Mi perp es su perp

The capital city of the of Rynmere, here is seated the only King in Idalos.
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Yanahalqah
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Race: Yludih
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Mi perp es su perp

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Vhalar 46 718
Nearly Noon

Continued from here

Douglas was dead.

Half an hour walk through the streets of Andaris, through winding alleys and wide cobbled roads, and some tight shortcuts between buildings, only to arrive at what both Knights had hoped not to find.

To be fair, what they found was not a body, but a crimson stain on the fine wood floor of the entrance hall, and a widow.

Douglas was dead.

The maniac from Scalvoris had pounced upon another unsuspecting victim.

However, the two Knights hadn’t known any of that when they rang the doorbell, waiting patiently for the hurried footfalls and cluttering of keys to unlock the door barring entry inside. Neither of them had expected Douglas to answer the door; distinguished men like him had slaves to execute such menial tasks, and according to the spice merchant, Douglas did indeed own a slave.

Pretty, young, blonde.

The woman who opened the door was neither of those.

Not to say she was ugly per se, but none of her features could be described as classical features gushed about in plays and fiction. If she’d been thinner, she’d have been fairly average. Not a classic beauty by any means, but not an ugly hag either. Her garb was a simple and black. Black blouse, long black skirt. Even the jewelry she wore, the stones of her rings and the beads of her necklace were all black. The area around her eyes was more puffy and pink than the rest of her face, and the same could be said about her nostrils.

Combined with the large stain in the wooden floor, the original spill having seeped in for hours and unable to be removed completely when it had finally been cleaned up, immediately clued Yana in of what had happened here.

“My condolences, ma’am,” the Captain spoke, neither her tone of voice nor her expression changing even a little when the words left her mouth. Her subordinate, however, muttered something similar in a convincingly sincere manner.

“We had a couple questions we wanted to ask you, if you would not mind.”

The widow slumped a little.

“We will not be long,” Yana said, “may we come in?”

She nodded, stepping aside so they could enter, and led them to the salon, taking a moment to close and lock the door behind them. Yana seized the opportunity to examine the red-stained floor briefly and inconspicuously.

They were offered a seat on a comfortable-looking leather sofa, and the widow sat down opposite of them, taking the left of a pair of armchairs.

“What did you want to know?” the woman began, looking far smaller and less in control than she had when answering the door. The effort was still made since she had company, but it seemed that sitting face to face with a pair of Knights by her lonesome hammered in the reality of her situation. “I’ve told you lot everything I knew yesterday.”

Yana noticed Ser Tayne’s brow furrow slightly, his mouth opening to interrupt as the words were voiced by the older woman. The false Eídisi made a quick gesture to stop him before he began. Maybe he did not grasp the situation fully yet –or maybe he simply wanted to confirm his suspicions—but Yana’s mind had already put one and one together. Of course, she had some questions on that matter as well, but the widow was not the person to ask.

“Do you have news already? A clue?” the black-clad woman almost begged, her stare hopeful.

“Indeed,” Yana responded, producing the picture out of a pocket. “We have a lead. In fact, we are certain that this person—” she handed the parchment over to the widow “—is responsible for the murder of your husband.” There was a pause as she waited for the woman to study the drawing, and continued: “Have you seen her before?”

A shake of the head.

“No, I don’t—I don’t think I have.”

Yana frowned.

“Does the name Francis Higglebottom mean anything to you?”

Another non-verbal negative response. Yane leaned back in her seat, tapping her thumb to her chin. A brief sideways glance at Ser Tayne’s left hand told her the widow seemed to be sincere. So, she knew neither of the Scalvorian maniac, nor of the man she hunted. Perhaps her husband had known—but would he have been killed if he had? If he’d cooperated with the Scalvorian, told her what she wanted to know, surely she wouldn’t have killed him? Or was she one of those “I never said I would spare you if you did tell me” kind of people? The kind that enjoyed the power they had, and loved to toy with their victims?

Or—

This was going nowhere. This made no sense at all. How would she have figured some upper middle-class citizen was in any way related to her quarry? What leaps in logic would she have had to make to come to that conclusion? Perhaps this was not related to that at all? Maybe this was a separate issue. And there was something else that bugged her—

“Your slave, was she killed as well?”

“Mina?” There was a moment where the widow studied both Knights intensely, a semblance of surprise and disbelief on her face. “I told your colleagues yesterday, didn’t I? She’s nowhere to be found.”

