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Hathaldir with Thea, Nessa and Captain Bealthor

Hathaldir lurked over the two women with arms crossed and a scowl fixed on his face so firmly it might have looked almost permanent, as if the man had never smiled a day in his life. Beneath the pounding drum beats in his head, he only heard hints of Nessa’s soothing words, soft as a spring breeze caressing delicate new blossoms, not strong enough to stir any more empathy from the man. What little he had had been spent in that rare fleeting moment when she had somehow burrowed under his skin. It would not be evoked again with the resentment, irritation and impatience that now flooded him.

The flood was nearly unleashed when they were interrupted once more. With his back facing the door when it opened, he was ready to hurl more abuse at Garthain, a cutting remark rising forth along with his temper. The words died abruptly as soon as he turned and saw, not Garthain, but the Captain. The Captain!

shire.

What drew him from the sanctity of his office and into the arrest of a minor, forgettable, filthy, despicable thief?

Immediately, Hathaldir straightened his shoulders with the tamed discipline of a proper soldier deferring to his senior officer. Why is she still here indeed, he thought, his jaw clenching and sending shooting pain through his temple. His instinct at being ordered around by anyone, even his superior, was to bristle. Not only that, but he wondered how long the man had been listening at the door and whether he meant for him to know by parroting his words back at him. Was it some test for a new recruit on his first day? Hathaldir would have done the same in his place but that didn’t garner any real respect in the Captain’s favor.

It took every ounce of patience and self-control to bow his head slightly, hiding the anger glinting in his eyes and playing at obeisance. He did not need to be told twice, he did not need to be told at all, to cart the girl off to gaol.

“Indeed.” He declared. “Yes, sir.”

He swept the manacles off the table in one fluid motion, then proceeded to refasten them around Thea’s wrists. Roughly, he tugged on each metal loop once to ensure they were secure, ignoring her trembling, weeping weakness. He palmed the dagger and the coins, pulled the girl upright off the chair to usher her out and glanced back at Nessa before leaving.

“Good day to you, ma’am.” But there was no warmth in his voice.

Hathaldir
arriving at Headquarters
(@Rillewen)

Somber blue and violet clouded skies faded to muted grey and ceded to darkness over the city of Minas Tirith. A man cloaked in black, his lower face masked with a scarf, crept through back streets and alleys, shuffling into shadows and nooks to hide himself from stray passersby on their way somewhere brighter and warmer in the face of threatening rain.

Smiling, he slid into the bathhouse’s back door, left open by a careless attendant. Water dripped down the walls and condensed in puddles on the service chambers’ floor. He shed his tattered black cloak, scarf, and gloves, and shoved them down a laundry chute for disposal. Though he tried to be careful, there was likely some blood staining the garments. Now in his guard’s uniform, he marched up the narrow stairs to the main bathing chamber where screens and stone walls separated steaming mineral pools. He emerged from the banks of steam at the front door, exited onto the street, and began to run.

Everyone parted to allow the rushing guard through, one of the few perks of his new job. He pushed himself hard, pumping his legs as he climbed two or three steps at a time. The more breathless, sweaty, and disturbed he looked, the better the act would sell. He’d arranged to be on patrol tonight, picked precisely for the moonless skies providing the perfect chance. He knew which guards were on duty tonight and he had studied and observed them over the last few weeks while learning the rotation schedules for the thief. He planted a distraction to demand their attention stray from the headquarters to allow her time to search the premises for Tandarion's file. He hoped she would remember his advice to take other random files in order to disguise their true target.


Hathaldir rounded the corner to the Tower Guard and flew through the front door, shoving it wide open. He did not pause to look or check for Rusciel (as he'd begun calling Strawberry); he had to trust the thief was in her place. They had coordinated and planned every detail they could, and now it was time to act and deliver on their agreement. In all their talks, the girl actually seemed to know what she was doing.

Panting, wisps of dark hair coiled free from the leather strap holding it back, face flushed, he announced loudly, “There’s been a murder! There’s blood everywhere and I need more men!”

Distraction enacted, signal given, loud and clear. She had to have heard that. He hoped this dire news would draw most of the guards away to fan out through the city in search of a murderer guilty of a crime that had never actually taken place.

@Lailyn

The candles were burning low, evidence of how long he had been in there since they had been almost new when he lit them. Ric knew he should have gone to bed hours ago, but he had the day off tomorrow, and when his shift had ended a few hours ago, he had decided this would be a good time to look through some of the files, get familiar with some things and maybe ensure that everything was properly organized. Not to mention this was a good place to add entries to his journal, since there was plenty of solitude here... and less chances of being interrupted. The small, leather-bound book lay open on the desk, and as he meticulously went through various files, he periodically jotted down a few notes in its pages.

One of these days he would find something that would connect everything and he would have some solid proof, at last. But so far, nothing. Letting out a sigh that made the candles near him flicker violently, Ric buried his face in his hands, elbows resting on the desk. His eyes were weary, and he was starting to feel like it was all in vain. Perhaps if he just took a short break, rested his eyes... but then he might fall asleep. And he didn't want to doze off in here, that would be rather embarrassing. So maybe he should take a walk instead, but technically, he shouldn't be here, since he wasn't on duty, and he was a bit reluctant to leave until he'd finished what he wanted to accomplish here. So instead, he paced around the room a couple of times to stretch his legs before returning to his work.

Just as he was sitting down again, he became aware of some sort of commotion stirring up, downstairs. It sounded like it came from the reception area, but he couldn't tell what it was about. He began writing, but then he heard someone exclaiming something about.. murder? Despite being off-duty, the lieutenant couldn't ignore that. He paused mid-sentence and hesitated just for a second before deciding that he needed to go find out what was going on. Crossing the room, he thought about going back for his journal, but he was already out in the hallway now. And there'd been a murder. He definitely needed to check into that. The journal would be fine, he told himself. He pushed it out of his mind as he hurried down to the reception to find a small group of guards that had gathered around one in particular, everyone asking questions and roused with excitement.

"What's this about a murder?" Ric asked in his usual quiet tone, arriving at the bottom of the stairs. No one seemed to hear him, and he inwardly cringed; he was always having to remind himself to speak up a bit more. "Calm down, everyone, please." Ric raised his voice slightly, so as to be heard above the rest, as he took a few steps nearer. He noticed that, of all those present, he was the highest-ranking guard there. "What's happened?"

"Lieutenant! I thought you'd left hours ago," One of the guards, the sergeant on duty, mentioned in surprise upon seeing him arrive.

"No, not yet Hâdhon," Ric answered him, shaking his head slightly, but didn't bother to elaborate on why.

"Well good, you can take charge here then!" Hâdhon declared, seemingly glad to let someone else take over the unpleasant situation.

Ric paused, debating pointing out that he was officially off duty, but decided against it; his vow to serve and protect the citizens of Gondor didn't end when his shift ended, after all. Investigating another murder wasn't exactly a pleasant task, but it had to be done, and he made it a point not to ask any of the lesser-ranking guards to do any task he wouldn't do himself. Besides, the job of leading an investigation did sort of come with the rank, he figured. He gave a brief nod to Hâdhon before directing his attention to the other man, the one who was covered in sweat and looked out of breath as if he had run all the way here to make his report. From where, Ric wondered? He looked almost as if he could have run all the way from one of the higher levels.

"You said something about a murder? Where did it happen? What do you know about it so far?" Ric inquired, trying to remain calm, though the thought of a murder was a little unsettling... especially as he recalled the last murder case he had worked on. Refraining from a shudder at that memory, he focused on Hathaldir, a guard whom he had not met before. "Is the scene secured?" He worried, suddenly, realizing that the man must have had to leave the scene. Was it unattended? What if some crucial evidence was disturbed while he was gone? "You'd better take me there as quick as you can, and fill me in as we go," the young lieutenant decided. He glanced around swiftly at the others who had gathered, "Hâdhon, you stay here, and keep an eye on things, the rest of you come along. We may need you," He decided, trying not to doubt his decision too much. He wasn't used to taking charge, but it seemed logical to leave one person at headquarters, in case another emergency arose in their absence. Even if they weren't needed at the crime scene, they would need to go to their posts, whether it was to the gates, or on patrols.


(edits: making some small corrections and updates)

As far as off-duty went, she was not under any official obligation to be there. Her shift did not commence until the morrow. However, it was in thinking of that shift to come, that Sorrela was already at work. She did not like to be unprepared and she did not like to be disadvantaged. If she did not prepare now, then when that shift came, she would be gravely disadvantaged.

Honestly, she felt somewhat at fault from the first place. She was not quite sure yet how this latest allegation was associated with her first case on record. But there were undeniable similarities, predominantly the persons involved. Iole had been reported missing from her home, last autumn. There had been no leads and Sorrel's initial supervisor had vanished himself on far more important business. So she had tried her best to manage on her own, until a replacement could be found to oversee her progress. And then only a day or so after the disappearance, the Recruit had been checking in with the missing woman’s housemates, only for Iole herself to walk in the front door.


The vanished girl had not wanted to talk about it, had seemed both upset and embarrassed at the time. But she had not come back alone. Unalmis had walked her home. And they had fed Sorrela some tale of having caught up with old friends in Harlond, and lost track of all time. The Guard Recruit ought to have asked more questions, but it had not yet been instinctual, and .. well, besides that, it was Nal. Sorrel was more inclined to believe a family friend than a stranger. Particularly when she felt fairly well assured that she could tell if he was lying to her. She’d spent a lot of time with Iole afterwards, besides, as much to ease her conscience as because he’d asked that favour of her.


"She oughtn't be alone right now." He'd said.

"She doesn't know me," she recalled trying to reason. But of course it was a waste of time.

"She knows that I know you," he'd shrugged, before impressing further the request. "She needs a friend, Sorrel. And it can't be me. Not right now. You said you wanted to help her .. so, you know. Help her."


Sorrela had come to like Iole more than she had expected to, as the shy girl had slowly began to trust her, or grow used to her at least. And over the months that had passed, small details had worked their way to the surface of apparently unrelated conversations. Namely that the whole closeted absence had been largely provoked by an unrequited 'romantic' suggestion. It had ended awkwardly and unwelcome between the once close friends, and no doubt led to both the upset and unease which she had witnessed. So Sorrel had chalked the lack of clarity, the reluctance to explain, up to that fact. The girl was home and safe at the end of the day. And Iole and Nal had clearly both seemed to get on with their lives without ever mentioning it again .. Come to think of it, today had been the first time she had seen the two together since ..


And now, their mutual friend, .. Sorrela checked the notes she had made, .. Calithildis Dringolben ..., was indisputably alleging that the man, who Lady Isys had named as Lord Hollin Menilzir had .. forced Cali at knife point to climb into a barrel ? In the middle of the midsummer fayre, it seemed unlikely that he could have managed such a thing without a greater score of witnesses. But that was as much as the Ranger Lady Ilisys had managed to elaborate on the matter. Whereas Cali had herself later mentioned a report to Sorrel, that had been made ‘before’ .. So maybe the incident described today had in fact occurred some months past ..

For all that, Iole had seemed nearly as upset as Cali about the matter, and Unalmis was unusually invested, for someone who tended to avoid any female hysterics. Maybe they were merely concerned for their friend .. but maybe it was more than that. Sorrel had not been fast enough to catch Isys and her friend on their way into the city, but she’d checked with the guard on duty at the Great Gate. And when Lord Hollin had been granted entry to the city, he’d been searched, as luck would have it. The words that decorated her parchment as a consequence were no help. Crumbs in one pocket. That was literally it. The entire lack of what he had with him was strange, but not a crime. Maybe he was afeared of pickpockets, or a victim of them … there had been reports of that occurring today, on top of everything else !


So. No dagger found. She had written it in bold, underlined it, circled it more than once. Somehow, and against all of the training she had undergone herself in months past on the gates, it was the NOT finding of any dangerous weapon on a suspect which was setting the recruit on edge.

How long ago exactly had the alleged report been made by Cali ? If it was, as the Guard recruit’s gut was nagging her, from last autumn .. then she maybe had overlooked something back then. And could definitely not afford to do so again now. Had Cali been in Harlond with Iole and Nal last autumn ? Had Lord Hollin been caught up in whatever had kept Iole away from home ? Or was this all just a huge coincidence ? Just the same group of people demonstrating the same sort of unease and upset as they had the last time ?

Determined, Sorrela folded her scribblings up neatly, and stowed them in a pocket for convenience. Before she headed to the evidence room, flicking her quill against the outside of her thigh as she advanced. If she had to look all night, she would locate the report taken from Calithildis Dringolben. And only hope that there was only the one of those to be found. Another thing that she ought to have asked at the time. But it was too late now.

At any rate, Sorrel knew she would not sleep tonight now, for all the intrigue, and concern over her own potential error of the past. Unless it was from sheer exhaustion, after the hard night’s work which lay before her. Regardless it would be more peaceful than another night spent in her shared room with far too many sisters back home.


*(Approval to proceed with this was checked with the writer of Captain Bealthor before the fact of this post)

Hathaldir with Lieutenant Aderic Androllius (@Rillewen)

Pearls of sweat laced frayed dark wisps of hair and beaded on his brow. After storming in with his dire news, Hathaldir doubled over, back bent, hands braced on his thighs, catching his breath in starts and stops. A stitch in his side stabbed his lungs with every breath. He wasn’t unfit and it wasn’t an act: it was a testament to the sprint he’d taken through winding levels and staircases to the Tower Guard.

All at once, the guards rumbled into action, their voices raised with inquiring questions mixed with grumbling gripes about the long night ahead. When someone could be lying dead, some of the guards had the gall to complain about their own nights ruined by an investigation demanding their attention. Had they reacted thus when Tandarion’s death was reported? With careless disinterest, treating someone’s death as nothing more than an inconvenience? Hathaldir grimaced, wrathful fire burning his tired lungs, and loosened the neckline of his uniform. He straightened and glowered at them, wanting nothing more than to bellow curses at them and slam his fists in their loathsome faces.

"Calm down, everyone, please,” a man’s voice rose above the rest, pacifying and commanding at once. Mollified, many of the guards suddenly stood to attention and one– Hâdhon– addressed the man as a Lieutenant, who quickly turned his attention to Hathaldir in turn.

The Lieutenant’s light hair swept back from his slightly creased brow, framing his face soft with youth, and his eyes were a pale color somewhere between forest green and sky blue. He was undoubtedly, unabashedly handsome, and therefore, highly memorable. Strawberry’s voice described a corrupt Lieutenant in his head: “good looking, charming, that sort of thing.. he doesn't really look like a bad person, I guess.”* No. No, he did not, if his suspicions were correct. There could not be many guards who looked like him, standing out like a rose among thorns.

Now was not the time. Hathaldir didn’t give a damn if the other guard was as crooked as him, as long as he swallowed the bait. “Sir,” Hathaldir addressed him, smoothing away a sweaty lock of hair and saluting. “In the Fifth Circle, near the theater, I came across a few drops of blood. I thought nothing of it until I continued down the street and around the corner, and saw it splattered everywhere–” His eyelids flickered, as if reimagining the scene in his mind, and wanting to shut out the gruesome scene. “On the walls, smeared on the ground in a trail leading toward the sewers. I came to the only reasonable conclusion I could. Whoevers blood it is, they are certainly no longer breathing.”

He bowed his head slightly, in feigned remorse, respect, for the dead. Though in the truth, the deceased was a doe he had hunted outside the city, bled dry, and used the blood to paint the walls and plant the seeds of this false crime. With any luck, the clouds would break soon, and the rain would begin to wash away the evidence if any guards had the keen senses to differentiate between human and animal blood. He was counting on the panicked fallout of the recent brutal corpse displayed outside the library to light a fire under their feet. One violent crime was a tragedy; two set a trend, a trend the city did not want to become a norm. So far, it seemed to be working as planned.

“Follow me. I will take you there.” Hathaldir beckoned the Lieutenant and other guards away and rushed from the Tower Guard with all the haste of a man with a murderer to track down and punish. And he was, but only with Strawberry’s success tonight could he begin to follow the scent of his true quarry.

*quoted from Strawberry in the library

@Lailac
There he was, at last. Strawberry's ears picked up the sound of running steps. Heavy boots echoed rapidly upon the cobblestones, giving plenty of forewarning of the approaching guard. Green eyes followed the dark-clad figure racing as fast as he could toward the guard's headquarters. It had to be him. Right? She remained very still, waiting, watching. A yellow rectangle of light spilled out from the doorway as he opened it, and she caught the briefest glimpse of his face. Yeah, that was CG. She let out a slow breath, relaxing into her shadowy corner. He was inside now. How long would it take to draw them out? She watched steadily, as a few drops of rain began to speckle the cobblestones between her and the guard HQ.

Before long, a whole group of men in uniform came bursting out, urgently rushing after CG. This was it. The moment she'd been waiting for. Then... her heart seemed to skip a beat at the sight of the man who hurried out right behind CG. Him. The guard who was after her. The one who was determined to capture her. The one who wanted to cause her as much agony as he could. She hadn't expected to see him there. Why was he here? When did he get there? She hadn't seen him come in with the shift change. Her breath got hung up in her lungs, staring unblinkingly at him. Her gaze lingered on him, though it was too dark to make out his features properly from here. She'd seen him in the light of the doorway, as he was hurrying after CG.

It took her a moment to remember that she had meant to count them. Hastily, she reminded herself to breath, and took a swift count as she slowly forced a quiet exhale, followed by an inhale. Then she counted again, thinking she must have missed someone. She'd counted each guard as they went in during shift change, and had carefully kept track of who was in there and who wasn't... even if she had somehow missed the lieutenant. Still. She knew how many she had seen go in. There was someone missing from that group.

Her gaze turned to the guard tower. They had left someone behind, to guard the place. It was the only logical explanation. She had hoped they wouldn't, but one guard was far better to try to get around than ten, and so this was the best time to try this. She took a good, long look down the street each ways, assuring herself that the company of guards was out of sight, and no one else had come around. Then she darted across to hide in the shadows of the guard building. She waited a few seconds, then peeked in the window. There was the last guard. She couldn't help a small smile, relieved to know where he was, so she could account for his whereabouts.

The map which CG had drawn for her had considerably helped her understand the layout of the building. And therefore, she knew that there was a window on the ground floor, which went directly into the captain's office. He had left quite some time ago; she'd made sure of that. So now she made her way around the building to that window. The lock was old, matching the building itself. After sliding one of the flat pieces of wire through the gap in the frame, she managed to wiggle the lock open in just a few seconds. After that, her only trouble was ensuring that she made no noise as she climbed through. Easily done.

Closing the window against the rain that was already coming down more steadily, Strawberry made sure that it was secured, so there wouldn't be any shutters flapping, and drawing that one guard's attention. She then stopped and scanned the room, turning a full circle to take everything in. Papers lay strewn about the cluttered desk, with no apparent attempt at keeping it tidy. Not that she cared. She had no interest in those papers. CG had indicated that his important paper that he wanted would be in the filing room. She ignored the papers on the desk, but she did pause to set down her pack in the chair. Opening the top, she carefully removed the large book that had been taking up so much extra space, and set it carefully in the center of the desk, over the top of all the mess. There was no way the captain could miss that. This was the ledger that would prove that the horrible laundry woman was stealing. Really, it was stupid of her to have kept a record, Strawberry thought, but then she didn't know much about business-running. Maybe it was needed? Whatever the case, CG had the other ledger, and he'd better not have ditched it somewhere. That, combined with this one, should show the truth and prove Thea's innocence. And if that didn't work, she hoped to convince the right people that Thea wasn't the one who'd stolen the coins, but rather Strawberry. Even if she and Thea both knew it wasn't the truth.

Taking another look around the room, Strawberry's gaze lingered on the rather fancy-looking dagger displayed on a decorative plaque on the wall. Her fingers twitched, longing to add that into her collection. The recently emptied space in her pack was almost begging to receive such a prize. But did she dare? Glancing at the ledger, she tried to think how a guard captain might react to finding that on his desk, but a probably prized weapon missing from his wall. She closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. 'I don't need it'. She told herself firmly. She needed to hurry up and get out of this office, and into the room she was meant to be going to. So, with soft, quiet steps, she crossed the room and put her ear to the door, listening to find out whether that one guard was still in the reception area, or if he had ventured down the hall.

(With Ercassie)

A polite, concise letter had been sent in reply to Ms. Korsey's request, assuring her that he would be present as per her request. His armor was polished and shined, uniform clean and pressed, his hair neatly combed and he appeared quite contrasting compared to the weary-looking guard in training. The lieutenant arrived punctually, as usual, to meet with her. Of the chairs in the room, he placed two on one side of the desk, leaving another on the other side for the use of the witnesses. And then motioned politely for Guard Korsey to choose her seat first, among the two on their side of the desk. There was some matter to be discussed, involving several witnesses, according to her letter. It would be good to learn as many details as possible before the witnesses arrived, and so here he was. He had little more knowledge of this matter as of yet, and couldn't help being rather curious about what all of this was about.

"Guard Korsey." He greeted his colleague politely, in the usual way. He brought with him a pad of paper, quills, and ink, for taking notes. "How much time have we, before the witnesses are to arrive, and how many are we expecting?" He inquired, laying down his writing instruments carefully on the table. The admission she gave, that she had been up all night searching for the alleged report that seemed to be missing, explained her appearance. He made no comment about that, and listened to the rest of her reply. At least three witnesses were expected, according to the guard in training, along with the accused, later. He nodded, politely pulling out the chair for her when it seemed evident she intended to choose that one. Then he froze at the names that dropped from her lips. He gave the young woman, his colleague, a sidelong glance, doing his best to hide a flicker of alarm. "Oh.. I see." He answered with slight hesitance. With a thoughtful frown, he sank into the other chair, once Sorrel had taken the one she wanted. "Well. I said I would be here to assist you, and so I shall." He said softly with resolution, half to himself. "Alright then. I would like you to tell me all that you can about this matter, before we call in any of these.. witnesses. Please." He paused, and added, "Also, what questions have you to ask of me?"

Listening attentively, he sat quietly through all that Guard Korsey said, his frown growing deeper the more that he heard. If he had heard anything about this matter before, he kept that to himself. "I would suggest calling them one at a time, else you are likely to have all three talking over each other, and confirming whatever the others say." He answered one of her questions, thoughtfully. "I know those three," he admitted with slight reluctance. "They will support one another, no matter what they say. For they are close friends," He mentioned, perhaps in warning. "If you speak with each of them separately, you will find it easier to determine the truth, I would think." He suggested, somewhat guarded as to what he said about the expected witnesses. He hesitated slightly, taking a moment to straighten his pad of paper. "I've brought this for taking notes. I'll focus on the note-taking, so you may keep your attention on asking your questions. Although I may want to ask questions of my own, from time to time, I will try to leave the questioning to you, unless you wish me to assist further."

For all of the readying Sorrela had managed, she looked the lesser so, compared to her superior when he showed up, as promised. The entire night before she had dedicated to this case and yet with nothing to show for all of her hard work and effort. She could not have blamed the Lieutenant if he suspected she had simply enjoyed herself too much at the event the day before, and then dragged herself into headquarters the next day. Still she was not late, merely bedraggled. And tying her long hair back more tightly, cold water having been splashed on her face, the recruit smoothed down her uniform self-consciously, as her superior calmly let her choose first seat.


“Lieutenant,” she nodded, lowering into the seat as gratefully for his turning up as she was also begrudging that he should observe her in this state. But her appearance was not the matter in question. And in seeking to make clear what was, the young woman did not delay in joining that focus. On the case. She retrieved a few scribbled brainstormings which were scarcely legible now in the light of day, but shuffled them importantly, to match him, or give the appearance of doing so. The Lieutenant had though brought fresh paper, ink .. thank the stars ! She had not thought so far ahead to provide any of that herself, as though they would have had to commit all the accounts to be given now to memory .. . And yet, when she gave up the names of the three witnesses they were expecting to report in, it was the young man’s turn to look unprepared.


