Chapter 2: On The Case

The pounding on the door felt like someone cast thunderclap inside my skull. Each knock rattling my bones and shaking my brain, pulses of light pierced my vision with each rap at the door.

“Coming, I’m coming,” I say, the room spins as I stand too quickly and after a couple steadying steps, I’m at the door. Two town guards stand at attention as I open the door, Becca the incompetent barmaid stands between them.

“This is the traveler,” she says nodding and smiling. I feel a sense of panic, I don’t know what law I broke but if I have to, I’m not against polymorphing one of the guards and torching the other. I prepare myself to cast the spells.

“Are you sure?” One of the guards asks, “he reeks of mead and has crusted soup in his beard.” My hand moves to my beard, and I feel a chunk of dried onion. Damn. “The adventures in rooms one and three seem more fit to solve this crime.”

“This is the adventurer,” Becca says confidently. The guards seem skeptical, one actually rolls his eyes and sighs. I don’t look that bad, do I?

“If you say so,” the lead guard says. He looks at me, “Becca here says you were boasting about being able to solve the murders that have been occurring around Moss Haven.” Did I say I could do that? Last night is hazy, oh right, before I took a dive into that old lady’s soup.

I clear my throat, “yes, yes I did.” I try to sound confident.

“The mayor and the captain of the town guard would like to see you,” oh shit. I could always take back my claim, just lay low and hang out here drinking myself silly until it’s safe to go back to Byron’s Crossing.

“Yes, of course,” I say, trying to mask my worry. “Just give me a moment to clean up.” The guards nod, Becca stands between them with a massive grin. I close the door and walk the basin of water sitting on the desk, it wasn’t there when I first entered the room, it must’ve been placed up here while I was down in the tavern, I wouldn’t have noticed a werebear in my room last night let alone a basin of water. The water is like a mirror as I look in, my chestnut hair is disheveled, pieces of potato, onion and sausage are tangled in my hair and beard, my green eyes are bloodshot with dark circles under them. Man, I look like a mess. Guards reactions make sense I suppose.  I put my hand in the water, it’s ice cold. Not for long. I mumble the incantation and move my hands. The water boils, I made it too hot, the anxiety of the situation mirrors the water, out of control. Maybe my lifetime of failures is interfering with my magic. Doubtful. While I wait for the water to cool, I take out a bar of pinewood scented soap from my pack and quickly scrub it over my body, hopefully it will cover the scent of the mead. I rinse my hair with the water and with a rag wipe off the soapy residue. Lastly, I change into the other set of robes I have in my pack.

“Alright,” I say opening the door, Becca is talking the guard’s ears off about a hermit witch she’s befriended, and the guards couldn’t look less interested. The lead guard is intently watching a spider build its web while nodding mindlessly along to Becca’s story. “Let’s go see the captain.”

The guards nod and look relieved, “thank you for bringing this adventurer to our attention Becca,” the lead guard says. “Tell Fiona we wish her well.”

“Her name is Freyanna,” Becca says with a twinge of irritation, “were you even listening?”

Before the guards can answer Ness calls up the stairs. “Becca! These rolls ain’t gonna serve themselves! Get down here!” Becca says a quick goodbye and hurries down the stairs.

“Shall we get going?” I ask, looking from one guard to the other.

“Yes, of course,” the lead guard says. “Right this way,” he pauses, realizing he hasn’t asked for my name.

“Ceddrick,” I say, filling the awkward silence.

“Yes, of course, right this way Ceddrick,” and he leads me down the stairs and out the tavern doors into the far too bright morning of Moss Haven.

If I thought the air about the town was anxious yesterday, this morning it was in a controlled panic. Not one person walked alone, from the corner of my eye I see suspicious glances from the townsfolk. As we walk through the market I hear a commotion from the direction of the fountain.

“I did no such thing!” I look and see the pushy snake oil salesman shouting at an older woman. “How dare you!”

