Secret glory

A year ago, when Jorgen led his team to search the merchant ship but was intercepted by Silversnap's guards, a goblin fired a shot as they were preparing to leave the port. The bullet didn't hit anyone, but it seemed like a fight was inevitable. Despite being outnumbered, Silversnap wasn't prepared to confront Jorgen head-on. In order to defuse the situation, he said, "Mr. Jorgen, although I believe that shot was just an accident, you can still take the perpetrator with you. Let me offer you some advice: don't keep him detained for too long since he didn't harm anyone."

In the interrogation room at the Bureau of Military Intelligence, the goblin said, "I had no choice but to resort to such means to temporarily leave Booty Bay, Mr. Jorgen. My name is Livigaz, Silversnap's brother. He not only took away the inheritance that should have been mine but also imprisoned me. In your human world, that's an unforgivable act, isn't it?"

"What do you want to request?" Jorgen asked.

"Help me reclaim what is rightfully mine... and I will provide you with the right to search the ship."

Jorgen left the interrogation room and reported the goblin's words to Panthonia Shawl. The agreement was quickly reached, and the old man brought in a few goblin merchants who despised Silversnap to stand as guarantors for Livigaz.

"We will try to handle this matter for you in a discreet manner, ensuring that no one will suspect you," he told Livigaz.

"Ah, I'm immensely grateful, immensely grateful."

"But if you fail to fulfill the agreement, these merchants standing before you will no longer supply you, and they will refuse the circulation of your goods on their trade routes. Do you understand?" Panthonia Shawl said.

"Master Shawl," Livigaz rubbed his hands together, "this is a trade, and trade requires trust. If I can't uphold my end, even if you resolve my problem, I won't be able to survive in this world. Isn't that right? So, you can rest assured."

Although the agreement was made, the old man was in no hurry to implement it. Before Jorgen set off alone for Booty Bay, the old man told him, "Do what you can." He said nothing more. The official mission document at the Bureau of Military Intelligence only recorded Jorgen's responsibility for apprehending the fraudster, Idori.

In the past two years, the elderly man, whose mobility had been compromised, no longer provided meticulous instructions for everything. He knew that the last thing he had to ensure before his death was that the Bureau of Military Intelligence could continue to operate without him. Testing Jorgen's capabilities was an important part of that process. Jorgen was willing to accept the test because, after all, it was his job.

Directly assassinating Silversnap was impossible. Even if successful, it would be difficult to clear Livigaz of suspicion. The best course of action was to tarnish Silversnap's reputation while eliminating the goblin merchants. To achieve this, a crucial opportunity was needed.

Jorgen seized that opportunity. The old man did not force him to complete this indefinite secret mission, but he did it.

In a manner that he didn't particularly like.

This morning, after several days of rainfall, the seagulls soared above the sails near the sea. Jorgen arrived at the white house on Night Herring Alley. It was quiet here today, and the rain had washed away the mud at the doorstep into the sea. He entered Tusha's room.

"Ah, Brother Jorgen," Tusha said, "you're right on time. Look, I have everything prepared. I even got fresh gauze and medicine that arrived today, just for changing your bandages. Come, have a seat."

Jorgen sat on the hospital bed.

"Where's Glocara?" he asked.

"She's in her room. It's been a quiet day. Luckily, you came, or I'd be bored out of my mind too."

Tusha carefully unwrapped the gauze that covered Jorgen's wound on his right leg.

"Looks good, very good. I believe there won't even be a scar in the end. But you have to take good care of your leg and stop running around after getting shot again. I have an excellent formula for relieving muscle fatigue. Would you like to give it a try?"

"The troll's formula? No thanks, I don't want to spend eight hours a day soaking my feet in a liquid filled with floating insect corpses."

After changing the bandage, Tusha said, "Do you want to go see Miss Glocara and say goodbye?"

"I have that in mind, but I want to chat with you first."

