Father Lightwell and the Murder that took the Spotlight

A Call from Stormwind

The crisp November air swept through the presbytery gardens of Kul Tiras, where Father Lightwell was contentedly raking leaves into neat little piles. Beside him worked his new head gardener, Emma Fairbridge—a cheerful, lively presence that had quickly become a welcome breath of fresh air to the old presbytery. She was not only an excellent gardener but also a considerate worker who somehow got along with everyone.

“…And so I thought,” Emma said, gesturing with her rake toward the southern garden, “that we could build little shelters for the hedgehogs this year. I saw a few of them again near the berry bushes—they love those—and I think they’d stay around the grounds all winter if we gave them a place to nest.”

Father Lightwell’s eyes softened with quiet amusement. “A splendid idea. Perhaps after next Sunday’s service we could ask Simon Todderick—one of the finest carpenters in all of Kul Tiras—for a small donation of timber for the hedgehog homes.” He gave a gentle, knowing chuckle, brushing a stray leaf from his sleeve and adjusting his spectacles—a habitual gesture that somehow made the world seem a little brighter, even if only for a moment.

Emma clapped her hands together, her face lighting up. “That’s wonderful! We could also ask—”

“Delivery for Emma Fairbridge!”

The cheerful call cut through the crisp air, revealing the local postman waving a letter in his hand.

“Just a moment, Father!” Emma said, setting her rake aside before hurrying across the gravel path to collect her mail. She returned a moment later, letter in hand, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

Emma waved the envelope excitedly as she ran back to Father Lightwell. “It’s from my mother in Stormwind! She’s writing about all her news!”

“How delightful!” Father Lightwell replied with a warm smile, watching as Emma carefully removed the letter and began to read. Soon, her voice rang out with excitement:

“My mother has invited me to Stormwind to see the dress rehearsal of her theater performance! Apparently all of Stormwind is talking about it, and even King Anduin himself will be attending! Oh Father, this is simply marvelous!”

Her excitement was infectious, and Father Lightwell was genuinely thrilled alongside her.

But Emma’s brow furrowed, and she shook her head. “But I can’t possibly leave so soon. There’s still so much to do in the gardens before the first snows, and every day matters. And the hedgehog shelters—they need to be built before winter—and…”

Father Lightwell’s gentle laugh interrupted her train of thought. “Nonsense,” he said kindly. “Of course you may go. The presbytery will be just fine while you’re away. Make a list of the tasks that need completing, plan how many little homes the hedgehogs should have, and we’ll assign the work to the other gardeners. I can even speak to Simon Todderick myself to make sure the timber is ready.”

Emma paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “But Father, isn’t it true that we also have an assistant priest here?”

Father Lightwell raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

“I mean,” Emma continued, her excitement bubbling over, “if my work can be taken care of by the others, couldn’t the assistant priest conduct your service? Then you could come with me to Stormwind!”

She looked at him eagerly, and Lightwell considered her suggestion. It was true—he had a substitute priest who could be called upon if he were ill or otherwise occupied. And, indeed, he had always been fond of theater, a passion that had never quite fit into the quiet routines of Kul Tiras, despite its charms.

“Hmm,” he said thoughtfully, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “It seems I can write a list of tasks for Father Matteo to manage in my stead… and I might even have time today to visit Todderick’s workshop.”

“Wonderful!” Emma exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Then it’s settled—we’ll leave for Stormwind tomorrow!” She seized her rake with renewed energy. “But first, we finish raking these leaves, and then I’ll make us some tea so we can sit down in the presbytery and write our lists.”