They had found the stiff on the bench.
No names or numbers were mentioned out loud, but, going by the description, it was clear that the lovesick boy’s body was discovered by his wounded pals, sporting fresh bandages and stains from medical glue. They also were lucky enough to get the interment job, which made sense, since they were closest to the scene.
The detective job, though, ended up being assigned to a group of three well-outfitted, gloomy-looking halflings. After a brief investigation, they decided that there had been a scuffle between three friends, during which all three sustained various injuries, with one injury proving fatal. Then the suspects dragged the body onto a bench and went off to get medical treatment. They returned later, pretended to discover their friend dead, and raised the alarm. That was their working theory.
The suspects started howling about their total innocence. The halflings had to put pressure on them and force them to cooperate. They started with a full search, which revealed key evidence in the pocket of one of the suspects. This evidence was shown to the gathered goblins, including the herald who was now shouting in the middle of the hallway.
What was that evidence, you may ask?
Those morons hadn’t even bothered to get rid of the bright, colorful glass knife handle, which had somehow ended up in the pocket of the idiot with the shoulder wound. The blade itself — a remarkable weapon, as the leader of the halfling trio said, clearly proud of himself — was found lodged in the chest of the poor, innocent victim.
They were found guilty of murder by glass knife and taken into custody immediately. One of them tried to escape, but was knocked down expertly and mercilessly, then tied up just as expertly. The halfling leader, looking at the murderers’ faces, announced that they were going to investigate links between this case and the recent triple murder committed with a sharp weapon that left glass shards in the victims’ wounds. The protesting murderers were dragged off to face Mother’s justice. And Mother’s judgment was harsh but fair.
There was more to the story.
The goblin herald lowered his voice, creating an air of mystery:
“As the detectives dragged them away, they yelled out the name of the real murderer! The one who framed them! And that name was…”
At that moment the herald noticed the three of us standing silently against the wall in our black t-shirts. He hesitated, his one eye boring into me. The surprised crowd began to whisper among themselves, orcs and goblins turning to seek out the reason for the sudden pause in the morbid tale. I smiled broadly at everyone, asked those standing in our way to move, and we continued on our way in deathly silence.
“What was that?” Yorka shook me by the shoulder. “Huh? Explain it to me. How did the glass blade handle find its way into his pocket?”
“He’s a goblin!” I shrugged.” They’re like magpies — attracted to shiny things.”
Bask walked along slowly but steadily, smiling to himself. I was smiling too, thinking about the bright glass blade with the elven flower on it. It was a fine artifact — it had managed to bite one last time, even after it had broken.
“I’m assuming they didn’t find any fingerprints on the handle?” Bask broke the silence.
“I have no idea,” I shrugged. “Our fingerprints certainly weren’t on there. We had absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“Indeed.”
“Indeed,” I agreed, and we both burst into laughter.
“Morons!” Yorka growled. “Blow up and die!”
* * *
We got another bonus technical job in Zone 11, Block 9. It was easy and cheap, probably because it was already afternoon and the end-of-work alarm would be going off soon. But the work had to be done, so the system compromised. Fine by me.
Accept additional party job? (extra reward (O)).
Yes / No.
Job: Insert twenty blocks into the receptacles in row A. (Party).
Description: Fully insert twenty blocks into the open receptacles in the specified rows.
Job location: Zone 11, Block 9.
Deadline: Evening end-of-work alarm.
Compensation: 15 sol.
Additional reward: Game challenge for any party member.
The reward was disappointing — only five sol each. The workload and compensation of a lone worker, split evenly between three party members. We had to walk two miles of hallways, passages, and paths. The last one, according to Bask, was a death path — a dome passed over it once an hour, for just thirty seconds. For the other fifty-nine minutes and thirty seconds, you were free to do whatever you wanted — murder, rob, rape, anything. There was a safer route, but it was half a mile longer, so I decided we would take the shorter one.
