Murder in Krondor

Date: 6/13/2013 at 21:52
From: Anonymous
To : Everyone
Subj: Murder in Krondor

The men had beady eyes, greasy hair, and mottled complexions. The man sitting across from them reflected that they could have been brothers.

The tavern was nearly deserted at this late hour of the night, but the pair were deep in their cups and spoke in exaggerated whispers. "You know, friend, if you're lookin' for work, we've got just the thing. Requires folks who don't mind... " - the man paused to belch - " ... who don't mind a bit of dirty work for the right pay." His proclamation was followed by a sloppy nod and drunken smile.

Their guest ran a finger over the scar on his lip, considering. Information was always useful, and he was under no obligation to agree. He nodded once and, leaning forward conspiratorially, said, "Go on ..."


With a grunt, the man with the scarred lip dropped the corpse from across his shoulders. After a moment of contemplation, he decided to leave the knife lodged in the woman's chest -- better not to have the murder weapon if caught.

It had taken patience and no small amount of luck to get the body outside of Krondor unnoticed, but he assumed that it would go undiscovered for some time here, in an abandoned field outside of the city. By the time anyone thought to investigate the murder, he intended be somewhere far, far away.


Sobbing, dirty, and exhausted, the child ran to Kor's side. The young man reflected that the outskirts of Shamata were hardly an appropriate place for a young girl, and, glancing around to ensure that no Keshian scouts lurked in ambush, he adjusted his large Pathfinder's hat and knelt to speak to the girl.

A short time later, the unlikely pair made their way along the Krondorian highway, intent on locating the girl's mother, missing somewhere in the sprawling port city of Krondor.


Jasper winced as she inspected the body. The woman had clearly been beaten before she had been murdered and unceremoniously dropped out in this field. As she knelt to close the woman's unseeing eyes, she heard Nemi, the Sheriff of Krondor, speaking with her deputies. The body appeared to have been dumped recently, and perhaps the murderer could be tracked. This woman's poor daughter, oblivious to the fact that she was now an orphan, deserved that small amount of justice, at least.


Yurii knelt, straining his senses to trace the tracks that led from the murder site out to the highway. While he ascertained that the man had moved south, away from Krondor, his tracks soon melted into those of countless other travelers on the highway. Opting for speed, Yurii instructed a nearby guardsmen to inform the Sheriff of his movements, then set off, intent on finding a murderer.


Bound and bleeding, the man with the scarred lip cursed his bad luck. Somehow, the body had been located, and he had been tracked down before he'd made good his escape. As he was led in the direction of the city, limping from a wound inflicted by Zylo, a Seigneur of Krondor, the man muttered under his breath, "Should have left the highway..."


Running his tongue over the scar on his lip, the man weighed his options. His captors didn't seem to have any qualms about treating him rough, and he considered it likely that he would shortly be hung. He had only one piece of information that might earn him a reprieve. Speaking would earn him a death mark from an entirely different body than the government of Krondor, but the man reflected that that concern was entirely moot if he did not first earn his freedom.

Nodding to Ged Aureleous, the Duke of Krondor, the man began to speak. "I know where there is something you might be interested in ..."


"The constables came right for the house, boss. Too many for us to handle, and they knew right where they were going. Someone had to have tipped them." The man was well-muscled and had a rough countenance, but his tone was deferential as he looked down at his employer.

"There is no way those accursed Mockers could have known. We moved that material in piece by piece, over the course of months." The man's tone was icy, and, after a moment of cool deliberation, the leader of a growing gang of thieves and con-artists waved away his underling. He had anticipated a tidy profit, quietly fencing goods desperately needed in Krondor after the recent war with Kesh. More importantly, he sought to make contacts that would facilitate the expansion of his organization from the Free Cities into Krondor -- territory long dominated by the Mockers. Someone had set him back months, and he intended to make sure that person paid with their life.

Turning to his immediate subordinate, an attractive woman with a deceptively charming smile, the man began speaking in a low tone. "Either someone was bought, or someone got sloppy. Either way, I want you to find him and cut his throat. If you can't find who it is, just pick someone. We need to send a message." The man's tone rose steadily as he spoke, until he found himself nearly shouting.

With a wink and a nod, the woman turned and slipped away, considering the task before her.

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Rodec, in the year 47.