Chapter 4: Sigils and Scrolls

The first thing I do is sketch the sigil I saw on the tree, þœ, I’ll check my spell book for anything similar, if I can’t find it I’ll check the town library. I must’ve obliterated those memories, it’s not in my spell book and for the life of me, well hopefully not my life, I can’t remember where I’ve seen this. I down half of the first flagon of ale and bite into the chicken, the skin is crispy and subtly seasoned, the flesh is juicy and savory, Ness is a true master of flavor, its citrusy and smoky. I unravel the first scroll detailing the investigation into the death of Peder Colloga. He was found in the town reservoir two months ago, half submerged through the thin layer of ice, there’s a sketch of the scene, Farmer Colloaga’s body was just offshore, is upper body was out of the ice with no signs of trauma and his legs submerged. Not much to go on, I can see why they decided it was an accident. I’ll have to check out the land, I see a statement from his wife, the woman I saw berating the traveling salesman, when did he arrive in town? I wasn’t paying attention if he said it while he talked at me. I finish the flagon and read her statement.

Peder quit drinking two weeks ago, he swore he saw a cloaked figure following him home from the Bearclaw. Mentioned it again two days ago, went to seek protection from the hermit witch, I advised against that. Now he’s dead. I saw that elf whispering things to him in the market, slipped a vial into his pocket when he thought I wasn’t looking. He has to be guilty, him or that witch.

Below the sketch of the sigil I found I write a few notes, both victims were being followed by a cloaked figure, both went to seek protection, Peder went to see the witch, and I’m still not sure who Fenn went to seek protection from.  Was it also the witch? Further down the scroll there are the investigation notes from the body examination and crime scene sweep. Clearly the protection spells and potions didn’t work. I’ll still want to go see it for myself, see if I can scrounge up any clues.

Peder Colloga, 56-year-old human farmer and town drunk. Found feet first in the reservoir, horse tracks, boot prints leading to the reservoir. No external damage on the body, scar on left wrist, wife claims he cut himself on the fire poker a week ago. Final verdict, drunk accident.

Clearly there’s a contradiction here, was he poisoned? Was he drunk? I set the scroll aside and finish the second flagon of ale. Before I get started on the next scroll I hear a knock on my door.

“Ceddrick?” I hear Becca through the door. “Ness sent me up with more ale.”

“Come on in Becca,” I say, I’m unfurling the scroll on Hera Wheatrose. Becca enters the room with two steins dripping with ale. She sets them on the desk.

“Looks like a lot of work,” she says taking the empty steins. “Wait,” she pauses and looks at Colloga’s scroll, “the dates wrong, he was found on a Monday, not a Tuesday.”

I write that detail down. “Thanks, Becca.” She might know more. She smiles and leaves the room. Strange. Sir Kneckt doesn’t seem like the type to put the wrong day,

The next scroll I look at is Hera Wheatrose, the miller’s wife. She was making a delivery to town hall about a month ago when in a freak accident a pile of barrels seems to have fallen on her. I look over the statements, there were several people in town hall at the time of the accident, the first statement is from Mayor Cahallan, he was the first on the scene, I finish the chicken as I read. I use a blank scroll has a napkin to catch the grease.

I heard a loud crash from the basement and raced from my office and down the stairs, that’s when I saw her, poor Hera, barrels of barley and rye had fallen and crushed her, I tried to move the barrels, but they were too heavy.

The next statement is by Ned Kneckt. I sip from the stein and wipe the foam from my lip. Ness can brew a great ale, I’ll have to ask for her secret before I head back to Byron’s Crossing,

I opened the cellar doors, for Hera’s weekly delivery, the cellar entrance is the easiest way to bring the barrels into the basement, I returned to my office after she arrived and about an hour later heard a loud crashing sound. When I arrived downstairs, I saw Mayor Cahallan attempting to push the barrels off Hera.

The other statements said much of the same, a loud crashing sound and witnessing the mayor attempting to remove the barrels from the woman. I skip down to the investigation summary.

Hera Wheatrose, 35-year-old human woman. Married to Bryer Wheatrose the town miller. Found by Mayor Cahallan and others in the basement of town hall. Crushed by barrels, no foul play suspected. Initial examination of the body shows injuries consistent with being crushed. Birthmark or scar on left wrist.

