The Clues

Jorgen summoned Ryan for questioning. At the dinner table yesterday, this servant behaved in an unseemly manner like a master, but now he didn't hide his panic at all. Even so, he still didn't have much respect for Jorgen.

"Who do you think you are?" He often looked around aimlessly while speaking, "The one who was killed was the servant who had been with Mrs. Dalia the longest. Guys like you who have been officially working in Military Intelligence Section 7 for more than a year shouldn't come to deal with this matter. Your local friend with a country bumpkin face shouldn't either. "

"Unfortunately, there are no more choices now. You have to cooperate with us."

"Cooperate? Ha, I don't have time to waste with you country bumpkins. You'd better go cooperate with the sows in the circle and ask them if they are willing to give birth to more piglets this year. I'm leaving now, going to contact the ship and leave this ghost place..."

Jorgen took out a dagger and slammed it on the table.

"Sit down."

"What? You..."

"Ryan, as someone inside Stormwind City, you should have heard of the 'First Rule' of the Military Intelligence Section 7 , right?"

"What the hell is that?"

"Okay, I'll tell you. The 'First Rule' gives interrogators from Military Intelligence Section 7 the right to use corporal punishment on people inside Stormwind City during interrogations-as long as they prove that the subject of the interrogation is not cooperative enough. Everyone here has seen your attitude. If I wasn't too good-tempered, you wouldn't be able to stand up now. If you can understand these words, sit down properly. Don't force me to count down from three."

Ryan sat down immediately, looking a little pale. "Ask whatever you want, damn it."

"Why did Mrs. Dalia bring her son to Southshore?"

"Aren't you old friends? She should have..."

"I want your answer."

"Uh, I'm just her servant. I have to obey her decisions... She doesn't need a reason for us to do things. If I have to say, I think it's because she and the 'Old Man' don't get along. They have never gotten along."

The "Old Man" was what people privately called Panthonia Shawl. As far as Jorgen knew, the 67-year-old man had never smiled at anyone, even his own son and grandson. He had no friends, no social activities. He was just a huge shadow, manipulating the puppets he carefully controlled to roam in the darkest and most hidden places of Azeroth. Compared to special agents engaged in military activities, Jorgen, who was responsible for civil affairs, had less pressure at work, but this did not mean that he could relax: the "Old Man" would ruthlessly eliminate those who dissatisfied him. Not by murder, but by making them completely lose their footing in Stormwind City.

Few dared to openly express dissatisfaction with the "Old Man". Dalia was one of them. The old man had planned to personally train his grandson to succeed his missing son as the successor to Military Intelligence Section 7 since before the boy could talk, but Dalia wanted Mardias to grow up like a normal child.

"If it's done his way, Mardias will probably be practicing dismembEling small animals at the age of three," Dalia once complained to Jorgen. In arranging her son's life, she openly defied the old man many times and could even be said to have achieved a little victory. This was thanks first to her social skills. Soon after marrying into Stormwind City, she became the most popular star in the noble salons, making it difficult for the old man to directly harm her. Secondly, as far as Jorgen could guess, the old man probably still had a little father-in-law's consciousness and was not yet a complete bastard devoid of humanity.

"She can't fool around like this forever. She'll lose to the old man sooner or later," Ryan said. "So she...brought the young master to this ghost place. It may have been to make the old man compromise, otherwise she would do something like that. Just my thinking."

"It sounds like your attitude is ambiguous. Just now you acted like Dalia's most loyal servant, and now you seem like a worm embedded in her by the old man."

"Ha! You're really funny." Ryan smiled dryly. "Don't forget what identity I am - a servant. Being able to stay with the most beautiful lady in Stormwind City may make me look a little better than a gigolo, but I'm still a servant. When the masters quarrel, we servants suffer. One master wants to go east, the other wants to go west, and I really want to split myself in two to deal with it. To be honest with you, I'd rather not have come here with her."

Jorgen pulled the dagger out of the table and put it back in its sheath.

Ryan looked around and then leaned forward and said in a low voice, "That's it? Is that all you want to ask me? Aren't you going to ask me who I think the murderer is?"

"I don't have that intention. Of course, if you really have some information worth discussing, that's another matter."

"In fact, I do. Have you noticed him?"

Jorgen looked in the direction Ryan indicated and saw Elin Tias standing on the other side of the hall, embracing the shoulder of a cleaning woman. He seemed to be comforting her.

"What do you have to tell me about him?"

