Glocara-2

Glocara had been sitting in the interrogation room for an hour, answering the interrogators' repetitive yet subtly varied questions. As the one who first reported the incident, she became the prime suspect. Unable to discern anything unusual about the old lady's body, she couldn't fathom why she was confined in this room. The two officers, one lethargic, the other leaning on the table, exchanged glances, their discontent with their task evident.

"You must tell me what happened to Mrs. Rosaline, right?" Glocara said. "I need to know why you're suspecting me."

"Mrs. Rosaline... That's up to the coroner," the interrogator said to his assistant. "Her body's with the coroner now, isn't it?"

"Not sure. Probably."

"That's fine. You heard it, miss. Our coroner's working on it, trying to determine how Mrs. Rosaline died. But that's his job. We have ours. If we wait for him to conclude before we start, it'll be inefficient."

"Of course. We're law enforcement. Efficiency is crucial," the assistant added. "Delaying could give many criminals a chance to escape justice."

"Yes, it can lead to complications. So, efficiency is key."

"Efficiency, indeed. I can assist you," Glocara said. "I didn't kill Mrs. Rosaline. Is that enough?"

"Don't jump to conclusions, miss. We've never accused you of being the killer..."

"You did," Glocara interjected. "Ten minutes ago, you asked if I did something that 'led to Mrs. Rosaline's tragic death.'"

"I asked that?" The interrogator checked his notebook. "I don't think so."

"You did," the assistant said. "But it wasn't recorded."

"Oh... That's how it is. You should've reminded me," he tapped his pen on the table, then stared at Glocara. "Well, let me be clear. There's a reason why we brought you here for questioning. Tell me, miss, who are you?"

"I don't understand. You already know my name."

"A name itself means nothing. It can be a mark of nobility or a disguise for deceit. I mean, your identity is too suspicious, Miss Glocara. You claim to be from Booty Bay, which is concerning."

"Yes, I'm from Booty Bay. What's wrong with that?"

"Too many red flags. Did you come alone?"

"Yes."

"No family? Came to Stormwind alone to seek a living?"

"What's wrong with that?"

"Booty Bay is infamous for crime. I don't know you, can't tell if you've picked up any of its habits. Miss Glocara, you deliberately came to Stormwind, chose such a sensitive yet inconspicuous industry, and rented from a vulnerable elderly woman—seems very suspicious to me. Outsiders with unknown backgrounds harming landlords for hidden motives, it's a common case..."

"Very common," the assistant echoed.

"Criminals use various means—stealing, robbing once they've assessed the situation, gaining landlords' trust for their gain, and murder isn't the worst. Miss Glocara, are you listening?"

"I certainly have been listening. Everything you're saying has nothing to do with me," Glocara said, pushing her chair back slightly. "Please investigate every possibility to the best of your ability. I highly, highly respect your diligent work. When can I go home? Please inform me."

"Home? So, you have another residence?" the interrogator asked.

"No."

"Uh, unfortunately, we found you've got into other trouble. Your employer was just here, reporting your improper work attitude, tendency for insubordination, and... this is rather embarrassing... and you've stolen his son's belongings. More seriously, you frequently make inappropriate remarks and show excessive friendliness towards certain hostile races. I suspect this is linked to your life in Booty Bay. I sincerely hope it's just indiscretion rather than purposeful actions. Today, you'll spend the night in custody, and during this time, we'll discuss how to handle your situation."

Glocara didn't have time to be angry at her employer's accusations. "Do you think I'm some kind of spy?"

"No, I believe you're not. You see, I trust you as much as possible in every aspect, but please prepare to leave Stormwind. Do you understand?" When Glocara didn't answer immediately, the interrogator continued after a moment. "If you want to avoid this situation, you can designate a guarantor for yourself. It's not foolproof, but you can try."

"I don't understand what a guarantor is."

