Benched

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 18

Whereas a couple days before, no one had paid attention to Chester, now all eyes turned on him wherever he went. It was the morning after the fiasco at the orphanage, and Chester had to report in for morning duty. Word about last night had clearly spread around the other guards in the barracks. When he got up from his cot, a conversation that had been going on nearby suddenly stopped. While he washed his face, he spotted the faces of others watching him from outside the door. When he put on his uniform and walked towards the training ring for the lineup, heads turned to watch as he passed. He heard a conversation pick up after he turned a corner, and stopped to listen.

“But why would he draw so much attention to it like that, if there was nothing there?” one voice said.

Another responded, and Chester recognized it as one of the senior guardsmen, Louis. “Maybe he wasn't just drawing attention to himself, he was drawing attention away from something else. I don't know, he could be up to something shady.”

“Then he'll get what's coming to him.”

Chester had hoped he would be applauded for saving the children, but it seemed like his fellow guards would rather see him lashed.

Chester took his usual place in the lineup, next to Darrik. He tried to catch Darrik's eye, but even his friend seemed to be avoiding him. Darrik looked straight ahead without acknowledging Chester's presence. Chester restrained a sigh and did likewise, his fists clenched at his sides.

As the bells from across town were starting to toll, Captain Ignatius emerged from the barracks and walked to the front of the assembly. Chester felt his neck grow hot just from seeing the captain. This man, from whom Chester was supposed to be taking orders, had endangered the lives of innocents, children no less. All for, presumably, a pocketfull of gold that the Firemen had bribed him with. Chester wondered how such an easily corruptible person had become the captain in the first place. Maybe he had done some bribing of his own in the past.

Ignatius cleared his throat. "I'm sure there are plenty of rumors going around about last night, isn't that so?" he said. He began pacing up and down the lineup, looking into everyone's eyes as he passed them. He arrived at Chester and stopped. "A young watchman aroused a stir when he was supposed to be off duty, and for what? Apparently nothing."

The heat rose to Chester's cheeks as he felt the sideways glances falling on him. Nothing? he thought. What about the pile of explosives and the extinguished fuse? The evidence that an explosion almost tore apart an entire street of Fannen-Dar? Did that count as nothing? Or had Ignatius arranged a cover-up after Chester had been sent back to the barracks?

"So it seems that I will need to remind everyone of the protocol for situations in which you suspect a crime without hard evidence." Ignatius's moustache wiggled above his lips when he talked, twirling like the tip of a rapier. "It is not your duty to act on every suspicion, but to inform your superior officer and present the evidence you have collected." The evidence was what I had seen you discussing with the Firemen! Chester wanted to scream. It was his word against the captain's, and he knew that if he had tried to do things the official way, he would have been shut down, just like Ignatius had arranged to have the murdered bodies buried ahead of schedule so that nobody would find out about his plan. Had those three been a part of the team that had foiled the explosion? Is that why the Firemen had them murdered?

Chester realized that Ignatius was still talking. "...Due to a disturbance this morning in the trading house, the watch in that area will be doubled tonight..." Chester looked at the smug grin on Ignatius's face. He had seemed upset last night that the plan had been foiled. Was he now disguising his disdain, or had he learned new information that put his mind at ease? The captain was keeping so many secrets from the guards that it wouldn't surprise Chester if he only knew a part of what was going on. What else were the Firemen planning?

"Dismissed," Ignatius said, and Chester followed the line to head back into the barracks. "Except for you, Chester." He stopped, and the other guards marched past him to head on to their duties. Darrik gave a brief glimpse over his shoulder as he walked by, and Chester saw that his eyes were filled with worry. Was he just worried about what would happen to Chester, or was he worried about what Chester had already done? He knew Darrik liked to lay low and play by the rules, but he firmly believed that he was doing the right thing by going against them. Ignatius stepped up to Chester, towering over him.

"You are benched today, guardsman," the captain said. "Your behavior last night was far out of line, and I do not want to have you on duty, since you are likely to either continue your dalliances, or collapse from exhaustion, all right?"

"Sir," Chester sputtered, "with all due respect, you already had me take a day off this week. If I don't work, I won't get paid!"

"Then consider this your punishment, see?" Ignatius said, his mouth staying a taught thin line, but amusement creeping into his voice. "You will think twice about acting rashly in the future, won't you, Channing?"

Chester stared down at the ground and didn't reply. Ignatius bent down so that his face was level with Chester's, and Chester couldn't help but look up into his eyes. The cold, blue gaze was sharper than Chester expected. Did the captain merely think that Chester had discovered the Firemen's plot, or did he know that Chester had discovered the captain's corruption? "Won't you?" Ignatius asked again.

Chester held back a shiver. "Yes, sir," he forced himself to say. The captain straightened up.

"Good, then," he said. "Enjoy yourself, and forget about that business with the orphanage, okay? I expect to see you back here bright and early tomorrow."

Chester let his breath go, feeling deflated. The scattered thoughts and worries that had crowded together in his brain flew away, leaving only the dull ache that comes when you tried your best and still failed. Chester had gone out of his way to do the best thing for his hometown, and had fallen down in the process. He needed to pick himself back up again.

<< Prologue, Heroes

<< Chapter 17, Deal
Chapter 19, Ladder >>

Sides

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 13

Chester stomped out of the orphanage behind the matron, the last of the children having been evacuated. He held a hand up to his face, pinching is nose to stop the bleeding he suffered when a strange woman had punched him before jumping out the window. They ran to the far side of the street.

Several guards from the night watch were across the street as well. Darrik was with them, wearing his armor even though he had not been assigned to the night watch that evening. Chester also was not supposed to be on duty, but he wasn't ready to take any chances. Turned out, he had been right. Bandits of some sort had sneaked into the orphanage, probably to thwart any attempts to foil their unthinkable plan. Darrik had agreed with Chester after learning that the children were in danger, and summoned the night watch here at the last possible moment in order to prevent alerting Captain Ignatius too early.

Chester's heart dropped, however, when he saw that the Captain was standing with the guards as he fled the building. He was standing at the back, as far away from the warehouse as possible, Chester noticed. The sly traitor knew of the danger and still wouldn't warn anyone.

