Bower's wife leaned against the head of the bed, took a sip of the brown-green medicinal broth, and then held the cup in both hands. There was still a slight bruise on her right temple, a mark from when she had collapsed and struck the wall two days ago.
Ever since waking up, this woman had developed an aversion to physical contact with anyone, so while Jorgen sat in the bedroom, he remained far from the bed, with Joseph standing behind him leaning against the door.
The woman cleared her throat, blinked a few times, lightly touched her own wound, and then stiffly lowered her hand, like a marionette with slightly rusty joints.
In a low voice, Joseph said to Jorgen, "Don't we need to wait a bit longer? Maybe that way, we can extract more useful information."
"No need to wait," Jorgen replied.
He understood that if they waited for a week or two to allow the witness's emotions to stabilize, by that time, whether she was willing or not, she would forget many details, perhaps even deliberately lie to protect herself and believe those lies.
"Madam," he said, "we need you to remember something."
The blacksmith's wife placed the cup on the glass stand next to the bed. The cup didn't immediately steady itself, and some of the medicinal broth splashed out. She placed her left hand on the back of her right hand, rubbing it.
"I can't remember anything. Nothing at all."
"I haven't mentioned what I need you to remember yet. You can definitely recall what happened three days ago because I can— that night, I encountered Bower at the Crow's Blood Inn. Besides me, at least dozens of others can remember what happened then. Don't you want to know what he was doing at the inn?"
"No. I don't want to."
"After Bower left the inn and returned home, something was different about him: his nose was broken. You must have noticed this; no wife could overlook her husband coming home with a broken nose."
The blacksmith's wife blinked her eyes rapidly, then shook her head as if trying to shake off some sand that had fallen into her eyes. Ten seconds later, she began to speak:
"...When Bower came home, he yelled at me. I was trying to apply some medicine to his nose, and he accused me of hurting him."
"Do you want to know why he was injured?"
"No, I don't want to know anything."
"Because he had a fight at the inn. It wasn't a big deal, but getting one's nose broken is never good. But I didn't expect him to come home and blame you."
"Yes, he's always like that. I shouldn't have married him; I've been saying that for over twenty years. But there's no way out now. Look at the trouble he's left me with..."
Her eyes, once devoid of any life, now began to widen. Her lips kept moving, recounting the grievances she had accumulated over the years. Jorgen often had to demonize the image of the deceased in the minds of those being interrogated, guiding them to vent their frustrations as a way to prevent the idealization of the deceased in the eyes of the living. Otherwise, the person being questioned would often just cry and nothing could be gained.
"I asked him where he got into this mess, but he didn't say a word. I deliberately taunted him, wondering if he got caught in bed with Nellani's other lover. I kept nagging him from behind, trying to provoke a fight. I was determined to argue all day, but he remained silent. Why? No matter what I said, he just wanted me to prepare the finest tea, set up the tea service for two, and he instructed me to polish the cups three more times. To be honest, I didn't want to do anything for him... I've been so tired lately."
"Why prepare the tea service? Did he have late-night guests?"
"I don't know. He didn't say. But that's the tea he almost never drinks himself, not even when the mayor comes. I don't like that stuff; it's too bitter... Why would he spend so much money buying these ugly and foul-smelling leaves? Anyway, I casually left the things he wanted on the table in the living room. At that time, he was in the bathroom. If I had waited for him to come out, I would have given him a piece of my mind... but I was tired, so I went back to my room to sleep."
"It sounds like your husband had an important meeting with someone," Joseph said.
"I told you, I don't know. I can't control him. He won't tell me anything."
She started muttering to herself again. "Rest well, ma'am," Jorgen said before he and Joseph left the room.
"Do you think he was meeting someone for business?" Joseph asked.
"That's a question that shouldn't be asked of me first. He was a prominent figure in town; you should be more familiar with him than I am. All I can say is that he had an important appointment that night, one that made him so preoccupied that he didn't even have time to argue with his wife after causing a scene at the Crow Inn."
"So... it was a business meeting. He must have thought there was a significant deal to discuss with this person. I've heard about his high-quality tea; it's only used for meetings with nobles from larger towns or for major business negotiations. His apprentices have confirmed that."
"I don't know how reliable that conclusion is. But at least I lean towards the idea that he wasn't meeting someone from the village. Bower brought some people into the house - we don't know how many yet - and his wife was already asleep, so she didn't hear anything. There was hardly any sign of struggle in the living room. Maybe he trusted the other person implicitly, and then he was ambushed, or perhaps the other person overpowered him in an instant. But to discuss this, you need to remember the results of the autopsy: the initial blow was a frontal attack. Swinging something like that, no matter how strong you are, the speed of the attack can't be very fast - a direct blow to the face, that was the first hit. Bower was a strong man, but on that night, you could say he was defenseless."