She had known, of course, that he would recognise those three names. There was good cause why she had failed to include that rather pertinent information in the invite she had penned him, beyond the censoring of personal specifics trusted to any correspondence. He might not have come. Or he might have been even more determined to come. At least she knew now that his decision to help her was based on a professional merit, rather than anything at all biased. Although Sorrela herself was several years older than the friends and/or the lieutenant, her younger sister Roselly was not. And Roselly was quite impossible to silence on any subject of drama and gossip. That said, Sorrel had managed to disregard the schooltime cruelties which Lieutenant Androllius had reputedly visited upon her little sister, and numerous other children. Children can be cruel, but they were none of them children any longer. The recruit had found no cause for her own part, to be reminded of the officer’s school day reputation, since he had begun to mentor her in this new vocation. He had said no word or treated her no different because of her father’s history, even after that particular parent had gone out of his way to make clear their relation. She did not want to consider that her father had effectively warned the officer against saying anything or doing anything untoward. So embarrassing. It had been such a relief that Ric had not made anything of the incident afterwards. So, bearing that in mind, clutching it in fact at the very forefront of her mind like a shield, Sorrel hoped that both the Lieutenant, and also the witnesses concerned, would manage to similarly get passed the past .. and focus on this case without bias.


“Thank you for this,” Sorrel was sincere, if cautious. Reminding herself that her superior was here In the capacity of a second pair of hands, a second pair of ears .. so she could overlook the concern of his being here to judge her own performance. It would have helped a good deal of course if she had managed to locate the report which Cali had claimed she’d made already. But since the Lieutenant suggested they interview the three separately, Sorrel was visibly relieved. She was not quite ready to begin the day by facing a furious trio calling her out for incompetence.

“I thought that we might begin with Miss Ishen,” she put to the Lieutenant, like placing the first foot upon uncertain ice. Her first decision that might be scrutinised hereafter in the handling of this case. “Although it was Miss Dringolben who made the allegations yesterday, she did include Iole as having been also harmed, intimidated, and we have not yet heard from her on the matter at all yet.”

Hopefully, it was not painfully obvious that Sorrela did not fancy being screamed at from the get go, if they spoke to Cali first. The missing report was going to be a contention, and she knew it. But of the three, she also knew, that Iole was least likely to react against having this particular Lieutenant present. Which would be hard for the Guardswoman to admit aloud. So, electing to promote her tendency toward action and against hesitancy, Sorrel did not further delay, but rose from her seat, to see if the witnesses had arrived in the time since the two Guards had been conferring.



She found all three, sat on a line on chairs out in the reception area, and checked with the guard on desk duty even though she knew full well who they were. Why they were here. She could feel three sets of eyes upon her almost immediately. Even if they were not in fact, still she could feel them.

“Iole, if you’d like to come In first ? We’ll be hearing from each of you in turn.” Sorrela gestured toward the waiting interrogation room, slid the sign which hung above the handle to “INTERVIEW IN PROGRESS” and sincerely hoped there would come no scream of horror when the young shop assistant recognised the Lieutenant within. Iole’s blue eyes did indeed widen, considerably, as she noted the male guard, but thankfully the door opened in such a way to conceal her reaction from her friends.

“If you need anything, please ask at the desk,” Sorrel distracted them, just in case, before hastening into the room that was awaiting her. As first interviews went, it was both reassuring and also entirely the opposite, to have the case be concerned with people whom she knew. But the Guard Recruit's previous vocation had involved ignoring patriarchal banter as the only real interaction. And she reminded herself that some foreknowledge of the witnesses at least might prove to be advantageous as their accounts were considered. Both by herself and by the Lieutenant they all had such a history with.


At least the three friends were not alleging that the Lieutenant himself had committed a crime ! To have conducted interviews on charges against her new superior would have really made this a difficult day to get through. It was likely to be far from fun as it already was. She closed the door behind her and so it began.

(With @Ercassie)

The brief words of gratitude which were spoken drew a slightly raised eyebrow from him. He glanced sideways at Ms. Korsey, wondering what exactly she might be thanking him for. Did she not realize what sort of reaction these three witnesses were going to have when they saw him in here? "You ought not thank me just yet," He cautioned softly. "This entire matter may yet take a turn for the worst.. for us." He held back a sigh. More likely than not, his being here would cause problems. No good could possibly come of this situation. And the fact that Sorrela had been unable to find that report... well that might look very bad on her. On all of the guards, for that matter. But he happened to know there had been many reports to go missing recently, although the matter had been kept fairly quiet among the majority of the guards. He might have saved her the efforts she had put into her night-long search. "You ought to have asked me about the report," He mentioned, holding back a sigh. "But, it's too late now." He added, with a vague shrug. There was no time to begin another search, and so they would have to get through these interviews the best they could, with that missing report looming over them.


“I thought that we might begin with Miss Ishen,”

The suggestion was a good one. Regardless of any personal feelings he may have toward any of the three, the lieutenant gave a small nod. "That seems reasonable enough." He answered in a level tone, without any hint as to what he may be feeling about this whole matter. As Sorrela left the room, he stood and paced once around the room, letting out a slow exhale in an attempt to calm his nerves. This might not go well. There was much history between those three friends, and himself. There was a lot they could each say about him which could turn this meeting rather..uncomfortable, to say the least. He went to the water pitcher and poured a glass, his throat suddenly feeling rather dry.

Seconds after he had returned to his seat, sipping from the glass, the guard recruit was returning with the first witness. The Lieutenant rose again as the two females entered the room. "Good morning, Ms. Ishen." He spoke with formal stiffness, polite, but not exactly 'warm'. He eyed her thoughtfully as she entered with Sorrela. Whether it was with wariness, or there was some sort of plotting going on behind that blue-green gaze, it was difficult to tell. "How is.. your mother?" He inquired, out of apparent politeness. Although, anyone who had witnessed some of the encounters of their younger days might wonder if he had deliberately asked merely for the sake of reminding her of the many times in the schoolyard when cruel words had been spoken about both her parents. Not to mention all the insulting names which had been assigned to Iole and her friends, and employed regularly. "And your father... I heard he had retired? And went to.. Pelargir, is that right?" He was either trying to make polite, but awkward, small talk, or.. perhaps he was dropping a subtle hint that he knew where her parents could be found...

After a brief pause, he cleared his throat, and gestured to the chair. "Please, have a seat, Ms. Ishen." He held back a sigh, and straightened his quill so that it lined up with the edges of his notepad. "Guard Korsey has requested that I be present today, but I assure you I am only here to see that this interview is conducted.. satisfactorily." He explained, choosing his words carefully. "I shall be taking notes, and leaving the questions to her for the most part. Please, try not to be nervous. Just..pretend I'm not here." As if that was going to be possible. One might even wonder if he had actually said that to intentionally make her more nervous. Deciding it was time to get on with this, he made a slight motion to Sorrela to begin, and prepped his quill for writing.

Garthain
Tower Guard HQ
(for @Rillewen)

It was a beautiful night, though dark, and as Garthain made his way to the Tower Guard, his thoughts wandered to where he’d rather be: at home, playing a soulful song on his viola de gamba by candlelight. Fingers (the good ones, anyway) dancing over the strings, bow sweeping resounding melodies and chords and evoking true bliss in every sense of the word.

Instead, he trudged along the streets to the Tower Guard in search of a missing and crucial item. He had searched everywhere in his house, high and low, and engaged his sister’s help, and still, they could not find the sheet music to La Follia della Luna. He had not played it enough to memorize yet and he needed it. If it wasn’t at home, there was only one place he could have left it. The Tower Guard. And Garthain did not want his fellow guards knowing he played music in his spare time, giving them yet more fodder to use against him, so he had no choice but to go and retrieve it tonight before someone else found it first. What a fool he was to have brought it, and left it there, at all.

When he arrived, what he found was not at all what he expected. A mass of guards piled out of the building in haste and he overheard something about a murder. Wearing a slate blue coat with shiny brass buttons and clearly out of uniform, Garthain slouched aside out of the way and ducked his head, doing his best not to stand out or raise anyone’s attention. Among the group, he saw Hathaldir, that irascible, horrible, infuriating, guard he first met investigating the young girl accused of stealing from Ms Irma, and shrunk further away from them, feeling as though he had dodged a fatal arrow to be off duty tonight. Investigating a murder with Hathaldir involved was surely going to be a nightmare. Privately, Garthan was surprised if Hathaldir hadn’t murdered someone himself the way that man’s temper thundered.

Once the black and silver flurry cleared out, Garthain stepped forward. One guard remained, who frowned openly at Garthain’s presence. “Just picking something up,” Garthain explained, giving the man a respectful nod of acknowledgement and explanation. You do not owe this man an explanation, Garthain told himself even as he felt as if the man’s eyes burned holes in the back of Garthain’s head. He was not about to admit he’d forgotten something. He held his head high and walked through the entrance hall toward the stuffy windowless office he shared with another junior guard, hoping his music would be there...

Iole did not fail to meet the Lieutenant’s eye as she entered the interrogation room. He rose up from his seat, to ensure there was no way that she might miss him. Cali would not have missed him, not from this distance .. but the milder young woman paused where she stood. Beside her, Sorrela readied to offer reassurance. But none was called for. Blue-grey eyes widened slightly when her old antagonist made with polite enquiries about her parents. What did he think ? That they would ‘chat’ ?

“They found that Pelargir left a lot to be desired, as it turned out,” she returned, softly, in reply. But refrained from going so far as to say whether they had chosen to stay .. there, or venture elsewhere. She had not come here to talk about her parents.


“Can I get you some water ?” Sorrel asked, venturing to gauge the young witness’s level of comfort. And since the Lieutenant had helped himself to a drink of water already, reminded her of the opportunity.

“I brought my own,” the shop assistant admitted, revealing a small flask. She was not accustomed to accepting drinks from strangers these days. Not that anybody in this room was a stranger. But still. The Guardsman was no less suspicious to her thinking than if she had never met him before. Having done so, she knew better than to trust him. It would be pointless for her to ask what he thought that he was doing here. It would be no use to demand that he should leave. This was his place of work, and he had every right to be here. And they had known that there would be a possibility .. of coming across him, here, today. Iole did not intend to fight a battle that she could not win. “It is only water,” she promised Sorrel, unclasping her refreshment and holding it out for the other woman to smell.

“It’s fine,” the tall recruit decided. And observed the way that their witness took the longer, scenic route to find her seat.


Edging along a wall with all the dignity which the action might still manage to muster, Iole kept herself as far away as physically possible as she could at all times, from the Lieutenant. Picking up the chair allotted to her, Iole calmly set it down a few inches further, and at an angle, so that she would be sat more in face with Sorrela than toward Ric. Pretend he was not there ? She avoided him as though the man was some dog’s mess that she did not want to get too close to. Resting her hands lightly around the flask, placed on the table top in front of her, the Undertaker’s daughter alternated her gaze from that carefully selected item to the Recruit she could conjure a small smile for. She might not be able to pretend that the Lieutenant was not in the room. But sometimes it was harder to be a third wheel in company, than to be alone. Maybe he should be the one forced to pretend that he were elsewhere. He might even leave if she was very fortunate ... “I’m not sure how we do this,” Iole admitted.


“Well, I think we can forego with asking out the preliminaries, in this case,” Sorrel shrugged, and moved to lean back in her seat before thinking better of it. “Your name is Iole Ishen, 22 years old. You are a resident of Minas Tirith and you work at the marketshop, ‘Needful Things’,” she surmised, proving that she knew her witness. It would have been a sham to act as though they were not all already aware of those few facts. Iole nodded once, and squeezed the flask in front of her. “Now, as to why you’re ..” Miss Korsey began, after a quick check in the Lieutenant’s direction.

“Did you find the report ?” Iole interjected quietly. There was no need to shout it, although the question silenced the Recruit as well as if the witness had bellowed. “Cali said that she filled a report on this. Last year.” The question was not designed to stun, and sincere was the hope that brimmed in the young woman’s big eyes. Sorrela cleared her throat and endeavoured to prove to her superior that she had a head on her shoulders.


“We will discuss the report that Miss Dringolben made when we speak with her, in her turn,” the answer she had settled on, still seemed woefully inadequate. “This is your turn. Your opportunity to tell us what you remember. Cali was not the only one .. involved .., and different people remember things differently.”

Iole took a moment to consider this reaction, before silently she sat up, indicating that she had understood. Sorrela paused, wondering quite what would be the best thing to follow that with. She was not as begrudging at least, about showing up in front of the witness, looking as though she had been up all night. If anything, it proved that she had tried to find the blasted report. Ric had not long since said in private that she might have done better to ask him about the report, to perhaps save her time that had been wasted. The new Guard was not sure what to make of that, but she knew that she would still have looked for the report personally. She had promised Cali that she would, and so she had. Regardless of the errand having proven entirely fruitless. Sorrel had her mind set on Guard work as seeking proof, on judging what she could or not see with her own eyes. Taking somebody else’s word for such a significant matter in this case .. was not an acceptable shortcut.


“You did not make a report on this matter yourself, last year.” It was not a question, and there was no way that it might not come off as sounding rather disappointed. The Recruit could not help that. She wanted this answer perhaps more than any other answer that might come today. Why had her friend not trusted her ? When it first had happened, perhaps .. she might have been in some shock. But later .. when they had grown closer ..

“I .. did not want to talk about it,” Iole’s eyelids fluttered as she twirled the flask in her fingers, slowly. She had not looked to take a single sip of it’s elixir yet. “It is not a pleasant thing to discuss. Anyway I thought that it was over and I wanted it to be over. And it would not have made a difference, clearly,” large eyes flicked up suddenly. “Cali made a report right after it happened and it did not help you to catch him.”

“But then you say that you saw him again, yesterday,” Sorrel realised. “I mean, is that what prompted you to come and make your complaint today ?” she corrected, belatedly, what might have been construed as leading the witness to an answer, rather than waiting to hear what she might have said, if unprompted.

“You have him already in custody this time,” Iole pointed out, giving enough time to allow for any apologies, if some should follow. When none did, the shop assistant glanced up, almost surprised. “He is not going to just disappear, like he did the last time. Unless we let him. I mean, he already came back the once, so he could do it again. I had rather come to think that I would never have to see him again. I was resolved to that. But now .. I don’t want to wake up each day, wondering if I might happen to bump into him again.” A troubled expression flummoxed the young woman’s pale brow. “This is the only way I know to try and make sure that does not happen.”


“So. You saw the man in question, yesterday ?” the Recruit though, needed to ascertain. “I know that your friend said she recognised him, yesterday, from last year,” she put in, hastily to ward off any protest. “But did you personally see and recognise him yesterday ?” Sorrel pressed for certainties.

“I saw the man yesterday, with my own eyes,” Iole assured her. “The same man who I met last autumn.”

“Tell me about how you met him,” Sorrel urged yet further for specifics. “Last autumn. Was that the first time you had ever seen that man before ?” The Guardswoman had deliberately skated away from mentioning yet ‘what’ in fact had apparently occurred, the year before. They were all aware of course, even without a certain report ever showing up. The Smith’s accusations had not been subtle, and the Recruit had shared them, as far as she knew, with the officer. But she knew Iole, she might actually like to think she knew the other woman better than even Ric did. Since the Lieutenant and the shop assistant were scarcely on speaking terms, for all of their intermingled history. And Sorrela knew that this was delicate. She had no intention of hurling facts around the room, as if she had already decided what had happened. Particularly when these facts had all come from another’s mouth. Another’s opinion. They were all basing what they knew on what Cali had alleged had happened.

It was time to hear it from another point of view. For each side of the story they could obtain, would enrich the facts with more flavour and facts to gain a more full-rounded understanding.



“I had never seen him before that day,” Iole affirmed. “Last autumn. I had arranged to go to the harvest festival with my friend, but we .. well he is useless,” the Undertaker’s daughter floundered slightly, with a further blush of small cherries, one per cheek, applied by emotion more than the sun had burnt there just the day before. “Unalmis remembered what we had said to be one way, and I thought it was something else,” she concluded, vaguely. “So when we found each other that morning, it was clear that we were not both expecting the same thing .. from the day to come.”

For the first time during the proceedings, the witness resorted to a drink from her flask. Or at least that was the indication, for she held it up in front of her face as though she were drinking from it, for a longer time perhaps than it might seem necessary. “I decided to go to the festival anyway and that is when I bumped into the man,” she resumed, without pausing, so that she was forced to stop and swallow before proceeding any more. “I wasn’t looking where I was going, and I walked almost straight into him. I suppose I did not want to be alone. So when he said we should go to the harvest festival together, since we were both heading in that direction independently, I didn’t see why not. All my friends were off making new friends. Why should I have not done the very same ?”


The question did not sound merely rheutorical. It sounded almost like a challenge, which seemed almost unreal to have come from the pale young woman, sat stiffly in her chair. Iole did not pick up with her account of things immediately, as though she were awaiting some response. But Sorrel was not sure what might be wise to offer. In the awkward moment that followed, she glanced over to see what Aderic might have been writing all this time.

(With @Ercassie )

The lieutenant fell silent after Iole's reply. Obviously, she had no intention of delving further into that subject, and he left it alone. As Sorrela offered the young lady a drink of water, the lieutenant raised an eyebrow slightly upon hearing Iole's reply. She brought her own? Interesting. It was deemed to be only water, and he had no cause to question the fact. It really made little difference to him what it was, to be totally honest.

Eyes the color of the sea followed the young woman as she crossed the room close to the wall, like some blind person who needed to keep a hand to the wall. She really was going out of her way to keep as far from him as possible. This was mentally noted. He restrained a sigh from escaping, and sat back in his chair to wait, hands folded on the table by the note pad. The lieutenant had already stated his intention to leave the questioning to Sorrela, and so he had nothing really to do but wait until the witness was ready to begin speaking. Every move she made, however, was observed out of his peripheral vision, while he kept his gaze focused elsewhere. This was sure to be...interesting, to say the least.

When at last Sorrela got her to start talking, the lieutenant dipped the quill into the ink and made a few quick notations. Her name, and other general information that would need to go into the report. Before they could delve any deeper, Iole interrupted to inquire about that lost report. The one that Sorrela had only just brought up about five minutes ago. He paused, glancing up briefly, first at Iole, then at Sorrela. The female guard's reply seemed very well-put, and he gave a subtle nod toward her. Very well handled. And it worked, diverting Iole's attention from the alleged report. Of course, there was no reason to doubt that such a report had existed. He knew very well that such a report had been made. It was also not the first report to mysteriously vanish, as he also knew quite well.

As the two females spoke together for a moment, there was little yet worth putting down on paper. Still, a few notations made their way onto the page anyway.

"And it would not have made a difference, clearly,”

That almost sounded to the lieutenant like some sort of accusation. He glanced up with slightly narrowed eyes at that comment. What did that mean, exactly? But Iole's gaze seemed focused steadfastly upon Sorrela. Well, so long as ignoring him was all she did, that he could live with. The other two friends in the waiting room, however, he feared much more trouble out of them.

As the newer guard worked on coaxing the story out of Iole, the more experienced one waited in patient silence to learn what would spill from her mouth. For a few moments, he was focused on jotting down any relevant, pertinent facts or statements that she made, which ought to go into this file. Until that last one.

"All my friends were off making new friends. Why should I have not done the very same ?”

At this, his quill stilled. He raised his eyes to stare at the young woman, usually so shy and quiet. For a brief moment, the lieutenant's expression appeared to darken slightly before he cleared his throat softly and looked down again. Taking a slow, careful breath, he regained his composure. "There is nothing wrong with making friends, Ms. Ishen." He spoke up at last, keeping his voice quiet. He glanced up again, perhaps seeking to catch her gaze with his, though whether that was intended as some sort of message or not, it would be difficult to say. Looking back down at his note pad, he finished the word he had been writing, and waited for Sorrela to continue.

@Lailac
Footsteps echoed along the hall, steadily approaching, or so it seemed. Strawberry caught her breath, easing off to one side of the door, near the hinges. If someone opened the door, it would be easy to hide behind it, then slip out around them once they were further into the room. But then, no one opened the door. She frowned, curious about this. Then pressed her ear to it again, and heard a door nearby open and close. The guard that was left behind. Surely, that must be him, going into one of the other offices. He wasn't the captain; she'd seen him leaving at other times, and knew what he looked like. And he did not look like the man she had seen sitting at the reception desk. The red-haired thief pictured the map in her head, recalling that there were a few offices and rooms along this hallway. That must be where the other guards worked or something, and he must have had some reason to go into the other office. Perfect! She needed to go past the reception desk to get upstairs, so this was a good opportunity, with it left unguarded. Or so she thought.

Easing the door open, she desperately hoped the guard would stay in there long enough for her to do what she needed to do. Softly, she proceeded down the hall. Soft, but swift as she dared. Pausing to ease her way past the door of the office the guard had entered, she listened briefly and thought she heard shuffling papers from inside. She didn't stop to investigate. Moving on, Strawberry was eager to hurry down the hall and find the stairs leading to the upper level. But then as she approached the front desk, a quiet cough startled her. The sound had come from ahead of her. Strawberry froze, heart leaping at the sound, eyes widening. She glanced back the way she had come, then ahead. There were two of them? She bit her lip, then cautiously ventured forward a few steps, back pressed close to the wall. Cautiously peering around the corner, she saw that the guy at the desk was the same one she'd spotted from the window. So where did the other one come from? CG hadn't said anything to indicate there might be more guards present than those who were scheduled to work that night. And all except one of those had rushed out, including one who hadn't come in with the shift change.

Frowning both in alarm and confusion, Strawberry withdrew back from the corner, heart pounding. This might be trickier than she thought. She bit her lip and glanced around, suddenly feeling very... vulnerable out in the open, trapped between two guards who might traverse that hallway at any moment. There was another door next to her, so she put her ear to it, listening for a moment, then eased the door open and peeked in. It was dark inside. She slipped inside, but left the door open a crack so she could see and hear, but that way she was at least not out in the open. If either of the guards came down the hall, she could easily close the door and be safe. Hopefully. Darkness was her friend, but they might bring a candle. Now... to think of a plan. How could she divert the other guard's attention to get him out of the way?

Even as she was debating about this dilemma, a shadow moved into view upon the floor of the hallway. It stretched far ahead of the man as he, having stood from his desk, stopped in the entrance to the hallway, peering down its length. Strawberry caught her breath and eased the door closed, then cautiously peeked through the key-hole. He wasn't moving, just remained where he was, as if watching or waiting. Perhaps listening. Had he seen her? Had she made a noise that had alerted him to her presence? She waited, feeling as if he might overhear the beating of her heart, though she knew that was ridiculous. And then... did she hear a soft snicker, or was that his boot shuffling on the floor? She frowned, and a moment later a soft noise of a boot scuffing the stone floor alerted her to the fact the man was moving forward. Heading toward her? She tensed, preparing to leap away from the door, one hand going to the dagger she wore at her side. Closer and closer he came. Then... he passed by her door. After a moment, she relaxed and put her ear to the floor, listening to his footsteps. Despite his attempts at being stealthy, she was able to mark his movements. He was creeping toward the other office, for some reason, stepping as lightly as his heavy boots would let him. Curious. Jumping up, she eased the door open again, cautiously peeking out. The guard, with some papers in hand, had his ear to the door where the other guard had gone in, but his head was turned away from her.

Smiling at her good fortune at such an opportunity, Strawberry slipped out from her hiding place and crept onward, passing the desk area after a quick scan of the vicinity. Thankfully, there were no other guards lurking around there. The thief breathed a soft sigh of relief, then moved as swiftly as stealth would allow her to go, heading toward the stairs. Thank goodness those were made of stone, so there was no risk of creaking. She smiled faintly to herself and hastened to ascend, though she slowed at the halfway point and proceeded with great caution. There had already been two surprises during this venture, and she didn't want to blunder into a third.

Garthain
Tower Guard HQ (@Rillewen)

The office was dark inside and an earthy, slightly damp smell hung over the space overlain with the lingering scent of sweet galenas and a mutton pie his colleague had insisted on chowing down on while working, sprinkling crumbs over his own files. Garthain closed the door and lit a lantern, spreading a small pool of light over his own meticulously clean desk. With one glance at his office-mate’s work space, he barely suppressed a sigh. Papers and files were piled so high they threatened to avalanche onto the floor and empty mugs left watermarks and tea stains behind.

In contrast, Garthain’s desk was neat and tidy and held only the essentials: a tightly lidded inkwell and pair of fresh quills, a stack of fresh parchment, a clean handkerchief, pencils and drawing tools. His case files and legal references were arranged and stored within a cabinet to the side. A map of the city’s levels took up most of the wall space and there were no personal items and nothing to give any hints as to who exactly Garthain the person was behind the uniform.