“This is the last of them,” Chester told Darrik as he approached. Darrik nodded and led them to cover. Before Chester could explain to the disgruntled night watch guards what was going on, Ignatius bellowed at him.

“What is the meaning of this?” he said, his eyes showing more anger than suspicion. “You would remove guards from their posts to, what, babysit for you? You wanted to wake up all the orphans for a field trip, is that it?”

“Sir,” Chester said, trying to hold back his sarcasm so that Ignatius would not realize the young recruit had discovered his betrayal, “I have learned of a plot to violently destroy this part of the town, and if we do not get to safety now, we could get caught in the explosion!”

The guards around them stiffened. “Explosion?” one of them repeated, and others began to ask each other if they knew what was happening. Captain Ignatius pretended to be caught by surprise as well, but responded so quickly that Chester knew he had made a new plan as soon as he saw the orphanage being evacuated.

“I don't know what gave you that idea, but it will be safer if we listened to such a claim, wouldn't it?” he said. He ordered all the guards to take cover and prepare for a fire, listing off the nearest wells so they could quickly form a bucket brigade. He didn't tell anyone to search for suspicious individuals fleeing the scene, as he should have, Chester thought. Chester followed the rest, though, and crouched behind the wall of a building on the opposite side of the street. He was right beside Ignatius.

Two minutes went by without a sound. One of the guards coughed.

Ignatius turned and bore his gaze down on Chester. “All this...for nothing?” he said.

Chester shook his head. “I'm sure of it,” he said, though he was starting to wonder if the plan had been canceled after all. Perhaps when they found the body of the half-dwarf, the Firemen had decided to go into hiding or postpone it. Chester wouldn't have a way of knowing what happened after, or even before, that discussion he witnessed.

“From what I see, you have brought us all out here for nothing,” Ignatius said, although a smile was trying to creep its way up the side of his mouth. “If you had learned of a plot to destroy town property, long enough to put on your armor and waltz out of the barracks, then you would also have had time to inform the rest of the guard, wouldn't you?!” The other guards watched Chester get chewed out, shuffling their feet and glancing sideways at the buildings that were supposedly supposed to explode.

“You clearly were wrong,” Ignatius finished. “But we must know for sure, since you have caused such a stir...isn't that the protocol?” He was staring sternly at Chester, his face a facade of the chess-master forced to make the choice between sacrifice his own queen or losing his king. Yet beneath, Chester could still see that grin wrinkled around the corners of his eyes. “Chester, isn't it? I'm going to have to ask you to investigate that warehouse which you think is about to combust...and that's an order.”

Chester swallowed as his heartbeat quickened. He couldn't go against a direct order from a superior without risk being arrested for treason. It would be the ultimate irony, wouldn't it, he thought. Going against a traitor only to be labeled as one. But the alternative would be dying in a fiery explosion and letting Ignatius get away with killing the only person who knew of his–

Chester glanced over at Darrik. Darrik's eyes were wide, staring directly at him, waiting to see what sort of decision he would make. Chester looked back meaningfully, trying to tell him with his eyes to continue the fight if he didn't make it. Darrik knew everything that Chester knew, and even though he didn't have the same undying urge to set things right, he would be the only one who was capable of it. Darrik saw something in Chester's glance and nodded. Chester looked back at Ignatius.

“Right away, sir,” he said.

“And take a cloth to your face. You've blood all over.”

Chester walked through the alley between the empty orphanage and the warehouse, to get to the door on the other side. He turned the corner and was surprised to see it swinging open under the light of the moon. He rushed over, thinking that perhaps the Firemen were still inside, and he could disrupt them before they lit the powder...and then would promptly get killed by them. He gulped as he sneaked closer.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over to see figures running through the alleys away from the warehouse. One of them walked through a beam of moonlight before turning another corner. It was the woman who punched him. His heart sank; they had already left. But he still had time to stop the explosion, and save his own life.

He rushed into the warehouse, searching for the boxes with the purple symbols on them that he had seen in the Firemen's lair. It wasn't long before he found the stack in the middle of the room; it was the largest one, and whatever was supposed to be in its place had clearly been combined haphazardly with the other piles nearby. Anyone would have to be a fool not to notice something was amiss just by glancing at it. He then scoured the pile for the fuse.

When he found it, he breathed an enormous sigh of relief. The fuse was not lit. Perhaps his activity in the orphanage had scared them off after all...but then he noticed the gum that had been added to the wire.

He picked it off and twiddled it in his hands. Someone had been here first and sabotaged the Firemen's setup so that their plan would fail. That meant someone besides he and Darrik knew about the plan, had an insider's look at the Firemen's activity. And they also had a reason not to tell the town guard about the plan.

Which meant that, whoever they were, while they weren't on the side of the Firemen, they weren't on the side of the law either.

<< Prologue, Heroes

<< Chapter 12, Countdown
Chapter 14, Pieces >>

Corners

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 9

Chester reported for duty the next day earlier than he was scheduled. He always showed up early. Even though he would rather have stayed bunched up in his bed, hiding in the warmth of the blankets from the eyes of the captain and the dead half-dwarf, he stuck to his normal routine. He didn't want to give anyone a reason to become suspicious of him.

There is a sort of feeling you get when you know you've done something good, but against the rules. It wasn't guilt, because you would not be ashamed to do the right thing. It wasn't fear, or at least not fear alone, because if you were truly afraid, then you would stop going down that unlawful path, keep your head down, and not have to worry about it any more. Whatever that feeling was, it shuddered around in Chester's ribcage as he walked down the halls of the guardhouse.

It felt to Chester like every eye was upon him when he wasn't looking, and that each of those eyes was hiding the grinning face of Captain Ignatius. That was one of the foremost rules of being a guard: the captain must be told everything. If you can't reach the captain, tell a superior and they would tell the captain. If anybody found out that Chester knew about an arson plan, the captain would hear it too.

Chester kept his head down, but his eyes were darting over his shoulder.

He walked past the captain's office. The door was shut, which meant that the captain was not in at the moment. He looked up and down the hall. Grim glass windows at one end looked out over the street, letting in the morning sun as it started to make its way over the rooftops. Candles were still lit on the walls to light the way for the night shift. Nobody else was there.

