To his left, in a small closed café, a man and a woman were inside. The woman on the floor was kneeling, and what looked to be a man was beside her.
Darian approached carefully to examine, his pupils constricted, cold sweat running down his back. His large hand loomed over Emory's face before gently covering his eyes.
The scene Darian witnessed was not a pleasant one. It was a man, dead, in an unopened café. His body was crushed, his arms and legs flattened, his torso nowhere to be found. His head was jagged and scarred. This wasn't just a regular killing, no, this was planned.
This was torture. The smell of cold metallic blood panged Darian's nostrils. From the corner of his ear, he could hear murmurs arise. Citizens who had walked past gossiped.
W-Why would they talk like that...? This is a death! A death! Are they that used to it?
Feeling his blood warm up, Darian felt the urge to run away but continued looking toward the brutal murder scene.
A woman knelt beside the corpse; she was wailing. A couple of passersby came and surrounded the dead body; some of them started consoling the lady. "D-don't let him get away!" The lady screamed, "He went left, someone gets him! Get him!"
Darian, who was originally peeking into the café, turned his head and looked straight ahead; there was indeed someone running. He was wearing a black suit and holding two daggers. His skin was tainted red, and a dark maroon aura surrounded him.
The ground beneath the man's feet caved in slightly as he bent his knees to jump. He landed on the roof of a neighboring building.
Emory, who was in the stroller, was waiting silently. He held a small, cheap toy Darian bought for him and put it in his mouth. His black hair was fluttering in the wind, his red eyes covered by Darian's hand.
Darian's mouth moved, but no words could be spoken. This was the second time he had seen a dead body in the past 3 days.
"..."
Darian could only move the stroller and leave the area as fast as he could. His face was frozen with fear. The lady was screaming for someone to help catch the man.
While Darian didn't like to think of himself as a coward, he did, however, know his limitations. He had no supernatural abilities, and his physicality was subpar. It was better for everyone if he just left the area.
After a couple of minutes, they arrived at their house. Locking the door immediately behind him, Darian rushed to the washroom to relieve himself.
Their house was a one-story house on Hind Street, towards the end of the long collection of houses. As he exited the bathroom, wiping his hands with a towel, a loud crash reverberated through the area.
"The military… this is serious." He picked up Emory and placed him on the dark green, worn-out couch. "Hopefully they stop at nothing to catch him..."
The Theales military included some of the most powerful individuals in the country. When they got involved, like they did at the hospital, the problem was serious.
Emory did nothing but stare at the man speaking to him. His dark red eyes watched Darian silently.
"A-alright. I know, let's eat some yummy food. I bet you're hungry, little Em!" He tried to distract himself from the atrocities occurring near his home.
Food was being prepared as Emory looked at his surroundings. Not once did he cry or show any sign of discomfort. All he did was stare silently.
Darian, while cooking, glanced at the silent baby continually. After he fed and changed Emory, he put him to bed. Emory didn't fuss nor cry; Darian's mouth twitched slightly as the baby looked like it was staring him in the soul.
The cold autumn air hit Darian like a dagger as he stood on the balcony. Faint murmurs filled the night; house lights flickered throughout the city like fireflies.
"Elara." He put his forearms on the railings, his eyes cold and isolated.
. . .
The next morning, Darian awoke to a knocking sound on his door. He groggily approached the large white piece of wood in front of him and opened it. The newspaper? I thought it was only on Thursdays.
While drinking tea, he began to look through the papers. The annual minister-public conference was canceled?
The minister-public conference was a meeting run by Trila's minister cabinet. It was set up by the High Chancellor Valtha Ashenvale and was a meeting where the public could voice their concerns about issues in the economy.
Trila was the only city in Theales to do this, which is why it's the most densely packed city in the kingdom. With a population of a little more than 2 million, it boasts the 3rd largest city in the Western Cradle, only behind Gliasia's Argenhold and Brenholm, each housing a little over 4 and 3 million.
Darian himself never attended the minister-public conference, but he was aware of what it meant to the people of Trila. Without the suggestions made during it, Trila would be severely lacking in its complex underground railway system, essential for its transportation of fish from one side of the city to another.
It's also the catalyst for Theales National University, which is one of the best schools in the nation. The cause for the cancellation was because the murders were too rampant; too many people in one place is a goldmine for terrorists.
Emperor Magnus Van Selwyn IV issued a report this morning, urging citizens of Theales to not leave their houses unless necessary. The military could be found in any corner, and members of the Secret Police are investigating suspects and victims of the brutal torture that happened in the café yesterday.
"Oh my, how am I supposed to enroll Emory in a daycare?" Darian scoffed at the urgency and put the newspaper down.
Inside Emory's crib, the little black-haired, red-eyed child was wrapped in a blanket, staring at the roof. He was no older than 4 days, and yet, he didn't cry once.
Darian gently opened the door, avoiding the puzzles and books in his path. He meticulously made his way to the crib. "Good morning, baby." The blue blanket covering Emory's body was slowly unraveled as the baby stretched his arms in reflex.
Darian lifted the child and took him to the kitchen. Placing Emory on the couch beside the newspaper he dropped. Emory's head turned to face the paper, and his eyes widened.
It was a picture of the tortured man in the café. Emory glared intensely at the picture of the dismembered man. His red eyes analyzed, his facial features focused.
The newspaper in front of him was quickly taken away. "Uh uh. This is not something babies should look at." Darian placed the newspaper on the table next to him and handed Emory a pacifier.
Wrinkles started forming around Emory's face, and for the first time in his four days of living, the child cried.