Arrested for the Wrong Reason

There was a temporary detention cell in the security bureau that could hold up to ten people. Jorgen stood in front of the iron fence, looking at the two young men sitting inside. Hennessy was beside him. The two young men inside were pale-faced, one lying on the ground asleep, the other leaning against the wall dozing.

"They were found at the door this morning," Hennessy said. "One was carrying the other, saying something about a companion being poisoned and needing urgent help. It turned out to just be nonsense from being drunk. They often play such tricks."

"Do you know them?" Jorgen said.

"South Sea Town is a small place. These two guys often leave each other in some hospital or toilet doorway after a drunken night, then run off. But coming to me is another matter."

"Open the door. I want to go in."

"Not waiting for them to sober up a bit?"

"No need."

After Jorgen went in, he pulled out the dagger at his side. This was the first time Hennessy saw Jorgen holding a weapon.

He kicked the sleeping man's big toe, and the man curled up and woke up.

"Ouch, that hurt like hell..."

When he blinked and tried to see who had kicked him, Jorgen's dagger was already pointing under his nose.

"What is this? Who are you?" His eyeballs turned left and right, as if to confirm that he was indeed in the security bureau and not some gang's den, then he saw his companion sleeping against the wall, "My God, what did you do to him? Is he dead?"

"He's just asleep, you fool," Jorgen raised the dagger slightly, "Now behave yourself, hurry up and sober up your alcohol-numbed brain. I have questions to ask you."

Two thin streams of blood flowed down from the young man's nostrils to his teeth. The cold blade blocked half his nostrils, giving him the feeling of obstructed breathing.

"Ask away, watch your knife..., ask quickly!"

"You said you saw David going into Henry's room the night he was killed?"

This was what the drunken youth had told Hennessy before Jorgen came. He came with a mouth full of alcohol stench demanding Henne pay 100 gold coins for further information, and ended up locked in.

"Yes, yes. We saw him that night. Is that okay? Can you not do this to me now?"

"Is this the truth? If you lie, I'll cut off half your nose. You know, a little scar doesn't matter for a man, but losing half your nose is different. No girl would want to kiss a man with two holes in the middle of his face."

"It's true, I'm not lying. We saw him. Really. I swear."

Jorgen stared into his eyes, then raised the blade slightly. This time the young drunkard really felt the blade pierce the root of his nose, and more blood flowed into his mouth and onto his teeth. He involuntarily raised his head to get away from the dagger, but the back of his head just hit the wall.

"I forgot to say. Not only can you not lie, you can't speak vaguely either. How did I ask?"

"You asked if we saw him..."

"No. I asked if you saw him go into Henry's room. Now answer, yes or no."

"No, no. We didn't see him go into the room."

"Then what did you see?"

"He, he was passed out behind the inn."

"Then you knocked him out and robbed him."

"No, nothing worth robbing...we beat him up. But really nothing worth robbing. David was a damn poor man. This is the truth. Please, take this thing away..."

The more blood flowed, the more it seemed he was holding his head back to rinse his mouth with his own blood.

Jorgen took the knife away, wiped it out and went out of the cell. The man clutched his nose with one hand while vomiting blood vigorously with the other.

"Find a doctor to stitch him up," Jorgen said.

Hennessy frowned at the interrogated man, then turned to Jorgen. "What are you doing? He looks like he's about to piss himself in fear. I didn't know you worked this way."

"I have many more ways, I went easy on him."

"Are you upset about something? You seem to be venting, no need to be so harsh on such a drunkard..."

"Get back to work, Hennessy. Don't bother guessing other things. Now we know that what they said before about 'seeing David go into Henry's room' was just drunken nonsense. In fact, they beat him up. Due to the effect of alcohol, David did not remember being beaten the next day when he woke up, and then you arrested him."

"So you're saying he has an alibi for that evening. In that case, his suspicion has been completely cleared. Can you release him?"

"When you arrested David, did you really not notice the injuries on him? Or did you completely ignore this point in order to hurry up and find someone to blame and appease the civilians? Well done, Hennessy. You did a great job protecting the reputation of an honest 'fabric merchant'."

"Jorgen, are you targeting me? Or is your mood really wrong today?"