“Ah, my apologies. We work in separate teams, and I have not had the opportunity to read all the reports just yet. Tell me, did my colleagues ask for everything you know about the slave as well?”

“They did, yes.”

“Perfect, then I will not bother you with such questions before I have read the reports.”

“By the by, miss…” the widow spoke up, handing the paper poster back to the false Eídisi, “do you have any suspicions as to what the relation between this woman and my husband is?”

“Except for the possibility of Higglebottom, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Unfortunately, at this point we do not. All I can share with you is that this woman was seen following your husband home yesterday, but we do not yet know why. So, if anything should pop into your mind, make sure to contact us. It would be most helpful.”

She looked a little disappointed, but nodded slowly.

“Of course. I will do whatever I can.”

The false Eídisi gave a nod to her companion, and both Knights rose almost simultaneously.

“Excellent. Now, thank you for your time. If I have any more questions later, I will come back.”


word count: 1116
"Speaking" - Thinking - "Others speaking"
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Yanahalqah
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Re: Mi perp es su perp

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Vhalar 47 718
Late afternoon

A knock on the door made the not-actually-Eídisi Captain glance up from the several sheets of paper and parchment on her desk. Between the stacks of unfinished paperwork sat a couple bundled ones, wrapped in a hardened leather binder. Reports.

One was about a crime scene.

One was about a dead body.

And one was about a slave.

There were a couple others as well, but those three were her main focus. They were laying open, a paperweight holding specific pages down. She’d marked some pages with dog ears so she’d be able to quickly navigate to what she had determined to be of interest.

“Come in,” the periwinkle-skinned Yludih spoke.

While her guest entered, and closed the door behind him, Yana slid one of her notebooks closer, ready for use. Her gaze slid from her desk to the man now standing right in front of it. He was tall, with muscles barely hidden by his uniform. Green eyes in deep sockets, brown hair in a style somewhere between long and short. A semblance of facial hair adorned his chin, but other parts of his face had only wispy patches. He saluted momentarily.

“You asked to see me, Captain LaChasse?”

“Indeed I did.” She gestured for him to have a seat. “I wanted to discuss the case you are working on, Steward Vard.”

During his salute, she’d seen him eye the reports on her desk, a spark of recognition appearing within his pupils. Now, having some form of confirmation, the Steward’s brow furrowed. He knew exactly what was going to happen here, and he did not like it.

Steward Stephen Vard primarily concerned himself with investigations. Crimes happened all the time, so people who were working on solving those all the time were necessary. Detectives, if you will. Robberies, murders, assault cases, breaking-and-entering, what have you –acts that could not be left unpunished, even if it only served to preserve order and subdue any possible anarchism.

Stephen liked his job. In fact, he loved his job. He liked solving puzzles. He liked capturing criminals. He liked being in charge of his investigations. He liked having a squad of full-time investigators working in a team, with himself at the helm. He liked that he did not have to stand guard on the walls, or patrol through the streets.

Stephen also disliked his job. In fact, he hated it. He hated writing reports. He hated interacting with people who had just lost someone close to them. He hated when everything seemed to be a dead end. He hated criminals that were a few steps ahead, criminals they couldn’t catch. And he hated situations like these.

By that he meant situations where he was called to the office of a superior, usually his direct superior, Captain Dergo. Vard liked Dergo as a boss. Sure, he had to deliver his reports on time, and the guy liked to call him into the office to discuss the progress of the investigation way too often, but at least he respected Vard’s intelligence. He left him free to solve cases his way. If warrants were needed, he could count on Dergo to come through for him. Other superiors often liked to pretend they were better than him, they called his intelligence into question when he there was no more progress. When they had no leads.

Gauging by the reports on this one’s desk, and what he’d heard of her, Captain LaChasse was not intent on putting him on the spot. Not enough time had passed for them to get stuck, a lot of variables were still unknown, they were still busy gathering information. It was but a day ago that they’d started!

