You spot no immediate danger nearby, although the task becomes more difficult as more and more settlers throng the site and block your view of the surrounding area.
As Kalig begins an examination of the body, its identity is revealed to be Melgus d'Beranza, the son of Fergus. Even without a close examination, it becomes all to apparent that the young man is already dead.
The cause of death is a single slash across the throat, opening up the jugular vein and rapidly bleeding Melgus to death. The front of his clothes are soaked in blood, indicating that it poured down freely. No knife or dirk has been left behind to be found.
There is a peculiar bruise forming around his cheeks and mouth, and you come to the conclusion that someone gripped him by the face to squelch and cries for help. A tiny strip of cloth is caught upon a jagged piece of his fingernail.
There are fresh boot prints nearby, but it will take a few minutes to discern which ones belong to Melgus, which ones belong to Connetlie, and which ones belong to a potential killer. If the crowd draws any closer, this task will become nearly impossible.
"I...I...I was stepping out to dump a vat of dirty water from my day's work," the tanner babbles, reaching for the proffered vessel of water. His shivering hands spill more than a few drops. "At first I thought it was just a clowder of those cats. That's what a group of them is called, a clowder. I remember reading that in a book. But when I stepped out of my doorway, the candlelight from inside my shop fell upon the body and revealed what it really was. It was such a fright that I could naught but scream."
Dorick steps away from the body, spreading his arms out, and speaking in a commanding tone to the crowd.
"Stand back! We are still investigating!"
Kalig says to Dorick and Francoix quietly, "Tell them to go home. Make sure they don't trample over the footprints. We need to see how Melgus got here, and do some tracking preferably before it gets too dark. We also don't want the people out after dark if there is a killer on the loose."
Since Kalig was patrolling the town to be sure no one else had been getting sick, she has her healer's kit with her. She pulls a pair of tweezers out of the kit to dislodge the bit of cloth from the man's fingernails.
"Mia, can your assistant go inform Aristide? I think it's best if the news to Fergus comes from him." She looks up at her fellow druid. "We need to find the set of footprints leading away from here."
"Someone should go find his father."
He began then paused for a moment his head slightly tilting as a thought occured to him. Huddled with the other two he too kept his voice low.
"When i was looking for folk to learn how to cook and serve at my future inn and tavern Melgus was one of those who wanted to volunteer to learn. His father made it clear that he would not accept any son of his doing such low work. They looked like it could turn into an argument. Im not saying his father did it, but it shouldnt be overlooked."
Heeding Kalig's advice, Dorick adds:
"Go home for now!"
The crowd heeds Dorick's first command as though it were the edict of a king. Not only do they keep a distance, but as one they take steps back to provide ample space for their esteemed heroes to investigate the crime. They seem more reluctant to obey his second order, and bodies depart the scene with all the speed of dripping tar.
Kalig withdraws the wooden tweezers from her healer's kit, a tool she wisely keeps near at hand while on patrol. After all, the frontier offers just as much danger as it does opportunity. Using the tool, she extracts the scrap of cloth from the slain man's finger.
Furthermore, the settlers who arrived more recently, borne upon the river barges, wore clothes of dwarven make, woven from dallo wool. Although this is not a complete certainty, you are inclined to discount any newer arrivals as a suspect.
Despite the party's quick response to halt the crowd's interference, the damage is done. The presence of their feet creates a perimeter that obfuscates the potential murderer's tracks among the grass. Nevertheless, you are able to at least identify the direction in which they fled: northward, skirting the ancient gatehouse, then turning eastward towards the largest cluster of homes built upon old Kaskkari foundations.
Pleased enough with his results, Dorick chimes in:
"That bunch of homes on the Kaskkari stone. We should investigate around there now."
Kalig nods at Dorick and follows, trusting other helpers like Soraya and Lena will take care of the body.
Once away from the crowd, she shares with the party her observation that the murderer was wearing Galtan linen and thus likely from the original settler group-- and that attempts to blame this therefore on Harlan or Fendir's folk need to be nipped in the bud.
She also says to Francoix along the way, "I've seen you nervous before, but you're keeping cool here. So I'm guessing you've seen stuff like this before. Any thoughts?"
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Mia does her best to help, but anyone can notice her pale face. Despite knowing death is a part of life, she still doesn't do well with such things. As the discuss the next course of action, Mia makes a suggestion.
Kalig, Dorick, as a druid, I know magic that can allow one to speak to animals. It may be a stretch, especially if it has been a long while, but perhaps if we can an animal that may have seen what occurred we could get more information. Though, it may be better to not waste time on that...
