A bitter winter night.
The biting cold wind howled. The cemetery lay empty and silent, enough to make one shudder.
Inside the gravedigger's hut.
Aaron, who had been sleeping, suddenly opened his eyes, one hand gripping the hilt of the sword beneath the bed.
A moment later, heavy footsteps approached.
He glanced at the torchlight outside, got up and dressed, then went to open the door as though nothing had happened. "What's happened, gentlemen?"
"The gravedigger, Zorro?"
A soldier raised his torch and looked Aaron over. Once he confirmed his identity, he immediately asked, "Did you notice anyone else here tonight?"
"There are quite a few lying in the graves, but not a single living soul."
Aaron put on a panicked expression. "What happened?"
"You don't need to know!"
The soldier captain's expression was icy. Though he knew Aaron, he still waved a hand. "Search!"
The soldiers surged into the hut and searched every place a person could hide. Naturally, they found nothing.
Even more men spread through the cemetery with torches, searching the entire grounds.
"Nothing here!"
"Nothing on this side either!"
"Keep searching elsewhere!"
The soldiers had come swiftly, and they left just as swiftly.
Aaron watched their departing backs, lost in thought.
The next day.
Early morning.
Ivey arrived covered in dust, wearing an expression that said he did not know how to begin.
In the end, he took several deep breaths before speaking. "Zorro, we've got a big job..."
"Oh? Which important figure died?"
Aaron feigned surprise.
"It's old Baron Lancaster!" Ivey's voice was grave, though it carried a faint, thrilled delight at sharing a secret.
"Doesn't sound like he died of illness or an accident..." Aaron said thoughtfully. "Those soldiers last night?"
"Shh, shh!"
Ivey made a silencing gesture, glanced around, and lowered his