The door to the chronomancer’s room was cracked open, and the sheriff slid in quietly. According to the noble, the healer hadn’t been protecting the prince, and the court strongly suspected she was lying.
The room was dark, with only a candle to send the shadows dancing across the walls. Tidy rows of books filled the shelves, their titles scarcely visible in the dim lighting. Scattered glass shards littered the floor, and the sheriff stepped cautiously to avoid them. His eyes locked onto the suspicious chronomancer on the opposite side of the room as she played with a dagger.
“I’ve caught you now…!” the sheriff whispered excitedly to himself, fumbling for his logbook.
Blood pounded in his ears as he flipped to a blank page, but the quill pen escaped his grasp and rolled away noisily. For a moment, he held his breath in fear - but the assassin did not look in his direction, and he crouched down to retrieve his pen. There were flecks of ink on the floor, but hopefully they would be negligible.
As the sheriff stood back up, the assassin sauntered over to him, and he froze. “Have you really found me?” she questioned, running a finger lightly along the blade in her hand. “Did you really think it would be so easy?”
Moving closer, she touched the tip of the dagger to his throat, accentuating the danger of his situation. Before the sheriff had the time to respond, he felt a hand on his shoulder and whirled around to see a hooded figure behind him.
“Gotcha,” smirked the mastermind.