Chester took hold of the door's handle. It turned, and he slipped inside, shutting the door behind him. He could feel his heart twitching with anxiety, but turned around and examined the room. The stone fireplace behind the chair and desk was nothing but charred wood, meaning the captain had not been here all night. He moved over to the bookshelves and started rifling through what were mostly law manuals and histories, trying to find some clue as to what the Firemen were planning. There was nothing out of the ordinary.

The desk was Chester's next destination. Captain Ignatius did all of his paperwork here, but Chester didn't think he'd be dumb enough to leave evidence of corruption there, since the commanders would take and leave documents in various drawers for the captain to sort through later. If anything were amiss, they might have noticed. Just in case, Chester checked all the drawers for anything unusual.

The drawer on the bottom right was locked.

Chester knelt down to examine it. The keyhole was small and made of bronze, unlike the other copper locks. He stood up and turned over everything on the surface of the desk, looking for a hidden key, but found nothing. He expected as much, anyway. Captain Ignatius kept his office pristine; there were no loose papers, no short candles, and especially no misplaced keys.

Chester looked back at the door to the office, knowing that a reasonable person would leave now while he could still put the entire matter behind him. Schemes like this had probably been going on in Fannen-Dar for decades, and one lowly guard wouldn't be able to change that. The Firemen would explode whatever it was they were after, strike fear into the denizens of that district, gain more power when they exploited that fear, and then one day be overthrown by another gang, all while the nobility and the town watch looked on and did nothing. And life would go on. Chester bent down to continue searching the drawers.

Footsteps suddenly appeared in the hallway outside, and the voice of Captain Ignatius broke through the wooden door.

“That's right, we need to focus on other areas,” he was saying. “Tell him to have his division join Roland's. He needs more eyes...if your report is correct?” The voice was growing louder.

Chester looked around, but the door was the only exit. The windows didn't open, the fireplace was too small to climb up, and the last wall simply had bookshelves. The desk had a carved back facing the door, blocking the view of the seat. The footsteps stopped outside the door. Chester crawled forward and pulled himself into a ball under the captain's desk. He also held his breath.

“I have some organization to attend to, but tell Kaitlyn and Louis to wait for me in the briefing room. I will be with them shortly...understand?” Ignatius said. The doorknob turned.

Light from the windows peeked under the desk, forming a thin line of yellow on the planks of the floor. Chester pulled his fingers away from it. He sagged against the desk's back, unable to adjust himself for fear of making too much noise. His face ended up inches away from the side of the drawers. At the base of the locked drawer, near the very back and bottom of the desk, was a tiny, almost imperceptible lever.

The door had not opened. Another voice was saying something, but Chester had stopped listening as he was entirely focused on not falling over, and on the lever. Captain Ignatius spoke again, in the solid projection of a trained orator. “You make a good point. Roland has been known to become unproductive if upset, and gods know he is terribly easy to upset...am I not wrong?” He laughed, and the footsteps continued, receding from the door.

Chester let his breath leak from his chest. He flipped the tiny lever with his fingernail, and heard a soft click. He crawled out from under the desk and into a kneeling position in front of the locked drawer, and pulled. It slid open.

There was very little inside, but Chester made sure to quickly read every paper as fast as possible. He then put everything back the way he had found it, shut the drawer, and made sure it was locked once again. He listened at the door for a few seconds before retreating back into the hallway.

Darrik woke up from his night off and began to head out of the barracks. His eyes were still half-shut from weariness as he shuffled down the hall, so he hadn't noticed anything before he was grabbed from behind, with a hand muffling his mouth, and dragged into a dark broom closet. He stopped trying to shout when he saw that it was Chester.

“Have you gone completely mad?” Darrik hissed, “or did I miss the announcement about Kidnap Your Comrades Day?”

“I've been keeping to the corners all day,” Chester whispered. “I couldn't stop thinking about the Firemen, and the captain, and so I snuck into his office.”

Darrik rubbed his eyes and smoothed back his hair. He sighed and turned around, letting his eyes adjust to the dark room that could barely hold the two of them. He grabbed a broom handle to lean against, putting it against his forehead. “I think you killed me. My heart is like a butterfly right now.”

“Would you get a hold of yourself?” Chester snapped. “It's worse than we thought!”

“All the more reason to stay the hell out of it!”

“No, you don't understand.” Chester snatched the broom away from Darrik, who stumbled and groaned. He almost made to grab it back, but shook his head and turned to take hold of the closet door handle instead. Chester, faster than the sleep-addled wood elf, stood in his way. “It's not just about another gang trying to get power,” he said. “I found out where they're going to strike. It's an alchemical warehouse in the southwestern quadrant. You heard what they were saying the other night, there's going to be enough explosives to blow the whole block sky-high.”

Darrik took a deep breath and let his anger cool down, beginning to understand the situation. “They're not just looking to destroy some supplies, are they?”

“No.” Chester's eyes were wide with fear, but it was no longer for his own safety. “That warehouse is right next to the orphanage.”

<< Prologue, Heroes

<< Chapter 8, Sewage
Chapter 10, Heist >>

Powder

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 6

Chester pulled his head back behind the crate. “Promises do not speak quite as loudly as gold...if you see my meaning?” the captain said.

Darrik silently caught Chester's attention. Is that Ignatius? he mouthed. Chester nodded. Darrik mouthed a vulgarity and crouched lower.

“I have your gold right here,” the voice identified as Kelvin said. “And, if this pans out, you'll get paid the same amount again after we're done. Twice as much as last time.”

“Excellent,” Ignatius replied. “And what do you have planned?...You do have a plan, yes?”

“You can see the map can't you?” Chester tried to tilt his head to take a look, but quickly darted back into hiding. A man with shaggy orange hair and a red and yellow vest, not part of the conversation, had walked around the table and had been looking towards the crates he was hiding behind. He held his breath, but nobody approached, and Kelvin continued talking. “We've got enough fire powder to send the whole block sky high. That'll get people talking about us.”

“Hm...Interesting choice.” Someone tapped their fingers on the table. “I'm assuming...this...was not an accident...correct?”

A wicked snicker. “It just adds to the fun.”

We have to get out of here, Darrik mouthed. Chester agreed, but the door they came in was in clear view of the table, and he could see no other way out. Crates blocked his view in every direction. Darrik pointed towards an opening between two stacks of crates, and began to sneak towards it.