The old woman is visibly distressed, and attempts to hit the elf with her basket, she misses, and the elf calls for the guards.

“Can you handle that, Gorton?” The lead guard says with an exasperated sigh. Gorton nods and heads off towards the squabble. “Old lady Colloga,” the guard shakes his head, “thinks the elf has something to do with her husband’s death.”

“Why is that?” I ask, trying to keep stride with the guard.

“She swears Peder gave up drinking, came home with one of the elf’s vials of strength and then fell off his horse into the reservoir.” He looks at me, “we all know Peder Colloga, he was drunker than a skunkbear when he fell off his horse.”

I nod and look back at the elf, Gorton has subdued old lady Colloga and is helping the elf pick up vials the old woman knocked off the cart.

I follow the guard up the stone steps and into the town hall building, it’s two stories and one of the nicer buildings in Moss Haven. There’s a stairway to the left that leads up to the second floor, and down into an apparent basement. Portraits of past mayors line the walls, above the portraits is a mural of an old god fighting six priests in red robes.

“Mayor Cahallan’s office is this way,” the guard says, leading me down the main hallway, the door is open, and the mayor sits at his desk. He has thick black hair pulled back in a ponytail and dark brown almost black eyes. He looks tired, but then again, if my town was under threat from a murderer, I wouldn’t be getting much sleep either. He’s chewing on some sort of seed, a bowl of them sits on his desk. To his right is a guard in a green cloak, a large key ring on his belt near the scabbard. The guard with the keys has short blonde hair, a rectangular face framed by thick mutton chops and an obvious scar travels from his right temple to his nose.

“Thank you, Ronnin,” the mayor says, “you are dismissed, patrol the old mine roads I was told there were some disturbances up there.”

“Of course, Mayor Cahallan.” The guard that walked me to townhall salutes the mayor and leaves the room.

The mayor turns his attention to me, “Sir Kneckt, will you wait in the hall, I want to get to know this adventurer.” The captain nods and silently leaves the room, all the while the mayor hasn’t taken an eye off me. I stand awkwardly in front of his desk.

“I heard you made a pretty bold claim last night,” the mayor says with a smirk. An offer I am currently regretting. “Our guards are stumped, other than farmer Peder Colloga,” he pauses, “which everyone knows was an accident, the deaths seem impossible.” He eyes me, “what makes you think you can solve it?” Currently nothing, last night it was because the Ursas Kiss filled me with boisterous confidence, which has quickly been replaced by the ever-present self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy.

“I believe I can solve the case because I’ve worked on a similar set of murders,” I lie, the seventh adventuring group I was in, the Back-alley Men, was tasked with solving a set of murders down in South Harbor, but I was kicked out before the first clue because my attempt to charm a guard turned him into a very talkative alpaca. The mayor nods, he’s thinking about my proposal that I so desperately want to rescind, I’m not good at anything, how am I supposed to solve something the guards can’t.

“Very well,” the mayor has made up his mind. “I’ll allow you to perform an investigation.” He pauses, realizing he hadn’t asked for my name, a common occurrence in my life.

“Ceddrick,” I say, the mayor nods, “Ceddrick Scaleheart,”

“Ceddrick,” the mayor repeats my name, “if you can solve the murders of Moss Haven the town will reward you well, what do you say?”

The hole in my coin purse convinces me to accept the offer despite all my reservations of being able to solve this. “I accept,” I try to sound confident, Mayor Cahallan Cahallan smiles.

“Excellent, Sir Kneckt will help you get up to speed.” I wasn’t officially dismissed so I stand looking at Mayor Cahallan awkwardly. He stared at me, “you can go.”

“Oh, thank you,” I say, “I won’t let you down.” I turn and push the door open.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Cahallan says with a wry smile as I step through the door.

