The Murder of Adelaide Sunflower Part 3

Dawn goes to the tower of a story collector.

Brain Redtales climbed the long stone stairs to his room in one of the towers where he could look over the Imperial garden and write. He carried a few books from the Oak Library on the history of the Realm while at the same time trying not to dwell in the death of his dear friend. It had been years since he met Adelaide learning all he could about her for his letters to his brother. He had been tasked with writing the History of the Realm for the Emperor but was allowed to gather all the stories he wished.

                It had been a great dream.

                He had loved every moment of it, but today, it seems hard to think about all those tales Adelaide whispered to him.

                He tried not to think about it but knew when he wrote his brother another letter, the ghost of his friend would be lingering in the ink.

                Brain opened the door to his small room to find Dawn standing over his writing desk. He had seen the squirrel around the Palace, but never spoke to him. He knew Dawn was one of the Knights in the Pegasus Core and played no games when it came to his duties. Dawn turned to face Brain sitting a letter down on the desk, his other paw resting on the hilt of a sword.

                “Hello, sir,” Brain said, trying to hide his disappointment of him reading any of his writing.

                “Brain,” Dawn said, “I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

                “I’m surprised you haven’t come to me sooner,” Brain said, pushing past him to gather his things up on his desk.

                “You were not high on my list,” Dawn said, moving out of the way, trying not to knock over any tower of books.

                “Oh, why so?” Brain asked, looking back at him.

                “You collect stories, yes?” Dawn asked.

                “I do,” Brain said.

                “And from what I have gathered on you,” Dawn said,” you have done this with many squirrels in the Palace.”

                “I have,” Brain agreed.

                “You were also in the Library the night Adelaide died,” Dawn said, “right?”

                “I was,” Brain said. “I have been reading over the siege of Wellstone during the Roaming War.”

                “A great tale?” Dawn asked with a smirk.

                “You could say so,” Brain said, sitting down in the chair, his old knees were starting to hate the climb back to his room and his work. He had been sure he would never finish this work before the arrow of Death found its mark in his heart. He could feel the bats, the eyes of Death, circling him in the night, age was coming to him.

                “Does war bother you?” Dawn asked.

                Brain shrugged, “Doesn’t it bother everyone.”

                “Yes, I guess, so,” Dawn said, nodding and leaning back against the wall beside the open door. “Didn’t Adelaide lose her father in the Arcane War?”

                “He was killed on the Winter Line,” Brain said. “Does this mean anything to her own death?”

                “I have heard,” Dawn said, “her father was the cause of the death of a few other squirrels during the battle.”

                “So, she had said,” Brain said, “but I doubted any of them would come after her.”

                “Oh, why so?” Dawn asked, not breaking his steel eyes from Brain. The long stare made Brain want to run back to his books and away from this Knight, but instead, grabbed a pen to play in his paw.

                “None of them are here in the Palace,” Brain said.

                “Any of them in the city?” Dawn asked.

                Brain shook his head, “I have no idea.”

                “Either do I,” Dawn said. “It’s why I have sent some Hoods to find out.”

                “Do you think this is about revenge?” Brain asked.

                “Most murders are,” Dawn told him. “The question is rather or not; the revenge is wanting.”

                “In this case, I’m sure of it,” Brain said.

                “Do you know of any enemies Adelaide had?” Dawn question him.

                “No,” Brain said. “Everyone liked her. She could be hard in the kitchen, but she took care of the squirrels under her charge.” Brain smiled at a thought.

                “How so?” Dawn picked up on the thought.

                “Sorry, I was thinking about the time she sent home fresh honey caterpillars with everyone for their Christmas,” Brain said with a big smile. “Have you ever had honey caterpillar?”

                “I have,” Dawn said. “It is a rare plate to have during the winter.”

                “Very rare.” Brain set the pen down. “That was the kind of squirrel Adelaide was, so no one hated her. In fact, everyone loved her.”

                “Everyone but one,” Dawn said, crossing his arms. “How often were in the kitchen?”

                “About once a week,” Brain said. “I enjoyed her cooking more than anyone else, but she worked on the other side of the Palace.”

                “It is a long walk,” Dawn agreed. “Have you ever been to her home?”

                “No, not at all,” Brain said. “I don’t leave my books or work all that much.”

                Dawn nodded something else he had heard about Brain.

                “Do you have any leads on this matter?” Brain asked.

                Dawn sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Not at all. Every turn I take is a dead end.”

                “But you are going to find the killer, right?” Brain asked, almost pushing the matter.

                “I have been ordered to so,” Dawn said, “so yes.”

                “I’ll pray for you then,” Brain said. “Hopefully, the AllFather will guide you in finding this monster.”

                “I could use the help,” Dawn said, dropping his paw back the hilt of the blade. “I have one more question before I leave you.”

                “Anything,” Brain said,” I’ll tell you anything you need to know.”

                “Was Sir Gawain Sagesword and Adelaide close?” Dawn asked, watching Brain's eyes dart from him to around the room. He took a deep breath.

                “The last time I talk to Adelaide,” Brain said softly, “she said he was courting her.”

                “I feared so,” Dawn said.

                “Why?”

                “Gawain,” Dawn said before leaving the room,” has a wife.”

Author's Note

If you had made it this far, then I appreciate it, and before you start to tear my work apart (which doesn’t bother me too much), let me explain something. The most common critique I see is about my spelling and grammar. It is an understandable critique, and I do not blame you for pointing it out. After all, spelling and grammar are the tools in which we use to craft our work, like a paintbrush or a chisel. The artist must know how to use these tools well, but like an artist who has a tremble in their hand's somethings will never be perfect.
My tremble in my hand is caused by my dyslexia. It is something, no matter how much I learn, study, or work on, it will never go away. It is the reason you will find a good bit of spelling and grammar mistakes in my work. I ask you to keep this fact in my when you are about to write your critique.
Also, I feel the need to point this out, this website is like a journal for me. A messy journal I used to work out problems in my stories or to simply warm up before digging into my novels. I do not hire an editor for the work here. I do not spend hours and days pouring over these stories to make them perfect, that energy is saved for the project I plan on taking to market. Everything on this website is my world-building exercises or sketches for other projects.
I do hope you enjoy my work, but this website is not a publishing house for me, and it shouldn’t be for you either. Something to keep in mind as you write your critique.