A Knight in plain clothes stationed near the victim’s house had informed Vard that Captain LaChasse had visited the crime scene and the widow. He knew that she was working on a case as well, and judging by the reports on her desk, she wanted fresh details. Along with what he hated most—

“I am sure you do not have much time, Ser Vard, so I will get to the point immediately,” he heard the Eídisi say. “It has come to my attention that your team is investigating the Douglas Sulgaod case. As it happens, my team and I are pursuing a criminal responsible for many foul deeds done over the past few days.” A slight pause. Though he did not see those pupil-less eyes move, Stephen Vard was positive she had focused her gaze someplace else. “Which also includes the murder of your victim. I believe that our perpetrator is also your perpetrator. As such—”

She steepled her fingers, elbows on her desk. Vard sighed within his mind, preparing himself for the blow that would come. For the anger and frustration that would well up from inside. Another case plucked from his hands, another instance of handing over all his work and effort so someone else could use it as their own. At least they hadn’t been working on this one for long yet. It could have been worse.

“—I believe it would be prudent for you to keep me informed of your findings.”

He blinked.

“Does this mean that you are in charge?” His face and voice were perfectly neutral, revealing nothing at all.

“I am afraid that, as part of a greater series of crimes, your case was transferred to me, yes. In practice, there will not be much difference. Yes, you report to me directly. Your reports you will deliver to me. You and yours will remain doing what you have been. You investigate this scene, you keep me informed, and I keep my hands off. Personally, I believe that it would be for the best to keep the same people on the case. You know what you are doing, what avenues still need to be explored, and you understand your own internal logic. From experience, using the notes of another is dreadful and trying to make sense of them is time-consuming. For the sake of efficiency, you are the best man for the job. I have discussed this with Captain Dergo, and he agrees. Additionally, your track record tells me you are more than capable.”

This was … unexpected. Not unpleasant for sure, but unexpected all the same. Sure, he’d rather have Captain Dergo to report to, but at least the case was still his. More or less.

“Thank you, Captain,” he began, but she made a sharp gesture with a hand to cut him off.

“Do not thank me yet, Ser Vard. Some would tell you it would be better to be removed of the case. I will require intermediate status updates daily, in between your usual reports. I will tell you what I want you to focus on, if I deem that important.”

Perhaps this wasn’t as great as he had thought this was after all.

“However, you are free to conduct your investigation in whatever way you see fit. I will not bother you. My team will not bother you. I will not be looking over your shoulder every step of the way. We have our own task at hand, several other things we want to look into but lacked the manpower to do so. Until now, that is.” She gave him the tiniest of knowing smiles. “Of course, you will be permitted to read our reports as well. Like I said, I believe we are looking for the same perpetrator. You have access to all our knowledge on the case, though you are not at liberty to share details that are not relevant to your own crime scene.”

Stephen nodded slowly. Yes, there were some disadvantages to this sudden transfer. Putting up with even more status updates would be a royal pain in the butt. Being told what to look into was also extremely annoying. Access to additional information, especially on the potential perp? This would speed things up significantly. It would provide a whole lot of leads, he thought. Besides, if LaChasse would be busy with her own stuff, it was basically going to be mostly the same as usual. Not a bad deal, right? Not that he had a choice in the matter, of course.

“That sounds agreeable, Captain,” he stated.

“Good to hear. Now then, Ser Vard, let us get to the second part of this meeting. I have read your reports from yesterday. The absence of the slave bothers me. Mina, she was called? Tell me every new thing you have uncovered about her.”

The Eídisi stared at him –or something else, who knew with those creepy eyes?—expectantly, and Stephen Vard got the sense that the slave was just the first item on a long list.


Continued
word count: 1484
"Speaking" - Thinking - "Others speaking"
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Dula
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Re: Mi perp es su perp

DULA TV
[bbvideo]**Video**[/bbvideo]
GRADES!


Yana

REWARDS

Knowledges:-Investigation: employ someone adept at reading faces
-Investigation: using reports from other investigations
-Investigation: brief crime scene inspection
-investigation: use the crime scene to get an idea of what happened
-Leadership: keep potentially stubborn underlings happy
-Intelligence: daily reports

Loot: n/a
Injuries: n/a
Wealth: n/a
Renown: +5 for helping the widow

EXP: 10 XP not for magic

PLAYED TO SKILLS?

Yes!

COMMENTS


Well done, I enjoyed reading this very much. It was funny, the character Stephen looks just like my fiance in my head, the way your described him is perfect-- he just has blonde hair and blue eyes. His name is also Stephen! That gave me a laugh. You write very fluidly and it goes by quickly, I enjoyed every moment.


word count: 132

As Above; So Below


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