Ignatius's boots were clicking around the table. “Yes, well, while you're having fun, I'm going to have the entire Council stamping on my head for allowing such a thing to happen. Of course, I will devise a way to work things out, but not without undue stress upon my own mind...understand?”

Kelvin grumbled. “You're already getting more than you deserve.”

“Then,” Ignatius said with a sigh, “I suppose I won't have the incentive to make sure, say, one of the guards doesn't wander by on his route just as some thugs are sneaking around with crates of explosives...”

“A'right, a'right, you get triple, but only after this goes down.”

Darrik stuck his head around the crate. Chester's heart was a panicked mouse inside the cage of his ribs, trying to find a way to escape. Darrik waved him forward. Chester rounded the corner to find a narrow passage between rows of crates. There were no more arrows indicating which way was out.

Behind the crates, the voices grew muffled. If he had focused, Chester would be able to make out what was being said, but his attention was on making sure each footfall made no more noise than necessary. He felt sorry for Darrik, who was still wearing his metal guard's boots and armor. He would probably get an earful for dragging him into this when they got out. He hoped.

The two guards paused as they looked around for any sign of an exit. They had turned a corner and arrived at the back of the room, compared to the door through which they had entered. However, there did not seem to be an opening in the crates to the back wall, if there was even a way out there. For all they knew, the way in was the only way in, and as such, the only way out.

“Just look!” Kelvin said suddenly. The boxes Chester was leaning against suddenly shifted, and a lid from above came shuddering down to the stone floor. Darrik quickly slid his hand away so that the wood didn't clatter against his metal gauntlet, but he scratched it along the floor. The guards exchanged a horrified glance, and then looked up at the crate which had been opened above them. It was only three feet off the ground.

“That's...actually a lot of fire powder,” Captain Ignatius said.

“And this is just one crate. Go on, open any other one.” Silence, until there was more wooden splintering close by. “This entire room is brimming with it. This is our main storage.” He chuckled, presumably at Ignatius's face. “I'm not kidding around.”

“I can...see that.”

Kelvin laughed again. “You're not my only contact in the Guard. You watch yourself and stick to the plan, or some of this stuff might find its way into your barracks along with a lit torch.”

Chester's breath was struggling to come out of his ears, so he let it out slowly and silently. A hand waved in front of his face, and he looked back over to see Darrik pointing at the ceiling. Chester looked up. One corner of the room, visible over the piles of highly explosive fire powder, was glowing with yellow light.

The footsteps moved back towards the center of the room, and the guards continued crawling, now to find a way through the maze of crates towards that corner.

The light was coming from a hallway without a door. The arch was unadorned, and there were no signs indicating what direction to do in. Chester and Darrik stood up when they left the room, but continued moving slowly. When he was sure they were out of earshot from the Firemen and the captain, Chester put his hand on Darrik's shoulder.

“Hold on,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

“We?” Darrik hissed. “I am going to keep doing my job, and keep my nose out of this. The Captain of the Guard is cavorting with criminals and I'm sneaking around under his nose. That's not justice, that's a death wish! You can risk your neck if you want, but leave me out of it!”

“These Firemen are going to blow something up,” Chester said. “We can't just let that happen.”

“Just stop thinking like that, or you'll end up tied to a chair with that powder all around you, and a fuse fizzling down towards it.”

He kept walking, and Chester followed. He began biting his lip while he thought.

Darrik tried to find a tunnel that led back to the main network, but the farther they walked, the more the architecture changed. The hallways were no longer wide, geometric passages, but looked more like straightened cave tunnels. The cold-torches were scarcer, making their walk lead from light to dark and back, over and over.

“I didn't know these tunnels were here,” Darrik said.

“I don't think much of anyone else does either,” Chester said.

Darrik scouted ahead down a tunnel, then retraced a few of his steps to check another hallway that he had skipped. “I've been trying to lead us in a general southeast direction,” he said, “but I think I've hit a corner. That room might be a bottleneck into this section of the tunnels.”

“It doesn't really look like an infirmary anymore,” Chester said.

“Maybe if we-” Darrik began, but suddenly flinched. Chester stiffened purely as a reaction, but then heard what Darrik had noticed. Soft footsteps were approaching them yet again, coming around the closest corner. Chester's eyes darted down to Darrik's waist, where his sword still hung at his side.

A voice greeted them before the body was in sight. “You mates coming back from a job?” he said. “I've got a...” A half-dwarf wearing tattered clothing put a face to the footsteps. He was carrying a cold-torch. He stopped when he saw the glisten it made off of Darrik's chest plate. “Hey, you're a...!”

Chester grabbed the hilt of Darrik's sword, lunged towards the half-dwarf, and stuck the blade through his chest. The cold-torch clattered to the ground, and the two guards broke into a run. Nobody was chasing them, but that wasn't a good enough reason to slow down.

Chester felt a breeze and followed it until the tunnels led outside to a grassy hill. The sun had just set behind the Shadir Forest, casting violet and orange rays against the scattered clouds. A few stars poked out curiously to watch the two panting guardsmen.

“You did...he was...” Darrik gasped.

“If I had just knocked him out, he'd tell the others that he saw a guard in their base.”

“We don't even know if he was working with the Firemen.”

“I didn't want to find out.”

Darrik collapsed into a sitting position on the hill. Chester looked back, realizing that they were outside the town wall. The Firemen must have used that entrance instead of the main doors into North Hill. It was easier to enter and leave the entire town than it was to break into a military base. The guards didn't even know the tunnels went back that far. Well, Chester realized, the captain knew, but he was keeping it to himself while he took the Firemen's donations under the table.

Darrik took a deep heave, gazing at the few stars. “I'm going back,” he concluded, standing up. “I need to convince Gulstein to not tell anyone that I left duty. Ignatius will notice.”

“You'll be fine. Just...wash your sword first.”

Chester held out the sword, red with the half-dwarf's blood, to Darrik, who grimaced and took it. He wiped it along the grass.

“We'd better go before any of the Firemen come through this way,” Chester pointed out. “We'll talk more about it tomorrow.”

Darrik furrowed his brow. “I don't know why I put up with you.”

“You're a pal, Darrik.”

