Outside the small, recently disowned workshop, chaos was ensuing. Much louder than the earlier small panic that the gunshot had caused, large swarms of people screamed as they poured down the streets, tumbling past carriages and fruit stands. They mob fled away from the center of the city, where deep smoke rose in the sky, and the stench of burning woods and flesh rose in the sky.
But Tito was completely ignorant of the chaos, totally enveloped in the horror of Huli in front of him. The sturdy woman had a tough yet beautiful complexion, a look of grumpy yet calm solemnity in her blank eyes. He had been kneeling over her for five minutes now, trying to get a proper thought to form. No tears fell. Just a hollow feeling of despair in his heart.
Tito was finally jerked back into reality as a man crashed through the front door, slamming it shut and breathing in ragged breaths. Still in a foggy mood, Tito turned and looked at the man. He wore a vest, sleek velvet pants, and a crisp goatee. But his demeanor did not match; his large, widened eyes flickered about the room, and he licked his lips between ragged breaths. He held his back to the door. He looked at Tito after a moment, fear and hesitation in his gaze.
Tito didn't manage to get out any words, so the man spoke up. "Um, sorry, I just-" the man exhaled, rubbing his wrinkled head. "The Knights Constabulary are here and... not on friendly terms."
A prick of a chill managed to slip down Tito's spine, despite his numbness. He could lose everything in the world, and hearing of the Knights of the King coming down for you would still terrify Tito.
Tito turned back to Huli, as of hoping he might catch her snoring or squinting at him. She lay still, unmoving, though. She's moved to the beyond, he finally admitted to himself. He felt a rush of tears pry from his cold eyes, wetting his jacket.
That was when he noticed something - a small corner of a paper poking out from her jacket pocket. She always wore mens jackets due to their pockets, and placed various tools and notes in them. But something seemed strange about the paper.
He pulled the slip out from her jacket, confirming his suspicions. It was worn and browning on the edges, as if read often. Unlike Tito, Huli was highly clean and organized, and would never let a piece of paper get dirty so easily. It must have been with her for a long time.
Brushing aside some of his tears from his red eyes, he looked at the slip. A young girl was in the sepia toner photograph, with long hair, maybe brown in color, and large eyes. It didn't look like Huli, nor anybody Tito knew. She looked to be around 10 years old, and she was standing against a smooth stone wall. It was probably an old picture, as most photographers liked to use sharper black and white photos these days.
"Why the hell are the Knights-" the man muttered as he entered the workshop, his voice wavering, though he froze as he saw Tito kneeling over Huli. He blanched even more, and took a step back. "D-did you..."
Tito looked down, realizing he still had his gun in his hand. "No, I came when I heard her-" he choked off the last of the sentence, wiping away the last of his tears. He put the gun down and stood up slowly.
The fellow looked between Tito, Huli, and the gun for a few more moments before relaxing visibly. "Alright. I don't know what happened here, boy, but we're not safe. The Knights Constabulary are outside and they're killing." He scrunched his face, though the man did not look very surprised.