Five days ago. Two bells after the Dawnrest ended. That was when he had stumbled on several Shinya gathered around a house. An investigation into the inhabitants of the house appeared to be in process, but otherwise everything else appeared to be normal. It was slightly worrying, but he was confident that his friend, one of the friends he had made in Lhavit over half a century ago, was fine.
He inquired after his friend, Arthur, but was rebuffed by the unsympathetic Shinya. Attempting to see what was happening inside, Arcturus made a sudden movement to the left, looking through the door. He was rewarded with a sight of spilled blood. And a nauseous feeling.
The Shinya had sighed then, and told him what they had found, before he requested Arcturus to leave the premises. The Ethaefal did so.
That was five days ago. He had spent most of his time buried in his work, before finally deciding that his actions were self-destructive and, had Spica still been there, would have given him a rather severe slap in the face. Instead, he would drink. But only once, for he would be dishonoring the memory of his friend. And Spica.
The Scholar's Demise was extremely loud and crowded, inappropriate for a sombre celebration of a friend's life, but at least it afforded Arcturus the anonymity he desired; he didn't want to meet any of his other friends - old friends, some of whom might not even be alive - that night.
Squeezing through the crowd, Arcturus located a conveniently-placed table - one at the corner of the room and far from the epicenter of the acoustic earthquake.
He pulled a chair from a nearby table, sitting down and nodding to the man with a goatee.
"My apologies for sitting here without asking you, but I could not find a better seat than this."
What was I here for? Oh, yes. Arthur. Arthur's dead. A libation then.
But not a libation dedicated to any God. He would dedicate it to Arthur, and what he could remember of the young lad.
"Miss? I'd like half a pitcher of stout. And pass me two mugs."
"Hold on a second, I'll get it right away. That'll be four Kina."
Once she had passed him the requested items, he handed her the coins, turning his attention to the pitcher. Raising it up, he poured a generous measure of beer into each mug before placing it down. He raised a mug with his left hand, leaving the other on the table, as he spoke in a mellifluous voice.
"To you, Arthur. Hopefully, they find who killed you soon. I do hope you're enjoying yourself, wherever you are. Maybe you've already come back as a babe, rosy-cheeked and wailing at the top of your voice. Quite a contrast. Back then, you were rather young. Black hair and all that. Now? Your body's turning cold. Your hair's turned white, and you don't own anything now. The Shinya told me you were robbed. Well, the stout won't be here forever if I don't drink. So here's to you, friend."
He drained his mug, slamming it down on the table, allowing him a few moments to enjoy the thick liquor and its full-bodied nature before beginning to pour himself another measure.
Note: I will be away from the 8th to the 25th, so apologies to all, since I cannot post during that period!