Deep in the morning a fire had been set within a shop within the ranks of Merchant's Row. It burned gloriously uncontrolled in spite of attempts to quench the blaze's thirst or to even subdue it the smallest bit. Eventually all efforts would be put towards making sure the fire did not spread to other buildings and in that at least the locals were successful. This lone two-story shop had only just months ago been opened, offering appraisals on trinkets of the mundane and magical. The proprietor also sold these items and tapestries, many unscathed by the flames due to their nature but mostly only the skeletal remains of a building remained covered in ash and debris.
Upstairs upon the floor was the unfortunate corpse of the woman who lived there, Lycoris Amoné. At first glance one might have assumed that smoke inhalation took the woman's life like most fires would. Her body, covered in soot and ash was not nearly as seared or blackened by the flames as her once fine dress of crimson and gold that had remained somewhat in tact throughout the inferno. Perhaps one of the rings she wore was to protect her from the fire and worked exactly as advertised but all it served to do was preserve the scene of foul play.
She lay face down in the dark circular patterns in the floor made by blood boiling away after it left her body. Her forearms were cut open many times in presumed defensive wounds against a blade, the wounds still seeping and warm in the aftermath of destruction. Her throat was slit open by a sloppy hand, more than once: the first was to wound and perhaps incapacitate her, the second hacked at her windpipe to finally end her life eventually but the assailant seemed to not go for the jugular. This violence was far from professional, far from cold and collected. It had been a heated battle where Lycoris still clenched her own old bone knife that gleamed in spite of the dark, seared destruction around it.
Neighbors would have described her to each other as driven, living with a work ethic that sometimes seemed like it swallowed her whole. She was kind and respectful of others in the Row, knowledgeable in the affairs of business outside of running a shop and often would field the questions of her peers. They liked her and were happy for the woman when they began to see a young man in black come around over the last few weeks... until now. No-one upon the scene could believe such a thing could happen: not here, not to her. Constables would be alerted, foul play would be called, the few crimson dragon lilies that survived outside of her shop were gathered up and saved by her neighbors. It was the least they could do to pay their respects.