Jorgen lifted the shroud and took a look. Except for the hair color, he couldn't recognize this as the same Bower he had seen last night. The rest of the body had been pieced together temporarily on a stretcher from various corners of the yard. He understood why the first eyewitness – Bower's wife – had fainted immediately. The result was the apprentice of the blacksmith reporting the incident a few hours later.
No one had informed him about this. After hearing the rumors among the townsfolk outside the inn, he sought out the mayor. At first, Elro brushed it off as a minor case that didn't need his trouble. However, Jorgen insisted, using the pretext of being Lady Dalia's protector, stating that he needed to understand the current state of security in Darkshire Town. The town didn't really have a proper police force, and the experience and efficiency of the town guards in handling crime scenes were evidently lacking. When Jorgen arrived, it seemed like a corner of a slaughterhouse – chaotic and noisy.
Although the scene was a mess of destruction, at least the lethal weapon had been found – but who could have missed something like that?
Commander of the Night Guard, Joseph Everlock, stood outside the workshop, directing two of his subordinates to prop the murder weapon against the wall, wiping off the bloodstains and remaining tissue. Jorgen approached him.
It was a metal sign with raised letters that read "Bower's Blacksmith Shop," followed by a row of smaller text: "Providing top-quality weaponry and gear. The guard's favorite, also your choice." Because it used decorative cursive fonts, with many indentations and embellishments, Jorgen could imagine how fearful Bower must have felt looking up at it as it was brought down.
"Lord Jorgen," Joseph said, "you're an expert. Have you seen this type of thing used for murder before?"
"I've seen worse. However, I must admit this is quite innovative."
"But Bower was also dismembered, and there are fatal knife wounds on his abdomen. Could he have been killed with a knife first..."
"Unlikely. Judging from the collapsed facial bone structure of Bower, it's evident that he received consecutive blows to the front of his face. However, the dismemberment of the limbs is quite precise – it's the work of an experienced killer. Choosing such a clumsy way to damage the face only has one reason: to torment him to death. Being struck by this thing on the face, a person wouldn't have a clear consciousness to call for help, but they wouldn't die immediately either."
"Since you say the intention was to torment him to death, then why go through dismemberment after death?"
"It shows that the killer had no intention to cover up their crime." Jorgen heard a falling sound behind him and turned to see that someone cleaning up the scene had slipped on the blood-soaked grass. "Not just dismemberment, they splattered blood everywhere, making it visible for everyone. They wanted to tell witnesses that a massacre had taken place here."
"Bower's personality wasn't exactly pleasant, earning him the enmity of many... but I don't think that alone would lead someone to kill him in such a horrifying manner. Going by your explanation, it's like the killer wanted to showcase this scene, almost like flaunting their trophy. Is that the right interpretation?"
"Flaunting the trophy is secondary; this also serves as a warning."
"A warning?"
"He didn't decide on the use of this sign to bludgeon Bower spontaneously. Perhaps his goal has already been achieved."
"You mean... the killer killed him to strike at the guards?"
"Drawing such conclusions might be a bit biased, as any criminal act against the townsfolk of Darkshire can be seen as a strike against the guards. However, regardless, Bower was your weapons supplier. Come to think of it, has Bower's wife regained consciousness yet?"
"Not yet."
"She's been asleep long enough. Notify me immediately when she wakes up."
Joseph turned to Jorgen. The commander's face bore a distinctive paleness, not tinged with any weariness or fragility, but rather accentuating the sharpness of his gaze.
"Lord Jorgen," he said. "It seems you're issuing me orders. Does this mean that the MI7 has taken over this case?"
Jorgen recalled how Joseph had, at the dinner table, meticulously questioned Dalia with a string of precise words. Those words had all centered around the guards' autonomy, around his father's dignity.
"I'm aware that senior agents from the Bureau can take over local cases and issue orders to the constables," Joseph continued. "But we're the guards, not some subsidiary of a law enforcement agency."
Jorgen sensed a kind of sophistry in his response, a deliberate obfuscation of identity. He didn't think Joseph was addicted to challenging authority; it felt more like he always wanted to remind others of the independence of the guards.
"The council is leaning toward establishing a separate law enforcement agency for Darkshire. Until then, legally, I might not have a basis to be involved in your internal security matters. However, it was you who approached me for advice on this murder. So, you can consider me a volunteer. I believe my volunteering is much more experienced than your subordinates and yourself. I wasn't giving orders just now, I was laying out the conditions that would allow me to help to the fullest extent. You can choose not to fulfill those conditions."
"Your viewpoint is quite straightforward, Lord Jorgen. I must admit, upon seeing you enter the scene, my first instinct was to seek your assistance. Frankly, in our closed little town, such a brutal murder is a first for us. I'm honestly at a loss as to where to begin."
"So, do you accept or reject my help?"
"I appreciate it, Lord Jorgen. I'll do my best to meet your requirements."
Joseph inclined his body slightly, a nod of deference, more solemn than a bow and more formal than a simple nod. Throughout the entire process, he hadn't shown a trace of a smile, making it hard to say he was unfriendly.