<< Prologue, Heroes
<< Chapter 5, Plinth
Chapter 7, Quiet >>

Clues

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 4

Chester sat with his back against the massive stone wall, looking away from the town.  The view outside the walls of Fannen-Dar has inspired some mediocre poetry in the past.  A verse floated to the front of Chester's mind.

Though light doth break through cloudy sky,
The shadows are set free.
The forest dark, the mountains high,
Make it really hard to see.

He was looking towards the Shadir Forest as he sat on the spot where they found the dead boy.  While artistic talent may not be one of Fannen-Dar's primary exports, the stanza certainly spoke true about the lighting.  Murky clouds drifted in from the Thundertop Hills to the northwest, where the peculiar terrain caused miniature storms to form almost constantly atop the jutting cliffs.  Even when the clouds cleared for one brief moment, the sun was usually either behind one of the mountains to the east or the Shadir Forest to the west seemingly absorbed all the light.  And yet it somehow managed to always be stiflingly hot during the summer.

Chester had ignored the captain's advice to rest.  He visited the barracks to put away his armor, but then returned to the scene of the latest crime.  He scoured the area, but found nothing except dirt, rocks, and a rough patch of grass where the body had been dumped.  There was no single footprint pointing the way toward a villain's hideout, nor a torn piece of fabric from a fleeing killer.  If there were a less obvious clue, Chester didn't have the expertise to find it.  Investigation was not something guards were taught, it was something they learned after decades of experience.  They weren't hired for their skills; they were signed on for the fact that they have bodies that can swing swords and block arrows.

Maybe there really wasn't a connection, Chester began to think.  After all, the similarities between the cases are already barely existent.  It could just be in his head.  There are too many differences, too.  The victims each coming from different parts of the town, being different ages, dying in different places.  This boy was even brutally bludgeoned, while the others only had stab wounds.  Why would a killer need to beat up one victim, but not the others?

The hairs on Chester's neck stood up, brushing against the stones of the wall.  He turned and looked up.  The top of the thick wall looked back down at him, and winked.

Chester scrambled to his feet.  Maybe the bruises weren't the result of a beating.  Maybe the kid obtained them after his death.

There was a tower nearby that connected two segments of the wall, and where a staircase could be found that led to the top.  The wall was six feet thick, with a traditional battlement lining the outside through which arrows could be fired at attackers.  Fannen-Dar hadn't seen a battle since the Savage War decades ago, so security along the top of the wall was thin.  The small number of sentries ordered to walk the perimeter of the wall meant that any particular area would be unguarded for fifteen minutes at a time.  Plenty of time for someone to sneak up and commit murder.

In the bards' stories, whenever the hero was faced with a mystery, all would seem hopeless until he stumbled across the one piece of evidence needed to solve the entire thing.  A lesson that Chester had learned the hard way was that life wasn't like those stories.  There weren't magic arrows that could point you the way, there wasn't always someone strong seeking justice, and you could never really be sure about, well, anything.  Most of all, he learned that you would never be able to solve all the world's problems.  But Chester wouldn't be able to forgive himself if he didn't try.

Maybe life just wasn't like that in Fannen-Dar.  In the other parts of the world, they had heroes whose adventures actually resulted in major changes.  In Fannen-Dar, you had people and their problems, but not a hero in sight.

Chester reached the top of the wall.  The stones stretched out in front of him like a snakeskin turning to dust.  He walked over to the edge and peered out through a crenel.  He looked down and could see the spot where the boy's body had been found.  The dirt around that spot perhaps looked a little darker, but it could also just have been a trick of the light.

He looked around, but this section of the wall looked the same as the rest.  He knew he was on the right path, but there was just not enough information, too few clues.

The gray clouds parted momentarily, and the sun shone through.

Chester looked down to avert his eyes from the glare.  There, scorched into the stone as if with fire, was the shape of a dagger.

Chester resisted the urge to shout in triumph.  Instead, he rushed down the stairs and sprinted back into the town.

He recalled that the merchant's wife had been killed not too far from there, only a few minutes' walk into an alley right on the edge of the marketplace.  It was all too true that most murders happen close to the victim's home.  This was because either the killer had been waiting for them to come out, or had been following them and then struck before they could get inside to safety.  Several more happened inside the victim's house, if they lived alone.

Chester found the spot, which had been given a quick sweeping up since the body was taken away.  There was no blood to be found, but if Chester was right, there wouldn't have been any in the first place.  All he could see were puddles of mud, wooden crates, and a bucket placed strategically under a second-story window.  He heaved a pile of crates aside.

A mark identical to the one on top of the wall graced the side of the building.

Maybe there was more to the bards' stories after all.  Chester took off again, his mind set on only one thing.  He didn't need to find the place where the elderly noble was killed; there was no doubt in his mind of what he'd find there.  He needed to find Darrik.

***

"You can take your findings and shove them in the sewers," Darrik said.  Chester had found him on duty outside the Coopers Guild hall.  Every official guild in Fannen-Dar received protection from the town, except for the Fighters Guild, who claimed that it would be insulting to insinuate that they could not protect themselves.  In actuality, it was because they gambled on illegal fights during the day, and because nobody wanted to mess with the Fighters Guild.

"But this is proof!" Chester hissed.  The other guard, a stocky dwarf woman, was trying her best to tune out their conversation.  It wasn't her concern whether or not there was crime going on in the town until her superiors made it her concern.  Chester was trying to keep his voice to a whisper, but the excitement was proving too much for him to handle.

Chester continued, "I knew the deaths were connected.  The same weapon was used for each of them, a heated blade."  He had one hand on Darrik's shoulder, using his other to emphasize every other word with a jabbing finger towards Darrik's chest.  The loyal guard stood tall and only allowed his face to show his disdain.  "The thing is," Chester said, "there was no source of heat near the murder scenes, but they were clearly killed there without being moved."

Darrik bit his lower lip.  "And you can't figure out why?"

Chester shook his head.  "I know you've been doing this for longer than I have," he said, "and that your father was a guard before you.  You probably know tons about the way these things work, way more than I do!  I need your help."  He smiled, and added, "Buddy?"

Darrik sighed.  "Okay, I'll bite.  I've heard of something like that before.  A fire-branded weapon.  They could be using magic to make the dagger hot."