"So, you're suggesting there might have been more than one assailant."
"Yes. However, you mentioned that it might have been a business meeting, and that's an interesting point. The killer might have used a merchant's demeanor to approach him, lulling him into a false sense of security. In any case... we should start the investigation with strangers who have entered the town recently, focusing on anyone with suspicious backgrounds or the ability to wield that weapon. I recommend blocking all the entrances and exits of Darkshire Town for the next week, starting now. Anyone wishing to leave the town must submit an application and receive approval."
"We've never tried to block the town in all these years," Joseph said, lowering his tone. "Sure, Darkshire Town is small and isolated... but in practice, we welcome outsiders. Won't doing this cause dissatisfaction among the townspeople?"
"You wouldn't want someone capable of committing such a murder to come and go freely within and outside the village. If he has the ability to do something like this to a person of Bower's stature, then he can do the same to everyone else in town - of course, your household might be the exception."
This statement wasn't praise but a rather peculiar, thinly veiled mockery. Having both the Mayor and the Night Watch Commander in one's family naturally entitled them to a higher level of security, but this comment seemed to forcibly separate the Everlock family from the common folk. Joseph seemed rather unbothered by it. "Jorgen, why don't you suggest investigating people within the village? You've seen how disliked Bower was."
I don't believe all those dreary-eyed people would have the nerve to do something like this.
Jorgen didn't respond directly. "These are just my personal opinions; you don't have to accept them."
"The more you emphasize 'personal opinions,' the more I feel that following your advice is the right path. Because it makes me wonder if there are reasons behind these opinions that only aMI7 agent would understand but are difficult for outsiders to grasp."
"You're just lacking experience - investigating isn't the Night Watch's specialty."
Just then, a trembling cry emanated from the bedroom behind them, sounding like a rusty chain being dragged over broken glass. It was Bower's wife. After a prolonged bout of muttering, the image of her husband reduced to bloody fragments once again inevitably seized control of her mind. The fear that ensued, rather than sorrow, caused her emotions to spiral out of control, and she began tearing at her own hair.
Without a need for command, the doctor standing nearby rushed into the room, trying his best to calm her down. It was at this moment that Jorgen saw Joseph, who was typically expressionless, furrow his brow slightly. The inhuman wails made him uncomfortable.
"Let's go outside," Joseph said.
Once they were outside, he spoke again, "I've made up my mind, Jorgen. We'll do it your way. Lock down the town and investigate outsiders. But the latter may take some time because we won't have records for every newcomer."
"You can consider doing so in the future."
"In that case," Jorgen said, "I'll head to the town hall. If there's anything that needs assistance with either of these tasks, you can reach out to me at any time."
Just as Jorgen had turned away, Joseph said, "Wait."
"What else is there?"
"I just wanted to ask... why are you helping us like this?"
Joseph's expression wasn't one of mistrust but rather a curious and well-intentioned question.
"You seem to have asked that question before," Jorgen replied. "I've mentioned that I'm just a volunteer, that's all. Perhaps it's simply that I've entered a working mode and that's making me seem overly enthusiastic."
"'Enthusiastic' isn't the impression theMI7 has left us with."
"Likewise, a lack of initiative shouldn't be the impression left by the Night Watch leader."
Joseph raised his chin slightly, as if this rather straightforward statement had left him perplexed. "It seems that I've wholeheartedly embraced your suggestions, making it seem like a lack of initiative?"
"I've only learned about your father from the records, but I can say he was a determined individual. Regardless of what the Night Watch has become, and what role it plays, taking the first steps without Stormwind's permission was a courageous act. At our dinner on the first day we met, you vigorously defended his reputation, so I had thought you would vehemently refuse my help."
"If this is what you call lacking initiative... I must admit, I find it hard to grasp. However, I never once considered rejecting your assistance." Joseph paused for a moment. "As you said, investigating isn't the Night Watch's forte, and it's rather late for me to start learning. Regardless, I can't tolerate such a violent murderer lurking in our town. Even though we've been quite isolated for a long time, to the point where my own sister couldn't receive a proper education, I must protect Nightshire. For this purpose, accepting the advice of a MI7 investigator widely is, I believe, no loss. Besides, you mentioned the potential threat to my family earlier, which makes me value this matter even more."
"Speaking of which, although it might not be the best timing for this question... when might Mrs. Morticia have some time? Mrs. Dalia is eager to meet her."
"Soon, Jorgen. I promise."