Royal Palace of Karlheim, [WIKI]Emyn Arnen[/WIKI], Arendaal
The body had been crucified. Upside down.
The outer gardens of [WIKI]Karlheim Palace[/WIKI] were open to the public, so technically the murder hadn’t been committed on ‘Palace Grounds’ at all. But a royal story was a juicy story, Special Agent Gustavsson knew, and within the hour the headline ‘MURDER IN THE PALACE’ would be plastered everywhere.
Blood dripped from the corpse onto the frosted ground as the dim, cold morning light flowed silently over the gruesome scene. Winter was on its way, but this morning it wasn’t the weather that had turned Gustavsson’s blood to ice.
Investigators swarmed the area, cordoning it off from the public, lights flashed as more police cars arrived, as cameras clicked to record evidence, as the street lamp in the middle of the scene flickered. Mounted on it was an upside down crucifix to which a body had been tied. Hollow eye sockets stared out blindly from a face that had been reduced to a bloody pulp. The body was covered in blood and scars and, bizarrely, symbols. Runic symbols, to Gustavsson’s eyes. This was a cult murder, there was no mistaking it.
The body had been crucified. Upside down.
The outer gardens of [WIKI]Karlheim Palace[/WIKI] were open to the public, so technically the murder hadn’t been committed on ‘Palace Grounds’ at all. But a royal story was a juicy story, Special Agent Gustavsson knew, and within the hour the headline ‘MURDER IN THE PALACE’ would be plastered everywhere.
Blood dripped from the corpse onto the frosted ground as the dim, cold morning light flowed silently over the gruesome scene. Winter was on its way, but this morning it wasn’t the weather that had turned Gustavsson’s blood to ice.
Investigators swarmed the area, cordoning it off from the public, lights flashed as more police cars arrived, as cameras clicked to record evidence, as the street lamp in the middle of the scene flickered. Mounted on it was an upside down crucifix to which a body had been tied. Hollow eye sockets stared out blindly from a face that had been reduced to a bloody pulp. The body was covered in blood and scars and, bizarrely, symbols. Runic symbols, to Gustavsson’s eyes. This was a cult murder, there was no mistaking it.