02.46: Hunch

Aldersthron, Nanon

Brenn drew a long breath as he turned from the cobbled thoroughfare.

The turn took him to a street like any other in the Outer city which was reasonably close to the Inner Wall. Shops lined up both sides, their signs creaking faintly in the afternoon breeze. Catering to those who had some coin to spare but weren’t rich.

One of those establishments was The Eagle’s Nest.

The tavern where Brenn had almost died.

Where a brave young man had died.

Died to shine light upon rot, despite not being a soldier.

He remembered it like it was yesterday.

Palm sweating, he opened the door.

Warm air and old ale rolled over him.

Inside, the layout was the same it had been that day.

A few eyes turned to look at him, but he had eyes only for one spot.

The table they had sat around that fateful day.

Korrin was already there.

As Brenn approached, he noticed the table was the same one. Scuff marks were visible where Jarn’s blood had spilled.

Korrin nodded silently to him as he sat down.

His eyes flickered to the heavily scrubbed spot. It had lost its sheen from being covered in grease for years and stood out like a fresh wound.

Korrin nudged a tankard of beer towards him.

They lifted them together.

“To Jarn.”

“To Jarn.”

The ale was bitter. Brenn swallowed anyway.

The tavern was noisy, but the table went silent.

“His sacrifice wasn’t meaningless,” Korrin said. “He and countless others will get justice.”

Fat load of good that does to a dead man.

Brenn raised his tankard again and took a large swig.

“So,” Korrin said, leaning back, “how are the Crown’s Thorns doing?”

“In the works. Most of the recruits haven’t had three meals a day in their lives. Ever. If the food’s even a little rich, they just barf it out, then break into tears.”

“Poor sods.”

“They are at least motivated. Once they are well-trained and strong enough, Her Majesty will have a new powerful force of her own. How is the rest of the Royal army doing?”

“The common soldiers are in high spirits. Once the high-ranking nobles were outed, we began receiving complaints about corrupt Sergeants and Lieutenants. So many that we can barely handle them.”

“Make sure they are all true. Some disgruntled men might have slipped in false ones against their superiors.”

Korrin nodded stiffly.

Brenn raised his hands. “I shouldn’t be telling you your job. You are the better investigator. How are the boys?”

“Overworked but happy. Its like our dreams have come true.”

Korrin’s eyes narrowed. “You seem worried, Captain.”

“The nobles. They will not take all this well. If they come together, my unit won’t be ready in time to face them.”

“I heard Her Majesty’s offer of amnesty to anyone who snitches has them in a tizzy.”

“Maybe, but I don’t want to rely on maybes.”

A high pitched shriek broke the general hum of the tavern.

Both of them turned.

A barmaid was squirming in a man’s lap, clearly not there by choice, his grip tight around her waist.

“I’ll take care of it,” Korrin said, getting up.

Brenn tagged along.

A whiff of stale ale, sour sweat and terrible breath greeted them as they approached.

“Leave her, mate,” Korrin said to the thin and scraggly drunk.

“Huh?” he turned bloodshot eyes toward him. “Who are you?”

“Someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“I paid for my drinks!” he said out loud.

“I didn’t know it came with entertainment.” He looked at the maid. “You a whore, miss?”

The young woman froze for a moment, then answered. “No!”

“So, not your entertainment. Hands off.” Korrin’s voice got low, sharp as obsidian. “Now.”

That seemed to cut through the drunk’s stupor, who released his hold on the woman’s waist.

She jumped away as if on fire.

“Want us to throw him out?” Brenn asked.

“No,” she said, voice trembling. “He is a paying customer.”

“That’s right!” the drunk said loudly.

“You are the tavern’s customer, not ours,” Brenn said, taking a step closer.

The drunk finally seemed to realize how large of a man Brenn was and how easily he could break him in half.

Giving the maid a dirty look, he stumbled out of his seat with haste and began walking towards the door.

“You alright?” Korrin asked softly.

“Yes. Thank you, sirs,” she said, bowing low. “I’m used to it.”

Brenn’s jaw clenched.

“No need. That man might come back,” Korrin replied.

The girl just grimaced.

“It’s odd,” he mused, “by his clothes, that man didn’t look like the type who would have a lot of money.”

“He’s been spending well for the last few days,” the girl added. “He used to be broke.”

“You know him?”

She nodded.

“Bram. Used to live near us, in the slums. Moved away once his brother became a successful master carpenter. They didn’t get along.”

“Probably stole from his brother.”

“It must be a lot,” the girl mused.

“Why do you say that?”

“If he’s spending this much here, he must be spending a lot more at the whore, um, pleasure house.”

Brenn looked appreciatively at the young woman.

Very perceptive, and now that he noticed it, rather fetching.

Her smooth black hair occasionally glinted as it caught the light.

Some Norrgal in her blood?

Korrin seemed lost in his thoughts.

Two peas in a pod.

“Want to check it out, Captain?” he asked Brenn.

Brenn cocked an eyebrow.

“You have some free time, right? Let’s investigate the mystery together, just like old times.”

Brenn sighed.

“The ‘old times’ were less than two weeks ago. But sure, let’s check it out.”

Brenn took out a large copper coin and pressed it into the girl’s small palm.

“Sir?” she looked at it dumbfounded.

“Treat yourself. You’re sharp. You’ll still be working here?”

She nodded.

She is cute, Brenn thought.

