The threads are unravelling......
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Digging Deeper
Mikhail looked around the dingy little bar that Raven had led him to. It had been down a long flight of stairs nestled in between two blocks of tenements. The two armed guards outside the entrance added a touch of menace and ensured that the owner of the bar wasn’t going anywhere until he had been cleared of any wrong doing.
Inside the bar was relatively tidy, except behind the counter where broken bottles were strewn everywhere and the trapdoor to the cellar still open. On top of one of the tables a makeshift bed was set up, a simple mattress, quilt and pillow. Sitting down in a corner with a bottle of whiskey was a slightly rotund individual, though it was obvious that in his youth he would have had an impressive physique. He had broad shoulders and strong arms, though they were now covered in a layer of fat.
“Hector?” Raven asked as they approached. In response the man simply nodded. “We need to ask you some questions.”
Hector cast an eye over them before speaking, and Mikhail could tell his mind was building up a profile for both of them. His eyes indicated that this man had seen a lot in his life and was more than the filthy barkeep his appearance indicated. Hector tilted his head toward Mikhail. “You’re not from here. Castigor Guard am I right?”
“Correct.”
“Someone from your kingdom killed Bertie you bastard.” Hector snarled.
“King Lambert.” Raven corrected.
“Screw you, he was my friend. He’s Bertie to me.” Hector took another swig from the whiskey bottle. “Besides, he’s dead now. Can’t be a King if you’re dead.”
“Regardless you will show him respect.” Raven replied.
“I do. I respect him more than most of you lot. You respect him because he was your superior; I respect him because of what he has done for this place. For what he did for me.” Hector paused. “We fought together back when he was a Prince, defending Mosea from raiders and even other kingdoms seeking our lands. He saved my life from a barbarian’s steel. He visited here every day since his ascension to King to keep a tired old warrior company. He was my friend when my other friends had forgotten me. And this sorry piece of shit….” He pointed at Mikhail. “took him away.”
Mikhail decided it was time to step in. “I understand you’re upset, and I understand your hostility toward me. But I don’t think the assassin came from our kingdom, and if you give me a couple of minutes of your time I can explain why.”
“Why would I listen to you?” Hector snorted.
“Because he’s right.” Raven stated, dropping the matchbook on the table.
Mikhail sat down opposite Hector. “This matchbook came from a club in Castigor called the Foxy Feast. The thing is its months old according to the manager. Now, who has a matchbook for months on end…” He opened it. “With a full set of matches inside?”
Hector frowned. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying this was planted. Whoever this assassin is, they want you to blame Castigor.” Mikhail replied. “Now, Mosea isn’t the only kingdom to have suffered loss in the last week. Castigor’s Princess Aleena was assassinated, as was King Harak of his self-named kingdom. At each scene was evidence pointing to another kingdom being responsible. I’m beginning to doubt the quality of the evidence there too, but I need something to connect all these events.”
“You want to look around?”
“Yes, but first I want to ask was there anyone else in the bar when King Lambert was here?”
Hector thought for a minute. “My heads a bit fuzzy from that day, I took a whiskey bottle to the top of the head, but yes… there was one other person here. In a hood.”
“Do you remember anything else about them?” Mikhail asked.
Hector paused again. “Um… not really. I remember they didn’t order anything. I don’t remember them coming in though, I just turned around and they were there.”
“Where were they sitting?” Raven asked.
Hector pointed to the table his bed was set up on. “There.”
Mikhail stood up and together with Raven they took the makeshift bed off the table top. Once they’d removed the mattress Mikhail turned his attention to the table and benches, running his hand along them. On the far side of the table Mikhail found what he was looking for. “Raven, look.”
Raven came over and looked at where Mikhail was pointing. On the table were scratch marks, made by someone clawing at the table as they sat. “Scratch marks?” She asked quizzically.
Mikhail frowned. “Yes. I found these at the site of my Princess’ assassination as well.” He gently ran his hands over them. “This is the first piece of evidence that may connect these attacks and lend credence to my theory.” He began looking around the table, but there was little else to discover. Any other evidence of the assassin would’ve been disturbed by Hector as he moved around the bar.
“Was there anything special about that day at all?” Mikhail asked Hector.
Hector pursed his lips for a moment. “Nothing really, it had rained the night before and the cellar was muddy, but that’s it.”
“Another question, you weren’t here when the attack happened?”
Hector shook his head. “No, I had to go down into the cellar to change the barrels; the one attached to my tap had gone dry.”
“I need to see the cellar.” Mikhail told Hector as he headed behind the counter.
“Okay. Watch the broken glass.” Hector replied. “There’s a candle near the stairs, and a book of matches to light it.”
Mikhail slowly made his way into the darkened cellar and fumbled around for the candle. Once it was lit he moved with a bit less caution, looking at the barrels. Hector had gone into the cellar and when he had returned King Lambert was dead. It got him thinking, was it just opportunity for the killer, or did they somehow plan for Hector to be here?
Mikhail searched around until he found the empty barrel that Hector had changed. It had been undisturbed, presumably because Hector was under surveillance since the assassination and he had been unable to remove it. Mikhail began to examine it, running his hands over its surface. It was caked in mud from the ground, and it was a long process rubbing it all away. But when Mikhail had finished he noticed something, a small hole near the bottom of the barrel. Standing it up he looked at it and pondered.
The hole itself was not very big, but it was enough to cause the ale inside to slowly leak out, leaving just enough for only a couple of glasses before it needed changing. His mind racing, Mikhail climbed out of the cellar and ran around the side to the external entrance. Another pair of guards were there just in case Hector had any ideas of escape, but they paid Mikhail little heed as he examined the lock on the trap door. Scratch marks around the lock proved that it had been picked recently. Mikhail went back into the bar and grabbed Raven.
“We need to go now.” Mikhail told her, nodding at Hector. “Thank you for your time Hector.”
“It was a pleasure.” He snarled sarcastically, taking a swig from his whiskey.
“What’s going on?” Raven demanded as Mikhail practically dragged her out of the bar and into the sunlight.
“Hector is innocent. The assassin planned this meticulously.” Mikhail stated. “They came the night before and punctured a hole in the barrel, causing it to nearly empty overnight. Hector mentioned it had been raining the night before the attack, so any moisture on the ground would’ve been put down to the rains, and the smell of alcohol permeates bar cellars constantly anyway, so Hector wouldn’t have noticed.”
Realisation plastered itself over Raven’s face. “I get it. The King visited Hector every morning. The assassin made sure that the taps would run dry when he arrived, so that Hector would have to leave King Lambert to fix them, giving them the opportunity to do the deed.”
“Exactly.”
“I must notify Jericho that Hector should be released.” Raven replied.
“Do that. Then we need to head to Aladene.” Mikhail stated. “We’re about ten steps behind the game, and it’s time we caught up.”
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