"The reason we're asking you to leave Stormwind is that as a suspicious outsider, you can't prove you're a law-abiding citizen. In that case, you can find someone else to vouch for your character—of course, this person must be a truly law-abiding citizen. It's a sacrifice for him because if you commit any future crimes, he'll also be punished for blindly vouching for a criminal. In any case, he must have good character, be willing to trust you, and assist us in monitoring your future behavior. Do you have a candidate?"

Glocara lowered her head, arms crossed over her chest.

"No candidate?" the interrogator prompted.

"Mr. Tindell."

"Please speak louder, I can't hear."

"Mr. Tindell. He's Mrs. Rosaline's neighbor, with two sons."

"Alright. What's his full name?"

"I... don't know."

"What's his occupation?"

"I don't know."

"You don't even know his full name and occupation, yet you want to ask him to be your guarantor."

"Yes."

"So what's your relationship with him?"

"Friends."

"That's a vague answer. Do you often interact?"

"We're friends."

"There are many types of friends. Friends who don't even know each other's names... That's not unheard of. Luckily, when you mentioned two sons, I knew who you were talking about. Honestly, I doubt the success rate of this, but it's my duty to ask him for you. That's it for today; someone will take you to your overnight accommodation."

That night, Glocara lay on the straw mat in the cell, hands folded under her head, trying hard to recall the few times she had met Tindell, searching for signs that he might be willing to vouch for her. He had indeed hinted in her presence about needing a wife, and Glocara believed she could be a decent choice for him. He wanted a woman by his side and at home, and she wanted to stay. If Tindell accepted this subtle hint, perhaps things could develop that way.

Turning onto her side, Glocara began to question why she had naturally decided to stay, even if it meant marrying a man she hardly knew. Perhaps marriage wasn't just a means to an end but also part of the goal. She knew there were hundreds of gold coins in the cave in Stranglethorn Vale; she could use them to start a new life easily—but that thought held little appeal to her. A new life was too vague a concept; being confined in Sentinel Hill was a new life, spending her first night in a jail was a new life. Compared to this undefined future, she wished for fewer worries, and the current doubts in her heart were part of those worries. If marrying that man meant she would never again face today's treatment for "citizen conduct issues," then she was more than willing to do so.

Moreover, she couldn't venture into the jungle alone. No one would patrol for her at night, ward off beasts. No one would help her onto a raptor's back to shorten the journey. If the adventurous days were truly behind her, then she would be just one of thousands of ordinary women in Stormwind, and that wasn't bad at all. She wondered if she should tell her children and grandchildren her stories from back then. Traveling with trolls, aiding mysterious detectives against evil princes, escaping heavily guarded castles. They might not believe her, but they would love to hear it. These distant imaginings lulled her to sleep.

The next day, Glocara stayed in the cell until the afternoon before someone came to see her. It was yesterday's interrogator. He spoke through the iron bars.

"I've talked to Mr. Tindell."

She stood up, dusting off her skirt, waiting for what would come next.

"He has no intention of being your guarantor. And not only that, he hopes that after you leave here, you won't try to approach him. Frankly, I had a feeling he would react this way. You probably don't know this, but his wife was killed by trolls. In fact, he only learned about the remarks you made this morning."

Glocara looked at him and nodded. She didn't know why she made this gesture.

"I have to say, as a public official responsible for the security of Stormwind, I don't think staying here is a good choice for you. This is not only for us but also for yourself. Even so, my personal influence is always limited. For certain reasons, you can stay in Stormwind. I hope you will be more careful with your words and actions in the future."

The guard opened the door. Glocara left the cell but didn't leave immediately.

"You mentioned some special reasons why I could stay...?"

"That's a request from another department. I'd rather not discuss this abuse of power that disgusts me. You'll understand soon enough after you leave."

Glocara walked out of the cell and arrived at the gate of the detention center. Along the way, no one gave her scrutinizing glances. People came and went here every day; she was no more conspicuous than a homeless man thrown in for drunkenness. Outside the gate, someone was waiting for her.

"They finally agreed to let you out?" Erinn turned around and said to her. "Took them long enough. Did that guy complain about any abuse of power? I bet he did."

Glocara looked at him.

"Who are you?"