The only exception was the lap drawer of his desk where he kept his current notebook of ongoing investigations, a brass matchbook holder, and a jagged stone too small to be a paperweight. It was the only place he might have left the sheet music. He was as certain of this as he was that the city was white and he flicked open the drawer expecting to find the missing pages of melodies.

It wasn’t there.

Garthain stared at the lap drawer for a moment and then slid it shut. Wrinkling his brow, he gazed at his desk as if it somehow had the answer. It had to be there. He opened the drawer again but the scene did not change– still, there was no music. No La Follia della Luna.

Exhaling in agitation, he rifled through the drawer for good measure even though he could clearly see it was not there. He picked up the stone and flipped it over in his hand, rubbing the surface with his thumb, as he considered where else it could be, if not here or at home. Had he lost it? Or had he somehow misplaced it or mixed it in with his files? If he couldn’t find it, he’d have to buy another copy and lose his own annotations and start over from scratch. It would push his practice back after all the progress he made in the thin, precious moments he captured to indulge in his beloved pastime shared with his sister. A thing blessedly untouched by the guards or criminal hands, which set him free to truly just be and find peace. Setting the stone down, Garthain opened the cabinet and began thumbing through the files, searching for one misfit piece of music in a catalog of crimes. Papers swished and crinkled as he searched and found nothing, unaware of the listener at the door…

@Lailynlassë
All was quiet upstairs. Strawberry paused, listening for a good long moment before she began walking down the hall. Mentally, she pictured the map, the layout of the place. The room she needed was down this hall. There shouldn't be any guards up here, but.. as she approached the door she needed, a frown came over her face. There was a light inside. She could see the glow under the door, and moved cautiously to the side of the doorway. Listening. She heard nothing inside, but that didn't mean anything. After a few moments, she let out a silent sigh. She couldn't just keep standing here forever, waiting. The guards wouldn't be drawn away forever. And whoever was in there might take a long time.

After a moment's thought, Strawberry decided she would have to lure the guard out. Reaching toward the door, she hesitated briefly to take a deep breath, then knocked softly on the door. Immediately, she stepped back to the side, reaching for her dagger in case she needed it. But there was nothing. She frowned. No noise, no stirring. She paused, then knocked again, a little more normally. Still nothing. Hmm.. She had an uneasy feeling about this, but cautiously reached out for the knob and turned it, slowly, silently. At last, she gently pushed the door open. It opened smoothly, silently. Still, no one stirred or called out. Either someone was asleep, very absorbed in their work, or..not there.

Though nervous, Strawberry decided to take a gamble, and poked her head around the door frame. The desk was there, several candles flickering, nearly at the end of their lives. Green eyes swept around the room, taking in the many cabinets of drawers lining the walls and the stacks of papers piled on the desks. A worn-looking book was opened out on the desk amid several papers strewn about. After leaning a bit to look carefully down a row of cabinets, Strawberry smiled as she reassured herself the place was empty. Good. Then that meant the previous occupant had probably rushed out in a hurry. One of those guards who went with CG, no doubt. Still, she didn't want to push her luck, and closed the door carefully behind her. She let out a sigh, then took a look around. Right. So... where to begin?

---

Pranks were practically a necessity when working the dull, long hours of the night shift. It could get so boring and uneventful(which was preferred of course), that a prank now and then made the job worthwhile. Hadhon typically enjoyed a good round of pranks with his fellow night-shift guards, but had less opportunities to draw the guys from the earlier shifts into the fun. This, however, was a perfect opportunity for a bit of fun. After getting his snickering under control, he poking his head into the office. "Hey, uh.. Garvan?" He called, stepping in, pretty sure that was the guy's name. "What're you looking for?" Leaning his back against the door, Hadhon made sure the paper in his hand was tucked behind his back and out of sight. "I don't know if this helps, but I think I saw someone take a stack of papers from this office up to the filing room earlier." He mentioned, in a helpful tone.

Garthain with Hâdhon (@Rillewen)
Tower Guard HQ

Pages and pages of witness statements, evidence manifests, lists of possible suspects, all from mostly low level crimes and a few miscellaneous complaints he’d been ignoring flashed quickly before Garthain’s eyes. Nothing, nothing, no music, just as he expected. He never would have mixed it in with his files but he had to look in order to feel he’d done his best.

The door barely creaked as Hâdhon peered inside Garthain’s office. Preoccupied with searching, Garthain didn’t notice the guard imposing in his doorway until the man spoke, addressing him as Garvan. For all the infamy and ridicule Garthain had earned himself, his name seemed to often disappear as fast as the Captain when Ms Irma came calling.

Would he ever earn his place here among the Tower Guard? Would anyone remember his name, possibly even with something almost unimaginable like admiration?

With his back turned to the guard, Garthain scowled and unintentionally creased the pages in his fist. Biting back a heavy sigh to hold back his frustration, he marked the file he’d left off with and faced the uninvited guard. “Sergeant Hâdhon.” There was no use correcting him. “I stopped by to look for something I may have misplaced. However, it does not seem to be here, so I must have left it elsewhere.”

“Did they?” Garthain cleared his throat. “That’s unexpected, sir. I did not request any records be transferred and neither did Guard Nelandir…” He gestured at the unoccupied, messy desk opposite his own. “Unless, that is, you did, sir…”

@Lailyn
Pulling the paper from her pocket, Strawberry looked at the name that CG had written down for her, trying to pay attention to the first symbol, then the last. Shaking her head, she suppressed a sigh and closed her eyes, then looked around at the drawers. She pulled open the nearest drawer and started poking through the papers in it, frowning a bit as she tried to find a name that matched with the one on her paper. But none of these seemed to have the same symbol at the beginning, and she sighed finally and pushed it closed again.

Glancing around, Strawberry ventured over to the desk and took a look at the book that lay open on it. She had no idea what it might say. Perhaps it listed something about where to find what records in this room, but it wasn't likely to help her. She frowned, picking it up as she flipped through a few pages before closing it, tucking it under her arm. There were also several loose papers strewn about the desk, and she rifled through those trying to find anything that matched. This was tricky, but she knew she could do it. She just had to figure out where to look for it.

---

Hadhon rolled his eyes. "I'm not the only ranking officer, you know. Lieutenant Androllius was here earlier, working up in the file room. And the captain does come in during the day." He pointed out. "So if whatever you left here isn't in your desk, then it's probably up there." He shrugged, wishing the guy would hurry up and go off to check upstairs, so he could sneak the false music back into his desk. He had only just about finished with it when Hathaldir had burst in with his news about the murder, so he hadn't had a chance to slip it back into Garthain's desk before Garthain himself arrived to check.

Garthain
Tower Guard HQ (@Rillewen)

As if Garthain were so incompetent he needed someone to explain such simple facts as the Captain coming in during the day, as well as other ranking officers. It was easier to follow along than to argue his own intelligence, so he simply muttered, “I see…” in a contemplative manner. “I’ll go have a look then, Sergeant.”

Garthain carefully slid the file cabinet door shut and retrieved his notebook of recent cases from the lap drawer in his desk. Any files that lived in his office and might have been (inadvertently) moved earlier that day would be easy to search for in the file room and cross check with his list. If the music somehow wound up mixed in with his work (unlikely given his scrupulous organization but all things were possible, he supposed), then he would easily retrieve it.

With his trusted notebook in hand, he shuffled dutifully from his office and made for the file room, hiding his heavy doubt and rankling irritation. Wherever La Follia della Luna had got to, he was certain he hadn’t mixed it up in his files. But he supposed he ought to properly search everywhere for certainty was only possible if he had seen it with his own eyes, as had been drilled into him during lectures from senior officers. Hunches and feelings were to be eschewed in favor of evidence and facts. So, in the case of the missing sheet music, Garthain would gather facts.

Fact number one: the missing item was not anywhere in his desk, nor in his file cabinet, unless it was in one of the files or drawers he had not yet searched. (Unlikely to be there but he ought to check after the file room...)

Fact number two: Ranking officers moved files without notifying guards of their actions.

A fact which Garthain found most thoroughly frustrating, and now meant he had to delve into the dusty and dark file room late at night when he wanted to be at home by a warm fire playing his viola de gamba and floating away to the silver-shining moon.

Alas. Garthain paced down the hall to the file chamber. The door opened silently and he padded inside with a heavy sigh. At the start of his career here, he had spent far too many hours laboring over tedious filing, hand-copying records, and wondering when he’d ever get a real case of his own. And he had not come very far at all from those days…

At the sight of candles burning dangerously low in a room full of paper, he tsk’ed under his breath and blew them out. There may have been a murder to call the guards away but there’d be murder here if the records room burned to a crisp. As he did so, he noticed the records book was missing again and he barely suppressed an agitated sigh. At the rate of carelessness the room was being treated with, he might have to volunteer to put it back together again. “How is anyone supposed to find anything in here?” He mumbled under his breath. At least he didn’t need it.

Garthain opened his notebook and paced down the first aisle to check for his first potential missing file…

"There is nothing wrong with making friends, Ms. Ishen."

The Lieutenant’s remark seemed encouraging and agreeable but still Iole met his eye with her own. Having privately vowed to ignore him, she now berated herself mentally for having been so stupid. For once she had allowed herself to see .. that face .. and hear what she suspected he was saying .. it was hard to look away without showing how eager she was to do so.

“But there is, actually,” she threw out, rather more urgently than she had meant to, as though it were her excuse, and looked for Sorrel instead. To maybe try and find somebody who would understand. “I mean, I only mean to say,” she corrected herself, a little flustered, “that in this particular case,” a quick glance down allowed her to take a measured breath before continuing. “I wish now that I had never come to have met him at all.” It was tempting to put a glance in the Lieutenant’s direction as she pointed this out. But she could control herself. “Not ever,” she finished quietly, and set her water flask down on the table before almost immediately picking it back up again.


“He turned out not to be so ‘friendly’ as you had first assumed ?” Sorrel concluded, with a short cough, as she hoped to direct the interview back onto track. For a moment there it had felt as though they were not even speaking about the subject which had brought them there. She was not oblivious to the possibility, but eager to avoid it at all costs.

“Yes. I mean, no,” Iole closed her eyes and tried again. “Yes, he came to be less friendly than he had seemed to be, to me, at first. But at first it was .. he was just. We talked, He asked about the fair, told me he had never been to one like that before. I should have asked where he had come from, because the same fair always comes, every autumn, to the Pelennor. Well, you know,” she smiled faintly toward Sorrel who did of course know.

“So I was trying to guess silly things like where he had come from and what he did for a living, for there was no chance to ask. Somehow .. somehow he kept the conversation all about asking what did I remember about coming to the autumn fair before. And so I told him, about times I had gone with my parents, and my friends .. and he kept asking about those .. and it seemed like completely natural questions at the time. But it was not until a while had passed that I realised I had been doing most of the talking. And I still did not know much about him at all. Except his name. He’d told me that his name was Lowendir. So that was, well, I thought it was something at least. And it turned out to be a lie of course. But I didn’t realise that yet.”


Shifting in her seat, Sorrela glanced briefly toward Aderic beside her, and then tried again to ask the questions she felt required answering. She did not want the Lieutenant to think that she was trying to conduct the witness toward or away from certain things that might have been relevant, or not. Forget that she was friends, sort of, with Iole on a personal level, and she knew that Aderic was rather the opposite. But more so that this was her first interview ever in this job, and she did not want to play it anyway but the most professional that she could manage to. Mostly she wished that she could ask to see what he was writing, because surely that might prove important or helpful to know what he’d decided was significant out of all this. They were supposed to be looking out for things to ask against the suspect himself, tomorrow, she knew. Had he already thought of something, based on what had been said ?

“Did you feel that there was any particular subject that the man kept coming back to, or seemed especially interested in ?” the recruit asked, remembering her witness before it became rude to have a need to. Iole’s narrative did seem to be suggesting something dreadful still to come, which of course was why they were here at all. But so far at least it sounded rather tamer than she had expected. “Did he ever seem to ask questions that he ought not to have known to ask, or that would require some previous knowledge of you, to have come up ? I mean, was there anything that made you feel uncomfortable ?”


Iole puzzled slightly, as she contemplated the lines of enquiry, even as the Guard recruit recognised she had asked too many things at once. Another means, probably, of indicating where her mind had already gone to, without the witness having taken her in that direction yet.

“He was not rude, or creepy, or unpleasant in what he said,” Iole admitted after a moment, as though it had taken that time to re-run the scene in her memory. “Not yet. He just seemed very interested in rather anything I had to say. Everything in fact. And that doesn’t .. I mean, I don’t usually talk to men who don’t already know that amount of detail about me to start with. So maybe it was just that. So in that, yes, it made me a little uncomfortable,” she frowned. “As though I felt suddenly I was very self involved or something because we were talking all about me for so long. I felt a bit embarrassed. I even apologised. I remember that, and he laughed. He did speak more then, and not so many questions, but more like pointing my attention toward the games and stalls we were passing. And I was trying by then not to spill into some story of some time or something which had happened in my life, inspired by the things we saw. He must have noticed that I was being more careful suddenly. Because that was when he said I looked a little flushed. And he bought us both a cold drink.”


“What was the drink ?” Sorrel wanted to know, almost instantly.

“I don’t know,” Iole looked suddenly surprised that that had never occurred to her until now. “I stayed to listen to a musician. He told me there was no need for us both to have to queue up. So, I don’t know what he asked for. But it was cold and sweet and, well I can’t recall not liking it. There was a strange aftertaste to it, but it was just the sort of thing which makes you want to have another sip, to explore what that taste might be. I don’t know what that was. I’ve never known anything like it. Mostly I was grateful for the kindness at the time because it did seem to come at the right time. It was later morning by then because the crowds were thickening to a stew all around us. I felt hot, a little crowded, like we were stood in the middle of a river of people all going different directions and yet we were in the way of all of them. I was worried about spilling the drink in all the jostling arms and so he led me a little way out of the way,” the shop assistant looked almost apologetic as she met Sorrela’s worried glance.

“Where did he take you ?” the Guard asked then, as much from curiosity as a professional stand point.

Iole tried to explain. “I’m not really sure. We were away from the crowd. There were tents I think. It may have been more of the setting up area that you’re not meant to go to really. I thought I heard someone calling out my name and I remember stiffening as though I was being called back. I remember turning back to see if it came again because it sounded like Cali and I thought, almost as quickly, that of course it couldn’t be, because I had not seen her since before the war. We were evacuated out to different places. She sounded so far away, as though she was calling me from all the way out in Dol Amroth. But I knew it was her. I had been talking about her that morning though, as he encouraged me to bring up all the memories. Maybe that’s why I suddenly felt that I wanted to see her. No that I expected to.”


“Do you think, now, that it’s possible that the man might have heard, or seen Cali there, calling for your attention ?” Sorrela asked, considering. “You had told him your name. So if she was there and she was calling your name .. was he trying to take you toward her, or away from her . or anything like that ?” she finished feeling a little unsatisfied with the way she had concluded the question. But she wanted to leave scope for Iole to answer in more detail than simply ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

“I really couldn’t say,” the witness sighed. “He shouldn't have known what she looked like if he had seen her, to know that she was Cali. I suppose he might have heard her, same as I did. Mostly I was worried about being where we were not supposed to be. But at the same time, I just wanted to sit down somewhere. I was worried that I was going to be sick. And I didn’t want him to see me .. doing that. That was the last thing I remember about the fair. I think I sat down, or stumbled. But I don’t remember hitting the ground. It was like darkness caught me, mid-way between the bright busy day, and the next thing I remember.”

Sorrela wished she had some paper to write on, at this point because she was growing extremely suspicious that there might have been something in that drink which had just been mentioned. Glancing briefly toward Ric she wiled herself to try and remember that point, as she made herself instead prepare to move on to what was clearly going to evolve into the next and probably darker chapter of this story.

@Lail Bo Peep
As soon as Garthain left, Hâdhon sighed in relief, rolling his eyes. He carefully planted the false sheet music in a location that would seem as if it had been there all along, but perhaps gotten stuck between some other papers, so that it wouldn't seem too obvious that it had been put there after Garthain left the office. Hadhon flipped through the papers in the drawer slightly, then smiled at the success of his prank and slipped out to the front desk, resuming his post. He carefully pushed the real page of music down under some files and things, to keep it out of sight, and then awaited the return of the lower ranking guard, figuring it might take him a few minutes to go through the filing room.

---

The sound of footsteps alerted her of an approaching guard, seconds before the door opened. Strawberry had been looking over the files left on the desk, wondering if they might be of any use for her goal. The book under her arm had appeared to be a book that was filled with notes and things. A journal, she thought was the name of them, though she hardly ever paid attention to such things. But just as she was about to begin examining it a little more closely again, she'd heard the heavy tread of boots out in the hallway. Not even bothering to set the book or the files down again, she had ducked down beneath the desk and scrunched herself into the deepest, darkest corner of it, hoping the guard would not sit down at the desk. A heavy sigh announced the entrance of the man. She could tell it was a man by the sound of the sigh, but other than that, she could only see his boots as he stepped near the desk. She held her breath, feeling her heart race in her chest. Whoever had been in here must have come back to continue his work!

She bit her lip, listening, and then.. to her surprise, the room grew dimmer as the man blew out the candles on the desk. That was helpful, but a little surprising. She kept very still, listening. Perhaps, instead of coming to resume his work, he had come to finish and lock up? She frowned as she tried to imagine what he might be doing now. Was he looking for the book she'd grabbed? She glanced down at it, cringing slightly at her hasty reaction to take it instead of leaving it. But it was too late now. Then, his voice startled her a little bit. His question, however, brought a wry smile to the thief's face. Indeed, a very good question, she thought. How did one go about finding things in here?

After giving some consideration to the location of the man's voice when he had spoken, Strawberry decided that he must be a reasonably safe distance away from her at the moment. She risked a cautious glance out from under the desk. He seemed to be busily searching through one of the drawers, while periodically glancing at a pad of paper. Hmmm, interesting. She had that paper with the name written down on it, so she supposed she would just have to do similarly. She'd already planned on comparing that name to the name on the file, but the big problem was figuring out which drawer to look in. Frowning slightly, she withdrew silently and hoped the guard would soon leave. And as a precaution, she was already plotting where else she might hide in case there was a threat of this spot being discovered, and how she might get there without being discovered. Hopefully, it wouldn't be necessary, but she liked to be prepared just in case. With any luck, the guy would finish what he was doing and go away. Soon.


ooc: I'm assuming that Garthain brought along his own light source, since otherwise the room would have been cast into total darkness when the candles were blown out, lol

Garthain
Tower Guard HQ

Pencil clutched between his teeth, Garthain rifled through file after file. He checked off each case with a neat ‘X’ beside it after he had cross-referenced it with the entry in his notebook. Papers swished and crinkled beneath his fingers in regular cadence as he carried out his monotonous task. Part of his mind began to wander, drifting like a feather in the wind.

Stacks and stacks of files filled the room and for each one, a crime had been committed. How many innocent people had been harmed by perpetrators holding the blades that cut them? Were there really so many crimes in the city? Why were some people so cruel, so callous, so cut-throat? Frustration gnawed at him, as helpless and hungry as a dog chewing an old bone. It would not ease the growling in his empty stomach.

The words on the page in front of him blurred in Garthain’s vision. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, inhaling one long breath. He was doing it again– diving in too deep, caring too much, allowing emotions to creep in unwanted like a thief in the night.

Focus on the facts. The facts: letters on pages. Names, cases, crimes, not the lives beyond the ink.

Garthain waded carefully and slowly through his list of cases, moving from aisle to aisle in order. None of his files had been moved and the music wasn’t there. The whole effort had been a complete waste of time. He huffed and replaced the final files under review only for a flutter of improperly secured pages to scatter upon the floor.

Shutting his notebook and tucking it in his pocket, he secured his pencil behind his ear, and bent to gather them into some semblance of order once more. A quiet pitter-patter– footsteps?-- stole his attention momentarily and froze him in place. Tipping his head to the side, he closed his eyes and listened. “Sergeant?”

Hearing no reply and no further noise, he shook his head at himself. Impatient to leave and try to recover some semblance of a relaxing night off, he tucked away the last of the pages and gripped his lantern to guide his way out. He closed his closed around the lantern’s handle and it sputtered, sending shadows dancing across the walls and floor before sparking one last time and dying.

Garthain patted his pockets in vain. His matchbook was in his office and he was stuck making his way out in the darkness. Fortunately, he was intimately familiar with the room’s layout after months spent in its dreadful company.

“Damnit!” Pain throbbed through his toe as he stubbed it on a cabinet and danced around on one foot, gripping the injured one in his fist. Perhaps he did not know the room as well as he had thought. Hissing between his teeth, Garthain fumbled his way through shadows from the file room and left behind a few stray pages he had missed recollecting.

Garthain limped back to his office and slumped into the chair at his desk. Heaving a dramatic sigh at the unfortunate turn of events this evening, he slid open the lap drawer to replace his notebook to its home. And there, unbelievably, impossibly, because he was sure he had searched this drawer front to back and top to bottom, a sheet of music peeked out at him. He could not have missed it…Could he?

He gripped the corner of paper and slid the music out. The lilting moonrise melody of La Follia della Luna presented itself in all its innocent, melodious glory. It had been here the whole time and he was the laughable, useless fool everyone thought him to be. He quickly shoved the music into his breast pocket and eased the drawer shut. Disgusted with himself, he fled his office and crossed his arms over his chest. The front door promised freedom as he paced toward it, eager for escape.

OOC: all good! (@Rillewen)

@Lail Bo Peep

She watched him carefully, or at least, what she could see of him. It was difficult to get a good look while peeking cautiously out from under the desk. But it looked as if he was searching through several drawers. What was he looking for, anyway? Strawberry's curiosity was piqued, but she didn't dare make a noise that might alert him to her presence. So asking was definitely out of the question. But if she hadn't been not supposed to be there, she definitely would have been asking questions.

And then, to her alarm, he dropped some papers and bent to pick them up. That was dangerous for her. What if he looked up and saw her? The desk had a panel at the front, so that whoever was sitting there would have their legs hidden, but it didn't go all the way to the floor. There was a gap.. just enough for her to fit through. And so she rolled out from under the desk, putting it between herself and the guard, just in case. Once on the other side, she peeked under, saw that he was still snatching a couple of escaped papers. As softly as she could manage, Strawberry darted across to duck behind one of the file cabinets in the deepest corner, where she could duck behind its form and be completely hidden from view.

"Sergeant?"

The guard spoke up, and Strawberry froze, holding her breath. Had he spotted her movement? Or, perhaps he'd heard her footsteps.. she'd tried to step as quietly as she could, but there was only so much she could do while also being swift. And she hadn't known how much time she'd have, before he straightened up and risked seeing her. Or, perhaps he had actually seen a sergeant come to the door.. or he was calling for help? She listened carefully, heart racing. What if she was discovered?

Just as she was thinking that, the lights were completely extinguished in the room. Strawberry blinked, and heard the guard curse. He must have stubbed a toe or something, she assumed, having heard a soft thud that was probably him bumping something. Some shuffling, hopping type sounds followed. Strawberry mentally pictured the guard hopping on one foot, the other in pain. She'd seen it often enough that she had little trouble imagining what he must be doing, now. And then, she heard him leaving. His gait was different. Like he was limping. Maybe he hurt his foot worse than she'd imagined. Poor guy. But not her problem.

After waiting a long moment, counting out the beats of her heart until she estimated a couple of minutes had passed and all was totally silent up here, she let out a soft sigh of relief and tentatively stepped out from her hiding spot. It was very dark, and very quiet. She moved cautiously, putting a hand out on either side, slowly sliding each foot forward to feel her way back to the desk. Slow, steady, and cautious. She didn't want to bump into anything, not only because she didn't want to suffer the same sort of pain as that guard, but because she couldn't risk making any noise that would alert the guards downstairs to her presence. She found the desk after what felt like an eternity, and cautiously felt around until she found one of the candles. It was a bit annoying that he'd put them out, but she had ways of lighting them again. Still, in was inconvenient and would make her mission take that much longer.