"Why didn't I think of that!"

"Because it's really hard to come by illegally," Darrik said.  "The Enchanters Guild has never had more than four members at a time, and those kinds of runes are pretty complicated."  Chester blinked at Darrik, who sighed again.  "My mother had some arcanist friends that she invited over for tea a lot.  I picked up a bunch of random, useless knowledge."

"Not useless," Chester pointed out.  He put his hand to his head.  "We need to figure out who would be able to get their hands on that sort of thing.  I'd say Dominaurus, everyone knows they own over half the town, but they'd never flub up like this..."

The other guard coughed.  "I, uh," she said.  "I might have an idea."

Chester and Darrik looked at her expectantly.

"Sorry," she said.  "I couldn't help overhearing..."

"No, it's fine," Chester said.

"I didn't mean to intrude..."

"Please.  Do go on."

She spun her warhammer around in her hand.  "Well, I just thought, it sounds like something the Firemen would do."  Chester and Darrik looked at each other, realized that neither knew what she was talking about, and looked back at her.  "They're a gang that got noticed for their tendency to, well, set things on fire."  She started scratching at a notch on the head of her weapon.  "They've been known to use magical fire, so they must have access to that kind of enchantment.  There's a rumor that their base is in North Hill, but there's apparently not enough proof for the captain to give the order for a raid."

Chester put his hands on Darrik's shoulders.  "We've got to check it out," he said.  His eyes had the sparkle that Darrik had only seen on children the night before gift-giving on the Winter Solstice.

"But...I'm on duty!" Darrik said.  "You've already distracted me enough."  The dwarf looked around at the empty street and shrugged.

"This is your duty!" Chester said.  "Your town is being threatened from within.  Yes, we have murders here all the time.  Yes, the gangs are far too powerful for two fellows like us to stop.  Yes, your orders are to stay here and be useless."  Darrik tried to interrupt, but Chester plowed forward.  It was something he was starting to like.  "But I say there's more to it!  The status quo is simply not okay.  Gangs, murders, uselessness...We signed up as guards because we wanted to make a difference."  Again, Darrik began to argue, and Chester cut him off.  "We vowed to protect the town.  Even if that vow was just a formality, that's what being a guard means.  And when people are dying, it's our duty to try to put a stop to it.  Now, the only way we can do that is by investigating these Firemen.  Are you going to fulfill your promise to Fannen-Dar?  Or are you going to just play it safe?"

Darrik shifted his weight onto a barrel outside the guild house door.  "Safe sounds really nice," he said.

"Then I'll go myself!"

"That's dumb," Darrik said, "and you know it."

"It's my job," Chester replied.

Darrik blinked.  "You're being honest."

"Honest to gods."  Chester puffed up his chest.  "Honest to Just, even."

"Glory to her," the dwarf added.

Darrik groaned.  "You'll die if you go alone."  Chester shrugged but nodded.  "We'll both probably die if I go with you."  Chester tossed his head back and forth, but nodded in the end.  Darrik sighed, sounding as though his lungs were getting worn out from constant overuse.  He put his head in his hand.  "All right.  I'll go."

Chester smiled.  "I know.  Come on, we're wasting time!"

The two humans scurried off.  The other guard stood wringing her hands on her warhammer before shifting to the other side of the Coopers Guild door.  She looked up and down the street, seeing burglars and thugs where before there had been commoners.

"They could have at least invited me along," she whimpered.

***

A part of the northern district of Fannen-Dar was built onto one of the low hills of the Thundertops.  It was short enough that it wasn't always stormy, but a dampness usually clung to the air.  Dwarves had dug tunnels throughout the hill before the town had been founded, to use as a fortress in a time when war raged across all of Calemor.  Now, the tunnels were mostly used for food and material storage for the town, but there were a few forges and armories scattered throughout as well.  It had been uncreatively renamed North Hill.

Gaining access to the tunnels was no problem for two guards.  Chester was off-duty, but he kept his copper badge in his pouch should he ever need to, say, heroically step into a fight and threaten the villains with his authority.  It wasn't as impressive as the silver badges of higher-ranking officers, but it made its point clear.

The tunnels certainly looked dwarf-made, with great blocky pillars holding up the roof, and plenty of extra space.  Dwarves weren't much shorter on average than humans, but for some reason they adored building massive rooms underground.  Being only a hill, North Hill's tunnels couldn't compare to the great halls of Bjergstning, but they were still fifteen feet from wall to wall, and at least as high.

They were also as confusing to navigate as a maze.

"We don't need to check everywhere," Chester said as they turned another square corner.  "We've passed the light armory, the dining hall, and the soldier's quarters.  A whole gang couldn't make their hideout in those places."

"Could we stop walking in circles, then?" Darrik grumbled.

"What do you mean?  We haven't been this way."

Darrik pointed to words carved into the wall.  The top sign had an arrow pointing in the direction they were walking.  It read Dining Hall.

Chester licked his lips.  "Maybe they have two," he suggested.  Darrik slowly shook his head, which was starting to glisten with sweat.  The torches that lit the tunnels also kept the temperature nice and comfortable, if you were a dwarf who was used to being next to a furnace the entire day.  For humans, even those used to the humid heat of Fannen-Dar, the dry air of the tunnels was like an armored knight to a stumpy mule.

"We can't search the whole place ourselves," Darrik said.

"Well we can't ask for help either, can we?" Chester snapped back.  He wiped his face and took a deep breath.  "Maybe we can just peek in a few more rooms."  He glanced down the long list of arrows.  Training Hall, Buttery, Dungeon Cells...

"And what about the rooms behind those rooms?" Darrik said.  "This place is organized like a cobweb.  It made sense long ago, but it's a tangled mess now!"

...Washroom, Undercroft, Temple, Infirmary...

"Not to mention how ridiculous the idea that a gang would set up here is in the first place.  We had to show our badges to enter, for Hope's sake!"

...Infirmary?

"Why would they need an infirmary?" Chester muttered.

"For treating the injured," Darrik said.  "As they are usually intended."

"Exactly."  Chester knelt down next to the wall.  The sign pointing towards the Infirmary was low to the ground, faded from age.  "Back when this was a dwarven fortress, sure, but now anyone sick or injured goes to Holy Row.  And look."  He pointed up to a sign at eye level.  It had been carved into a separate stone and slotted into the wall, whereas the low signs were etched directly into the tunnel.  This one read Hospice.

