I'll divide the text into paragraphs for better readability:
Early the next morning, light rain was still falling in a gentle haze. Charles wore a wide-brimmed leather hat and a rain cloak as he made his way to the village temple. Though the weather was less severe than during the storm, the waterlogged ground remained difficult to traverse.
At the temple entrance, a guard on duty stopped him, prompting Charles to show identification from the guild. Once cleared, he stepped inside, greeting Priest Gerard, who oversaw the place.
"Good morning," Charles said, tipping his hat politely.
"A good morning to you as well, sir…" Priest Gerard replied, recalling him as the man who had attended yesterday's funeral.
"My name is Charles Ravencroft, a detective with the guild," Charles explained. "Has the medical examiner arrived yet?"
"Welcome, Detective Ravencroft," Priest Gerard said with a shake of his head. "No, not yet. If he doesn't come soon, I expect it will be mid-afternoon."
"In that case, may I wait here?"
"Certainly. The Divine Ordainer welcomes everyone," Priest Gerard said, bringing his hands together in a gesture of prayer to the revered Wheel symbol of their faith. "While you wait, would you like to join in our devotions?"
Charles declined politely. "I must pass for now, I'm afraid."
"I understand. Please, make yourself comfortable inside," the priest said amiably. He assumed Charles likely followed another faith and did not wish to pray in a temple dedicated to the Great Scribe.
Charles removed his rain cloak and hung it near the entrance. Quietly, he entered the main chamber, taking care to remain respectful of this holy space. He sat down to the echo of whispered prayers and let his gaze wander to the central religious emblem—a carved wheel on the wall, depicting a continuous cycle of creation that told an elegant story of unending renewal.
A while later, the temple doors creaked open behind him. Charles turned to see a tall, gaunt middle-aged man dressed in black stepping in. His hair was dark streaked with gray, with a neat mustache, and his expression and bearing were cold and distant.
Priest Gerard paused in his chanting, rose, and went to greet the newcomer warmly. "Welcome. May I ask your name?"
"My name is Elias Harper. I'm a physician from the capital, sent here as requested."
"Ah, you've arrived. I'm Gerard, priest of this temple," said the priest, gesturing for Elias to follow. "The bodies we need you to examine are in a room within. Please, come with me."
As they headed toward the rear, Charles stood up and joined them. Elias noticed the younger man and studied him briefly before speaking in a measured tone.
"Excuse me, but who are you? You don't look like one of the guards or a local."
"My apologies. I'm Charles Ravencroft, a detective with the guild."
Elias lifted an eyebrow. "Oh! So you're that renowned detective."
Charles offered a small smile. "You flatter me. It's an honor."
"Not at all, the honor is mine," Elias returned the smile in kind. Though his exterior seemed cool, he carried himself with courtesy and poise that Charles found agreeable.
Priest Gerard, who had been listening in, turned to them. "You two know each other already?"
"No, we only just met, but Detective Ravencroft's reputation precedes him in the capital," Elias said. "He's solved quite a few challenging cases over the past year."
Priest Gerard nodded thoughtfully, then guided them to the morgue.
On the way, Elias asked Charles, "So what brought you here, Detective?"
"At first, I was hired by a local villager, Edmund, to find a missing heirloom necklace. But this spate of strange deaths piqued my interest. Rumor has it a witch or a demon might be behind it," Charles explained.
"Ah, I'm not one to believe in witches," Elias replied with a cool shrug. "I suspect there's a more rational explanation."
"I hope you're right," Charles said. "If we learn the truth, maybe we can prevent more deaths."
They reached a large wooden door labeled 'Morgue.' Priest Gerard pushed it open, letting the glow of the lanterns spill out. The room was spacious, its dark wooden floor polished to a shine and its white-painted brick walls lending it a stark cleanliness. A broad marble table stood in the center, surrounded by shelves of medical instruments, neatly arranged in preparation for the specialist.
Elias set down his personal medical kit, opened it carefully, and revealed a collection of tools: scalpels, scissors, forceps, sutures, a magnifying lens, all lined up in precise order. He then washed his hands and arms thoroughly in a metal basin before pulling on a pair of thin leather gloves.
Two bodies lay on the marble table. The first was Thomas Wright, the man found in the nearby woods—son of Edmund's former comrade. The second corpse was the one that had tumbled out of its coffin during yesterday's funeral, a horrifying moment that prompted Priest Gerard to suspend the burial and wait for a professional examination.
Elias began with Thomas's remains, first noting every external detail—skin color, the level of rigor mortis, external wounds—writing them down in a small notebook. He turned the body gently to examine its sides and back, peering closely with a magnifying lens into the mouth, nose, and even under the nails.
Satisfied with this initial inspection, he took up scalpel and scissors to open the body for an internal autopsy, maintaining a stoic focus. He knew every observation could prove vital to unraveling the truth.