Pulling out her small firestarting kit, she soon struck a little spark into the charcloth and held it to the candle's wick, holding her breath until it had taken hold. She swiftly put away her kit, and held the candle in her right hand while hastily moving toward the file cabinets. They were marked with letters, thankfully, but she felt like some of the letters were missing. Letter dash letter. She frowned, wondering what that was supposed to mean, and feeling as if there were supposed to be some other letters in between them, but she also had no way of really knowing for sure. She set the candleholder on top of the first cabinet, and pulled out the paper with the name on it, covering up all but the first letter. Then she compared that to the ones on the cabinets, and was beginning to get worried, but then, to her relief, she found a match. Great, progress!

Strawberry pulled out the drawer and here, she began to grow anxious. She had to look through the files slowly, trying to match the name on the slip of paper with the one on the file. And all the words and names appeared like a jumbled mess to her, especially with all the different handwritings to decipher. Some were neat, but some were definitely not, and she had to pause a few times to rub her eyes before trying again. Getting frustrated after a while, she was struggling not to panic about how long this was taking her, when she saw one of the names that looked pretty similar. Glad to see it, she pulled that file out of the drawer and breathed a sigh of relief. But then, she saw that the one behind it looked like that name, too. She frowned, hesitating, then grabbed them both, just in case.

CG had suggested grabbing several files, just to make it less obvious which one was the target, she remembered. So that would help. But then, also, she figured she ought to grab one or two out of some other random drawers. At least, those didn't have to be certain names. She pushed the drawer closed again, then grabbed up what papers that one guard had left by accident, and then went about grabbing a couple of random files from random drawers, until she had a fair-sized collection. She put all of them into her pack, along with that journal that she'd snatched from the desk. Setting the candle back where she found it, she blew out the flame and moved for the door. It was definitely time to get out of here.

Garthain
Tower Guard HQ (@Rillewen)

Garthain was nearly free, so close to an evening of respite if only he could salvage what pieces remained. The music hidden beneath his coat, tucked against his heart, promised a perfect cadence to a dissonant night.

One challenge remained. Sergeant Hâdhon manned the front desk and Garthain, lowly guard that he was, could not likely depart without addressing his superior. Though he desperately longed to fly into the city streets back home and brush his bow on the strings of his viola de gamba without another word to anyone, he knew his life was not so fortunate.

He slipped his hands in his pockets and attempted a more casual, but respective posture as he approached the front desk. “I found what I came for. I’ll be going now, Sir, with your leave.” Garthain took great pains to keep his voice respectful and even, seeking to avoid discipline for misbehavior. He’d faced the Captain/s fury for delinquent deeds in the past, a momentary lapse of his judgment and restraint leading to a nightmare fueled by his own foolishness. Just as tonight’s escapade could have been easily avoided, if only he’d been more careful. He inched to step back and avoid inviting further conversation, or worse, ridicule, but he stood his ground as he always did. Like a beaten dog who always returned to its master to gnaw on a mealy bone.

@Lail Bo Peep
Glancing up from the dull paperwork, Hadhon nodded. "So you found it? Upstairs, was it?" He asked, as if he didn't already know exactly where it had been. He had a hard time refraining from a smirk, but managed somehow. When Garthain declared his intention to leave, the sergeant nodded. "Well, don't get too wet. It's started pouring out there," He remarked, as if that fact wasn't obvious. The noise of the rain against the windows was loud enough to ensure no one could forget the weather outside, and if that wasn't bad enough, there was a draft from somewhere that made the candles flicker. Then, as if to prove his words, the world outside the window was illuminated briefly by a flash of lightning, followed shortly by a roll of thunder. Hadhon thought how lucky he was that he'd been ordered to remain here at this post, rather than going with the others to investigate the murder. They'd be drenched, while he was nice and dry in here.

---

Plunged into darkness yet again, Strawberry blinked a couple of times before she moved for the door. And then.. as she turned, her pack caught on the chair and dragged it about an inch to one side, the noise sounding to her ears like nails screeching down a blackboard. But, miraculously, the noise was actually hardly audible even in the room, because in that exact moment, a loud roll of thunder boomed, drowning out most other noises. Strawberry stood motionless for what felt like ages, her heart pounding, not daring to breathe, mentally cursing the pack for not being cooperative with her stealth needs, as well as the darkness for making it so she couldn't see where things were. So, yes, she realized it was mostly her own fault. Mistakes happen, she reminded herself, relaxing slowly as she didn't hear any footsteps rushing up the stairs to investigate the sound. Hopefully, no one heard it. The thunder had been very well timed, she noted with gratitude toward whatever forces were in charge of such things.

More mindful of her pack this time, Strawberry made her way to the door, cautiously peeking out. The hallway was dark. The stairs were dark, except for whatever light spilled up the stairway from the desk area below. She slowly eased down a few steps until she could take a cautious peek down below. Alas, that guard was there now. There was no way she could creep past him without being seen. She frowned slightly, moving up the stairs again. The way out was blocked, seemingly. But that didn't mean she was trapped. Glancing down the hall, she was pleased to find a window at the far end. In the daytime, it would have provided a suitable source of light for the hallway. Now, it provided her with a suitable exit.

After traversing the hall, she tried to get a look out of the window to see what might lie below. It was important to know what would be underneath, so that she would know if it would be safe to climb out. She'd checked around the perimeter of the place beforehand, but wasn't entirely sure where this particular window was situated. It was dark outside, of course, so it was difficult to to see much about what was below the window. Since the entire city was built in ascending levels, that meant there would be some slight slope on each level, and therefore there was a chance that the ground might slope away. Or, this might be the side that had the slope going toward the structure. If she was lucky, there might be things that would help her climb down, like other windowsills, or nearby roofs she could jump onto. Too bad she didn't have a climbing hook, but hadn't been able to find one without having one specially made. And that was sort of out of the question.

After a flash of lightning showed her a glimpse of the scene outside, she decided she'd just give it a try. She opened the window. Immediately, a gust of wind blew rain into her face, and she instinctively backed up a step, but then ran a hand over her face to wipe away the wetness. Strawberry carefully climbed out, wishing the rain would've held off a little bit longer, until she got back to where she was hiding out, at least. Thankfully, her soft leather boots made it a bit easier to find the smallest of ridges to use as footholds, which she was sure wouldn't have been possible with thick, stiff soles that were common with most boots and shoes. Still, the blocks of stone were wet and slick, making up the guard tower made it very difficult to hang on. Very, very carefully hanging on with her weight balanced between two precarious footholds and one handhold, she reached up and pulled the window closed, heart racing the whole time. If she fell now, she'd survive it well enough, she was sure, but it might be rather painful, being so high up, and unable to see what was below.

Once the window was closed, she spared a second to wonder what the guards might think if they saw rain splattered on the floor, with the window closed. Hm. After that thought occurred, she pushed it back open a tiny bit, just enough to make it seem that someone might have left it partially open. Then, she began a slow and careful descent, hoping all the while that no one would spot her climbing down from the guard tower. At least it was dark, though the realization that the buildings in the city were made of white stone made her wonder if she ought to have picked light colored clothing instead of dark. She almost laughed at the thought. Too late now, she thought, and sought for a new foothold. At that moment, her fingers slipped from the wet stone she was clinging to. The split second that she sensed she was going to fall, Strawberry reacted by swiftly pushing away from the wall as hard as she could. There was a another building nearby, a shop of some sort, if she wasn't mistaken. Its roof was just within reach, just slightly below her, and if she did this just right...

There! Her feet landed on the edge of the roof, near the peak, and for half a second, she thought she would be fine. But the roof was also slick. Almost as soon as the thought crossed her mind that she would be fine, she felt her feet slide out from under her. She gasped, falling onto her bottom, and felt herself sliding rapidly down the steep roof. Hastily, she twisted herself around, and only just managed to catch onto the edge of the roof with one hand as she tumbled over the edge, her weight painfully jerking on her arm as her descent stopped abruptly. Strawberry winced, gritting her teeth to prevent any noise from bursting out of her. This was not a good situation to be in, and she struggled to get a grip of the roof with her other hand, hoping to take the weight off the other. The stuff making up the roof of the building had scraped and dug into her palm painfully, but she was more worried about losing her grip than anything. Or her shoulder coming out of socket. That was another concern, she realized, since it had been once before, and could do so again a little more easily than she liked. Taking a swift look down below, she tried to get an idea of what might be directly below her, but her grip was slipping, and she couldn't really take the time to wait for certainty. So, taking a deep breath as if she was about to dive into water, she idly wondered why she'd done that as she let go and prepared to hit the ground and roll.

Garthain
Tower Guard HQ

“Yes, sir.” The words flowed from Garthain’s lips with the fluidity of repetition. Like learning to play a new song and imprinting the notes in his memory, his tongue worked the oft-repeated, obedient words free of his lips of their own accord. Two words of value that meant nothing to him and yet filled the waiting silence with an acceptable response that satisfied his superiors.

Two words, and then, he was free. Garthain ensured his coat fully covered the sheet music before he stepped outside and secured the door behind him. The night he’d thought beautiful in its darkness now seemed cold and gloomy. Rain slapped his face with a harsh sting and seeped into his boots, dampening his socks. He clutched his arms across his chest as an extra layer of protection for La Follia della Luna. So long as it was safe, he could conjure up the beauty of the moon on a dreadful night like this from the comfort of his home beside a roaring fire. The image spurred him on through puddles and punishing rain and pushed all chagrin and discouragement away. In song, he was only the musician and never the failed, foolish guard. He was the weaver of melodies and alternating harmonies and he was free.

@Lail Bo Peep
She hit the ground feet first, swiftly falling into a roll that brought her into a crouch, wincing. Her hand hurt. She didn't risk a look at it yet. Her knee got banged a little as well, and she was soaked. Strawberry hoped the papers would stay dry enough. Her pack was as waterproof as she could make it, but that wasn't always enough. Straightening slowly, she pressed her back against the wall of the building whose roof she had just fallen from, and waited for a moment. Glancing up at the window she'd just come out of, she was relieved to see no lights coming on, and no indication of anyone moving around up there. Most likely, the two guards were still in the reception area, chatting or whatever they were doing. Next, she glanced toward the other building. Had anyone been in there, to hear her land on their roof? She was relieved to see no sign of movement there, either. Good.

She checked her hat, finding it was still secured to her head. Then she moved to the corner of the building, preparing to hasten from the area. But one of the guards was coming out, now. She frowned, watching him from around the corner of the shop. The guard was heading up the street, apparently unaware of her presence. Taking a last glance back toward the guard headquarters, Strawberry mentally went over everything. She'd left one of the ledgers on the captain's desk, the other with CG. She had grabbed both files with similar names.. one of them was sure to be the right one. And she'd grabbed a couple more at random, for good measure. Was there anything she'd forgotten? She could think of nothing, so that seemed good. Right?

Holding her stinging hand tucked under her opposite arm, she set off toward the shop where she'd found a place to sleep, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. She was drenched, and cold, her hand hurt, and she now had a slight limp to her gait. She could tell that her knee was fine, but it was a bit sore and she really did not want to run into any guards. Besides that, she was eager to get changed into dry clothes, so it was a relief that she only had a short distance to go. It was even more of a relief that she'd pulled this thing off so well, she thought with a little smile as she tried to imagine what the guards would think if and when they discovered their files were missing.


(end of heist)

@Rillewen

Having received no cause from Aderic to stall or redirect her enquiries, Sorrela gave Iole enough time to have a small drink and prepare for the next stage of the story. “And what was the next thing that you remember ?” the Guard Recruit made herself ask.

“I .. well, I woke up, but somehow it felt like I had not yet,” the shop assistant frowned as she tried to revisit the memory, and also .. not to. “I was in a place I don’t know, not the place where I had been just what seemed like a moment before. It was a bit like waking up in a dream, except that it was more of a nightmare.” Iole fixated on her hands, as she forced the words out under Sorrel’s patient gaze.

“Can you .. describe it to me ?” the simple request felt like a far more crueller expectation. But the Guard Recruit remained as focused as she could without becoming ‘drawn in’ to the young woman’s experience.

“Well, I was not at the Autumn fayre any longer,” Iole started with the most obvious alteration. “I couldn’t tell how much time had passed. Perhaps an hour, or perhaps even more. I was sat up in an open wagon, and there was a farmhouse ..” A crinkle of her brow betrayed the concentration that the witness was invoking to answer the question.

“Were there any distinguishing factors which would identify the farmhouse ?” Sorrel prompted. “Anything that gave away it’s owner or it’s location ?”

“There was .. a farmhouse,” Iole struggled, “and an outside basement of some sort. He came up out of nowhere like he’d been underground. The grass was long and the plants were neglected. I didn’t see a name or recognise any proper landmarks, I’m sorry.”


“Were you still in the Pelennor, do you think ?” Sorrel waved away Iole’s apology and pressed on, seeking what details she could without causing undue distress.

“I think so,” the answer seemed as though it was a question in return. “I could hear the .. crowds and music of the Autumn fayre, but it sounded far away. I couldn’t see any sign of it. To be honest I wasn’t really looking around me too much. I was amazed to find that Cali was there with me. It was like I’d jumped from one memory into a very different one. But she said I had already passed out at the fayre before she came upon us ...”

“Try to keep to what you remember, rather than what you have been told by other people,” Sorrel suggested, warily. “It makes it easier,” she added, trying to explain away what might be considered as criticism. The Guard knew that she was doing her job here, but she also did not want to alienate her witness, her friend.


“Cali was with me, in the wagon,” Iole had nodded to show that she understood Sorrels’s direction, but her voice quivered a little as she fought to wrestle it back under control. Whether it was a deliberate ploy for sympathy or a symptom of the overwhelming stress she had been under since the day before, it was hard to tell. “I couldn’t see her, but I knew. I heard her. We were sitting, back to back, with my legs .. my legs were stretched out in front of me. He’d put an apron over my dress, and a bonnet on my head ..”

Sorrela bit her lower lip and forced herself to intervene, again. “Do you remember the man putting the apron and the bonnet on you ?” she asked, “or are you assuming that he ..”

“I can’t think how else they might have gotten there,” Iole sniffed, almost indignantly. “My hands were tied behind my back, and so were Cali’s too. And we were sitting facing opposite directions. She asked if I was alright. I think .. I tried to hold her hand. She didn’t tell me what had happened. She didn’t need to .. because it seemed very soon then that he .. we saw him, Lowendir .. coming across from the farm house. He was rolling this barrel. It was large, and he was rolling it on it’s side. It looked empty, but it wasn’t quite ..”


Iole took a moment to sup from her drink and then she nodded slightly, to indicate that she was ready to continue. “He stopped in front of the wagon,” she recalled, almost gingerly. Dark eyelashes were thick with the promise of tears, so the young woman employed them copiously to try and dispel the emotion. “When he got close to us, he stopped and left the barrel upright. And then he pulled some ropes out of one pocket, and a dagger was in his other hand. The ropes were bloody, he made sure that we saw .. that. And he said he would cut us up, like the last one. I am assuming that .. that he meant he’d cut us with the dagger he had, but I don’t know who he meant by ‘the last one’ .. he said we had to do what he said. That he just wanted to get through the Gate and ...”

Iole glanced up then from her tale, and Sorrela blinked, as the younger woman threw a glance toward Aderic.

“Should he be here, really ?” the witness sniffed but suddenly raised her chin, determinedly, and did not take her gaze from the attending Lieutenant. “When he was the Guard on duty at the gate that day ?” She blinked back tears, but did not look especially like she was close to shedding them, unless her concern here was dismissed.


Sorrel’s mouth fell open, a little more easily than she might ever have hoped. Although she now looked anywhere except toward Aderic. She had not seen that one coming, and was certainly unsure now what to do. But how could she ask .. him, her superior, and guiding support here, given the circumstances ?! It was a battle to keep the sound of “Errr …” from escaping her.

(With @Ercassie)

There was so much information coming all at once, it would be impossible to catch every word that Iole was saying in the short span of time it took for her to say it. So, the lieutenant's attention was entirely focused on jotting down as many notes as possible, as quickly as possible. When Sorrela paused, he remained focused on his writing, taking that opportunity to catch up.

His notes were rather indecipherable to anyone else, except maybe his brother. But perhaps, not even he would be able to read these notes. Much less Sorrela. Regardless, the page was swiftly filling up as he wrote down.. whatever he was writing. Whether it was notes about the case, or something else entirely, was anyone's guess. About the time he finished the last bit he was jotting down, Sorrela continued on to ask further questions, giving the lieutenant hardly a moment's pause to rest his hand. Without even looking up from his notes, he resumed his note-taking as the witness continued relating her tale, and for a while, it seemed that he was content to ignore her and be ignored.

As Iole spoke of a farmhouse, with a basement outside, the lieutenant raised his head, with a more attentive look on his face. "A farmhouse?" He inquired, despite having said he would allow Sorrela to ask the questions. "You're certain it was a farm?" he tilted his head with curiosity. "There are a lot of farms in the Pelennor, Miss Ishen." he pointed out. "If you could provide any better description of the place, that would be helpful in narrowing down this particular place. Was the house white, or brown, or...yellow? Did you notice any particular style to the structure, or..." He trailed off, with a vague motion of his hand as if inviting her to offer what description she could of the house.

Clearing his throat, he continued with another question that had caught his attention earlier. "Also, you mentioned a moment ago, that this man told you his name was Lowendir, but that he was lying 'of course'. What makes you so certain that he was lying?" He inquired. "Or is that a detail which will come later? And what about the wagon? Was there anything noteworthy about it which you can recall?" He asked, preparing to write down anything she might give for an answer.

Observing the tears in her eyes, the lieutenant refrained from sighing, and looked down at his paper again while she continued to describe the traumatic event. Bloody ropes, hints of a previous victim, a dagger... his brow creased with a frown as his quill moved swiftly across the page. And then... suddenly, the witness said something entirely unexpected. The lieutenant looked up sharply as she suddenly declared that he was the one on the gate that day.

While Sorrela looked somewhat stunned to hear this news, it was nothing compared to his own expression. He stared at Iole with a mixture of bewilderment and shock. It took a few seconds before he found his voice, though it was unclear whether he was genuinely trying to process this accusation or trying to think of a suitable lie to cover himself.

"Excuse me?" He asked at last, as if he hadn't heard properly. He sat up properly, laying his quill down. "You claim that I was on duty that day? At the gate?" He asked with a tone of incredulity. "You are referring to this last Autumn faire, correct?" He waited for verification on this fact, and then shook his head slightly with a perplexed look on his face. "No, I'm afraid you must be mistaken, miss Ishen." He insisted quietly. "I could not have been the guard on duty at the gate that day, for I was off duty that entire week, and was out of town. I didn't return here until the day after the fayre was over." He explained, frowning. "How is it that you came to believe that it was me working on the gate that day?"

@Rillewen

‘Rip’ had told Iole, near the outset of this interview, to pretend that he was simply not there. It had been a rare suggestion of his that she actually felt was quite a good idea. But because the young woman was not entirely belligerent, she had done her best to ‘counter’ his enquiries, albeit that she had directed her responses toward Sorrel, pointedly not looking at the man, whenever she did so.

“I reasoned that it must have a farmhouse because there are so many farms in the Pelennor,” she had clarified, quietly, when challenged, as to a description of the farmhouse she had seen. “There was an outside basement,” she was forced to say, again, and slowly, as though he might be dim and as though she had not said so merely moments before. Perhaps he was just revelling in imaging the scene .. and what had happened there to people he despised .. “The house did not look like somebody could live there any more,” she assumed, admittedly “or they didn’t care about it anyway. For the land around it was all overgrown. And it was far enough from the fayreground that I could no longer see the fayreground. I could only hear it.”


And so it had gone on. Although she had not been properly able to answer the query about Lowendir’s name. It had been a close call but she only knew, now, that the man had lied to them about that being his name because .. the boys had confirmed it, recognising the Umbarian when they encountered him in Harlond. “Someone else later told me his real name,” was all that Iole had given up, without provoking Sorrela into another round of ‘tell not what somebody else has told you’.

“I didn’t have much of a chance to look around the wagon,” the young woman had equally admitted, to Sorrela. “I was already in the back of it before I knew that it existed. It was made of wood, it was open, and I imagine it had wheels though I didn’t see them from where I was. There was .. I saw a horse, ..” she floundered, and sipped at her water as though it would refuel her recollection. “He brought the barrels over to load into the wagon. He said .. what I said that he said to us. But well, I .. fainted soon after he came at us there,” she had concluded, a little meekly all of a sudden, with embarrassment.



Sorrela had no idea what the Lieutenant might have been writing all this while, though clearly he had been content to leave her mostly to her own devices, only interjecting just occasionally. But, having glimpsed quite early on, what looked like a terrible scrawl of the man’s handwriting, she was mentally fearing that any report this time might prove just as useless as the one which had disappeared before ! If the record was to be so illegible .. she absolutely should have brought her own scroll and ink, she realised. Hammering the lesson home hard in her head, for future reference.

“You had come back to yourself then .. when you .. passed through the gate ?” the Guard dragged her mind from trying to read her colleague’s expression and persevered with procedure. It had taken her more than a moment to absorb what Iole was saying, and Sorrel was more than a little surprised that her friend had let things go so far, before even bringing up her matter. “If you say that you saw ..”


“I didn’t see him,” the witness admitted. “That is, I came to in a barrel. And I heard people and other times there were no people. But I couldn’t see ..” She had managed to nod, and thus confirm all of ‘Rip’s apparent ‘confusion’ .. Iole had been about to demand quite how he knew for sure that she couldn’t have seen him at the gate, when she’d not even yet told him which gate she was referring to yet ! And then ‘Rip’ said he had been ‘away’ … all of that week. How extraordinarily convenient. He'd gotten back the day after it all happened ? What were the chances of that exact timing ?!

“I know he was on duty at the gate ..” she muttered for Sorrela “because Nal and his friend told us what you did there, that day” she threw at ‘Rip’ himself. And as soon as she had spoke it, Iole knew she’d failed. Confrontations really were not her strength. “They wouldn’t lie to me.” she tried to make them understand, what she took as fact. That her friends knew, was as good as her knowing herself. For they would not have told her an untruth. Even if they wanted to, she knew them and their tells.


The Guard Recruit sighed. She may not have conducted an interview before now but she knew that this one was not going well. So far there was no real evidence at all. Iole had bumped into a man who had asked her about herself, and while the witness might not be used to that sort of attention, she was an attractive young woman and it was highly plausible some man who’d never been to the fayre before, had taken a fancy to getting to know her better.

The possibly spiked drink, again, .. there was no proof. Iole herself had said the day was hot, the crowd was thick, and she felt overwhelmed. She had not seen him or anybody else put anything suspicious in the drink. The allegations with the bloodied rope, finding herself bound, and threatened with a dagger .. all sounded awfully terrifying. But the odds of an already faint and possibly delirious young woman finding herself on an adventure with a friend she had confessed she had been missing, and recollecting, on that very day, after passing out .. and she could not even confirm where it had happened.

Sorrela was starting to see why Iole had not reported this at the time. Although at least then there might have been some hope of finding evidence. Now ? Roughly eight months later ? It was unlikely. Who knew that this Lowendir, if he was all that was claimed, had not returned to the scene of the crime for the very reason to be rid of all that evidence ? She should have pushed harder last year. She should have made her friend tell her .. this ..


But what about this accusation over the gate ? Iole had, by her own admission, fainted, again at an inopportune moment. And she hadn’t ever even see the gate that day, so couldn’t have seen the Lieutenant. But .. she had been told .. she had believed .. There was certainly a lot of alarm and concern, but no actual substance, no physical proof. If she did not know them personally, Sorrel might even have come to the conclusion that it was all more lies from the group to try and get Aderic in trouble. There was certainly a history there. But that ... worked both ways. And if Iole was right .. ?


“We can find out who was on duty at the gate,” the Guard recruit thought aloud. She glanced toward her Lieutenant and then back to her friend. It was a promise, to both of them, and to herself. “There are records kept of that sort of thing. The Captain will have a copy of all the schedules. And it will be good to speak with whichever Guard was on the gate that day. They also might be a witness. We are going to speak with Unalmis as well," she realised, and tried not to imagine how much worse that was likely to go than this had. "We will hear everybody's side. But .. maybe we should take a break here though. Lieutenant, can you show me where I might get some of that ink and parchment please ? I didn't think of it until I saw how prepared you are.”