I check the sketch of the scene, whoever sketched it did a shite job but I get the general idea. It’s a pretty standard layout, one I’ve encountered several times after a failed adventure. I ignore the memories and check the drawing, did Sir Kneckt have a chicken draw this?. I see the stack of barrels was against the western wall of the basement, from the statements and summary she was crushed by two barrels that somehow fell off the top level of the stack. She was facing the barrels, laying on her back, did she try to catch them, I would at least try to move away if I was facing the stack of barrels. Something doesn’t add up for me, she delivers and stacks these barrels every week, what happened this time that the barrels fell? I finish my fourth flagon of ale push the scroll away. I need to talk to Bryer, there’s no official statement from him on the scroll. I stand and stretch my legs, since I’m up I might as well go get another round of ale, it’ll help me think, I do my best thinking, and forgetting when I’m at the tavern.

I take my empty plate and two empty steins down to the bar. The tavern is filling up with the evening crowd, the smells of onion stew and roasted rabbit fill the space, and even though I just ate, my mouth waters. Ness is at the far end of the bar talking to two traveling merchants, and I set the empty dishes down as I wait.

“Word’s spread about your boasting,” Dyrk is at his stool at the end of the bar, he smirks at me as he sips from the stein of ale in his hand. He moves his bowl of stew away from me, “gotta make sure you don’t take a dive in my dinner,” he laughs and pats my back. Nice to see my spill into the old lady’s soup has made its way around town as well. “I jest,” he says, “how’s the investigation going?”

“There are a lot of leads,” I say, “does Bryer Wheatrose come down here often?” I ask, I gesture to Ness as she looks down the bar, she smiles at Dyrk and nods to me. She’ll be down to get me another round when she’s done with the merchants.

Dyrk shakes his head, “haven’t seen poor Bryer since Hera died,” he lifts his stein in a performative toast and finishes the ale. “The only reason we know he’s still alive is the arrival of the flour every week.”

“Do you know where I could find him?”

“Up at the mill,” Dyrk points across his body. “It’s on the river outside of town, big wheel, can’t miss it.”

“Thanks,” I say, Ness is in front of us now, she takes Dyrk’s stein and my two flagons and refills them with ale.

“Any suspects yet?” Ness asks me as she hands back the two flagons. She bats her eyes at Dyrk, he winks back, I feel like I’m intruding on some sacred ritual they have.

“Not yet, but I’m sure you’ll be the first to know.” I say chuckling. “Can I get something stronger?” I can’t handle the pressure right now, I barely know what I’m doing and now the town is relying on me to find the killer. Ness nods and hands me a bottle of Ursas Kiss.

“Here ya, go,” she winks at me and moves her attention back to Dyrk. I nod and head back upstairs to my room. I pop the cork out of the bottle of Ursas Kiss and take a long pull.

 I need to focus, I can’t fail again, I can’t go back home with a list of fourteen failed adventuring parties, penniless, never going to happen. If I can solve this, I will be set, I won’t have to prove anything to anyone. The smoky vanilla and rich flavor of forest berries washes over my tongue and a warmth fills me from my toes to my ears as I set the bottle on the desk and open the last scroll.

Brother Horace from the town monastery. Brother Horace was found by Head Cleric Glorse two weeks ago, I write down that the murders appear to be happening more closely together, my best guess is I have at most a week before the next one, right around the time of the celebration of the sealers. I look at the statements, Brother Horace missed evening prayer and wasn’t in his room. The next day when he missed the morning prayer Head Cleric Glorse went to check on Horace, he wasn’t in his room, and his last assignment was to clean the cellar, Glorse went to check the cellar and found it locked. The statements from the other clerics at the monastery collaborate this story from Cleric Glorse. I take another sip from the bottle and look over the investigation summary.

Brother Horace, 22-year-old half elf male. Found dead from an apparent stab wound in the monastery cellar. Scar on left wrist, and an open wound on the back of the head, bloody hammer near the back wall of the cellar, used to incapacitate Brother Horace. Body was left where he was killed, no sign of movement.

I shudder, not from Ursas Kiss, but from the fact that I will have to go to the monastery, I take a long drink from the bottle at the thought, I haven’t been inside a monastery since my grandfather’s funeral, hopefully I don’t burst into flames. I’ll need to see if Brother Horace had any friends or confidants at the monastery. I push the scroll away and stare into the bottle of Ursas Kiss, I push the bottle away. What am I doing? I can’t do this I can’t even cast a simple spell properly, let alone solve a quadruple murder. Should I just run, bail and never return? I reach for the bottle to take another drink, no. My hand stops and I grab my quill.  I will solve this, I will prove myself. I draw the sigil at the top of a new scroll, it feels so familiar, yet so unrecognizable, below the sigil I write down three observations. Cloaked figure, protection, scar?

Finally, I feel the edge of the day start to wear off, I need to take a break from this investigation, and I head down to the full tavern downstairs.