“My daughter says you were boasting about being able to solve these murders,” Sir Kneckt says, he’s sitting on a bench under a portrait of Mayor Cahallan, the painter made his thinner and stronger, it’s a full profile of him, I notice a strange birthmark on is left wrist.

“Yes,” I say hesitantly. I’ve never had a friendly interaction with a knight in a casual sense, usually I am being questioned for things like public intoxication or unauthorized use of magic in no magic zones.

“Ned,” he says sticking out his hand. “Ned Kneckt. You are?” He’s a tall broad man, everything about his demeanor and stature say knight.

I take his hand, he could gut a salmon with his grip, “Ceddrick, Ceddrick Scaleheart,” I say shaking his hand.

“From the Riverlands,” it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Yes,” I say, surprised. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been around.”

He doesn’t elaborate and I don’t push the topic. “So, the murders,” I say, “Mayor Cahallan said you would get me the important details.”

“Yes, yes,” he seems to come out of a daze, “follow me.” He leads me down an adjacent hallway towards the guard office. Portraits of old town guard captains line the walls, a mural of a sealed tomb and the same six priests in red robes is painted above the portraits. “Right in here,” he gestures to his office, and I walk in a sit at the chair in front of his desk. He has a decorative sword on the wall and his shield with his house crest painted on sits against the desk.

“I see you received the sword of honor,” I say, trying to keep the conversation going, referencing the sword on the wall.

“From the king,” he says, “honor on the battlefield.” He doesn’t elaborate. “The murders started with Peder Colloga,” he says changing the topic. “He was found in the town reservoir about two months ago, looked like an accident.” He hands me a scroll, a report on the death. “Next we have Hera Wheatrose, the miller’s wife, found in the basement of town hall here, again, appears to be an accident, she was delivering some flour and the barrels collapsed on her about a month ago.” He hands me another scroll. “We started to worry when Brother Horace was found locked in the monastery cellar two weeks ago, the odd thing about that is that it is only lockable from the inside. Had to call the Tormas the blacksmith to break the lock.” He hands me another scroll, a report on Brother Horace’s death. “Lastly, we have the murder of Fenn Wolffang, we haven’t moved his body,” he pauses, “would you like to start there?”

“I suppose,” I say, I’m feeling incredibly overwhelmed with the scrolls in my hands and the weight of the town on my shoulders, how am I supposed to solve this. Before I have time to reconsider Ned stands and leads me out of his office and through the back exit of town hall, we exit through the rear exit, there’s a training yard for the guards, dummies with arrows and sword gashes stand about, the straw that fills them strewn about the muddy yard.

“Where was the body found?” I ask, trying to sound like a detective.

“Fenn Wolffang was the town hound master and lead hunter.” Ned says, he leads me back to the main road through town, we pass the blacksmith. “He was found yesterday near the kennels on the edge of town.” At a fork in the road we continue straight, to the right is the road I took into town yesterday. Wildflowers are budding along the edge of the road and the buildings become more spread out and become more residential than the center of town.

            Upon reaching the kennels I hear the baying of hunting dogs from the building. My initial fear is that there won’t be much left of Fenn Wolfgang when I get inside. Ned leads me to the kennel entrance, a young man stands at the door, he looks nervous.

“This is Silvar Deadwood, Fenn’s apprentice,” Ned says gesturing to the man, he’s thin with greasy black hair and patchy beard. “He is the one who found and reported Fenn’s body.”

I nod, not sure what to say to the man, at least he got a promotion out of it. I’m horrible. “Nice to meet you,” I say, nodding towards Silvar, he nods and quickly looks away. I can’t tell if it’s guilt, awkwardness or both, I’ll have to see what he knows.

Ned takes the key ring from his belt, I brace myself for a bloody scene as he puts a key into the lock, I hold my breath as he turns the key, and then nothing, he put the wrong key in the door.

“Sorry, they all look the same,” Ned says sheepishly, he takes another key and again I brace myself, this time it’s the right key. The door swings open and I step inside.