She wanted paper and ink, as much as she didn't know what might come of it. But most of all, Sorrel desperately wanted to separate the man and the woman for even a moment, and it would not do for either one to believe she was taking the other's side. She was not allowed to take sides ! But watching Iole bury her downcast face behind her drinking flask, whether she was truly seeking for refreshment or a place to hide .. , the recruit could only hope that her supervisor saw the panic in her own long face. He had, after all, promised to help. She needed help now more than she had ever expected.

(private with @Ercassie)

An outside basement. A derelict place, by the sound of it. Abandoned, neglected... it was such a vague description that it seemed unlikely they would be able to narrow it down to any specific place. After watching the witness with a thoughtful expression, the lieutenant gave a small nod and then focused on jotting down a few more notes. While it was possible that further questions might provide aid in pinpointing the exact location or a better description of the place, he chose not to press her with any further questions on that matter.

A curious glance was raised toward Iole's direction when she mentioned that 'someone else told her his real name'. Who would that be? But no further inquiries passed his lips, instead choosing to listen to the responses she gave to his prior ones. And noting the fact that she addressed her answers to his colleague, rather than to himself. His notes momentarily forgotten, the lieutenant focused his attention more intently on Iole when she confessed that she did not actually, personally, see him at the gate, and was in fact only going on hearsay. Still. If Unalmis made the same accusation... Yeah. This was really not going well for him. Far worse than he might have imagined, in fact.

The lieutenant sat quietly in his seat, staring at Iole almost as if dumbfounded. Or, perhaps thinking swiftly for a plan to clear himself of this accusation. Whatever the case, he made no argument at this time. He returned a slow nod to the recruit when she mentioned that there were records of these things. Yes. And whomever worked the shift before and after that one, would know who relieved him and who he relieved. That thought was more concerning than relieving, given certain things that he knew.

When Sorrela asked him to show her where to find the paper and parchment, the lieutenant slowly turned toward her, blinking once. "Yes, of course." he answered distractedly, slowly moving to rise from his seat. "I'll get them for you if you like, so you needn't leave her," He offered, speaking softly as he gave a brief glance toward Ms. Ishen, then back to Sorrela. Would she want to leave the witness alone in the room right now, when she appeared to be in a distressed state of mind? Would she worry about Iole fleeing from further questioning, or some such thing? And, perhaps he had volunteered for selfish reasons, as well. Perhaps he just wanted to take a moment alone, to regain his composure and get his thoughts together after that unexpected accusation. Or, perhaps he wanted to be alone for some more nefarious reason, like getting his hands on those schedule records...

@Rillewen
Sorrel had risen along with the Lieutenant, but she stalled in the process, as he bade her stay behind and attend to the witness. Paused then, halfway between sitting and standing, the young woman was all too aware of her considerable height and hulk, caught uncomfortably in such a position. Slowly she sat back down. Aderic hadn’t made his suggestion an order, though she ought consider it as such, given his superior rank. It was more the sense of the thing which won her over though, for, even as the man spoke, Iole warily lowered her drink from where she’d held it up, apparently partaking of it’s refreshment. But nobody could down that much of a drink without halting to take breath ! The wide blue eyes which met the Guard Recruit, shadowed by dark circles of a doubtless sleepless night .. the embarrassment, uncertainty, and abject despair which was reflected in that face ..

“I’ll stay,” Sorrel agreed, as much to assure Iole as to express gratitude for Ric’s thoughtfulness. This was her witness after all, as much as the other young woman was her friend. The disappearance of the undertaker’s daughter had been her very first case. The Recruit felt .. responsible for Iole somehow. And not just because Unalmis had asked her to keep an eye out for his friend. She had become her friend during those eight months since. And this, this right here was doubtless why they said not to get personally invested in a case. But how could Sorrel not ? Being who she was, and having been raised as she had been. Her father incarcerated, it had become important to her, to remember the people, not merely the points and the process of the law.


“He’s probably gone to burn the records of who was on gate duty that day,” Iole muttered dolefully, once they were left alone in the room together.

“The Captain keeps those records,” Sorrel assured her.

“You don’t believe me,” the complaints continued, silk and soft as they were from the soft-spoken young woman. “You said ‘whichever Guard was on duty that day’,” the reminder was not necessary but it came all the same. “It was him ..”

“I don’t have any ink or parchment yet to write down what you tell me,” the Guard attempted to remain sensible. Though the sight of her friend smoothing down that same bedraggled yellow dress which she had spun and skipped about so merrily in, just the day before .. and clearly slept in since .. if she had slept at all last night .. the oversized ranger boots completed the unusual appearance of her witness. This looked not like Iole, but her ghost, sat across the table from her. And the shop assistant was pale to begin with. “It’s not about believing you,” the equally unhappy interviewer conceded, with a sigh. “I need to be able to prove it,” she pointed out the problem.


“You’re sure he hasn’t gone to ..” Iole spoke up again, quiet but clearly determined.

“Even if he is up to anything at all that you suspect, I can’t believe the Captain of the City Guard would be a party to it,” was the best that Sorrel could present, in defence. “You understand, I could not do what I do, be who I am, if I believed that I was working for .. ” she frowned, and decided to rephrase. “You don’t trust him, and I understand why. But you can trust me. I believe that you would never lie to me,” she allowed, more slowly at this last. And if there were any fear of that possibility, the Guard hoped she would see it in the other’s eyes. Or rather, that she would not.

Mostly she was frantically running around inside her own mind, to work out what she ought to do, or say, when this reprieve inevitably ended, and the nightmare would resume.

---

It could not even have been an hour since Iole had gone in to speak first, and still it felt like days already that Unalmis had been left to sit out and wait with Cali for their turn. The feeling was not unlike waiting to face the school headteacher, back when they were small. He wanted to feel like he was protecting his friend, helping Cali to get closure. Helping Iole to trust .. again. All he could think was that he really didn’t want to talk about the parts of this he knew about .., with the gatehouse, and Trev .. and the ship and .. how was all of that not going to come into it ? And if it was not relevant, then what use was he ?

“You again,” Thorley glanced over one shoulder at the pair, as he handed some paperwork in at the reception desk. Waiting for his matter to be taken care of, the Guard leaned back against the counter with both elbows out behind him. “I hope you haven’t been stealing peoples’ dogs again ..” he drawled, amused.

“I think you mean rescuing .. one dog, .. from being drowned by a heartless, cruel-minded ..” Unalmis rolled brown eyes and played along. For so long as he was permitted to.

“You fill out that form yet ?” the Guardsman changed the subject, only interested in amusing himself, really. “Ran off so quickly last night ..”

“You call that a form ?” the Ranger shook his head, astounded. “It was a tome,” he remarked to Cali beside him.

“You get it back to me, and you’ll get your property back,” Thorley explained, as though they both did not know how this worked. “Not a second before ..” The comment did not even draw sarcasm in response. “Stay out of trouble now,” the Guardsman called after him, as he departed.


The brief sparring of jest with one of his Uncle’s old friends had killed … at least a whole minute’s worth of waiting. Unalmis leaned back in his seat and tried not to look like he wished to be anywhere else. It was a testament to Duinion that the young man could sit so and not completely harass Cali with fidgeting. Patience had ever been amongst Nal’s particular skillset. But practice and training in the forest with the now-Tirdinen had done wonders with altering an easily-distracted mindset. ‘Fifty things’, his then-trainer had encouraged, and still did on occasion. “Things you can see, smells you can recognise, sounds you can notice .. what is all about you ? Focus ..Find them, name them, know them ..”

And so .. the amount of steps it took for each Guard to walk, from the desk to the front door, the number of windows, which ones were open, how many voices and which direction were they coming from ..


Brown eyes sprang up as another, .. certain Guard .. a Lieutenant this time, came out of the nearby room, and Nal stared, without shame, to see ‘Rip’ .. here. Now. He did not need to confer with Cali to be sure. That the room their enemy had just come out of .. was the same room that Sorrela had taken Iole into ! Standing up, he was not sure why or what he might do beyond that point, but suddenly it felt like he required to do .. something.

“Cali ..” he summoned the Smith under his breath, doubting there was any way she’d not just seen that as well as he had. Maybe he required someone to talk him out of reacting. Maybe he already knew full well that the friend beside him was probably one of the least likely to do that, of course.

She'd had to leave her skillet behind. Apparently, no weapons were allowed at the guard's headquarters. Except, the guards were allowed to carry them, which didn't quite seem fair, considering what she and her friends knew about a certain guard. But she hardly thought a skillet should count as a weapon. It was a cooking utensil, for goodness' sake. Just because it has a handle and a nice hefty weight to it, ought not be counted against it. She had huffed when one of the guards had told her she couldn't bring it inside. The guy looked like he'd been fighting an amused look. And where was that guy she'd told her report to all those months ago, anyway? Did he just forget to turn it in, and then go on vacation or something?

She knew that wasn't quite fair to him, as he had been very kind and sensitive in taking her report. But still! And what was that about, back when she'd been informed that the case was closed because the suspect was found dead. Well, apparently, either he was quite good at acting, knew some sort of necromancy, or the guards didn't know how to tell a dead person from a live one. Mentally, she grumbled about this, while another, smaller side of her mind tried to rationalize the fact that the guards had clearly believed the dead person to be this 'Lowendir', when in fact, the person who had committed the crimes was someone else entirely. The bigger side of her brain ignored this. She wanted to sulk and rant at anyone who dared to give her half a chance.

It took all her restraint to not pace around. To remain in her seat, still and quiet. Trying not to let her thoughts race too hard, but really, who was she kidding? It was going to happen regardless. Cali longed to be at her forge, pounding away at something. She felt anxious, as she had not felt since last Autumn. That man was still out there, still trying his kidnapping routine with others. Her hands, clasped in her lap, tightened fingers upon each other as this thought again raced through her mind, as if on a loop. The way he had spoken with that woman, almost as if flirting, just to draw her away to someplace more private. So casually. So well-practiced. Is that how he had spoken to Iole? It still puzzled her tremendously that the woman was the one who got arrested, and not him. She would have to remember to try and find out something from Mourgan, next time she saw him.

But that would have to wait. It seemed like waiting was all that could be done today. Wait, wait, wait. Iole had been in there for ages already! She huffed out a little sigh of impatience, half-reminding herself how long it had seemed to take, when that guard had taken her report the first time. She frowned, wondering if they ever bothered to look for that, then started slightly as a man's voice spoke up nearby. Looking up, she relaxed slightly to see that it was only the guard, who had just spoken to Nal. She glanced at him, puzzled. What about a tome? Managing a weak smile to her friend's comment, she pretended to have understood what he was talking about and proceeded to tune out the rest of what they said. Something about a second dog or something. As if Nal needed another one?

Trying to find something to do to pass the time, Cali flexed her right wrist, turning it this way and that, slowly exploring the various ways she could turn it, or the rest of her arm, as a sort of test to find out whether that arm still gave her any trouble. Though it had been months since that creep injured her, she still worried about whether it would have any lasting effects for her arm. When she worked for a long period at the forge, hammering especially, it would begin to ache a little, but for the most part it seemed alright. She wondered if Nal ever still had any trouble with his shoulder.

As she was thinking about asking him, since.. what else was there to do? Nal suddenly stood up and spoke her name. Cali looked up at him, then followed his gaze and froze. Him. She caught her breath, staring. She had thought it a sort of dream, when she heard his voice before. She'd been stuck inside a barrel, traumatized, dealing with the intense pain from the horrific break in her arm, when that voice reached her ears. And since sound was all she could rely on from inside the barrel, she had tried to focus on all that she could hear.

Later, when she heard about him harassing Nal and Cadil at that same gate... and then when he came to her room at the houses of healing, to take her report!? Her expression had hardened into a glare. He was lucky she had nothing at hand to throw at him, this time. "Why is he here?" She whispered to Nal, the sound coming out in a hiss. "How is he not arrested by now?" She wondered. She remembered naming him as the kidnapper's accomplice at the gate, and being assured that the matter would be looked into. Clearly, it had not been!

As she watched.. stared more like.. the lieutenant caught sight of them, paused, then turned away and hurried down the hallway. As if he were afraid of being called out. Cali stood, next to Nal, tense as a bowstring. "Where's he going?" She frowned, and glanced at the door of the room he had come out of. She hesitated, glanced at Nal, and then, perhaps against better judgement, rushed across the reception area and stopped outside the door of the interviewing room. Catching the edge of the door just before it closed, she eased it open just a fraction, enough to take a quick peek inside, and assure herself that Iole was alright. That she was with that guard lady. She remembered her from yesterday, at the festival. The one who had come up and told them to wait until today to do their reports.

Cali backed off from the door, hastening back to her seat. "I don't know what he was doing in there, but Iole seems fine," She reported in a whisper. "There's that lady guard in there, too." She couldn't recall the young woman's name that she'd probably heard a couple of times by now. She halfway remembered her from school, too, but she'd not slept all night and had also been away for many years. It seemed of little importance right now, anyway.

@Rillewen

When the sight of them both, standing suddenly and staring, did nothing besides making ‘Rip’ rush off even faster, Nal wasn’t sure at first if that was Cali or his own thoughts whispering disgruntledly to him.

‘Where’s he going’, the Smith then asked him. He was sure this time. He saw her lips move and everything. The rest of him though couldn’t move. For as long as it took Cali to investigate not where the Guard Lieutenant was going, but rather .. where’d he’d just been .. Unalmis stared hard after the man they despised, and scarcely noticed that Cali had investigated the interview room, until she came back to him. Iole was fine, she said. Sorrel was with her. Unalmis did not sit back down, even if she did. He did not notice.

“Alright,” he replied, when it was of course anything but. And as though that one single word might explain why or what he thought that he was doing, the young man strode clear past the reception counter and the back of the guard on duty who he’d waited to see lean down to reach in a drawer. The Ranger thus missed detection, .. so, really, I mean, .. this was training or .. something something else that his mind could conjure up to justify it as he headed off down the same corridor where he’d seen ‘Rip’ go moments before.


Every second he knew more and reasoned more in mind that this was an extremely bad idea. But when faced with a door at the end of the corridor, he knocked, on instinct. As though he had the right to. As though he even knew what he expected would come of it.

“Come in,” Thorley glanced up, then stood up, as he recognised the young man who came in and hastened over to meet the unwarranted intrusion at the entry, before anyone else noticed him. “What are you doing ? You can’t come in here ..” he started to protest en route.

“You literally just said that I could,” the Ranger protested, even as Thorley turned him around and marched them both back down the corridor. “You told me to come in ..” Nal pointed out although without a smile.


“By the tree ..” the Guard sighed and turned the young man so that a wall was behind him. Hopefully they might speak for a moment there without interruption, it was hardly the ideal spot. But regardless, it was either here or have a row in the middle of reception. “Do you want me to call in your father ?”

“What am I, five years old ?” Nal rolled his eyes.

“You’re acting like it,” Thorley growled. “But at least they wouldn’t arrest a child. What do you think this is ? Just .. don’t. Go. Sit.” He extended an arm to point the way back to reception.

As the instructions of ‘don’t’ and also ‘go’ were rather contradictory, the young man started, and then stalled, seeing the Guard’s face. “I just .. wait ! Wait, I need to ask you a question, alright ?”

“Annnnnd .. you just did,” the Guard responded. “Now get back out there ..”

“Is a suspect allowed to be in the room with a witness when they’re giving their report about the crime ?” Nal asked, regardless. And planted his heels in place.

Thorley stunned, at either the defiance or the subject of the question, or most likely both. “Maybe … if they needed to identify the suspect,” he blinked. And then recovered quickly. “Done ? Good. Go !”


As they arrived back at the brink of the Reception, the usual Gate guard presented Unalmis to the guard who had turned back to his duty.
“Thought you went to the bathroom ?” the guard manning reception covered himself, believably.

“I got lost,” Nal mumbled.

“I’ll show him where,” Thorley decided to join the other two in their spontaneous ruse. With a “come on,” he led the young man toward the bathroom, waited outside until Unalmis returned a little while later, and then walked him back to the seats. With a glance toward Cali and then Nal for the last, the Guard exchanged a nod with his colleague at the desk, and headed back down the corridor to resume with his paperwork.


“Diona’s father,” Nal muttered to Cali, sidelong. “I don’t think he appreciated me asking after her.” Why and what had made him apparently bring up a girl from school, now, here, was bewildering. But it allowed for the guard at the reception desk to shake their head and grow bored of the conversation.

“I lost him,” Nal then whispered, turning fully to Cali this time, and. “Well, we were here,” he added immediately afterwards, back at normal volume, and shrugged. “Passed the time some.”

Brown eyes stared at the closed door of the interview room, and didn’t see an inch of it. “I didn’t see him go in there,” the young man realised aloud, and frowned. “He was in the room before they even could have started speaking ..” he further worked out. And, unsure how or why the Guard Lieutenant ought to be inserting himself otherwise in the report, went over to knock on the door of the interview room.


Sorrel rose and met Unalmis at the door. “No,” she said, plain and simple.

“I haven’t even asked anything yet ..”

“Yes, she’s fine and no, you can’t come in,” his friend assumed, knowingly. “You can’t speak to another witness once the interview has started Nal. Go back and wait your ..”

“I actually wanted to speak to you though,” he protested.

“Is it important ?” the Guard recruit wanted to know. And then, recalling how well she knew the young man in question, immediately thought somewhat better of the query. “Is it worth my leaving your friend in the room for any length of time all by herself ?” Sorrel crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “It will be your turn next. Alright ?” she relaxed her stance and readied to return to Iole. “Just .. go look after Cali,” was the meaningful parting shot.


With a sigh, Unalmis retreated. With the scowl of a five year old, he went back and sat down beside Cali again. He was no more wait for his turn than he could wait for it all to be over and done with.

Just about the time she had returned to her seat, Nal took off. Cali watched, a bit anxious, as he strode right past the reception desk, as if he had every right to go back there where he was not meant to be. But the guard didn't notice. She idly wondered just how observant these guards were, really, if someone could stroll right past them in their own headquarters without being noticed. Or maybe Nal was just that good at stealth.

Still, sitting by herself suddenly, Cali's gaze roamed toward the main door. Randomly, the thought occurred to her that if Rip was here, probably intimidating Iole into silence in the interview room, then why should not the other guy be lurking around nearby, waiting for a chance to grab her before she could repeat her side of the story? Perhaps he was just waiting for her to be alone... after all, she hadn't found out whether he was arrested or what.

Urged by sudden impulse, Cali leaped to her feet again, and approached the desk. "I'd like my.. 'deadly weapon' back, please." She requested calmly, although she couldn't help a teeny, tiny trace of sarcasm, and only just managed not to roll her eyes.

Straightening from where he had just reached into a drawer, the guard looked past her and frowned slightly at the otherwise empty room. "Where did your friend go?" He wondered.

"Oh.." Cali thought swiftly. "He had to.. um, you know.."

"Uh huh..." He answered, half suspicious, but he took the intended meaning without her having to spell it out. Which was good, because she hadn't entirely decided what excuse to offer, and he had apparently come to his own conclusion of what she was saying. Whether he believed it, she couldn't say. "Sorry miss, but we can't return that just yet." He answered to her earlier request.

Cali huffed out a sigh of frustration. "Seriously? It's a skillet. What am I supposed to cook supper in later? My hands?"

"Miss, please just return to your seat and be patient." He asked with a sigh. Just then, her friend was marched back into the reception area with a guard escorting him as if he were a naughty child caught in some mischief. She thought the man looked familiar but she couldn't quite place the reason why. Still, she inwardly cringed at the realization that he had been caught trying to follow their enemy. At the same time, she was mildly relieved that he had been 'caught' by this guard and not the one he had been pursuing.

She stood by the desk while the guards exchanged some words, then she was once more left alone with the reception guard.

"Well, what do I have to do to get it back?" She insisted, placing her hands on her hips stubbornly.

With a resigned sigh, the man pulled out a stack of papers which he let thud onto the desk. "Fill out this form, and you get back your property. But only when you leave here, and not a moment sooner." He added sternly.

Cali stared at the unreasonably thick stack of papers that he called a 'form', and held back a sigh. "Fine." She muttered. "Ink and quill, please?"


When Nal was finally ushered back in, she was busy trying to make sense of some of the boxes, marveling at the ridiculous amount of questions they had on this form, and wondering whether she really, truly, had to provide a detailed description of a skillet. Glad for a brief break from the mind-numbing paperwork, while she was already exhausted, Cali looked up and blinked at Nal. Diona's father? It took her a moment to realize what that was even supposed to mean, and then it clicked, why guard had looked vaguely familiar. "Oh, right, that's why he looked familiar..."

Cali trailed off then as Nal turned to her and explained that he had lost him. She needn't ask who 'him' was. "Figured you would," She muttered, then sighed. "Yeah. I'm trying to pass the time, my own way." She cast a glance at the paperwork. "Seriously, what do I even put here for file report number? Is that something they fill out, or do I have to ask them what the number is, or..?"

But Nal was not paying attention, she realized. He had been staring at the interview room door, and she forgot about her papers as he mentioned that Rip must have been in the room before they started. She frowned, realizing he was right. He had been in there, all the time Iole was giving her testimony. She laid the 'form' aside and watched Nal go over to the door. She remained quiet while he was speaking with that female guard. She really ought to remember her name, but she felt too distracted to try and think of it.

It appeared that he was having no luck with talking to her, whatever her name was, and he was soon ordered to return to his seat. Defeated, he came back to where he had been earlier. But, no sooner had Nal sunk down into the seat beside her, than Cali tensed and nudged him again with her elbow. "He's back." She let him know in a hissing whisper.

Indeed, 'Rip' emerged from another door down the hall, and was now walking toward them with something in his hand. What did he have? Some sort of weapon? Narrowing her eyes as his steps brought him closer and closer to them, Cali realized it looked like a stack of paper. Forms? Or, perhaps he'd found or conjured some sort of paperwork that he planned on using to prove his innocence? It was just the sort of thing he'd do, she thought angrily, and found her hands tightening into fists as she glared at him. Without even realizing it, she had stood up, her fists clenched down by her sides. She wanted to throw something heavy at him. How she wished she had her skillet in hand, right now!

@Arnyn
He had ridden as swift as he could, all the way from the family estate. Within an hour of reaching the message, he had set out. His wife had been adamant about coming as well, but he pointed out that he could get here quicker on his own. But she would not be swayed, and so, it was arranged that she would travel by carriage, after him. She would arrive in a couple of days, but in the meanwhile, Torthon had come straight to the guard's tower.

He was glad for a couple of days' time before Duvaineth would arrive, for it would give him plenty of time to find out what he needed to learn. He was.. excited, nervous, and almost disbelieving, while fighting to make himself seem more like.. worried, dreading what he may learn, and on the brink of grief.

Having left his tired horse at the stables, he set off briskly toward the guard tower. He took a slow, deep breath before entering. The guard on the desk duty was polite and greeted him with a smile, but when he learned who Torthon was, and why he had come, his mood seemed to drop. It didn't take long before a superior had been summoned to take over this unpleasant bit of business.

When the sergeant learned that he had come to (hopefully) identify the body, he nodded gravely. "I hope, for the sake of your family, that it is not your son." He told him sympathetically.

'It couldn't be my son,' Torthon thought to himself, but he offered a solemn nod. "Thank you." He hesitated. "My wife is on her way as well, but it will be a few days before she will arrive. I thought it best if I take the first look, however."

"Of course." The guard nodded. "That's very thoughtful of you, I'm sure it would be best if we can avoid having his mother see him in this... condition. If it is him," He added. The guard hoped it was, since that would at least establish the victim's identity and give them something to go on perhaps, but since the family was surely hoping it was not their missing son, it would seem rude to declare his own hope out loud.

"Well, shall we?" Torthon tried not to seem too impatient, but it also seemed reasonable. He was here to learn whether his 'son' had been slain or not. If he really did care about him, he would want to know as soon as possible whether it was him or not, right?

"Certainly." The guard led the lord down into the cold cellar, where the body in question was kept as preserved as possible. Fortunately for the investigators.. as well as anyone else who had to work in or near the building.. it was the beginning of winter. Therefore, the cold had kept the deceased from decomposing too swiftly.