"Oh, that's great. It's a pity you're going back to Stormwind like this. You're a celebrity now, everyone knows about Detective Jorgen, the one who exposed Silversnap's arena conspiracy, but no one has seen your face. If those admirers knew that you, in person, were here getting your bandages changed by me, they would break down the door. But it's terrifying that Silversnap actually had someone poison Vossuva before the match. Although I wish he were dead, it's quite an embarrassing way to die."

"It seems even such details have already leaked out."

"This is Booty Bay after all."

"True." Jorgen nodded. "But there are some things I'd prefer not to be known."

"Like what, Jorgen, my brother?"

"For example... that it was you who killed Vossuva."

Tusha wiped his forceps and placed them back on the tray. He chuckled nervously, scratched his neck, and said, "Let's not make the atmosphere so tense, Jorgen, my brother. Take your hand off the hilt of the dagger."

"I don't feel safe doing that."

"No, you are very, very safe, Jorgen, my brother. You're in Miss Glocara's White House, where everyone comes seeking a sense of security, whether they're alive or dead. Look, both my hands are empty. I'm raising them up. To show my sincerity, I'll ask a question too: How did you find out?"

Now there was an opportunity to reveal the truth, even if it was only in front of the killer. Jorgen felt it was worthwhile. It wasn't a mission, nor was it necessary in any way. But he knew he had to do it.

"Vossuva borrowed 500 gold coins from Idori and placed them in the gambling game. When the truth came out, Binksirok ordered his men to assassinate Vossuva before the match. I believe that's the story that's been circulating."

"Everyone thinks that story is perfect, Jorgen, my brother."

"It is perfect," Jorgen said, "except that it's not true."

"Oh? Isn't that the result of your investigation?"

"The result of my investigation is this: Vossuva did have a conversation with Idori, but Idori refused to hand over the 500 gold coins. From there, all the subsequent conclusions in the story are nonexistent."

What does exist is that Keener and the others were indeed bribed to place bets against themselves with 300 gold coins. So that night, when the topic was brought up, Jorgen allowed him to speak. Vossuva's name wasn't on the betting slip that Banje had given him. To provoke Brago, he fabricated the other half of the story.

"So, does the wound on the back of Vossuva's neck, indicating that someone injected him with poison through the keyhole, exist?"

"The wound does exist, but nobody injected him with poison through the keyhole. There are two reasons: First, the true shape of the wound, and second, there's no lock on the door of Vossuva's dressing room. It's only wrapped with an iron chain handle—I used those to kill a goblin once, so I know it very well."

Jorgen had also examined Brago's dressing room, and there was a heavy lock on the door. Otherwise, that statement wouldn't have fooled him.

"So far, I haven't heard anything related to me, Jorgen, my brother."

"You yourself mentioned that you were the first doctor to run to Vossuva's side after he collapsed, confirming that his heart had stopped beating. But no one knows the exact time of his cardiac arrest. What I know is that the wound on Vossuva's neck is not on the back but on the left side. It's not a single puncture wound caused by a poison needle, but two parallel wounds spaced less than a centimeter apart from each other—that reminds me of the forceps you always carry with you. I'm sure you had them with you on the day of the finals too, right? Vossuva collapsed because of the effects of the 'dinner' and Brago's attack, but it was you who ultimately ended his life."

Tusha laughed again, leaning his body backward. "I know why you're so nervous, Jorgen, my brother. Don't worry, the forceps I used to administer your medication went through several sterilization procedures! They are really handy, and it's quite easy to add a few drops of poison to them. But piercing the skin with them is not something everyone can do; I've practiced it for a long time."

"You're confessing."

"That's right, I did it. The thing in my hand wasn't a knife or a poison needle, but forceps. They just happened to come into contact with the poison bottle I had in my pocket. The other doctors at the scene also saw me holding that thing, but who would suspect a doctor holding forceps?"

"Usually, to accuse a culprit, I have to state their motive. But perhaps it's unnecessary in your case. It's not often I encounter someone as bold and candid as you, someone who suspects themselves."

"Bold and candid? Is that so?"

"You mentioned that Vossuva was a traitor within your community. I don't think I need to repeat that."

