The next morning, Eamon sat quietly in a small diner on the ground floor of the hotel. The early sunlight streamed in through the dusty windows, casting long yellow streaks across the wooden floor. The place had the calm stillness of a slow-moving town, the kind where time felt thicker. A small bell above the door jingled each time someone entered, though at this hour, barely anyone had.
The walls were lined with old portraits of strangers, fishing nets, and wooden cutlery hung like forgotten decorations. The place smelled of brewed tea, fried eggs, and old timber. A ceiling fan above rotated lazily, groaning with every turn. Eamon sat by a corner table near the window with Skarn at his feet, tail twitching every few seconds like he was ready to chase something, anything.
The owner of the diner came over, limping slightly as he carried a tray with one hand. His left sleeve was pinned to his shoulder—he had only one arm. His right hand, thick and calloused, held the tray with practiced balance. He looked around fifty, with a beard that hadn't seen scissors in a while and a gaze that had seen too much.
The man set a plate of bread, boiled eggs, and a cup of steaming tea in front of Eamon. Then he bent down and placed a bowl of cooked meat on the floor for Skarn.
"There you go, young man," the owner said, his voice rough like old rope. "And for the beast, too. Fiesty little pet you got there."
Eamon looked up and smiled faintly. "Yeah, he's a little too enthusiastic when it comes to eating," he replied.
The man chuckled and watched Skarn sniff the meat, then gobble it down like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Name's Algor," he said, taking a cloth from his apron and wiping the table beside him. "I own this place. Been running it for nearly twenty years now. Seen all kinds of travelers come and go. But none brought a pet like that."
Eamon sipped his tea. It was strong, slightly bitter, but warm and comforting. "Thanks for the food, Algor. I'm Eamon."
Algor nodded. "So, what brings you to Iskareth, Eamon? Not many come here unless they have a reason. This town's too quiet for most."
Eamon kept his tone casual. He had to maintain the story he'd made up. "Well, I came here to meet Dr. Grumes," he said, stirring his tea slowly. "He was an old friend of my teacher. Thought I'd stop by and see him before heading for the Adventurer Trial exam. But when I got here, I heard what happened."
Algor's face fell a bit. He leaned against the table and looked out the window for a moment, lost in thought.
"Yeah... that was real bad, what happened to the doctor and his wife," Algor muttered. "Still don't sit right with me. That man was good. Helped everyone. Even helped me when I lost this arm. Didn't ask for coin. Just said it was his duty. The whole town respected him."
Eamon looked down, nodding slightly. He tried not to let anything show on his face.
Algor pulled out a chair and sat down across from Eamon with a sigh. "You know, the man they say did it… he was a weird fellow, sure. But I never thought he'd be a killer. Quiet, kept to himself, didn't talk much. But hearing he was a vampire? That shook everyone."
Eamon leaned forward slightly, curious. "One of the town's guards told me the same. But did he… live with the doctor?"
Algor shook his head immediately. "No, no. He lived on the outskirts. An old house that's been abandoned for years. Don't know why he chose to stay there. The doctor tried to bring him in once, told him he didn't have to be alone, but the boy never agreed. Always said he was fine on his own. Strange kid."
"Why do you think he refused?" Eamon asked.
Algor scratched his beard. "Who knows? Maybe he didn't trust people. Maybe he liked the quiet. Or maybe he knew folks would look at him differently once they knew what he was. But honestly, it's better he's gone. Before he killed the doctor and his wife, he killed nearly eight others. Some say even more. Left their bodies drained. This town used to be peaceful. But ever since that creature showed up, it's been panic everywhere. People don't step out after dark anymore. Shops close early. It's hurting businesses. Scaring the children. We just want peace back."
Eamon glanced at Skarn, who had now finished eating and was licking his paw. He took another sip of his tea, letting the silence settle for a moment.
"Is the Royal Army searching for him?" Eamon finally asked.
Algor nodded slowly. "Yeah, they came once. Asked a few questions, looked around the doctor's place, and then headed to the forest. Been a few patrols, but they ain't putting their backs into it. I think they believe he ran away. Too much trouble to keep looking for a monster that's hiding in the woods. Can't blame them, I suppose. Hard to catch a shadow."
Eamon nodded silently and said nothing more. His thoughts were a whirlpool of suspicion, fragments of information, and doubts. He didn't know who to believe. He didn't even know who Arthur truly was.
Algor stood up slowly, his knees cracking slightly. "Well, enjoy your meal. I've got some other tables to take care of. Let me know if you need anything else."
He walked away, heading to the counter and grabbing a few cups of tea for other early guests. The diner was slowly filling in. A couple of elderly men sat near the door, whispering and playing cards. A mother with her two daughters walked in, their eyes scanning the place nervously.
Eamon sat back in his chair, hands wrapped around his cup. The tea had cooled a little. He stared out the window, watching the faint mist that still hung over the street.
A soft voice broke his thoughts.
"He didn't do anything wrong."
Eamon turned and saw a girl behind the counter. She was wiping a glass absent-mindedly, her eyes fixed on him. She looked around his age, maybe a little younger. Dark hair tied in a loose braid, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her face was tired but defiant.
"Excuse me?" Eamon said, straightening up.
"I said… Arthur did nothing wrong," she repeated, walking around the counter and approaching his table. "He is a good man. He couldn't have killed anyone."
Eamon looked at her, confused. He hadn't expected anyone to defend the man people called a murderer.
"Wait… who are you?" he asked cautiously. "And what are you talking about?"
She pointed toward the man behind the counter. "I'm Helena. Algor's daughter. My father owns this place. I heard your conversation with him."
Eamon frowned. "And you're talking about Arthur? The vampire?"
She nodded, arms crossed. "Yes. Arthur. That's his name. And I don't care what anyone says. He didn't kill the doctor or his wife. Or anyone, for that matter."
Eamon blinked, completely thrown off by the certainty in her voice. "But… they said he drained the bodies. They found marks on the necks. And he vanished after it all happened."
Helena stepped closer, lowering her voice. "People see what they want to see. But I knew him. He used to come by here, late at night. Always sat near that window. Drank only tea. Read books. Never hurt a soul."
Eamon kept watching her, unsure what to make of her story.
"He's a noble soul," Helena said firmly. "He helped people when no one else would. He saved my little brother from drowning in the river two years ago. No one talks about that now. They just remember the fangs."
Eamon leaned forward. "But if he's what they say… a vampire… then how can you be sure?"
Helena's voice shook with anger. "He could never hurt the doctor. He loved him. Like a father. The doctor took care of him. Protected him. They were family, even if Arthur didn't live with them. Someone framed him. Someone wanted him gone. And now… now everyone believes the lie."
She looked away, her jaw clenched. Then turned back to Eamon with steel in her eyes.
"He was framed."