With, proper supplication, of course."
The crowd behind him was thinning out. The Ossuary doors would close following service and the corpse would be left with his eternal keepers. Still, the lalafell's tone was clear and after a moment the telltale sound of a purse heavy with coin clinked softly against stone.
"May your questions be answered swiftly, paladin." The lalafell rose from his position and took an incense burner with him, setting away to begin the proper admittance rites.
Warren wasted no time. Around him the quiet shuffling of the devout moved around him, oblivious or uncaring to his deed. Without trepidation he removed the shroud and uncovered the face of the dead man. His face was not the peaceful calm of someone who departed in their sleep, and the coloration of his skin did not depict someone who had passed easily. An unnatural green had seeped into the tone and his face was contorted into a face of pain. As the wrappings were undone, Warren noticed why they were bundled so tightly; The man's limbs jerked to an uneasy position, one hand clenching closed again and the other arm crossing over his chest. Warren wasn't an alchemist but even he could see the man was poisoned to death somehow, and not just on an overdose of somnus.
Having lost track of time, Warren was surprised when the lalafell returned. He couldn't see the clergyman's eyes but the direction of the hood went from the highlander, then to the corpse and finally back to the highlander.
"Thal's going to be pretty cross with me about this, isn't he...?" Warren's gaze turned upwards to the symbol of the Trader above the altar. He pondered what sort of terrible fate he might have secured in his pursuit of knowledge.
"Nonsense. This one will not be staying with us, but joining the ashes with the rest." The lalafell's tone was soft and uncaring, though not with any sort of disrespect. "He cannot afford Thal's hospitality as much as he wished he could. Like so much of this lamb's life, his death is mostly for show. I hope you have found your answers, paladin, because there is work to be done before this one may pass."
With careful thanks and another glance at the mark of the Trader, Warren made his way through the doors of the Ossuary. It is there he ran face first into another departed soul.
"Warren Castille. I think they're trying to kill me." Despite the distressing words, there wasn't any outward sign of concern on Valeria Verene's face.
![[Image: yEROfKO.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yEROfKO.png)