"In case there's an emergency, they go there," Chester said.  "The old infirmary would be up for grabs to anyone who finds another way in."

Darrik wrinkled his nose.  "It's a long shot."

"I'm a terrible archer, but I think that means we should check, just in case."

The two followed the signs towards the Infirmary for a half an hour, winding their way through the passages. They passed fewer and fewer of the other soldiers, until all they could hear were their own footsteps and the flickering of the torchlight. Dust was collecting in the cracks of the stone. The heat was becoming less oppressive as fewer bodies were around to radiate it.

“I feel like a fly in a Spiders Guild,” Darrik whispered. His voice barely rose above his footsteps.

Chester raised a hand to Darrik's chest to stop him. “Wait,” he said. He tilted his head back and forth. They were at a turn in the tunnel, their vision cut to no more than ten feet in any direction before all they could see was a stone wall. “Do you hear that?”

Darrik held his breath for a few seconds, then let it out slowly through his nose. “It's completely silent, goblin breath.”

Chester nodded. “Right. What's missing?”

“Our footsteps. Anybody else's footsteps. And...”

They looked at the walls. In the sconces were cold-torches, lighting the hallway with their signature heat-less, yellow energy.

“If nobody uses these tunnels,” Chester whispered. “Why use expensive cold-torches?”

Darrik thought for a moment. He was sweating despite the cooler air. “They're used by arcanists all the time,” he said. “To light their libraries. So that nothing flammable gets set on...fire.”

Chester broke out in a joyless grin just as a door slammed and heavy footsteps started moving towards them.

Chester scrambled forwards, hopping down the hallway on his toes. The footsteps were clattering quickly towards them from the direction they arrived, meaning the only escape was deeper into the Infirmary. Darrik fell behind him, moving slower, for he still wore his armor. Any quick movement would be heard throughout the whole area. Like the tremblings of a trapped insect in a silky web.

Chester pressed his ear against the first door he found. Hearing nothing on the other side, he opened it. A long room stretched out before him. Where once dwarf-sized beds for the injured warriors after whatever battle they had waged that week would have been, now wooden crates were piled high and haphazardly. A table and chairs were set up in the center of the room, lit by more cold-torches. Chester waved back at Darrik to hurry up. Darrik waved back, with his fingers in a slightly more rude gesture.

Chester grabbed the front of Darrik's armor as soon as he got close and pulled him in. Just as he saw a boot coming around the corner, he shut the door without letting it bang against the frame.

Darrik was breathing heavily, but managed to maintain a whisper. “This is not how I imagined my day.”

“They must not guard that entrance, since nobody ever uses it,” Chester said. “We just wandered into their turf without noticing.”

“As long as they also went without noticing,” Darrik gasped, “I'm happy.”

Voices sounded through the door, coming closer. Chester nodded his head and the two guards moved behind a pile of boxes, where they were out of view from the door and the center of the room. The door opened.

“You see, we can work something out, as we always do,” a man said. The footsteps moved to the table, there was the sound of chairs scraping against the stone floor, and a sheet of parchment being laid out flat.

“This is our plan, see?” the same voice said. He spoke through his nose, but with such vim and verve that Chester could only imagine his nostrils were the size of cats. “The Firemen have had a hard time lately with our work, and we need this to get our name recognized again. I'm telling you out of trust that you'll hold together with our agreement.”

Someone else laughed a humorless laugh, one bristling with sharp edges that were sheathed but clearly displayed. The laugh turned into a voice. “Trust is not something typically associated with success in your line of work...is it, Kelvin?”

Chester felt the blood drain from his face and rush back to his brain, where it had some serious work to do. He leaned ever so slightly out from behind the box, so that just one eye could see the center of the long room. He saw the back of the head of the man who had just spoken, but there was no mistaking who he saw.

Captain Ignatius of the town watch was making a deal with the Firemen.

<< Prologue, Heroes

<< Chapter 3, Poison
Chapter 5, Plinth >>

Schemes

The Heroes of Fannen-Dar, Chapter 2

"Another one," Chester muttered.

Guardsman Darrik looked up from the body, a bruised and bloody teenage boy who was face-down in a ditch outside the town border.  "I know you're new," Darrik said, "but you said you grew up here in Fannen-Dar, isn't that right?"

"Everyone in Fannen-Dar grew up in Fannen-Dar," Chester said.  "The rest leave as soon as they realize they took a wrong turn."

Darrik nodded, the light shining off his plain, round helmet.  "Then you should be used to this.  There are at least a dozen murders a week, and those are only the ones we find and clean up."

Chester helped hoist the body onto the cart.  Its face and legs were broken, as if he were bashed around with a hammer, but his back was untouched except for the knife wound.  The horse turned towards the guards, giving them a dreary look through its droopy eyes.  "This is different," Chester said.  "Whenever I've heard about someone being killed, it was either because they were caught in the act of something or another by the wrong person, or they were rich and got mugged, or it was gang related."  He ran the hem of the dead boy's shirt through his hands.  It was plain burlap.  "This kid was not rich, and there's no gang warning marks on him."

Darrik shook his head.  "How is it different?  He got beat up, then stabbed in the back.  He probably just upset the wrong people.  It's not hard to do."

"I suppose..." Chester said.  It still didn't explain why the killer had dumped the body outside town.

The horse gave a gargled whinny, begging them to hurry it up already so it could get away from the stink.  The guards covered the boy's body and set off for the watch house.

Chester sat deep in thought on the ride back.  The smell didn't particularly disturb him, since living in Fannen-Dar tended to condition one to atmospheric grossness.  It was true that murders happened almost every day there, but Chester had been a member of the guard for nine months, and had only noticed these random killings in the past one.  A woman who was the wife of a merchant, an elderly noble man who had retired from the town court, and now this boy who was barely sixteen.  None had any of the hallmark signs of a run-of-the-mill murder.  None looked run-of-the-bank, run-of-an-estate, or run-of-a-guild-hall either.  Yet, there was no connection among the three victims.