Torthon's long cloak trailed the stone steps behind him as he descended. It was very cold down below. He absently wrapped the cloak around himself, glancing around with a solemn expression. He followed the guard toward a stone slab, where a body was covered with a large sheet. Torthon was beyond glad for the winter's iciness, for he did not wish to smell it. He caught his breath, schooling his features into something like trepidation.

The sergeant paused and glanced at Torthon. "In case it is your son, I hope it will comfort you to know that he probably died almost immediately, with very little pain."

Torthon's patience was getting a little thin, but he gave a small nod. "I appreciate that. Let us find out whether is him or not, however, before you begin consoling me." He suggested, as if clinging to the hope that it would not be his 'son'. He had considered correcting him, but then decided it might be better to let him go on believing that Torthon viewed the boy as his own son. As if.

As the sheet was drawn back to reveal a pale, still, face.. Torthon stared at it in silence, suddenly uncertain. It had been a few years since he saw the boy. Was this him? Could it really be him, after all this time? Was his hair darker, or was that a trick of the dim lighting?

"Well..?" The guard was watching him.

"It's.. difficult to be certain," Torthon murmured, frowning. He dropped his gaze and put on a despairing sort of expression. "We.. we haven't seen him in years, I just.." He drew in a breath and covered his face with his hand, half turning away. "I don't know."

The sheet was replaced with care. The guard paused to think. "Would it help to speak with someone who knew him? There is someone we could call in to speak with you, if you like." The guard suggested, while he led Torthon back up to where it was warmer. "Perhaps if you take a look at what belongings we found on him?" He suggested, leading Torthon toward an office.

"That might help, yes," Torthon agreed, thinking that whoever he had in mind might be able to provide some clues that could not be learned by looking at the body. "Did he have a medallion of a tree on him?" he asked, tentative.

The guard paused and glanced at him with a sympathetic sort of look. "I'm afraid he did, sir." On the way to the office, he paused to speak to another guard quietly, sending him to see if the lady was available to come and meet with the prospective relative. Arriving at the office a moment later, he went to a drawer and pulled out a few items. "This is all that we could find on or around the body," He explained. He held out the medallion to Torthon.

Looking at the object laid flat in his palm, Torthon struggled not to tense. He stared at it, then at the guard, and back. "This is the medallion he was wearing?"

"It is."

"But this isn't..." Torthon frowned thoughtfully. He turned it over. "this is not the one that he was wearing when we last saw him." He explained, handing it back. Despite his sinking hopes, he put on a hopeful expression. "Anurion would never get rid of that one, nor trade it for another."

"Then.. it isn't him?" The guard frowned in confusion. "But.."

"What, if I may ask, prompted you to contact us about this unfortunate young man?"

The guard handed him the page. "This was found in his room, as well. Not much else was left, but.. see, there's a poem about home, and.. well it mentions your family."

Torthon fought irritation at the reference to Taurhebors as 'his family'. "I see," He muttered thoughtfully, then sighed. "It's entirely possible, that with him looking so much like Anurion, he may have been considering impersonating him, thinking we would welcome our missing son home without noticing he was not really him."

"Are you certain it isn't him? You seemed.. very uncertain, down in the cellar." The guard reminded him, and hesitated. "Is it possible, that you simply hope so much that it isn't, that you're merely convincing yourself that it isn't, based on flimsy evidence?"

Torthon sat back, looking thoughtfully at the man. As it happened, he had wanted very much to believe that it was Anurion. But it was looking as if it wasn't, and that was.. highly disappointing. He frowned and looked at the page in his hand, then at the medallion. Flimsy evidence, alright. He would allow that. "Perhaps, after I've spoken with this friend of his, I will have more to go on?" He suggested thoughtfully. Then he thought of something else. "There is one way that I suppose I could verify it," He realized with some hesitance. "Do you have any alcohol on hand?"

The knock on the door of the office interrupted the conversation between the sergeant and Lord Talven.

The guard accompanying her popped his head into the office. "Sorry, sir," he began. "But the friend you sent us to find? She just happened to stop by, to make an inquiry about the progress with the investigation..." The way the guard phrased his words, made it sound like this wasn't the first time, either.

The sergeant's eyes lit briefly. "Well, it's good timing. Send her in, Rufos."

When the door opened further and the guard named Rufos stepped out of the way to let her in, Meluiel entered the office, her eyes cast down to the floor. Her expression was forlorn, her hair a strange combination of slightly disheveled yet luxurious. Slowly, hesitantly, she looked up. Sad brown eyes took in the sergeant and Torthon. "I..." she said, then halted, as if too uncomfortable to continue. She focused on the sergeant and finally seemed to find the courage to speak. "Have you... found out anything, sir?"

The sergeant gestured to Lord Talven. "Meet the Lord of the Taurhebor estate, miss Meluiel. He has come to verify whether Urion is in fact his son or not." He looked at Torthon, gesturing at Meluiel in turn. "This young lady was spending a lot of time with the young man in question. Perhaps, if you are still in doubt, she might be able to tell you more about him. It could help confirm or dispel your doubts."

Meluiel fidgeted with her nails, her eyes darting between the two men. "I don't know if I could help," she said quietly. "He never spoke much about his family."

Shaking his head, the sergeant gave her a sympathetic smile. "That's alright, miss. But perhaps you know things that help complete the picture. Or something that will tell his lordship that your Urion is not his Anurion."

"Oh," she said upon an exhale. "Do we... do we have to talk here?" For some reason, the place seemed to frighten her.

In doubt, the sergeant's gaze shifted between the young lady and the lord. He could imagine this would not be an easy conversation for either of them, regardless of the results. "I suppose it is not a requirement," he said slowly. "As long as his lordship returns to us with the news, afterward..."

@Arnyn
As the sergeant gave him a quizzical look, their conversation was interrupted by a knock. The new development was quite interesting. Torthon sat back and observed the lady who had entered. He refrained from smiling as he recognized that particular lady.

As the sergeant introduced him, Torthon stood and bowed politely. "Miss." he greeted her, deciding this was not the best time to say 'a pleasure to meet you', under the circumstances. He turned his attention to the sergeant as he explained that the lady had spent a lot of time with the young man in question, and may be able to shed some light on his identity. "Ah.. I would appreciate any information you could give me, miss Meluiel." He replied, with a sound in his voice like he was hopeful.

When she asked whether she had to talk here, Torthon recognized an excellent opportunity to get away from the guards and speak with her a bit more openly. "Perhaps it would be more comfortable to discuss this matter over lunch? Would you permit me to buy your meal, miss?" Torthon suggested. "I've ridden a long distance in haste, and came straight here," He explained. "It would not do for either one of us to forget to eat, despite these.. sad circumstances. If this young man is, indeed, Anurion.." He let out a little sigh, "then, it would be good to learn what I can about him, and how he has been living these past few years." He gave a sad smile, as if regretful that he knew so little about his stepson's whereabouts.

"His mother has been worried sick, and when we received the message from the guards, she insisted on coming here as well." He gave a subtle warning to let the lady know. "However, she will not be arriving for a couple more days, and I would like to know for certain by the time she arrives. For, if it is not him, she may be spared the ordeal of having to lay her eyes upon the.. deceased." He explained, with as much delicacy as he could. "But, if it is him.. then, I would like to prepare her as well as I might."

He turned to the sergeant. "Do you need an answer by today, or may I return on the morrow?" He asked. "I have ridden long and hard to get here swiftly, but now that I have seen him..."

"Yes, sir, of course." The sergeant nodded. "You will want to rest, I understand. Perhaps, once you've had a proper night's rest, you will be better able to aid in identifying him." He expressed his hope. "And, I assure you," he said to both, "we are working as hard as we can to learn who is responsible, and bring them to justice."

Torthon nodded. "I appreciate your efforts." He answered solemnly. "Even if he is not Anurion, his family would want that, I'm sure. I will return tomorrow morning, then, after I've spoken with the young lady." He then turned to the lady in question and offered his arm. "Miss Meluiel, have you any recommendations or preferred places to get a meal? I am very unfamiliar with this city." He explained with an apologetic smile as he walked her out of the guard headquarters.

@Arnyn
Her long, dark gown swept gracefully across the floor as she moved, clinging to the arm of her husband. He had sent a messenger out to meet her along the road, to let her know what he had learned, and to let her know what inn he was staying in while he awaited her. It had been a taxing journey, being jostled around in a carriage, having to take frequent breaks due to her health, and so on. And yet, upon finally arriving, Duvaineth had taken only enough time to have her bags brought in, and to freshen herself up and rest briefly from the lengthy journey, and discuss the matter in person with Torthon.

Now, the dreaded moment had arrived, and although her husband had assured her that he was quite confident that it was not Anurion, she still would not feel satisfied until she had seen the body herself. As terrible as it was for anyone to have been murdered, she prayed that he was right, and that it was not her son. But she could not go home until she was certain for herself.

Lightly patting the hand of his lady, which rested on his arm, Torthon spoke with the guard at the desk for the third time this week, introducing his lady wife. Despite the disappointment in the corpse not being that of his stepson, he wasn't terribly upset. The lady, despite having offed the wrong guy, had done an excellent job of placating Torthon, so he was quite willing to let her try again. He maintained a solemn sort of expression while speaking to the guards. Though he had tried to talk her out of this, his wife was adamant about seeing for herself.

He led her to one of the seats in the waiting area, and they spent a few silent minutes in each other's company while they awaited the sergeant's return. He was out pursuing a lead, it seemed. But they did not have long to wait, for he returned within ten minutes of their arriving. Torthon stood, supporting his wife, as he introduced her to the sergeant.

"A pleasure to meet you, ma'am, and I apologize for any distress my letter had caused you, or any discomfort or inconvenience it has caused you to have to make this trip unnecessarily."

"I will be the judge of whether it was necessary, sergeant." Duvaineth replied, with a small frown. "My son is of great importance to me, and if it does turn out to be him, then.." She paused slightly. "I would rather know, than to be left wondering." She drew in a shallow breath, gently squeezing her husband's arm. "Please, if I may take a look.. I must be certain." She explained quietly.

The sergeant blinked, glanced at Torthon, and back to her. "My lady.. are you sure? It is.. not a pleasant sight, seeing a dead body. I understand you suffer from poor health..."

"I will do what I must, sergeant." She replied, determinedly raising her chin. "I am aware of how long it has been. My husband informed me that the.." She faltered briefly, finding herself at a loss for what to refer to him as. "young man's remains," She settled on eventually, "were being kept in a very cold place, so that decomposing had been stalled.. is this not true?"

"Fortunately, yes, that is true." He agreed. "I just thought.. well, he said that it was not your son, so.."

"I have come all this way, already." Duvaineth pointed out stubbornly. "I will not leave until I have seen with my own eyes."

Torthon offered a small shrug, as if to say 'I already tried this,'. "Please, if you would indulge us, sergeant." He requested. "I have already warned the lady about what to expect."

"Very well," The sergeant nodded slightly. "Come with me, then, please." He took a lantern and, for a second time that week, led the couple down into the cellar, which was beginning to smell like the funeral parlor, though thankfully there was no stench of a rotting corpse to foul the air. Yet. They were fortunate that the weather had remained quite cold, and the cellar was quite frigid.

Holding her cloak wrapped snugly around herself, Duvaineth shivered slightly as she waited for the guard to pull back the sheet. Whether it was from cold, or something else, she did not say. The sight of the cold, dead face of such a young man, struck down in his youth, pained her heart. She briefly closed her eyes, drawing in a slow breath as she braced herself to look more closely. While she had never really been the best mother, and had never really been all that close with her younger son, she felt confident that she would know whether this was him or not. A mother knows her own child, right?

"Do you need a minute?" Torthon asked softly, next to her. He was trying not to feel too anxious to have her give her verdict. While he had concluded that it was not Anurion, he also wondered whether she would agree or not. What if she said it was him? He supposed he could be wrong about Anurion not knowing how to play a lute, or being able to sing. It seemed absurd to think he would have learned in just a few years, but then, what about the medallion? It occurred to him, if Anurion did realize that Torthon was hunting him, he could have possibly hidden that identifying object someplace safe, and gotten another to wear in its place, but that seemed a bit far-fetched. One was simply the tree of Gondor, the symbol of their country, a trinket anyone might pick up in the market, while the other was a symbol of the Taurhebor family, and had great sentimental value to Anurion, having belonged to his brother and all that.

Duvaineth shook her head slightly, and forced herself to look, as objectively as she could manage. The face was.. so similar. Older, of course, than when she had last seen her son. But the hair, that wasn't entirely right. It was styled different, but then.. it had been about four years since her boy left home. He could have changed his hairstyle. It might have gotten darker in the past few years. She swallowed, stepping slightly closer. "His eyes.. what color?" She asked tentatively, since they were closed.

"Blue, ma'am. A sort of.. grey blue, I suppose." The guard waited patiently.

She nodded quietly, and hugged her cloak tighter around her, swallowing past a lump in her throat. The eyes were the right color. This was a bit harder than she had expected. She had already seen one son, lying dead before her. She did not want this to be the other. She drew in a shaky, shallow breath. 'Please, let this not be him.' She prayed silently. Angling her head slightly, she drew her gaze toward the throat of the corpse, seeking a faint scar she knew should be there, if it was her boy. Blinking back a light mist that had risen in her eyes, she studied the spot carefully, and let out a shaky breath of relief. He had no such scar. It could have faded, but not disappeared entirely.

Raising her eyes up to her husband's, Duvaineth gave a tiny shake of her head. It was not him! "Thank the Valar.. it is not him," She pronounced, closing her eyes again as she let out another little sigh of relief.

Torthon gave a little nod to the sergeant, who covered the corpse again. The group made their way back up to the warmer ground level of the guard's headquarters. Torthon slid an arm around Duvaineth's shoulders, holding her to his side supportively. Once they were above, he turned to her. "Are you very certain, my dear?" He asked, frowning slightly in concern. "Anyone would understand if you were denying it.."

"I have no doubts, dear." She replied, quite certain. "That poor young man had no scar," She explained, as Torthon helped her into one of the seats in the sergeant's office.

The sergeant looked up, meeting Torthon's surprised gaze with equal surprise of his own. "Scar?" He questioned. Exactly what Torthon would have asked. He looked at Duvaineth questioningly.

"On his throat," The woman explained, matter of factly. She took her husband's hand, giving it a little squeeze. "It was just before Aearonor.." She trailed off as the lump returned, bigger than ever. She stopped and looked away, stubbornly fighting tears. After recomposing herself, the lady went on, to explain to the sergeant, as well as to her husband who was, of yet, unaware of this information. "My son suffered a near-fatal reaction to something, some years ago. His face and throat had swollen up so much, he could not breathe. The healer had to cut his throat very carefully, and put in a sort of.. tube, to make it so that he could breathe." She paused to take a slow breath. "That was.. about a year before he left home. The wound was small enough that it only left a faint scar, but it did leave a scar." She had no doubt about that. "I looked very closely at that young man, and he had no such scar."

"I did not know of this," Torthon mentioned, his mind racing with thoughts.

She smiled faintly and gave a small nod. "You were away," She explained. "and busy, managing the estate." She paused, the smile fading. "And.. the funeral." She added quietly.

Torthon nodded in realization. "Ah... yes." He had not been around very much during that time, as he had been quite wrapped up in his own matters and making sure that things went smoothly concerning the death of the older boy, and so on. He'd mostly ignored Anurion during that time, not realizing then how vital it was that he also died. Too bad, or he might have saved himself a great deal of time, money, and trouble. "Well," he turned to the sergeant. "I suppose this makes things more difficult on you, since you now have to find out who he is.. but forgive us for being relieved that he is not ours." He offered an apologetic smile to the man as he stood and offered a handshake.

"Of course, sir." The sergeant replied. "Thank you for coming in, and for your cooperation. I wish you all the luck possible in locating your son, and I am glad for your sakes that it turned out not to be him."

"Thank you, sergeant." Duvaineth smiled weakly as she rose, leaning on Torthon's arm. "Best of luck in your investigation." She replied, and although the journey had tired her, and this ordeal had been trying, she felt much lighter of heart than she had since the sergeant's message had first come to them. Her mind was at ease, now that she knew this was not her son. And perhaps she could now enjoy her visit to the city before returning home.

As for Torthon, he had already felt fairly sure that it was not Anurion, but it was good to have it confirmed without a doubt. And now.. he had a little additional information to offer that ought to help identify the right man, assuming they could find him. He hoped to have a chance to speak with her again and pass that along before he had to leave the city. He also wondered if he might be able to enjoy another secret rendezvous with her in private, but it would be extra tricky with his wife having arrived now. But, perhaps things would work out somehow. One could only hope.


(concluded)

@Rillewen

Unalmis had his gaze so fixed upon Sorrel that he did not note the return of the Guard Lieutenant, until Cali nudged him with a whisper. ‘He’s back’, the Smith pointed out. And indeed he was. With a lot of papers in hand, by the look of it.

“Maybe he’s finally ‘found’ the report which you made last time ?” the Ranger supposed with a careless shrug, and without much enthusiasm or hope that he would be correct. In honesty, it was more of an excuse, to remind the Guard that not only did they all know about that particular incompetence, but that nobody was likely to forget about it anytime soon. There was certainly no effort made to hide the comment from the Guard’s hearing. Brown eyes joined those beside him in watching the Guard Lieutenant approach the interview room.

Sorrel pursed her lips at Nal’s comment but said naught, for the matter of the lost information was more than half the reason that the witnesses had all been required to come in today. Personally she was hoping that the officer’s papers were something else – the written proof that he had not been serving on the South Gate on that day last year. Because honestly, if it were not, then this situation might end up a disturbance in itself, rather than the recalling of one. More than likely though, the man had brought the blank pieces of parchment which she had belatedly thought to ask him for. Thus far what she had observed of her superior’s own notes from the interview were largely illegible to her any sort of understanding. So that whether this new record of the proceedings became ‘lost’ or no, would be largely irrelevant, since it could not be read after the fact. She should have been taking notes herself since the start of the thing. And now she was already behind. But the questioning had reached a pivotal conjecture.


“Did the Captain have a record of the matter ?” she asked of Aderic, without giving anything too obvious away what that ‘matter’ might be. There was no denying that ears and eyes were all upon them, and none of them were without a guess of what had stalled the interview already. Iole had said naught but inched her chair some, in the interview room, so that she could peer through the open door into the hall. Thorley (clearly now distracted by doubts from his paperwork) had returned and was engaged in speaking with the Guard at the front desk again. Although it was the other man doing all the speaking, and his ‘audience’ might just as well have been listening out for a different conversation entirely.

As the space between Aderic and Sorrel came to naught, Unalmis rose up from his seat just as Thorley casually eased himself off leaning over the front desk and Sorrel also straightened up to her full height. Behind them Iole’s chair gave a small squeak as it crept another inch across the floor to lend her better view. What would the Guard Lieutenant say ? What had he brought ? And what would come of it ? The room waited, on the point of a metaphorical knife.

(private with @Ercassie)

As everyone waited on the point of that metaphorical knife, the same could have been used to cut the tension in the air. He had anticipated that Sorrel would want to have some sort of verification about that matter, and therefore, most of his time away from the room had been spent in hunting down the necessary files. He had also expected that she would wait until he had returned to the room before making inquiries about the matter.

The lieutenant stopped, facing Unalmis who stood, partially blocking his way. The other was glaring, arms crossed with an expression that practically dared him to try and deny the charges being brought against him. Sea-green eyes met warm-brown for a brief moment, before the lieutenant turned toward the guard-recruit who was waiting for an answer. "Indeed, the captain keeps records of everything." He assured her, as he offered her the stack of papers.

The stack which he handed her was comprised of the blank paper she had asked for, but he also had a few other, very relevant, papers in hand. For the sake of all who were clearly dying to know what should have been kept confined to the room where the witness remained, the lieutenant spoke up a little so that all those present could have their curiosity sated. "I've just come from the captain's office." He hesitated briefly. "Here is the duty roster from the day in question," He handed that to Sorrel. "The daily activity log for that shift," He also handed that page to her, "and.. a couple of incident reports from that shift.. one involving a pair of troublemakers who refused to cooperate when asked to submit to a search." He announced, as he passed each to her with a sidelong glance toward Unalmis.

The duty roster showed that Lieutenant Feirion was on duty that day, for the shift when the others claimed Lieutenant Androllius had been there. It also showed Ric as having that entire week off duty. The daily logs were written in handwriting which matched Lieutenant Feirion's. The incident reports also seemed to be written in Feirion's handwriting. He turned his gaze toward the hostile pair, quietly waiting for whatever reaction was sure to come from this.

---

What did those papers say? Cali held her breath, almost subconsciously crossing the space until she was just a little behind Nal, as she waited for Sorrela to take a look at them. This would be the most defining moment, right? She was waiting with anticipation for the moment when she would look up and declare that Rip had, indeed, been on duty at that time. But then, why was he so calm? Her eyes flicked from one guard to the other, from recruit to lieutenant. He looked way too calm for someone who'd just delivered proof of his guilt.

Before Sorrel even had a chance to read the papers and say anything, Cali was already building up her defense in her mind. It burst out of her as she saw him looking at her, as if challenging her to speak up. Well, she would! "I don't care if that says he was on the moon at the time, I know he was! I heard his voice!" She declared angrily, pointing a finger toward the lieutenant accusingly. "He looked into the barrels, and actually commented on seeing us in there.. and believe me, I know his voice very well." She added, narrowing her eyes. "He knew we were in there, and he let that guy go through anyway! He even suggested he come back later to get Nal!" She folded her arms and glared, silently challenging him to deny it.

@Rillewen

“ I still can not believe that just happened,” The young Guard ambled into Headquarters with barely enough enthusiasm to manage the feat. His duty partner who had been casting him rather anxious glances ever since they neared the building, was more surprised that Domanol had not been arrested, himself. But he was wise enough to keep the opinion quiet. Something that, if the other man had managed to, they would not be in this situation.

“How went the trial ?” asked their colleague, glancing up from the front desk. Before Thorley ever got a chance to signal him to .. not. As it happened though, Domanol did not even seem to notice. He was already veering toward the Captain’s office, with a sudden and rather astounding burst of energy. As though despair had found a scapegoat. Which was not entirely distant from the truth.


“Dom !” his partner called out as though the word itself would do a single thing to stop what was now inevitable. Thorley did not follow that bad decision toward the Captain’s office. He sank instead onto the waiting bench. He would probably be able to hear the fall out from that distance anyway.

“They found the Ranger guilty then ?” the desk guard surmised. And did not look especially surprised.

“I think if anything our testimony made things worse for him,” Thorley sighed. It would not be long before everyone knew anyway. And there was no citizen about to play at confidential for.

“Have you been to see Pertius yet ?” The question had been asked of everyone, every day since the assault had occurred. “Every shifts’ taken a turn. But he’s still not woken.” In truth of course, they weren’t sure that the injured Guard would ever wake up. The head injury had been .. substantial.


“It’s a sad thing,” Thorley didn’t have to struggle to agree. “Like holding your breath underwater. Dom has spoken with the sister ..” The words ‘more than once’ came to mind, but it felt almost treasonous to speak them. He’d warned the ardent campaigner for justice that he should just leave the victim’s family alone.

“The healer ?” The desk guard dared a guess and sucked in his lips. A nod was all that the witness could manage in response. “At least he’ll be taken care of. There’s some good there.”

“I don’t think good is a word that we can afford anyone involved today,” Thorley sighed. “Is the Captain back yet ?”

“I’m afraid so. He got back not long before you did.”

“Ah, Stars !” the common lament that was spoke aloud did not match the cuss which the Guard threw inside his head. This was not going to be good.


“His side of events was rather different than our volatile friend’s, I imagine ?”

A grunt told the duty guard that was the truth. But there was more. And it was worse. “He brought up the thing from before .. with the tailor. Said Dom is a valiant campaigner for justice and law in the city. But he decides for himself what is justice, and takes the law into his own hands.” Thorley stood up, found he didn’t know what to do with himself, and sat back down again.

“That kid though … the tailor was setting him up. Right ?”

“Oh definitely,” Thorley didn’t hesitate to agree. “But this time .. no matter what the circumstances, Narradir did put Pertius in the houses of healing. There’s no getting around that.”

“Our friend doesn’t seem to think that … , here he comes.”