Before they are trammeled away, the tracks lead to what could arguably be called the village's center. Francoix's home and burgeoning business dominates the cluster of buildings. He and Noemie count among their neighbors Mr. Buckel the guard, Engrid the tailor, Davin the cobbler, Obed the barber, Sabine the carpenter, and even Viscount Aristide himself.
"Well, I doubt Aristide left the footprints," Kalig says dryly. She looks at Mia. "Did your assistant go warn Aristide of what happened? As for speaking with animals, I don't know how many creatures stay close to Connetlie's. The place reeks of lye. But if you spotted a creature and want to chat with it, go and do it."
She looks around. "All of the people here could own a blade sharp enough to cut a throat. Francoix, what do you know about your neighbors?"
Dorick stands ready, looking about.
"Well, Ol' Buckel was a part of the Galtan army... when it had an army. He's uh well kind of homely and not the sharpest tool in the shed, When everything collapsed i think he just sort of was adrift you know, joined the expedition because it seemed like a grand thing.
Miss Sabine learned the craft from her father in law after her husband ran off and got himself killed trying to be an 'adventurer'. She would have stuck around in Galt, after all lots of work to be done there for a carpenter but she has two boys and she was afraid for them there.
Davin is a bit of drunk and a very bad braggart. Always talked about his exploits fighting, wooing and uh getting ran out of towns for big crimes. His brother and his family was supposed to arrive on the barges, but they didnt and he has no word from them. He's become a bit despondant since then. Sad really.
Engrid spends a lot of time with my wife, chatting away. I think she was from Isarn, but had been living in Edme. She wanted to send her children to the Torvin academy but well revolutionaries sort of infested and took it over. I think she was planning on moving away when she heard of this expedition.
Last there is the old stranger Obed. Fastidious old man, if you ignore his wild hair and beard. Sings a lot of old riverboat shanties when he is working on things, but I havent spoken to him much, he sort of keeps to himself."
He paused and shook his head.
"I don't want to think any of the folk living around me are murderers, but we are all a bunch of unknowns. Any ideas? I am assuming we are not just going to gather everyone up and ask if they murdered Melgus."
"We should speak with them all. Someone has surely seen something!"
Kalig nods. "Lead the way."
The dark twilight hours are illuminated by candles and lanterns as nearly the whole village emerges, roused by news of the death. Viscount Aristide sits in his chair in front of his home, flanked by Gustav and Hovant, and urges calm from his settlers.
Mister Buckel leans against the side of his narrow hovel, chewing on a piece of fruit with all the grace of a grazing cow. Hatha the butcherwoman flits among the crowd, eagerly soaking up each piece of gossip she can gather; currently she is wrapped up in a close, whispered conversation with Engrid the tailor. Davin, Sabine, old Obed, and other Haven residents can also be seen.
In the shadowed distance, you can see Fendir's kin keeping to themselves along the north wall, where they've been building their huts. Likewise, the orc-kin have returned from their nocturnal patrols to be closer to Haven, but they still keep a distance from their agitated human neighbors.
Dorick hasn't had time to think but he starts to feel more gloomy over the fate of Melgus. At least as much for his honourable father's sake.
He says to his friends:
"What about Obed? His past is mysterious. He may have nursed a grudge."
"Heres a thought, we gather everyone in the area and have then wait in the unfinished parts of my inn, we can pull them in for questioning in say the kitchen. Since its even some of the bystanders no one will feel targeted and maybe we can figure out or catch the killer. "
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Kalig nods at Francoix. "That's a good idea. Maybe one of us could stay outside and check around the houses while everyone's in the inn... no breaking and entering, just checking the exteriors for anything weird."
The residents of Haven need no persuading or cajoling to be ushered towards the frame of what will become Francoix's inn. They trust their guardians enough to heed their word without question, and it certainly helps that no one is keen on being caught out alone with a potential killer on the loose.
As the last few folks crowd together at the unfinished inn, Francoix finds Hatha insistently tugging at his sleeve.
"M'lord, m'lord," the butcherwoman excitedly whispers, "I just heard a wicked bit of gossip that you might want to hear."
"Good idea, Francoix. Let us get them going."
Dorick does his best to mix and put people at ease.
"Sure, step inside the kitchen here."
He began trying to catch the investigation parties eye to join him. After all if there were questions he didnt ask he would be annoyed with himself.
Mia goes around and makes sure anyone that wants a drink has one while they wait.
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Even before he speaks a single word, Sir Dorick's mere presence casts a calming effect upon the assemblage. There are still nervous murmurs, to be sure, but no one appears outwardly afraid.