"He's not just a lecherous fool who can pretend to be crazy and make children laugh. Let's put it this way, in the original plan to travel to Southshore by ship this time, there were only me and Foudaire, two attendants. He was the last one to join in, and we knew nothing about him. However, Mrs. Dalia greatly appreciated his skill in making the young master laugh. I suggest you keep an eye on him. After the murder, I realized how unwise it was to sleep in the same inn with someone I knew nothing about."

By noon, Jorgen realized that he hadn't even had breakfast. While eating with Hennessy and his followers in a small shop by the roadside, Hennessy asked, "What did you find out from Ryan?"

"Nothing too important. I still have to ask Elin some questions later. Then we'll summarize. Have your men been keeping an eye on Elin?"

"Keep an eye on him? No. He was very cooperative. Besides, he couldn't go anywhere. But - hey, he's coming over to us."

"Officers, I need to talk to you. Privately." Elin, with a strange smile on his face, walked up to Jorgen and Hennessy.

"Privately?" Hennessy said.

"Yes. This is because - "

Elin took out a brass plate from his chest pocket and showed it briefly. Jorgen and Hennessy immediately recognized what it was.

"You..." Hennessy didn't know what to say for a moment.

"Lunchtime is over, Hennessy," Jorgen stood up. "Time to get to work."

The three of them entered an empty room in the Red Salmon Inn and closed the door.

"You're also...?" Hennessy first pointed at Elin, then at Jorgen, but his eyes stayed on Elin.

"An investigator under Military Intelligence Section 7 . I apologize for revealing my identity only now. If I'm not mistaken, Ryan just told you something about me, didn't he, Mr. Jorgen? "

"He said you 'temporarily joined' to become Mrs. Dalia's servant."

"That's right. As for why I did this, I'll explain later. First of all, I want to make it clear that I came to assist you in investigating the 'fabric merchant' Henry's case, Jorgen. But now it looks like a mess. Tell me about your investigation results so far."

"This is the result of our own labor. You are not our superior. It is not so easy to..." Hennessy said.

Jorgen shook his head at Hennessy. "There's no need for that. One of the principles of cooperation among investigators of Military Intelligence Section 7 is the complete sharing of information. As the owner of the written information on the case, you tell it, Hennessy. I will supplement where it is insufficient."

Hennessy sighed, but had no choice. He told about Henry's death, the arms deal with the Syndicate, David's suspicion being lifted, and so on. Jorgen supplemented his guess about the murderer's mode of killing.

"Wait," Hennessy said. "Jorgen, have you already determined that the person who killed Henry and Foudaire is the same?"

"As far as the current situation is concerned, this is the only possibility." Jorgen said.

"Then what about the motive? Didn't you tell me that when there were no clues to the murder, you could look for the motive for murder? I don't see that Henry's death and Foudaire's death were for the same motive."

"You're right, I don't see it either. But I think Elin can give us some ideas. Otherwise, you wouldn't have revealed yourself at this time to investigate Henry, would you?"

"Yes. Let's start with Ryan - he has a criminal record of 'unauthorized purchase of weapons'. According to his confession, the seller was 'someone from Southshore'. ConsidEling the trivial nature of the incident, it was not further investigated at that time, until Henry drew our attention. Now we know that Henry made his fortune by privately selling military supplies to the Syndicate. So..."

"Are you saying Ryan may have been a member of the Syndicate?" Hennessy asked.

"I don't think so, but I can't rule out the possibility that Ryan and the Syndicate have some connection. In fact, more importantly, there is Foudaire. We found that he sent a letter to Southshore every three months. Because he was born here, we did not pay much attention to this at first, until we linked him to Ryan. We should have prevented them from coming to Southshore with Mrs. Dalia, but their actions were really secretive, and..."

"And they chose to travel by Goblin's ship. Even Military Intelligence Section 7 couldn't force it to stop," Jorgen said. He was all too familiar with such situations: the Goblin's transportation network was a favorite of fugitives.

"Nothing can be done. So I decided to follow them and assist you in the investigation. It seems I made the right move to pass this information on to you. It is difficult to dig more information from Ryan. Now we should solve the problem of Foudaire's letters. We need to know who he sent letters to every three months and what the content was."

"Where are the letters sent to Southshore processed?" Jorgen asked Hennessy.

"We don't have a post office. Letters are sent to a department of the Southshore Fishermen's Trade Union."

"Good, we'll go over now. Hennessy, call more people to keep an eye on this place. Didn't Foudaire insist on assigning guards to the Red Salmon Inn when he was alive? Now his wish has finally come true, poor fellow." Jorgen said.