Of course, I wasn't so shallow as to completely judge people from their appearances. He looked like a crook but his lab, diary, and manner of speech proved he was quite the opposite, he oozed the same innocence and proclivity for self-sacrifice healers did. Things I once had.
"Who would frame you?" I got to the point.
"Due to the stereotype about my job, I have many enemies, three of which I believe to be the culprits but why would a successor such as your grace help me?"
"I have my reasons, just tell me who you suspect?"
"…James the city's best doctor. Garn, a rare-rank blacksmith, and Tale, my brother."
"I understand the first two but your brother?"
"He's a lousy older brother and he holds a grudge because our father refused him the family poison arts."
"Alright, I'll look into all of them,"
.
.
.
I started with the doctor. His clinic stood at the heart of the city, clean and cold. The white stone walls seemed to glisten, a contrast to the rumors surrounding his involvement.
I knocked on the door, and after a brief pause, a young nurse ushered me in after bowing deeply. The doctor sat behind his mahogany desk, reviewing papers. He looked up when I entered, his sharp blue eyes assessing me with detached interest. Once he saw my clothes, he stood up in a rush and bowed down deeply.
"Your grace!" he said smoothly, standing up to greet me. "You honor my clinic with your presence!"
I nodded, taking the seat he gestured to. "I'll get straight to the point. Doctor. You and the poisoner—you're familiar with him?"
His lips curled into a small smile. "Familiar enough. Though I wouldn't say we run in the same circles. His… methods…aren't medicine."
I leaned forward. "He has his place in this city's… ecosystem. Some say he threatens yours."
His smile never wavered, but his eyes hardened. "Competition?" He sat back in his chair. "I don't view him as competition. He deals with poisons, with death. I save lives. The two are hardly comparable. But for as long as he uses the concoctions to help others, I respect him."
"But his business has grown, hasn't it?" I pressed. "Perhaps more than you'd like. A framed murder would be an effective way to get rid of him."
His jaw tightened, though his voice remained measured. "Your grace, If I wanted him gone, investigator, there are far more… elegant ways to handle such matters. Besides, I do not need underhanded tactics. My reputation speaks for itself."
I let the silence hang between us, waiting for him to show a crack in his composure. But the man was a professional through and through. I wasn't going to get more from him easily. After a moment, I stood to leave.
"That'll be all."
"Safe travels, your grace." He bowed as I left.
[What the heart desired, it takes!]
[You have gained a new skill from [Master-Rank Doctor: James Lin], [Medical Knowledge]: Knowledge and experiences of a master-level doctor.]
'The doctor, it's likely not him.'
Next was the blacksmith, and as I approached his forge, the scent of burning coal and metal filled the air. His shop was busy, the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel echoing through the streets. I had to wait a moment for him to finish his work. He looked up, wiping the sweat from his brow, his eyes narrowing when he saw me approach.
"Your grace!" he shouted, stepping toward me, his massive arms drooping as he bowed.
I didn't bother with pleasantries. "I'm here to ask you a few questions, ones that involve a certain poisoner."
He let out a harsh laugh. "Poison," he said as if the word itself was foul. "Coward's weapon. No man worth his salt would use such a thing."
I studied his face, lined with years of hard labor and seething with disdain. "You've made your views on poisoners quite clear in the past I hear. Yet, you're known to be outspoken about your hatred for the poisoner himself. Anyone would believe you capable of framing him to see him out of the picture."
His eyes blazed. "Your grace, I would never waste my time on something like that. If I wanted him gone, I'd challenge him to a duel right in the square, no hiding behind poison. I work with my hands, steel, and fire, not with vials of venom like some damn snake."
"And yet, your hatred for him is well-known. You think his craft is beneath yours. What's to say you didn't find this murder a convenient way to rid the city of his presence once and for all?"
His fists clenched, but he didn't dare make it obvious. Instead, he sneered. "I may hate what he stands for, but I'd never lower myself to his level."
"We'll see."
[What the heart desired, it takes!]
[You have gained a new skill from [Corrupt Smith: Garn Dora], [Heart Of The Smith]: The blessing of a child of Irom and Flames. May your hands be guided by the soul of iron.]
'Beautiful!'
I read the blacksmith like an open book, I was almost sure from the way he carried himself and his reactions.
'Let's go find the brother.'
The final stop was the tavern, where the poisoner's brother spent most of his days. The place was dimly lit and reeked of stale ale and sweat. He was slouched at the bar, a half-empty mug in front of him, his clothes rumpled and his face unshaven. He didn't even look up as I sat next to him. Those in the bar all bowed until I sat down and yet he didn't seem to even realize who I was.
"You've heard about your brother, I assume," I said, keeping my voice low, though the place was loud enough to drown out our conversation.
He snorted, taking another swig of his drink. "Why should I care about that bastard?"
…