Korrin stood frozen.

Finally realized it?

“Where can we find this man?”

Brenn noted down the directions she gave.

“Come on Korrin. We don’t have all day,” Brenn said.

The younger man reluctantly peeled his eyes away from the waitress and turned to walk beside him.

On the way to the man’s residence, Brenn and Korrin had just turned into a more seedier alley when they found their quarry in front of a low, sagging building. Seeing him stepping inside, they picked up their pace.

Inside, the smell of cheap perfume assaulted their nostrils, hiding more unpleasant aromas.

Even a large copper would go long here, Brenn thought.

The drunk was stooped, eyeing the prostitutes sitting on chairs like wares.

The five young women were covered in makeup and thin cloth that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Rhythmic creaks were coming from the back door.

Brenn kept his gaze forward.

Korrin put a hand on the drunk’s shoulder. “Hey friend.”

Bram whirled around.

Before he could say anything, a deep voice spoke out from behind.

“No botherin’ customers!”

Brenn turned around to see a bald man glaring at them. Just as wide as him, but taller, and bulkier. A tussle might not go their way.

He quickly fished out his insignia.

“I’m Sir Brenn, Captain in Her Majesty’s Royal army.”

The bouncer froze in his steps.

“We just want to talk to our friend here, nothing more,” Korrin said genially.

He reluctantly nodded and retreated back to his corner.

“A question for you,” Brenn asked. “Has he been spending a lot o’ coin here?”

“Yes. He’s been coming ‘ere almost e’ery day for the last week. Chooses a new girl e’ery time.”

“Well, friend, let’s discuss our private matter outside, shall we?” Korrin asked.

The drunk hung his head low and let the two men drag him outside.

Outside, the air felt cleaner.

“Where did you get all the money?” Brenn got to the point.

“Earne--”

“Don’t say you earned it,” Korrin cut him off “You’re drunk and visiting a whorehouse in the middle of the day and its not a holiday.”

“You have a brother. A master carpenter no less. He must make a lot of money,” Brenn said.

The drunk’s face twisted in anger, but he didn’t say anything.

“Where did you get the money?” Korrin asked, his voice as cold as ice.

“My brother gave it to me.”

“How much?”

“None of your business!”

“Hmm. Master carpenters might make good money, but they don’t make enough that they can fund a drunk brother’s habit of getting hammered and visiting a whorehouse everyday.”

“Answer us,” Korrin snapped.

“I told you, he gave it to me.”

“Let’s visit your home.”

The man’s face blanched.

He tried to escape, but couldn’t do much against the two knights’ strength.

“Take all the money. It’s in my pocket. Just leave me alone!”

Ignoring his protests, they kept walking.

They reached the house. Small but well-built.

“Open it,” Brenn asked.

When the man refused, Brenn pushed his hand into the dirty pockets. He came up with the key and the coin purse.

His eyes opened wide when he looked into the purse. As many small silver coins as copper ones. A fortune for a poor man.

“You are at least a thief.”

“Just take it and leave me!”

Pocketing the purse, he opened the lock.

The inside was a mess. The smell of spilled booze and rotting bread was in the air.

He opened the shutters to let in light, while the drunk protested under Korrin’s grip.

“Where is your brother?”

“Not here.”

“Where?”

“Gone to meet some relatives.”

Brenn turned to look him in the eyes. “Where?”

“Reidmark.”

Brenn found a piece of rope and tied the man’s hands behind his back, while Korrin looked around.

“Something doesn’t smell right,” he said, examining the floor.

Brenn didn’t answer, but looked at the drunk.

Bram had gone very still.

Like a rabbit that had realized it was in the sight of a hawk.

“Open it.”

Korrin found a well-used hatchet and drove its edge into the seam between two planks and pushed.

The wood groaned.

Then, with a crack, gave way.

Bram flinched.

Brenn’s grip tightened on the thin man’s shoulder.

Korrin pried the plank up, then another.

Dust rose into the air.

There was nothing but packed earth underneath.

Then, Brenn smelled it.

Faint, sweet and wrong.

His nose wrinkled before he recognized it.

Rotting meat, or bodies.

Just like that failed campaign on the Norrgal frontier.

When they had been too tired to bury their dead.

Setting the hatchet aside, Korrin reached for a broad chisel and drove it into the soil with the heel of his palm.

It sank too easily.

Loose ground.

Recently turned.

Each thrust dug the earth faster.

The smell thickened.

It sank into his lungs. Brenn felt his stomach tighten.

Bram began squirming in his grip.

“Please—” he croaked.

Brenn didn’t look at him. He recognized the tone.

Korrin dug faster, holding his breath.

The soil that came up was damp and dark.

The chisel stuck something with a dull knock.

Not stone, wood or metal.

Something soft.

Korrin pushed the soil aside with his hands.

Wet earth clung to what lay beneath.

A patch of skin emerged.

Grey and stretched tight.

Korrin moved back a few steps to breathe through his mouth. Then forced himself back.

As he removed the wet soil, more was revealed.

Part of a jaw.

There it was. More than they had suspected.

The smell was strong enough that Brenn could taste it.

He pulled the culprit back.

Korrin rose to his feet, face pale but eyes hard as iron.

“I arrest you,” he said, voice low, “under the suspicion of murder.”

The man broke.

Men thought they could bury rot.

Which they could, if good men weren’t ready to dig.

Luckily, they now were.

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