"Don't worry, Dorick the Drakeslayer will get to the bottom of this. We're in safe company," you overhear one man assure his partner with a small but confident smile.
Noemie aids Mia, insisting that she will not sit simply on her hands while her home has guests, murderer or no. Francoix's wife ably translates the manners and decorum of her upbringing as a lady-in-waiting into the welcome and service crucial to creating a beloved inn.
Of course, although Mia presents a contrasting image to the innkeeper's wife, she is no less a comforting sight to the unexpected patrons. Her work around the infirmary, especially regarding the recent if brief disease outbreak, has subtly made her a darling of Haven. It also helps that a few local swains have noticed the fire-haired beauty that lurks beneath the druidic trappings.
"She heard not what they were discussing, but she told me their words grew quite heated. In her own words, she swore that it looked as though the hobgoblin would draw steel then and there.
"Do you suppose this killing could have erupted from a disagreement the pair had?" Hatha asks, tilting her head curiously in rapt fascination with the unfolding mystery.
Kalig stays outside and looks around the street for anything odd.
He began doing his best to reassure Hatha. At the same time he frowned. How many other people has she spoken with already. He had better ask.
"Have you spoke with anyone else about this Hatha? Has this farmers wife spoken with anyone else?"
Dorick continues to keep the crowd calm with calm charm.
Mia does her best to help make sure everyone is comfy. Comfy people can wait longer, and become less agitated. And less agitated people are much more agreeable. However if anyone ever compliments her, her makes even the slightest pass at her her face turns as red as her hair and she just stares at the ground muttering a thanks before moving on.
Looking up, you can see the tip of a blade, barely visible over the lip of the uneven roof. You also find, lying amid the grass, a square scrap of leather smeared with blood, as though it was used to clean a weapon after use.
Kalig picks up the leather scrap carefully, with a bit of a rag so as not to get blood on her hands.
At Francoix's place, the adults remain calm if terse and nervous. The children, however, continue to be children. They run and chatter and whine and grab and so on. In particular, the exhausted-looking Sabine struggles to keep her two boys within arm's reach.
The leather scrap is actually a cleaned but untreated bit of animal hide. The edges are sharp and straight, cut cleanly by a tool meant for the job. It is the kind of thing one would use simply to clean a blade after use.
Frowning, Kalig tucks the scrap, wrapped in her rag, into her belt pouch. She looks around for any nearby creatures, perhaps one of the cats that have been cajoled into town of late. If she sees one, she will cast speak with animals to speak with it.
"Hiya! You're big!" the kitten squeaks in amazement.
It paces around your feet, attempting to scale your shoes while listening to your question.
"Yeah! I saw a big person throw that shiny stick on top of the square rock," the kitten explains, indicating the carpenter's house. "I think she was a girl, like us. She smelled like the food mama brings me."
You see a small shape darting out of the darkness on the edge of Haven. The mama wildcat is coming to collect her kitten. You have time for perhaps one last question before she seizes her child by the scruff and carries her home.
"Oi! Sir Dorick!" Buckel calls as he approaches the cavalier.
"This is the first real crime we've had here, yeah?" the guard asks in a low, almost bored tone. He pauses to wipe his nose on his arm. "How're we gonna handle this? I figure you're the man to mete out the law, yeah?"
"Aye, Buckel. I will not stand for murderers on the loose. We will find out who they are and bring them to justice."
He pauses.
"Buckel, did you see anything strange this night? Besides the obvious."
"Um...no. I ain't seen nothing strange," Buckel replies nervously, shaking his head vigorously.
The doughty veteran is a terrible liar, and it requires no effort to see that he is hiding something.
She offers the kit a sniff of her fingers and if allowed, she scritches the little one behind the ears. Rather than ask another question, she says to kit and approaching mother, "There is a big one hunting things it shouldn't. If one of us two-legs returns alone before I return, call out as loud as you can. We will be sure you stay safe."
She then goes to the tavern. When there is an opportune moment, she whispers to Dorick that she has found the knife and wants to bring them to it.
Dorick briefly raises an eyebrow at Buckel but doesn't raise his voice.
"Let me rephrase that, Buckel. *What* did you see that was strange? You can tell me."
The kitten offers a mewling sound of agreement to Kalig's request right before the mama wildcat scurries over and seizes her child by the scruff. As she carries the kitten away, Kalig can hear her excitedly tell her mother about the big new friend she made.
Back at the tavern, Buckel buckles under even the slightest pressure from Sir Dorick, one of the pillars of Haven.
"Okay, okay," he says, hunching his shoulders in embarrassment. "But it's not what you think."
