"Is that so?" she asked, her voice soft but laced with the weight of her power. "Because I find it strange that this boar—one imbued with magic—was felled by something that left no trace of magical interference. Only steam residue." Her eyes flashed as she emphasized the last two words.
The ratman felt a cold sweat form on his fur as the mage's stare bore into him. His mind raced. He had to say something—anything—to divert her suspicion without giving himself away.
"I... I don't know about any steam or magic," he replied, his voice shaking just enough to sound convincing. "I'm just a worker. All I had was this," he added, lifting the now-broken rake beside him as proof of his helplessness. "I couldn't have done anything to that beast."
The mage stared at him for what felt like an eternity, her eyes narrowing as if she could sense there was more to the story. Then, after a tense pause, she slowly stood up.
