Oblivion Mod:Stirk/Weight of Guilt, Part V

Book Information Weight of Guilt, Part V
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Weight of Guilt, Part V

by Fuchon Cire

---

'm afraid I'll need your help again" I told Kevius. "That Protectorate fellow watching over the scene of the first murder, I need you to speak with him. Tell him I will have some interesting news for him, and to meet me at Artisa Arethi's house. Be sure to inform that Blade Sanrit as well; it is his investigation, after all."

Bright and eager as before, Kevius did not hesitate. "Of course!" and immediately ran off.

For my part, I hurried over to mistress Arethi's house myself, to explain and justify all the company she was about to have. She seemed a bit worried that I intended to show them to the basement, with the Ogrim hanging about, but I assured her that - as unlikely as it sounded - they would not only not mind, but be happy the beast was there. Besides that small concern, the young Dunmer was surprisingly accommodating.

Minutes later, Kevius arrived, Sanrit and the Protectorate in tow. They both looked confused, though Sanrit also put his curiosity into words.

"What purpose here? We've been following this case for weeks. Breton, we are well familiar with the injuries to the bodies, if that is what you intend to shed light upon."

I smiled confidently. "Oh, the injuries are just a part of it. If you're bored with them, I'm sure there will be other items more of interest. I do not pretend to have all the pieces, but I've fit together what I've been handed very well."

Sanrit and the Protectorate looked uneasily about as we descended the stairway to the basement. The sudden chill, the corpses, and the Ogrim would surely have a similar effect on most anyone. I walked around the raised stone slabs silently for a moment while the others collected their bearings. Perhaps nervous in the presence of a law enforcement official, Artisa gravitated toward me. Kevius studied the walls, resolutely refusing to look at the corpses he had never been responsible for. The Blade and Protectorate stood near the door, as far away from the Ogrim as possible. The Ogrim paid us no mind.

"Well, I must admit some hesitancy. I truly do not know where to begin." I began slowly, "I'm sure you all remember Gralilan Tulius, the second victim, nephew of a Blade. With his passing, I think I do him no wrong by saying this: while it's true that he was such a nephew, I found it curious that it was not mentioned that he himself was a member of that organization." I raised a hand for silence, as the assembly grew noisy. "No, it was not any particular skill on my part that uncovered that truth. Just mere chance. I knew the victim years ago, and worked with him on another case."

"Now, I know you investigators have been looking for a werewolf, but though you may find one, it won't be your killer. One of you knows what I'm talking about. . ." I trailed off, hoping the guilty party would expose themself. ". . . But it appears that person is waiting to be thoroughly convinced of what they already know. Oh well."

I walked over to the body of Nevus, and gestured the rest to watch closely. Pointing to the long, even cuts on his torso, I continued. "See these wounds? They were parallel, so it was easy enough to pass them off as marks from a werewolf's claws. But if you are familiar with claw marks, you would see that these gouges are too straight. They are, in fact, not gouges at all. This type of injury comes from a blade; it's a cut, not a scratch, and it's intentionally made to look like it was inflicted by an animal. As you may or may not be aware, werewolves do not use weapons, at least not in lupine form. So the killer must be someone more conventional."

"So then, the killer was aware of the werewolf, and indeed sought his victims out based on the werewolf's movements. The killer knows who the werewolf is. Public suspicion being what it is, the killer would have been able to hand his scapegoat over to the authorities at any time, and no one would have ever known he was the true killer. Why is the wolf still free, then? Because the killer knew I was coming. Because the killer knew the wolf would seek me out, and that would give him the opportunity to kill me and erase any doubt about the werewolf's guilt."

"Now, since the guilty party has insisted on holding their tongue, I shall give the largest clue: The murderer knew I was coming to investigate well in advance of my arrival. Who would know that? The person in charge of the investigation, of course." I rounded on him, pointing an accusatory finger "Sanrit."

I didn't know such a thing was possible, but the already dark redguard's face darkened further. He looked at the Protectorate in contempt, then said "Of course I did it, fool. You have uncovered so much in a day, you think I'm so inept that I would be stymied even after three weeks? I kept the Protectorate following false leads and outright fabricated leads because I didn't want this case solved. And I was in position to make sure it never was. When I finally did turn in Kevius, I would have blamed the pace of the investigation on these idiotic Protectorate."

I nodded toward Sanrit, and went on. "Now that you have been so kind as to admit your crimes, would you resolve one last matter for me? I have my suspicions, but not certainty. Why kill anyone?"

Sanrit shook his head in negation. "Little point wasting my breath, when I intend to kill you all, and let Kevius take the fall." He drew his sword and stalked toward me. I felt Artisa's arms close around me, seeking safety, and then I heard it. Moving with surprising speed and grace for it's size, the Ogrim swept us all behind it and roared ferociously at Sanrit. Jumping to see over the creature's massive shoulder, I saw the blood drain out of Sanrit's face. On my next jump, the redguard turned and ran.

I half-leapt, half-climbed over the Ogrim and drew my own sword. Never had I had call to use the katana before, though as a gentleman's weapon I practiced with it often enough. Now was not the time for second-guessing, or hesitation. A killer would soon be loose in the streets.

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