Whatever might have occurred in the Captain’s office, Thorley did not hear it. He read the aftermath though, in his friend’s face when Domanol stalked back through the reception area.

“You want to go for lunch ?” He dared the invitation. “Some fresh air, it will do you good.”

“When is the next time that Narradir Korsey is going to enjoy fresh air ?” Dom scowled. “I’ve known that guy since I was six years old Thorley. He doesn’t deserve this. It wasn’t intentional. He’s just a big guy … And as for resisting arrest ? He’s right. There wasn’t any proper cause in the first place. Just because his father is who he is … " The rant wheedled off, as the young man realised it wasn’t going to make any difference. No matter how many times he said it. Or to who. “I’m out,” he declared, and departed from the Headquarters without ever stopping to clear his desk in the office.

“Did he just quit ?” the Desk Guard looked to Thorley, as though the man’s duty partner would have some better reading on what had happened.

“Dunno,” the dejected Guard sighed. He’d noted that his friend was no longer wearing his badge since he’d come back from the Captain’s office. But whether he’d quit or been sent off .. he’d have to wait for the word to spread. Because there was no way he was going to poke at Domanol for answers now. “Best leave him be a while. He’ll calm down. It will work out.”

It did not.

It would never be easier than when the Guard's chain of command was in flux. Even though part ofher felt like it was not ideal to abuse the situation to her advantage... Arnyn could not deny that it felt really good to gain such easy access to the Guard's files, based on her rank with the King's Rangers and... on the Guard's current lack of officers... during the daytime. What would have otherwise taken a few weeks, would now only take a few hours. At the most.

She had asked whether Guardsman Thorledhos Darthor was on duty, since they had spoken before. He was, but not at Headquarters. It had not seemed to matter. A few of the guards regularly stationed at the Rammas were at headquarters, and she was easily recognized, her identity thus confirmed. The Lieutenant was pleased to note, however, that even though the guards had granted her access to their records, they did not leave her alone with them. Even while they were currently understaffed.

A few reasons had brought her here. First of all, she wished to verify a few things she had read in Aderic Androllius' journal. Simply to verify whether its writings were true. That was easy enough, for she had prepared a short list of what things she might look up. Everything on her list was soon confirmed, with the only item left being... the matter of a certain Reilly Veranis.

Eryn had mentioned she had seen papers about the man, about a transfer of his posting to one of the beacons. The name had not seemed very important, then. However, since reading Aderic Androllius' journal, Arnyn believed differently. The journal reflected that Reilly Veranis had trained with both twins. That he had been their friend. And that he had simply disappeared at some point. The writer of the journal mentioned nothing of a requested or impending transfer. And since it was clear that this Reilly Veranis could corroborate that Aderic had a twin, and given everything Arnyn knew about one of the Androllius brothers, she would not put it past 'Mar' to have made sure no one would be corroborating much of anything.

Arnyn wished to see what the official Guard records had to say about this. She assumed that they would reflect the writings of the journal, since everything else had been confirmed, so far. But she had this chance to be certain. So she was taking it. With both hands.

@Rillewen

It turned out that the Lieutenant had not quite suddenly located the missing report after all. In fact, from what Unalmis could see of what Aderic had in his hands, it was simply blank parchment. But when Sorrel asked if her supervisor had provided ‘a record of the matter’ .. the officer handed over something other than blank parchment, for her attention. And then also announced for all within hearing that it was the duty roster for the ‘day in question’, along with an activity log and reports of a ‘pair of troublemakers who had refused to cooperate’. Nal could guess, from that much and from knowing what the girls had come here to report on, what exactly ‘the matter’ which Sorrel had referred to must be.

And so could Cali. Clearly. For the Smith burst up from her seat behind them, even as Iole idled over from her own seat in the interrogation room. Sorrel, who had been scanning the papers, as soon as ever the Lieutenant had handed them to her, immediately dropped them to hold at her side, the one she had been reading pressed determinedly against her leg. When she glanced up to find the first witness, waiting at the door beside her, the Guard Recruit could not hide the turmoil in her expression. About the Smith’s outburst.


“I think I’d like to leave now,” Iole mentioned, quietly.

“We’ve barely started ..” her interrogator pointed out.

“Well you’ve clearly decided to believe his version of events” Unalmis recognised, without any qualms about intervening on his friend’s behalf. “Ours is simply the truth, so of course it will be different to his lies. You can’t believe him and us as well, Sorrela.”

Though he mentioned the Guard recruit by name, brown eyes were focused intensely upon the Guard Lieutenant who stood beside her. As Iole passed by her one friend, to rejoin the other, she quietened a small ‘knew this would be a waste of time’ thought, in the privacy of her head. But “I’m sorry, Cali,” she murmured as she came to stand beside. She truly was. She was sorry they had ever thought that even coming here would help at all. She was, in that moment, sorry that she had ever gone to any festival at any time, ever. Tucking a trembling hand into her pocket, the shop assistant swore she never ever would be so reckless again. Both the large social occasions she had thought would be enjoyable .. had been absolutely not when all was said and done.


“You didn’t mention any involvement by the Guard when you spoke up yesterday,” Sorrel puzzled, as she considered Cali’s accusations. The Recruit wanted to disappear into the ground. At Midsummer, the Smith had sworn she ‘knew his voice’, ..and that had been apparently Lord Menilzir. Now here we were again, and this time she knew she had heard Aderic’s voice … The recruit had been nervous before about involving her supervisor, on account of his past experience with the witnesses in question, though it had all been within the distant past. She most certainly would not have asked him to be part of it at all, if she had known that the witnesses intended to allege the lieutenant had been involved himself. Was she trying to defend her actions here ? She certainly had never intended to antagonise .. any of them.


As Unalmis stepped up to the Lieutenant, Thorley rallied over from where he’d been teetering about the thought of getting involved. And placed himself between them. The nephew of his former partner, and the son of their former commander. Years before he had decided not to become caught up in the mess which seemed to raze from the one clan to the other. Part of his job was not to take a side. He required to be unbiased, unprejudiced, and neutral. His only interest was the law. And that meant .. keeping the peace.

“Take this,” the older Guardsman stepped so that Unalmis could not ignore him. “Now,” he insisted. Brown eyes took a while to release their focus on the Guard Lieutenant. But they did, eventually, and found that Thorley was handing him a tome of paperwork.

“Are you even joking now ?” Nal wasn't sure if this day could get any worse !

“I never joke about paperwork,” he was assured.

“No, you simply lose the paperwork. It’s a waste of ..” the complaints began.

“Take the form, take your friends,” Thorley didn’t even pause as the young man made a rude noise at the reference to such a volume of paper as a mere ‘form’. “Fill it out, and get it back to me. Alright ?”


It took a moment, for the adrenaline to subside. For the temper to freeze. It was so rare occurring and so long bottling up, that it had to be worth the unleashing of it. And this was not the place, Unalmis realised. This was not the time .. He wasn’t going to give ‘Rip’ the satisfaction.

With a quiet nod, he took the ‘form’. Although his knuckles were white from clasping it tight enough to concentrate on that. Iole hurried to accompany her friend out of the office, and he could only hope that Cali would not need them to come back in and drag her out with them as well.


“You don’t have much time to prepare before you interview the other one,” Thorley reminded Sorrel. And the Lieutenant, if he wished to have a hand in that interrogation. “The lady said she’d be bringing him in tomorrow.”

“Do you have any more forms ?” the Guard recruit asked, in a half hopeful sort of laugh. After the near disaster her first interview had turned out to be, she wasn’t even sure that the Lieutenant would let her sit in on his questions for the suspect himself.

But that was a worry for another day. Thank goodness.

Though she had been wary at the first, this third mentor seemed to be rather more of a steady role model than either of the previous pair. What with Beren Camlost spontaneously disappearing on some wild adventure abroad, and then Aderic Androllius being investigated for professional corruption and who knew what else besides … At this point, the young Guard recruit had begun to think she she was cursed. Or simply that her hope of making a difference in the city she loved was as much of a misguided dream as her family kept telling her. Not that she could ever express her regret or disquiet aloud, to either her parents who concerned over the physical peril of her career choice or her friends who had found themselves on the less friendly side of the law more often that any of them would like. To say that her life was complicated was an understatement. And yet, she tried her best, to do what seemed like the right thing, at the time. What else was there, really ?

It was easier under the tutelage of Thorley. Thank goodness. Sorrela was certainly due a little something easier to handle than she had been served thus far. Or so she figured anyway.


He was always glad to find the young woman had managed to bring herself back into work, each day that she did so. Theirs was by and large a rather thankless job, particularly under the current climate of distrust and bad reputation that the Guard had devolved to. Add to that the number of their number who had mysteriously disappeared, or found themselves under suspicion for dubious matters, there were not so many of them now remaining who could be counted upon. And still despite this, the girl kept coming back. She had as much of her mother’s determination as her father’s height. Both would be an asset. There was certainly potential there.

“Morning, Sorrela,” Thorley greeted his new work partner as he ever had, with a nod. And her name. It seemed somehow patronising to continually call her ‘Recruit’. She glanced up from where she’d been poring over something, half hiding it albeit only with her hands, upon the table top. “Ready for another day ?” he supposed, trying to overlook the fact that she was a few years only older than his daughter. Somehow Sorrel seemed to have a head upon her shoulders rather decades older than Diona though.

“I am,” she assured him, and turned gaze up from the item in her grasp, closing the book to it’s cover as she did so. The deep sigh however assumed that she was working very hard to see herself ‘ready’ for something. “Although .. there is something, I need to bring to your attention,” the young woman admitted.

Mentally, the man restrained his judgement, wondering what would be today’s dilemma. When Sorrel slid the book she had brought with her, across the table toward him. The man looked from it toward her, without question.


“I found this,” the recruit informed him. “Under a loose floorboard in my home. I dropped a button and when I looked, it had fallen into a small concealed space beneath the floor ..”

Already the man’s head was full of alarm bells but he swallowed away the worst imaginings until he’d heard her out. Small concealed spaces. Holding secrets. He had heard a similar account only mere days before.

“I read some of it, and it looks as it belongs to ..” she ran her finger along the name which had been written as a claim upon the book. “The lieutenant,” Sorrel almost whispered before she realised how foolish this was, and coughed away her nervousness. There were technically two officers of that rank, although neither of them properly were so at the moment. “I don’t know what or how it was doing there. Unless he left it there for me ..” the woman supposed slowly


It had to be said that Thorley did not shock easily. Having served this many years in this city .. he’d seen more than he could ever prepare her for. But he had not expected that assumption. “Why would you assume he might have left something of his possession for you to find, in your home ?” The Guard crossed his arms. “How would he even know where you live now ? You were still living with your parents when he left, back in July.” It was a round about way of asking if she’d had any contact with the wanted fugitive since he had fled .. but she was only startled that he had been paying attention enough to know such a detail.

“It wouldn’t be the first time that he has left something for me,” Sorrel could not bring her eyes up to meet his, and focused them hard upon the book itself, cursing it for putting her into this stupid situation. How many times had she debated with herself that she ought to have told him, told somebody .. but who ? .. About the letter. It was mostly the lack of anyone that she could rightly trust that had seen the Guard recruit hold out this long. But she was starting to believe that she could trust Thorley. Of course, there had been times she’d wanted to believe she could trust Aderic as well. She had never quite managed to, for the latter’s sake. There was simply no way she believed that somebody like Iole would lie to her. The others maybe, if they were desperate. But not Iole.


“I should explain,” she cleared her throat. And saw the crossed arms stiffen somewhat. “You see, the day after he disappeared, back in July, there was a letter delivered to me, from him. And it made very little sense at the time. Mostly it was just an apology and some concern voiced over what I must be thinking about him. But there was more to it. It felt like a cry for help."

“Can you think of any reason that he would have chosen to reach out to you ?” The question had come from a practical place but as a father of a daughter, Thorley recognised his mistake as soon as he heard the words leave his mouth. “Not that there’s anything wrong with ..” A laboured breath escaped him then, hoping he could blow all that had come before it far away from thought or memory. As though he didn’t only have to do so, to reset his approach, the Guard crossed over and softly closed the door so that nobody could overhear them. “Are you saying that he has come back since and hidden this in your home, after finding out that you have relocated ? Without ever speaking to you directly. Have you seen him .. ?”

“It makes no sense, I know that. How this came to be hidden in my home, a home he couldn’t know about unless he was .. still hanging around .. but just a few days ago there was a huge hue and cry about extra security at the gates. Has he been back ? Did he even leave at all, do we know ?”


Thorley drew out a seat and slowly lowered into it, to give himself time to think. She was asking all the right questions, this girl. But how much ought he to share ? His eyes fell on the book that lay unrepentant as it’s owner, between them. She was sharing this with him, he forced himself to recognise. She was trusting him. But she was not exactly unbiased herself. Her friends, her family … She was no more unbiased than he was, if he were completely honest.

“You live above the Needful Things shop ? The one owned by Lady Azrubel ?” he tried out the fact aloud, to see how it might settle, when he already was concerned about the … convenience of it all.

“I do,” Sorrela neither hesitated or halted over her answer. He nodded in response, approving. Of honesty, although it did not quite make things easier.

“Do you still have this letter ?” He could not imagine that she had destroyed it, lost it, or made up it’s existence at all. Still. Best to be absolutely sure it hadn't ended up involving any further parties he ought to know about. “And does anybody else know that you received it ?”

“My mother,” she admitted. “Well my sisters found it, but she rescued it from them before any of them managed to read it.” Alarm bells were now beginning to ring in the young woman’s mind as well now. Was he trying to work out how many and who he had to eliminate, to see such evidence disappear ? This whole mad thing could make a sane person crazed with worry ! But then she recalled, he was her father’s friend, he knew her mother. Socially. She’d helped him and Anaya when Diona was still small. He was Thorley. And though she’d been given reason to distrust people she had known her whole life, still somehow she trusted him.


Retrieving the many times folded letter, she. took a deep breath and handed that over as well. Set atop the book, the letter unfolded like it was alive somehow.

“I don’t know why he wrote me the letter. I don’t know how or why the book ended up in my possession now as well ? It is unnerving. But the two things together, if you read them, .. they offer a rather different narrative than the one which is most popular. And I can’t rightly say any more if I am relieved by the prospect or alarmed by it. Because if it is true, then he .. this might help to prove things are not as we believed them. For the better, Thorley. But if what is written .. in both or either of them is simply more lies .. then I really am not comfortable with the idea of him or somebody that works for him, sneaking in to my home, leaving me things like this .. Was I supposed to find it ? What if it is meant to frame me somehow ? Or is he trying to convince me to exonerate him ? I don’t know. So .. I thought I ought bring it to you.”
Nervous hands urged the small pile of evidence across the table until it was near touching the more veteran Guard.

“I am trusting you,” the young woman reminded him. It wasn’t even solely for herself that she was uneasy. Iole was a friend of hers and often came over, stayed over … If Aderic or someone working on his behalf was sneaking in to her house ? As a Guard, even a Recruit Guard, it was embarrassing to consider the breach in security, to say the very least !


Thorley took another deep breath. He recalled all too well that there had been cause to step up checs at the city Gates, mere days ago. He recalled also though, quite who had been holding up in that same first floor abode before the recruit had moved in there. His friend, his former work partner, and a man who had every reason to throw shade on the man this book supposedly belonged to. But this book .. the letter .. it was evidence to the very opposite. It was in defence of the man that his friend had cause to hate. The Guard gave a sigh. Already it began. And the day had started with such promise !

“When exactly did you find it ?” he asked his protégé.

“Yesterday morning,” Sorrel straightened up and clasped both her hands together on the table before her, obliging. “I didn’t tell you before because I hadn’t looked really at what was written in it. It does look like his handwriting ..” She commenced with the latter comment, maybe to take away from the fact … that she’d received the letter nearly two months ago. And not told him, ..or anyone, about that.

“I know who had access to your new home before you moved in there. And one of them is .. may have been Lieutenant Androllius. Something was left there for the person, not him, who was staying there, before you moved there. A letter. Actually. But .. another person who was staying there as well at the same time ... It was your sister, Roselly, who the Umbarian and Aderic spoke to at the Guesthouse that day, am I right ? She was asked about a redhaired girl ?"

Sorrel’s brow started to crease as Thorley put the pieces together aloud, and before she’d heard many of them before. This last one, involving her sister especially made her uneasy.

“I was right to bring this to you,” she swallowed, nodded, decided, that she could be sure about that, if not about anything else.
The man was not quite sure what to say in response to that.


As it was, yes, she’d brought it to him, but who should he bring it to, when the captain was on such an extended vacation that nobody could even hazard a guess at when he might be back ? Should the guard themselves even be investigating one of their own ? More than one of their own, as it turned out. So many of their own had already turned up dead or left their prints all over suspicious circumstances. Feirion was under house arrest until the matter with the escaped Umbarian was resolved, and also the matter with the South Gate ruckus ... there were far too many matters. Even the captain himself would find he faced a good many questions if he ever showed up. There was so much that Thorley had become aware of and equally unsure who he ought to make aware of it. Acting without orders was not exactly his forte. He had been told what to do for so long, he had spent so long trying only not to garner the attention of the people in charge. But it was difficult to fly under the radar when there was no longer any radar even operating ! Now there was only a night shift sergeant left who, honestly, would probably use Thorley’s painstakingly completed forms as toilet paper.

If only .... And that was when he remembered, that he had not told any supervisor about the other night, at the farm, yet. And he remembered why he had felt that there was no need for him to do so. Because there was somebody else already at a higher level of authority, who already knew most if not all of what was going on about all of this ...


“Let’s start with a cup of coffee each. And then we’ll go from there. How does that sound ?” he smiled. And his trainee, his friend’s daughter, the young woman not too much older than his own daughter … smiled. Suddenly a cold wash rained over the man and Thorley wished he had something stronger than coffee to hand.

(private with @Ercassie)

At Cali's outburst, the lieutenant leveled a stare at her. As if willing her to cease her rant, and shut up. Or, perhaps his stare was merely incredulous, marvelling that she would have the nerve to accuse him of such things. "You heard.. my voice?" He asked slowly, as if he had not quite heard her right, or required verifying that he'd actually heard the accusation come out of her mouth.

While he kept his tone calm and quiet, today, it wasn't difficult for Cali to recall the words he'd uttered, while she was in the barrel. Bones. Coal. The very same derogatory nicknames he'd used to call them both when they were children. She couldn't believe he was already somehow managing to weasel out of this. It was just like the school lunches, all over again. How she wished Ryn could've been there to help them come up with some way to entrap him... but that thought only increased the ache in her heart, which then translated itself into more anger. "I knew it." She huffed in frustration as it became clear that their attempts at reporting the matter would, once again, be fruitless. "And that's why I refused to report it to him in the first place!" She threw a dark glare at Rip, folding her arms defiantly.

Iole's mutter made her recall her more fragile friend, who had already had to endure being in the interrogation room with him. Cali put an arm defensively around Iole. "Yeah, what's the point of reporting stuff if it'll only 'mysteriously disappear'?" She agreed with Nal, while eyeing Rip pointedly. "Funny how things tend to disappear around some people. You wouldn't have any red ink lying around, would you?" She asked, her tone laced with sarcasm.

The lieutenant's jaw tightened briefly at this jab, but he managed to refrain from making any jabs or insults of his own, in return. But then, he usually only did that sort of thing when no one else was around to bear witness, so the lack of response didn't surprise Cali too much. He was probably waiting for a chance to get at them alone, so he could retaliate in some manner.

“You didn’t mention any involvement by the Guard when you spoke up yesterday,”

"Well, you didn't want to take the time to take any statements, yesterday, or it would've come up, I can assure you of that." Cali reminded her, a bit irritated that her testimony was now being doubted, simply because of him. Just like always. "And you also didn't mention that you were going to have that kidnapper's accomplice help work on the case! I'm sure that's very convenient for him, so he can do a better job covering his tracks." She remarked with irritation. Really, she was trying her best to cover up just how frightened this whole thing was making her, by acting more angry than afraid. A classic Trevadir move, actually, but it seemed to work for him, so why not? Really, the very thought that this guy was a lieutenant! And he was helping Umbarians smuggle people out of Gondor!? That was... so many things, and none of them good.

"And what did I supposedly say during this event, which you remember with such clarity, despite it being so long ago? Despite you having been injured, I believe?" The lieutenant inquired, frowning. "As I said, the roster shows that I was off duty that entire week. Just as I have said many times. The daily activity logs confirm that I was not on duty... how could I have been there? And how could I have done what you claim, while another guard was present? Is this other guard in on the plot, as well?"

"You lying..." Cali might have been thinking of gifting him with a busted lip to grace that smug face of his, but just as she uttered her hushed exclamation and stepped away from Iole, at the same moment that Nal also stepped up to him, the other guard stepped in between them. Cali was just a step behind her brother-by-choice, when Thorley pushed another stack of papers at him and intervened what may have become a regrettable choice for them both. Cali stood for a moment, hands clenched by her sides, glaring daggers at the lieutenant 'hiding' behind Thorley. How dare Rip stand there, acting like he knew nothing about it all! And now he had the other guards defending him? "Still hiding behind others, huh?" She retorted. "If you ever grow a spine and decide to fight your own battles, I'll remind you what a black eye feels like."

"Be grateful I didn't report you for that incident, Ms. Dringolben," The lieutenant pointed out, with a hint of exasperation now in his tone. "I suggest you take Guard Darthor's advice, and leave... before you commit an act you will regret."

"You can't seriously expect-" Cali began her own protest, but stopped. This wasn't fair. How did he always manage to do this!? He'd been doing this ever since the first day, getting the teacher to believe his story, getting the others into trouble over made-up lies. Claiming they were spreading lies about him... and so forth. Now, he'd wriggled his way into the guards, and he was doing it again. Only this time, he was making the guards disbelieve anything they said. And they were trying to report an actual crime here! Absolutely ridiculous. "I can't believe this!" She declared, upset as she threw her hands up in frustration, and glanced accusingly at Sorrel and Thorley. "Fine. Of course you believe him. Why not? Everyone else does!" She turned and started for the exit before turning back. "I don't care what that roster says, he was there! I know he was." She pointed at Rip. "One of these days, your lies are going to catch up to you, and when they do, I hope they bite you hard." She hurled those words at him before she whirled around and hurried after her friends, feeling thoroughly sickened by this entire waste of the day, and how completely incapable these people were as guards. They were meant to keep citizens safe from the very people they were promoting to be lieutenants!

The silence that followed the frustrated friends' exodus was a bit tense and uncomfortable. As Thorley spoke to Sorrel, already discussing tomorrow's interview/interrogation, Androllius let out a long, slow exhale and resisted the urge to run a hand over his face. At least the confrontational trio were gone, but Cali's parting words were still ringing in his ears as he risked a glance toward his coworkers, wondering if they really did believe his side or theirs. "I apologize for.. all of that." Something needed to be said, right? He turned to Sorrela, apologetic. "I didn't realize who your witnesses were going to be, or I would have warned you that there exists some... hostility between us." He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly. "Perhaps it would be best for everyone's sake, if I did not participate in the next questioning, with the suspect." He suggested.

He gathered his notebook, which he had written several notes in, in shorthand. "I'll.. work on translating this into common." He muttered. "Please, excuse me, I'll be in the office." He nodded to both Sorrela and to Thorley before taking off down the hall. By the end of the day, Sorrela would have a neatly written copy of the notes he had taken during her interview with Iole, all accurately recording what Iole had said, and what questions had been asked, and so forth.

@Rillewen


They did not have to wait too long outside before Cali stormed out moments later. But in that small space of time, Iole had seen no need to hold back her tears, her own means of expressing frustration.

“Did we just make it worse ?” she started wiping at her face, and ended up dropping that face forward so that her long hair fell forward too. Unalmis considered her upset and then the considerable stack of paperwork which filled both of his hands. Letting it sit on the ground beside them, he took off one boot without hesitation and laid that on top of their ‘assignment’ so that it would not blow away. Balancing it as though the little pile was precarious, the young man lifted his hands away, warily, and then grinned up at his friend. Confused, and then amused, Iole sniffed. But didn’t get any further before Nal scooped first one side of her mane over that shoulder, and then the other, tipping up her chin gently with one hand afterwards, so that she could no longer hide from him.