"I'm not targeting you. I'm not interested in your personality, just how you work." Jorgen paused. "Also, as a security officer, you should be well aware that cases cannot be revealed to civilians until they are closed. Including your sister." Hennessy felt choked. "How did you know... Do you know Shelley?"

"What did I just say? Get this fool a doctor. Otherwise he really won't make it."

As Hennessy was about to continue on the topic of Shelley, a guard came over and said, "Mr. Hennessy, that servant Foudaire is making trouble again. He says he must have a reply this time."

"What's the matter?" Jorgen asked.

"It's the servant of a noblewoman from Stormwind who came recently, saying his mistress is so and so noble and must have private bodyguards guarding her around the clock and so on. He's been making trouble for a while. "

"What is a noblewoman from Stormwind doing here?"

"Who knows. It is said that she came 'to recuperate in a seaside place'? Even brought her child."

Jorgen followed Hennessy into the parlor and saw the servant Foudaire. As soon as they appeared, Foudaire shouted loudly about "how noble the Duchess Fouria is and how important her safety is," demanding that Hennessy "send at least a hundred troops to guard the duchess day and night at her lodging place."

"You've seen the situation in our town, scarce troops, outdated equipment, thanks to your Stormwind gentry refusing to station direct troops - oh, I almost forgot, there are direct troops, but just a basket of ragged invalids harassing our residents all day. Sorry, I really don't think the personal safety of the Duchess Fouria can be more important than the safety of the whole town."

"Not important? Do you think it's not important? I knew this fishing village full of mud was inhabited by bumpkins, but I didn't expect you, the security officer, to be so uncivilized. The Duchess's life is worth ten thousand times more than yours."

"Is that so? To be honest, I haven't seen any evidence that she is a duchess. No family crest, no identification. Other than the extravagance of renting out an entire inn and paying three times the room rate, nothing. How do I know you're not some smugglers wanting to taste the life of nobility? ..."

After a long clamor, Foudaire was finally driven away by Hennessy. He exhaled heavily and coughed several times.

"Sorry you had to see that. I thought in Stormwind, security officers wouldn't have to deal with such trivial matters..."

"They don't. Do you know where this Duchess Fouria is staying?"

"The Salmon Inn. They rented it out."

"No particular reason. I'm leaving now, Henne. I may come back later."

"It's almost lunch time, would you like to stay for a meal? My treat."

"Thank you for your kindness, Hennessy. But I still have things to do."

After leaving the security bureau, Jorgen walked down the street. It did not rain today, so the road under his feet was a little better.

Along the way, he noticed the groups of wounded soldiers gathered everywhere. They seemed to have become part of the small town. Some vendors started actively attracting their business. On the street corner, a girl with her arms crossed on her chest was talking to two soldiers, with a smile on her face.

The image of the one-armed soldier floated in Jorgen's mind again. He had a confident smile on his face. The other wounded soldiers were clustered around him, listening carefully. But apart from meeting Shelley that day, Jorgen had not seen him again.

The Salmon Inn looked at least three times better than the small building Jorgen rented. Jorgen was stopped by the doorman until he showed Hennessy's handwritten note. After all, for most civilians, the "Military Intelligence Section 7" was still an unfamiliar thing.

"Her bedroom is on the second floor, room 4, the tea room is room 7, and there are nap rooms, reading rooms and so on, all chosen by her servants," the doorman said. "They even threw out our older furniture. Although it's a bit annoying, if they rent for another week, we'll make our money for this quarter. Haha."

Jorgen went up to the second floor and saw that the door of Room 7 was open. A flaxen-haired boy suddenly ran out and bumped into his shin. The boy was fine, but Jorgen was hurt by the metal jewelry on him. He looked up at Jorgen, then continued running down the hall.

Jorgen watched the boy's back, stroked his bearded chin, and walked into Room 7.

"Foudaire? I said don't come in at this time..."

A woman turned from the window and saw Jorgen. Her surprise lasted only a moment, then turned into a relaxed smile.

"Jorgen?"

"If I may say so, the pseudonym Fouria does not suit you well, Mrs. Dalia Shawl. I didn't expect you to bring young Mardias as well. "