He leans in closer and whispers to Dorick.
The guardsman tells the truth, you are sure of it. He is neither witness nor murderer, his affair with Brekka serving as alibi.
"Please don't tell that hobgoblin chief. He'd cut my tackle off if he found out."
Dorick nods solemnly.
Dorick's tone is, perhaps oddly, sympathetic.
"I can not say that I approve, but I understand, Buckel. I believe you and you have helped by letting me cross you off the list. I will not tell Fendir but you and Brekka should think about what you will do down the line."
Assuring Hatha her aide was indeed helpful, he asked the carpenter miss Sabine. He didnt think she was a murderor, she had children to look after, so he figured he would try to eliminate the least likely in his mind at least first.
"Miss Sabine, can I have a word with you for a moment in the kitchen?"
He asked aloud mentally prepping himself for the task ahead.
Buckel nods vigorously, eagerly agreeing to Dorick's terms. As their conversation ends, Kalig arrives to share the clue she's found with her ally.
Elsewhere in the nascent inn, Sabine looks up from supervising her boys. Her face reads surprise and confusion to find the innkeeper calling upon her. She asks Engrid to keep an eye on her sons, then steps into the kitchen with Francoix.
"Good evening," he says against the lump in his throat. "I can't remember if I ever introduced myself. My name's Rowan. I wanted to thank you for helping my brother, Rolf, when he got sick. Thanks to you, he lived to see his family arrive at his side."
Dorick watches Buckel depart then turns to Kalig.
He softly says with utter certainty:
"We can rule out Buckel. What have you found out?"
She speaks very quietly, waiting until Sabine goes into the kitchen. "A knife. Sabine's house. Left by a female. Not sure if her, mind." She waits to see if he wants to come and see.
Dorick nods, his face grave, and prepares to follow.
He paused offer the woman a drink, a scone.
"Tell me about what you were doing last night, Is there anyone who could verify it? I know your little ones no doubt kept you busy, it because of innocents like that we want to keep this place as safe as we can."
Dorick's professional experience as a soldier makes it abundantly clear that this is not a weapon meant for combat; it is not balanced properly and would be awkward to wield in battle. However, the large blade seems optimized for cutting flesh sharply and cleanly.
If you had to guess, it looks like a butcher's knife.
"What was I doing last night? Confound it, what was I doing last night?" she mutters to herself, trying to remember. She cradles her forehead in her palm, her elbow anchored upon a counter in the kitchen. "Please understand, m'lord, I've been under a lot of stress. I'm the only trained carpenter in Haven, and I've been demanded this way and that, and now I've got the boys to look after, too."
Her face increasingly loses composure and her voice quavers. She is not lying: she is very stressed out and barely keeping herself together. Putting her to questioning is fraying the last of her calm, and she straddles the line between breaking down into tears and breaking out screaming.
Even during your time with your foster father's band of thieves back in Galt, you never consorted much with outright killers, so you have trouble identifying one. Although she struggles to provide an alibi or evidence to her defense, Sabine also does not present the character of a murderer.
Ultimately, if you had to make a gut decision, you would say that Sabine is not the killer, but you can't help but second guess your judgment on this.
"Rolf and me finished planing some logs this afternoon, and I was right tired, so I laid down to take a nap. I resolved it'd be but an hour, but when I opened my eyes again, the stars were up and everyone was running about and there was commotion about this murder."
He nervously runs a hand through his thick hair, which does nothing to bring its unruly tufts back into line.
"Back home, Rolf and me always tried to keep to ourselves. Stay out of nasty business like this. Keep our heads down, and all that. Even outside of the city, there were too many folks looking to chop down men like they were trees.
"We had a mate who got singled out as an 'enemy of the revolution.' They were dragging him off to be carted to the city and those awful blades. I wanted to speak up and defend him, but Rolf wouldn't let me. He was worried about drawing their attention to us, too. To his family. I can't say I blame him."
Rowan sighs, pained by the memory.
Dorick peers over the knife, then states:
"This is no battlefield blade but a butcher's knife. Methinks we should confront Hatha!"
"I asked a kitten and she said a big female had thrown it up there," Kalig says, as though interviewing kittens during murder investigations was something she did every day. "I also found this," Kalig shows the bloodied scrap to Dorick, used to wipe off blood. "Something a butcher would keep to keep her tools clean."
"If the butcher did this, it would also explain the clean cut of the wound to begin with. Sabine is a carpenter, not an expert at filleting. If Hatha tossed the things here, it would suggest not only did she commit murder, but is trying to frame Sabine for it. Thank you for coming with me; let's go back before anything gets out of hand."