“It’s going to be alright,” he told her, wishing somehow that he could believe that. “We .. didn’t resort to his level. He doesn’t get to say whether we have a bad day or not. Right ?” The young man shook both his hands out, now that they were freed of their burden. A tiny papercut made him frown though, until a long shuddering sigh seemed to rid him of focusing upon that. “Right ?” he tried again. And his friend nodded, with another sniff.

“But Cali ..” Iole started to worry over her sister.

Her concerns were drowned out by Nal’s own, rather more celebratory “Cali !!” which met the smith as she came out and joined them. “Did you punch him ?” he wondered, almost teasingly.

“Not in their HQ,” Iole imagined, hoped. If their sister had lost her temper after all, then she probably would not have been allowed to leave with them. Not after assaulting a guard. This time with witnesses ..


“Do we need to run ?” Unalmis asked, slightly distracted as he struggled to put his boot back on and also lace it up with one hand, while the other stopped the papers from flying away in the breeze. Fortunately he had had some practice in learning to do a lot of silly such mundane things one handed, so it was managed somehow in not too much time. “Come on, lets go do something that will make you feel better.”

Iole gave him a look, which their ‘brother’ clearly missed, or chose not to respond to. “We probably shouldn’t stay stood out here on the street,” she uttered, some compromise rather than outright agreement, though growing more nervous the more that she looked around. Though their usual antagonist was indoors, the other .. his Umbarian maybe accomplice, was still who knew where. The recognition soured their journey home back to a sobering unease. Unalmis didn’t even try to make the girls laugh. It was swiftly becoming a lot more work than it had ever used to be. And it seemed that they had a lot of hard work to occupy them for the rest of the day anyway.

---

The next morning, he made a delivery alone. He’d left the girls’ house early because he was scheduled to meet Ilisys in the training grounds, and after all that had happened at Midsummer .. Unalmis was as impatient to ask the Belfalasian a few things as he was tired from trying to guess what she might possibly answer to justify it all. The Guards’ headquarters, on the second, were easily upon his way from their little refuge on the third, toward the training grounds below. Cali had been fixed on going to work, up on the sixth, regardless of the very long night they’d just had. Again. And it would be a miracle if Iole dared to step outside until either one of them returned.


Finding Sorrel manning the front desk, he wondered if she’d been there all night ? Had she slept ? He kind of hoped not. Without a gracious attempt at any sort of greeting, the young man deposited the pile of paperwork on the desk and met her brown eyes with his.

“This is ..” She might have begun to properly hazard a guess if he had given her time but he did not.

“You wouldn’t listen. So you can read,” The light-hearted shrug which concluded his assumption did not quite soften the edge that his tone was wearing this morning. “Theres one from each of us here. We worked all night to remember absolutely everything. And if these reports get ‘disappeared’ as well, I swear to the stars, I will write it all, in every excruciating detail, in the largest letters I can make all across the streets, and the white walls, all across the Rammas. With my own blood if I run out of paint, ink, whatever. Then everyone will get a chance to read what he did. Before it disappears. You can arrest me for vandalism, I don’t care any more ..” he headed her off as the Recruit raised a finger and looked ready to interject a caution. “Because we’re not going to stop. Just because he can fake proof and we won’t stoop to that, doesn’t mean he’s right. And one day you are going to figure that out. It might take a while, I grant you. But one day. And then you’re going to have to think back about how many times we tried to tell you, and how many times you didn’t do a damned thing about it.

That one is for the knife which Thorley took off me at the Sixth gate two nights ago. I would like it back please.” An idle gesture indicated the final part of the pile, which was indeed substantial.


“Thorley is busy right now. But I can see the reference number here on the form,” the young woman admitted. “I’ll get it now.” She decided, eager to have the young man leave before their expected suspect turned up for his own interview. Such concerns made the recruit turn back, even as fast as she had turned away. “Take a seat,” she bade him. “Sit on it,” she clarified, with narrowing eyes. “And just .. ” unable to think of any advice he would not outright laugh at, the Guard departed. She was in fact so swift in her errand that Unalmis had no time to cause any trouble, even if he had taken a mind to. Satisfied, the young man left shortly afterwards, with his cutlery. And Sorrela buried her eyes once more in the list of things she had started making to try and prepare for this second interview experience.

It couldn’t possibly be any worse than the last one, right ? She maybe ought to have known better than to ask Aderic of all people for help the day before. But without realising that the witnesses had come here with thoughts of accusing him .. the recruit had hoped that if the guard who had been mentoring her, could help the little group to solve their case .. then they might start to see him in the new light that she so often did now. Naïve perhaps. That she could have ended the enmity .. Not so much perhaps naive, but certainly, it seemed. Because it seemed in fact, that the bad feeling had only become worse.

@Rillewen

As a rule, the gentleman ought to have descended from their carriage, before the lady, so that he could provide any physical support during her careful descent. But since the carriage in question had drawn up in the second circle of Minas Tirith, rather than the streets of Dol Amroth, anyone who noted the pair at all was simply inconvenienced by the size of the carriage itself, as they attempted to go about their usual way through the bustling marketplace. Isys was not known for committing to archaic traditions, as a rule anyway. Particularly when she was not at home in Belfalas. And even more particularly when there was a fair chance that the gentleman in question might seize the chance to escape from her company and their destination both. So the lady disembarked first, and did not quite have to express her impatience by voice, before the man followed her lead. She did allow him to enter the Guards Headquarters before her, as good gentleman do, usually to gauge the safety of the scene before the womenfolk can do so, without risk. Though in this case, the only peril was entirely reserved for him, and she was rather more concerned with, as before, his chance to otherwise flee.

Arkadhur did manage to appear as though a gentleman, for she had seen her people to bathe him at least twice in the day and a half that he had been her guest. It had been the least obvious means at her disposal to render him harmless. She had dressed him appropriate to the title he boasted, and he was clean shaven and groomed. Though any delusion that he might have entertained, that she was seeking to locate the ‘lord’ she had first met under such a disguise, would have been alarmed to guess how much trouble she’d actually gone to, to ensure that he might believe just that. A lamb would not go willing to the abattoir after all, if he was aware what fate lurked behind the doors. And so much amusement and jokes had been shared of how silly and insignificant this little visit even was. A formality, she’d called it. And he had wanted to believe it. He had wanted to believe her.

The odds of his departing from the city would be far from easy, in any case. It was always that much easier to enter than to exit. And he ought to recall such a notion now. But the notion instead .. that he was here and remaining .. by choice, .. was a ruse that even the conman had begun to believe. This brief, blink of a moment, when they pretended as though this was real .. it was so enjoyable that he would risk even what all his instincts were screaming out against. Because he was there, with her, and she was acting as though she was happy about that. Even the worst case scenario which ever lurked at the back of his mind, was quietened by the pleasure principle. He was not a man who did not court a little risk. And if he ran from this, admittedly dangerous scenario, then he would likely regret it almost as much as he would undoubtedly regret having stayed. At least for long enough that he would remember ever after.


A gentleman does not panic, or behave as though he were desperate, even when he is. A gentleman would remain calm and collected, and handle himself even if he could not handle any thing around him. And even though this man was not truly a gentleman at all, he had learned the role. He was wearing the convincing costume. And he had the best alibi a one in his position might hope for. Twenty odd years of experience within the most archaic and traditional climes of Gondor could provide all that he required to pull off such a charade. And walk away with exactly what he had come back here for in the first place. At least that was the goal.

He knew what she did not yet. That one of the guards themselves was as likely mixed up in the Umbarian’s apparent crimes, as he was himself. So walking into Guard central .. he would have to count on that, If he was asked and if he was forced to reveal all that he in fact knew .. then a certain guard would be in a whole lot of trouble. So he entered, the light and airy offices, which were nothing like what their Umbarian equivalent boasted back home, he knew .. all too well. And the difference .. it made a difference. He could be calm. He could relax. This was going to be fine. If Ademar dropped him in it, then Ademar would find himself dragged down as well. And Arkadhur knew that the Gondorian would never risk that.

If that hysterical young woman at the festival had been telling the truth about everything that she had claimed, then how did she explain to people about how she had survived it ? That would be .. interesting. Particularly given what the Umbarian knew about their friend, in Harlond .. But their 'witness' was not here.

---

The two men came out of the office together, and Sorrela straightened up from perusing her notes. Though she knew both the Guard and the former Ranger, she was at work here and could not afford to be anything less than professional. Especially after yesterday.

“Thank you Thorley,” Addhor raised his hand to shake that of such an old friend. “I can trust you with this,” he added. And the statement was something between a question and a confirmation. To which the guard simply nodded, and shook the elder man’s hand. Ilisys also nodded as Addhor passed by them, and that was when Arkadhur noted the man at all. He noted the look that the two of them gave one another; first Thorley and Addhor and then Addhor and Ilisys. And just when he was starting to wonder why this stranger looked so familiar, and yet .. not .. , the tell tale thud of one slightly heavier tread betrayed the unusual gait. And that was when he realised. And that was when the dark eyes did their best to not narrow or indicate the slightest symptom of concern.


Even though Thorley called for another Guard to come take over the front desk. Even when he called too for Sorrela to come join him, and their ‘guests’ in the nearest interview room. And Ilisys declined to accompany them ... Wait. Where was Ademar ? He must have heard about this by now ? And he was … not here ?

“Sorry if I have caused you to wait. New evidence has come to light which may well prove rather relevant,” the male Guard, that was not Ademar .. had the audacity to smile. Blood Moons, that was … this was ..


“May I introduce Lord Menilzir ?” Ilisys introduced him before wiping her hands of the man. And the Guards simply awaited. Their silence was an invitation.. to go before them into the room they had opened up. To go, with the guards. She would not be coming with him. The only guard he knew was .. conspicuously absent ... The betrayal of abandonment bit deep somewhere in the recesses of memory. But he was not the same person he had been all those years ago. He knew better now. He'd learned better. He'd learned the hardest way that he knew how. And still the two guards turned toward each other before they followed him in, and the lady took a seat outside the room. With a deliberate ease that made him want to fling the chair out from beneath her. Instead he gave her a nod and a smile as well. Do as they do.


They closed the door to a shut before they placed Ryndir Dringolben’s dagger on the table and gestured for the Umbarian to take a seat. And though the nefarious Ademar had not even seen fit to attend, could even this very moment be making good his escape from any threat of arrest on his own part… Somehow that dagger stared up with the likes of a knowing smirk. They’d found it. They knew it. And they knew by now, if that girl had anything to do with it, they knew that he had had it.


“Let’s begin, shall we ?”

He wasn’t even sure he knew which of the two guards had just spoken. It didn’t exactly matter at this point. Lowering into the chair provided, Arkadhur straightened out his sleeve cuffs, one and then the other. He was a gentleman. His blood was noble. He would not panic, he would stay calm.

They wanted somebody to take the fall, of course they did. Nothing else was likely to silence that whining mewl of a girl. He’d certainly had trouble enough in the attempt, himself. Well, he may not know exactly what he was going to say quite yet. At least not until they did, in fact, begin. But he knew what he was going to do.

There was no other choice .. that he was willing to accept. The question is .. would they ?

Solo post, private
It had been a very trying week so far. Ever since the.. remaining Three, began to make accusations. Against him. He wished more than ever that he had his journal, because he would really like to update it, and also check some of the previous things he'd written over the past year or more. He felt a growing anxiety that Mar had taken it, somehow. With that concern nagging at him, Ric kept thinking carefully back about all the things he had written into it, worrying that he may have written something that his brother shouldn't read. But he was pretty sure he'd been careful enough, since he had constantly been thinking of that possibility, even while writing each entry. Still, it bothered him. How could it simply disappear from the middle of the guard's headquarters? From the filing room... where several files had also gone missing. Of course. He never should have left it there. Idiot.

Ric was tired as he came into the headquarters this morning. He had been working late at home, and had not had much sleep. The files of the Three were... almost ridiculously extensive. Especially Cali's. And the Umbarian's.. his file was incredibly bad for Ric. He had been studying the four files carefully for the past several days. Making not one copy, but two copies, word for word, so as to ensure that if the originals magically disappeared, there would be a backup. And then a backup to the backup. It was tedious work, but the copies were finally completed. One set of these, he kept at his apartment, hoping to take more time to search through. Maybe he might find some sort of... something, that might give him anything he could use as proof that it was his brother, not him. The other copies, he debated about what to do with. In the end, he decided that they were not safe in his apartment, nor in his desk, nor anywhere that Mar could come across them, if he was indeed doing as Ric believed him to be doing. Impersonating Ric.

Instead, he had placed the third copies of the files into a box and then paused as he sat back, trying to think. Where could he put these? He had nowhere safe that he could put them. After much debate, he had decided that perhaps he could ask Ms. Korsey to keep them safe. He had brought the box with him when he came to work this morning, and and was trying to think of how he could actually go about this. She would not be here yet, but perhaps when she arrived, he would ask her to keep the copies safe. Because, if anyone besides the captain could be trusted to make sure these files didn't magically disappear, it would be her. She was invested in this case. Ms. Ishen was a friend of hers. She had good cause to want to keep these files from vanishing. The original copies were in the captain's keeping, and he didn't want to have more than one copy of the files in the same place. There was that old saying about not putting all your eggs in one basket, after all.

He set the box on his desk and let out a sigh. At times, he felt like he was in so deep, he didn't know how to keep his head above water. He often wondered what the captain had seen in him, that led him to promote Ric to lieutenant. There must be something, or he never would have gotten this promotion, right? He couldn't fold under pressure, therefore. The captain believed in him, and that meant a lot. He just wished he knew more about how to handle the pressure, and all the other things. But he just had to do the best that he could. So, he drew a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, then checked his appearance briefly. He had a double shift ahead of him, and he wanted to at least appear ready for anything.

---

The afternoon shift was dragging to an end. Ric was so ready to go home, by this point. He had made sure that Sorrela got the box containing the files, and from that point, he knew not what she did with it. In fact, he specifically asked her not to tell him what she did with it, from that point.

Ric was thinking of starting a new journal, since the first had disappeared. But, if he did, then he would have to be much more careful with it. He still couldn't believe he'd been careless enough to leave it lying there, in open view, where it got stolen. Maybe he'd stop by the market, next chance he got, and try to find a new one that would fit his needs. Because there was a lot of stuff happening now that he really wanted to keep track of, and a lot of clues and revelant points that he wanted to be sure and remember. He was also debating whether it would be worthwhile to change his handwriting, but he wasn't sure if it would do any good, since Mar would only learn to copy that, too.

As he was gathering up his papers and neatening his desk, one of the lower-ranking guards knocked on the door and poked a head in. "Lieutenant," The guy hesitated. "The captain wanted to see you before you leave today. Said it's important."

Ric paused, looking up at him. The captain? Why now, when Ric was about to leave? Why not when the captain had first gotten here? Already, an uncomfortable feeling was settling in his stomach. There had been a lot of papers to read through. Could it be, that the captain had only just now finished reading them? The apprehension twisted up into a knot in his stomach, worrying that whatever Captain Baelthor wanted. Was Ric about to get fired? Arrested? He wouldn't blame the captain for it, if he did. He had fully expected that there would be an investigation, of course, as soon as he heard the accusations against him. But he was a bit nervous about it.

But he didn't question the young guard at the door. "Alright. Thank you." He responded, wishing he knew what name to attach to this guard, but he was not as familiar with this guy. The fellow didn't wait around, once he had delivered his message. Ric took another minute to tidy his desk, then drew in a slow breath to prepare himself before setting off for the captain's office.

---

Ric exited the captain's office in a state of stunned disbelief. He didn't even know what to think of that conversation. He stopped in the hall outside the office, staring off at nothing. He could hardly wrap his mind around the words the captain had spoken to him. Ric found himself walking down the hallway, sitting at his desk. It wasn't just his mind that was reeling. His heart was wrenching and sinking lower and lower as the realization set in. The disappointment was terrible... possibly the worst part about it all.

As it turned out, he hadn't gotten his promotion because he'd earned it, after all. And the captain actually believed that Ric had offered him a bribe? That fact alone hurt quite a bit. That his reputation here so severely tarnished. That his captain believed Ric would be corrupt enough to even offer a bribe? And what troubled him so much was that he knew there was only one person who could have accomplished that. And how would Ric have even had the money to offer such a bribe? Didn't the captain even question that? Ric squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a slow breath. So that was why he had not been investigated thus far, he realized with a sickening feeling. Their own captain didn't care. As long as he didn't look bad, as long as it didn't come out that he'd taken a bribe...

Ric pulled off his lieutenant badge, staring at it. He remembered the day he'd gotten it. How utterly surprised he had been. How proud he'd been, to be promoted. And how much he had clung to the belief that the captain truly had faith in him, that he had earned the rank by doing his job well. Now... learning the truth, Ric felt like a complete idiot. How many others knew? Had everyone been whispering about it? No... he tried to think. No, if others had known, there would have been protests, surely. If anyone besides the captain had known, then the rumor might have gotten around. Ric might have heard, but if not him, then Feirion surely would have heard something about it. And if he had heard, there would certainly have been protests. And Ric would have heard about that, certainly.

Still. Staring at the badge in his hand, Ric found that he couldn't tolerate the thought of wearing it. Not now that he knew the truth. Not without having earned it. Placing it on the desk, Ric put his head in his hands and let out a heavy sigh. This was.. a lot to take in. He felt as if his whole world had been shattered. Again.

Ric suddenly felt overcome by a desire to go home, curl up in bed and forget this whole day ever happened. Getting up from his desk, he started for the door, then paused to look back once, his heart wrenching in dismay and regret. He had worked so hard to show himself worthy of that rank, only to now realize it was all a lie. All of the reputation he'd thought he had was an illusion. He wasn't sure he could even show his face around here again. Whatever the case, however, he couldn't continue wearing the lieutenant badge, knowing he hadn't truly earned it. Feeling as if he were in a daze, he turned and left, wondering if he'd ever return.. if he could ever show his face around here again.


(info concerning the captain were agreed with Windy, long ago)

Private
“What would he even be doing, going out to Linhir?” Feirion frowned. “He should have been here, doing his job, not running off into the wilderness.”

“Because he was transferred there!” Amy insisted. “Why won’t anyone believe me?”

“Because, young lady, there was no such transfer.” The lieutenant informed her with a frown. “If he told you he was transferred, then he must have lied to you.”

“Sir, Reilly Veranis would not have lied. That is not like him at all.” Ric disagreed in a soft, but polite tone. “Besides, I saw the orders myself.”

“I suppose you also saw the signature on those orders?” Feirion raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Yes, sir.” Ric answered. “The paper bore the Captain’s signature. I’m sure of it.”

Feirion sat back, letting out a heavy sigh.

“It’s true,” Amy insisted. “I saw it, too.”

“And what were you doing, looking at an official document like that?” Feirion demanded, frowning at the young lady.

Amy frowned. “It was delivered by courier while we were together. He read it, and he was upset about it, so I read it to see what had upset him.” She explained. “It said he was being assigned to Dol Brannor for a six month posting. We were upset, because… well, because it meant we’d have to postpone our.. plans.” She looked down, fighting tears.

“Plans?” Feirion frowned. “What plans?”

“Wedding plans, lieutenant.” Ric supplied quietly.

Feirion sighed, going thoughtful as he glanced at Amy, then at Ric. Then back to Amy. “I don’t mean to be harsh, miss, but.. have you considered the possibility that he may have.. simply gotten cold feet? It does happen, sometimes…”

“Cold feet?” Amy looked up, green eyes flashing in anger. “Cold feet?! He literally just asked me, seconds before that courier showed up!” She retorted angrily, rising from her seat. “Sure, people get cold feet about getting married, but not that quickly!”

“Amy,” Ric sought to calm her, with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Please, calm down,” he begged quietly, hoping she would listen to him and not get him in trouble with his lieutenant. He turned to the man apologetically while Amy drew in a few slow, deep breaths and returned to her seat, though she glared at the lieutenant. “Sir,” Ric began. “We’ve been through all of this with the captain, before. But now, I found his horse, tangled in some briers.” Ric explained. “She still had Reilly’s saddle and other belongings on her, but no sign of him.”

“Please,” Amy sniffled. “Don’t you see, there’s something very wrong here?”

Feirion frowned, sighing. “This makes no sense.”

“I agree,” Ric answered. “But the fact is, Reilly was going to the beacon whether he was supposed to, or not, and something happened to him, before he got there. I’m convinced of it. Maybe.. maybe he ran into robbers, or.. I don’t know. But whatever else Reilly might have done, he would never just abandon his horse. He loves that horse.” He insisted. “Please, someone needs to be out looking for him. If you won’t send anyone, then at least let me have some time off, so I can search?”

Feirion frowned disapprovingly at him. “Is this all some big scheme to get a lot of time off for you and your friend? You come in here crying about him going missing, I give you time off, then you three go off and have a grand ol’ time while everyone thinks you’re looking for him? Then you show up, weeks later, and-”

“My fiancé is missing! He could be in serious danger!” Amy had enough of this, and slammed her fist down on the desk to make her point. “Do you actually think we’d make all this up just to go off for some fun time together!?”

“Amy!” Ric tried to gently scold her into being quiet, but then he turned to the lieutenant. “Sir, I promise, it’s not a trick or a scheme. I truly believe there’s something terribly wrong.” He told him, with the sincerest look he could muster. “If it does turn out to be some sort of scheme, then I shall take full responsibility for it. But please…”

“Has anyone even contacted his family?” Amy asked, very distraught by this point. “Shouldn’t someone tell his family he’s missing? Maybe they’ll look for him, if you won’t.”

Feirion held up his hands, trying to silence both young people. “Please..” He held back a sigh, then turned to Ric. “You’re very certain that he is actually missing?”

“Yes, sir.” Ric answered, nodding gravely. “I couldn’t spend but very much time searching. But if I had more time…?”

Feirion frowned, thinking. He shook his head. “You’ve just had several days off in a row, Androllius.” He reminded him.

“Please, sir. He’s my best friend-”

“The schedule’s already made for this week. Even if I tried to get you all of next week off, it would have to have the captain’s approval. And this sounds like a matter for the Linhir guard anyway, not us. I can contact their captain and request that they investigate and begin a search of that area, but there’s not a lot more that we can do.” He explained. “As for contacting his family,” He looked at Amy. “I can do that, yes. Who knows, maybe they’ve heard from him.”

Amy nodded a little shakily. “Please, just.. do something. I can’t stand not knowing.” She wiped her eyes. “His family deserves to know what’s going on, if nothing else. I can’t believe no one’s even contacted them yet.”

“Until now, this was merely a case of a young man getting tired of his job and not showing up for his duties.” Feirion explained, frowning. “We assumed he must have gone back home to his family. Or, that he’d gone off to have a good time, perhaps. Now, it seems there really is cause for concern. I’ll take a look at his file and find out how to contact his family, and send a letter first thing in the morning.”

“Sir?” Ric spoke up. “He has someone here in Minas Tirith who could perhaps be contacted sooner? I’ve never met him, but Reilly spoke of his Valar-father often, and he spent time with him whenever he could, while he was here.”

“Alright. Do you know the name?”

Ric hesitated. “I.. I think he may have mentioned it, but..”

“You could see if it’s in his file?” Amy suggested.

Feirion sighed, then shook his head. Pulling out a drawer, he took a look through it and finally pulled out Reilly’s file. Skimming through for a moment, the lieutenant finally stopped when he found what he was looking for, and nodded. “Yes, there we are. Good, it does have the man’s address listed.” He closed the file. “I’ll see that someone contacts him first thing in the morning.” He promised.

“Thank you.” Amy sniffled. “I’m sorry I got angry, it’s just that I’m so worried, and it feels like no one’s doing anything..”

“It’s forgiven, miss.” Feirion answered, albeit a bit curtly. “Now, Androllius, you’d better go and get some sleep. You’re on duty early tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir.” Ric nodded and escorted Amy out, partly to make sure that she actually left instead of bothering the guards all night, but also to be as gentlemanly as he could be. “It’ll be alright, Amy.” Ric told her quietly as they left, hoping that it was true. “Please allow me to walk you back home? It’s rather late.” He had not forgotten his promise to Reilly that he would take care of his fiance, and he meant to keep that promise.
Amy nodded and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to be strong as they set off toward the Pelennor, both silent, but thinking about the same troubling thing. What could have happened to Reilly?