After thoroughly examining both corpses, Elias exhaled a long sigh. His face revealed a deeply troubled expression.
"It appears that Thomas Wright suffered severe bruising from a physical assault prior to his death. As for both bodies, there are clear signs of poisoning by the fungus Ergot—in a dose lethal enough to kill."
The mention of fungus and toxins baffled Priest Gerard, while Charles frowned in confusion at the unfamiliar word.
"Ergot?" Charles asked.
"It's a type of fungus that often grows on rye grains," Elias explained. "Particularly when the weather is damp and warm. It forms dark-purple sclerotia in place of normal grains, and within those are dangerous compounds called ergot alkaloids."
He drew a quick sketch for clarity: a stalk of rye bearing elongated blackish growths instead of regular grains.
"When people harvest such contaminated grain and grind it into flour for bread, they end up ingesting the poison. This leads to a condition known as ergotism. A brilliant researcher, Howard Martinsen, famously nicknamed it 'Saint Anthony's Fire.'"
"What are the symptoms?" Charles pressed.
"They generally fall into two main categories. One involves neurological disturbances: numbness, burning pains, seizures, delirium, even hallucinations. Death can occur if breathing muscles fail. The second category involves a condition known as gangrene, where the tissues in the extremities decay because of restricted blood supply, eventually blackening and dying. Sometimes amputation is necessary."
Charles shook his head grimly. "That's even worse than I feared. Is there any way to treat or prevent it?"
"The best prevention is careful inspection—removing any infected grains before milling. If someone has already eaten it, we give them activated charcoal to absorb the poison in the stomach. We may also apply cold compresses and administer anticonvulsants. In severe cases, if tissue is already necrotic, an amputation might be the only option," Elias said.
He paused before adding, "Another noteworthy point is that ergot toxins can cause abnormal muscle contractions that sometimes persist even after death."
Charles's eyes widened. "You mean the coffin shaking yesterday could have been caused by this?"
"Yes," Elias confirmed. "There are several factors that can lead to postmortem movements. One is cadaveric spasm, an extreme muscle contraction that can happen in a violent or intense death. On top of that, ergot poisoning affects the nervous and muscular systems so strongly that spasms can continue briefly after death."
He circled the table, studying the corpses again. "Other factors—chemical changes following death, shifts in temperature or humidity—can also trigger muscular contractions. But in this instance, the spasms likely felt more dramatic because of the high concentration of ergot toxins."
Charles nodded slowly. "Thank you, Doctor Harper. This insight goes a long way toward dispelling rumors about curses or dark magic."
Priest Gerard, who had been listening quietly, asked, "You mentioned activated charcoal just now?"
Elias lifted a small pouch from his bag, filled with fine black powder. "This is it. Activated charcoal has a high surface area for absorbing various substances, including some toxins."
He emptied a pinch of the black powder onto a piece of paper. "By ingesting it soon after exposure, people can reduce how much poison enters their bloodstream."
Charles interjected politely, glancing at the priest. "Doctor Harper, could you use simpler terminology for the villagers? Some of your medical terms might confuse them."
Elias cleared his throat. "My apologies. In short, the charcoal powder helps absorb poison in the stomach. But it's not a cure-all—patients still need professional treatment to fully eliminate toxins."
Priest Gerard peered at the powder curiously. "And where could we get more of that?"
"Some apothecaries carry it. Local herbal doctors might as well. If that fails, finely ground charcoal ash can act as a substitute," Elias explained.
"I see," Priest Gerard said. "So, you think the village's grain might be widely contaminated by this fungus?"
Elias inclined his head. "Yes. We need to inspect barns and fields to gauge the spread. We must warn everyone to be cautious about what they eat. Anyone who suspects contamination should come see me, and I'll do what I can to help."
"That's urgent, indeed. I'll inform our village head at once," Priest Gerard offered.
"Thank you, Doctor Harper," Charles said with earnest relief. "You've helped us solve a major piece of the puzzle. I hope no one else dies like this."
Before Priest Gerard could leave, Charles called out, "Wait. You said earlier that you hope no more deaths occur this year. Does that imply a similar incident happened last year?"
Priest Gerard sighed. "Yes. Our previous village headman fell ill with similar symptoms—people just assumed it was an odd disease or old age. We had no idea it might be something like this fungus."
He heaved another sigh and headed for the door.
Charles turned back to Elias. "Doctor Harper, do you have a moment to talk about something else?"
"Of course. I'll be free unless there's another body or someone brings me more grain samples."
"In that case, let's speak elsewhere. This morgue is a bit...unsettling."
Elias smirked slightly. "Agreed. Just a moment." He carefully put away his instruments, then followed Charles out, leaving behind only the dim lantern light reflecting off the pallid skin of the dead.
Outside, rain still drizzled. The sky grew ever darker as dusk approached, a murky hush draping the village in an uneasy gloom.