"So, here are my requests," Jorgen said. "The first point has been mentioned before – as soon as Dalia, the wife of Bower, regains consciousness... no, once it's confirmed that she's lucid and can speak, notify me for questioning. Second, immediately audit Bower's trading records from the past year, checking for anything suspicious, like significant outstanding debts. Third, interrogate each apprentice, have them recount their activities from yesterday, and confirm if there was any theft in the workshop. That should suffice for now."
"I don't quite understand the second point... auditing the records, I assume, is to determine if this is a murder due to economic disputes. So, why limit the time span to a year?"
"People who commit crimes over economic disputes tend to hide their tracks as opposed to orchestrating an elaborate display of violence like this. Furthermore, he dealt in weapons for practical use; no one resorts to such brutality over the price of a few iron swords. If necessary, the perpetrator would likely be a significant client with some degree of power, and such individuals wouldn't prolong an economic dispute before resorting to murder. In short, investigating the trading records is just a precaution, so it shouldn't require an excessive amount of effort and manpower. Examining a year's worth of records should be enough."
"I see... I understand now. I'll arrange this."
Jorgen didn't voice one particular point: the attack on Darkshire had occurred a year ago. He believed Joseph would be able to catch his deliberate omission. Nonetheless, Jorgen leaned towards the idea that the murder was closely tied to the guards. But, in the absence of knowing how much trust Joseph placed in him, he kept his stance somewhat reserved for now.
He started to recall the scene from the previous night. As a supplier of arms to the guards, Bower had gradually cultivated a false authority among the townspeople. This wasn't something that had happened overnight. He had not been the first to publicly mock Staven and embarrass Nellani. The destructiveness of these actions might not warrant such hatred – but they might have been amplified within Staven's secretive personality.
However, that signboard seemed slightly excessive for Staven. Last night's farce and Bower's death should be nothing more than coincidental, Jorgen thought.
Furthermore, the body was discovered in the courtyard between the workshop and the residence, forming a perfect right angle. The other two sides of the courtyard were bordered by the mountainside; one would need to pass through either the workshop or the residence to enter.
"Joseph, have you found any signs of forced entry yet?"
"No, all the locks were intact."
So, it's likely that the perpetrator entered with Bower's consent.
"Jorgen," Joseph interrupted his thoughts, "I understand that this situation might have made you concerned about Dalia's safety. On this matter, I apologize on behalf of my brother... no, on behalf of the entire Darkshire."
Jorgen noticed that he had inadvertently skipped the honorific when addressing Joseph earlier, and Joseph had done the same. It wasn't a gesture of familiarity – at least, not from Joseph's expression, which seemed as precise as the lines of a plaster bust. Instead, it felt like another emphasis on the guards' autonomy. Jorgen wasn't particularly bothered, as he felt like a burden in his current role under the premise of equal cooperation.
"Apologize? Why?" he inquired.
"Because... only my brother, me, and the secretary, Delta, knew about this incident. My brother was afraid it would affect Dalia's perception of Darkshire, so he decided to keep it from you both. It seems like an imprudent decision in hindsight. I suggest you visit my brother's office and let him explain in person; after all, I'm not entirely informed on the details. Just tell him that I've disclosed the existence of that letter."
"Letter?"
"Yes. It arrived three days before you two arrived in Darkshire. It was wedged in the gap of the main gate and was found early in the morning. Jorgen, I can't express how deeply sorry I am for this situation..."
Twenty minutes later, Jorgen stood before Elro's desk, watching as he sighed deeply and then reached into a drawer with his right hand. The letter was buried under a pile of papers, and Elro practically had to bump his shoulder against the desk to retrieve it. He gave a somewhat awkward smile, then felt that the smile was ill-timed, sighed, pursed his lips in resignation, and handed the letter to Jorgen.
"When was it delivered?"
"Three days before the two of you arrived in Darkshire. It was left in the gap of the front gate, and someone discovered it early in the morning. Lord Jorgen, I truly cannot express how deeply sorry I am..."
"Let's skip this step then."
Jorgen unfolded the letter. Its content was quite straightforward:
"In the event that the hounds of MI7 Seven set foot in Darkshire, nightmares will descend. Unfortunate events will occur."
Every letter was cut out from printed material and then pieced together.
"Mayor Elro, what do you think this is? A prank not worth sharing with us? This person is prepared, not leaving any handwriting behind. Even if it's a prank, you need to find a way to apprehend them, as this could be considered a serious form of harassment."
Naturally, this triggered Elro's endless stream of apologies and self-criticism, but Jorgen paid no heed. He began to ponder the tone of the threatening letter. While warning of "unfortunate events," the writer simultaneously implied that the "hounds of MI7 Seven" are the "nightmares." The news of Dalia's visit to Darkshire as an envoy had been communicated a month prior, indicating that this threat letter seemed quite hastily written.
Bower's death could truly be described as a nightmare, but the direct connection between the two wasn't Jorgen's primary concern at the moment. He pocketed the letter, intending to immediately find Dalia.