"Hold on," Chester said.  Darrik was maneuvering the cart up South Street.  Fannen-Dar had four main streets, each pointing away from the center of the town, where the marketplace was.  They stretched off in the directions of, roughly, northeast, northwest, southwest, and south-southeast.  It was simpler just to name them North, South, East, and West Streets.  The main roads were wide, but busy at this time of day, and Darrik was already getting dirty looks from the dirty faces trying to pass the bulky horse and cart.  He shook his head, concentrating on driving.

Chester grabbed the reigns.  "Hey!" Darrik shouted, but Chester pulled back, and the confused horse stopped in the middle of the street.  "We have things to do, guardsman!" Darrik shouted.  Chester scrambled out of his seat and moved to the back of the cart.  He tossed aside the blanket, ignoring the gasps and complaints from the passerby.  He grabbed the body of the boy and examined the stab wound on his back.

Darrik grumbled as Chester leaped back into his seat.  He almost complained, but he stopped when he saw the look on Chester's face.  His eyes were wide and grim, like an inventor on the brink of a discovery.  Or like a madman with a conspiracy theory.

"We must go to the guardhouse," Chester said.

Darrik scoffed.  "This thing smells already.  We're supposed to bring it to the mausoleum."

"Under normal circumstances," Chester said.  "But we need to show him to the captain.  Then we can go to the mausoleum and check the other bodies."

"What, you mean those two you were going on about last week?"

"Yes.  I think I've found a connection.  We just need to check them to make sure."

Darrik sighed, and shook the reigns.  The horse plodded forward.  "You know, I don't have to listen to your mage-brained ideas.  I'm the superior officer here."

"You're a pal, Darrik."

The cart pulled up in front of the guardhouse twenty minutes later.  Chester jumped down, leaving Darrik to bring the horse to the stable.  He took off his helmet as he entered.  Even as he walked at the fastest pace he could without it being considered running, none of the other guards gave him a single glance.  No one needed to pay attention to yet another brown-haired, brown-eyed, human guard, especially with not a single medal on his chest.  This would change that.  They would start to pay attention to him now.

He came to a stop in front of the door to the captain's quarters.  A cold sweat began to form on the back of his neck.  Even with an important find, talking to the captain still sounded preferable only to a thorough leech treatment.

Chester knocked on the door and entered.  The captain was sitting at his desk, a pale fire glowing behind him, looking over a scroll.  Chester noticed the purple seal of the town council on the document before the captain put it in a drawer and stood up.

"Ah, guardsman...Chadwick, yes?"

"Chester, Captain Ignatius, sir.  I have-"

The captain held up a hand and started to walk around the desk.  "You joined...five months ago, is that right?"

Chester coughed to hide his irritation.  "Nine.  Nine months, sir."

The captain nodded, a smile pulling the ends of his curled mustache.  "Well, we all have to...take our time working our way up, don't we?"

"Yes, sir," Chester said, then tried getting right to the point.  The captain, Chester had discovered from the little he saw of him, was covered with points, from his mustache to the toes of his leather boots, but hated getting to them.  Chester had never once seen him draw his sword.  "Sir, I need to speak with you about the murder reported this morning."

Ignatius raised his long, thin eyebrows.  "I have not...been informed about that yet, but I assume this is because it was...deemed unimportant, is that not so?"

"Perhaps," Chester conceded, "but I believe there may be more to it.  This body, and two others in the past month, were discovered without any clues as to why they were killed.  I examined the body we picked up this morning, and discovered something unusual-"

"My dear boy," Captain Ignatius said, "if we were to spend this much thought on every back-alley murder we found...well, we wouldn't have the energy to dedicate ourselves to...preventing them in the first place, would we?"

"That may be true, usually, sir, because the reason for the murder is usually clear cut, but this time it does not seem so," Chester barreled on without giving the captain a chance to interrupt again, "for none of the usual indications are there, but rather I noticed that the knife wound on his back had no signs of blood except within the wound itself.  Sir," he added.

The captain straightened up.  Chester realized that the man was actually quite short and physically unintimidating.  "Does that really signify anything, guardsman?" the captain said.  "Perhaps the knife simply did not hit any major arteries."

"The wound was too deep for that possibility," Chester replied.  "There is the chance, thought that the blade was heated."  He gave a brief pause, and was surprised to find that the captain did not have anything to say.  "A heated blade could cauterize the wound as it made it, thus not creating the blood splatter we would expect."

Captain Ignatius stroked his short beard.  "You think...a blacksmith is to blame, do you?"

Chester shook his head.  "I can't say for sure, sir.  But we should take a look at the other bodies to see if their wounds match."

Chester thought he saw a smile briefly flicker across the captain's face.  Captain Ignatius sat slowly back down in his chair, and when he turned his gaze back upon Chester, his expression was one of grim reluctance.  "Unfortunately...that will not be possible.  You see...those bodies have already been buried."

"What?  Er, pardon my asking, sir, but aren't murder victims supposed to be kept on ice for at least a month if the circumstances around their deaths are unknown?"

"That's just it, though.  We know what happened to them.  Simple, unfortunate attacks."  Captain Ignatius reclined slightly.  "In fact, I can say with much...certainty that I do recall seeing plenty of blood on their wounds.  That would seem to go against your theory, does it not?"

"Simple attacks?" Chester balked.  "Sir, we still don't know who killed them."

"And we never will, guardsman.  Are you questioning your superior officer?"

Chester straightened his spine.  His brow clenched with cognitive dissonance.  "No, sir."  That was it, then.  That's how it was.  The gears might be ugly, they might make grating, cacophonous noise, but as long as they kept turning, the cogs would be kept in line.  After the captain didn't say anything else, Chester added, "I suppose that is all, then.  I'll return to my duties."

"Take the rest of the day off, actually," Captain Ignatius said.  "You seem to be under a lot of...strain today, yes?  Take some time to unwind, Chauncey."

Chester would have to wait to look through the town watch's files until tomorrow, then.  He wondered if that was the reason for the dismissal.  He saluted in the typical Cadererian fashion, a fist over the heart, and left the captain's office.  Something was amiss in Fannen-Dar.  And that was besides the usual muggings, murders, and schemes.  The gears were headed towards a grinding halt.

<< Prologue, Heroes
<< Chapter 1, Chase
Chapter 3, Poison >>