"Ah, a traitor..." Tusha lifted his head, seeming to ponder for a moment before saying, "Jorgen, my brother, who do you think I killed?"

"Be clear about what you mean."

"The person I killed has no name. Furthermore, he wasn't a traitor, at most a deceiver. And the true traitor, Vossuva, is alive and well, talking to you."

The troll looked at Jorgen, his eyes filled with an elusive amusement.

"But please don't use that dirty name to refer to me," he added, "call me Tusha. That was the case in the past, it is now, and it will be in the future. After living in seclusion for so many years, having someone impersonate you is quite unsettling. I am the traitor of our community, while he wants to exploit the reputation I despise. Unfortunately for him, he chose the wrong place to reveal himself, unaware that the real Vossuva is in the same city. Binkshurk arranged tight security for that guy, and I don't want to startle the snake prematurely. Besides, isn't it more interesting to let him die in front of tens of thousands of people in the arena? And with so many witnesses, I believe the identity of 'Vossuva' will die forever. It suits me just fine."

"But... you and the deceased troll don't look that similar."

"Who said that impersonating someone requires a resemblance in appearance? Jorgen, my brother, I disappeared ten years ago. I could yawn just hearing about the so-called 'legend.' That nameless deceiver, with his reputation, goblin support, and a bit of skill, along with the fixed matches—he didn't need to resemble me physically to impersonate me. In this lawless place, only what is passed on by word of mouth is considered the truth. However, he did sacrifice half of his right teeth to imitate me. 'Vossuva with the broken tooth'... I shudder just hearing people talk about it. As for Brago, he never got a clear look at my face ten years ago. And even if he did, do you think he could remember anything besides that broken tooth after ten years?"

"Your right teeth are intact. I've never heard of troll teeth growing like that."

"Is this what you're referring to?" Tusha tapped his shiny, smooth right tooth. "Jorgen, my brother, your mind seems to be struggling. How does Glocara survive? By using usable parts of corpses to make blankets, utensils, cosmetics, and of course, dentures. I specifically mentioned to you before that if a troll's teeth are damaged, it's a very troublesome matter. It seems you didn't remember at all."

Jorgen carefully observed Tusha, aware that he was also being observed. He had accused all kinds of criminals: the timid, the cowardly, the shocked, the angry, the defiant—but the troll before him didn't belong to any of those categories. Tusha didn't care about being exposed. That was because he possessed something far beyond Jorgen's understanding.

"But... why did you choose to live in seclusion here?"

"Believe what you want, Jorgen, but don't think Glocara would conspire with me to do something bad. I would get angry, very, very angry if that were the case." Tusha pondered for a moment before continuing, "This seclusion, though, forced me to recall some things I wanted to forget. However, because you protected Glocara in the past, I'll tell you."

Tusha began his account.

"Our community lived in a secluded valley at the foot of Mount Highgar, with hardly any visitors and almost no wars. The population always fluctuated between two hundred and three hundred. As the successor to the Shaman-Priest of the Spirit Elixir, I was supposed to serve my fellow beings dutifully. But I didn't enjoy that sense of confinement. The community was stagnating day by day, and I didn't want my homeland to remain unchanged forever. So, I escaped from there, taking with me the recipe for the Spirit Elixir, which was the greatest representation of our community, hoping to make the outside world more aware of us. At that time, I thought that even if I was seen as a traitor, it would be worth it."

The prideful elixir that was cherished by the community turned into the "dinner," unexpectedly dealing a significant blow to Tusha.

"Unfortunately, our elixir is only suitable for use within our community. Any other race, even trolls from different tribes, would experience side effects if they inhaled it. The ones who completely transformed it into the 'dinner' were not me, but some of the testers. They added a large amount of deadly grass... and removed some purer components, baking it at high temperatures. You know, declaring oneself as the inventor of a new emerging drug would undoubtedly attract excessive attention, even danger. So, they all claimed it was something I brought. I don't feel falsely accused because I am the source of contamination for the great elixir passed down by our ancestors. That was the most painful moment of my life, Jorgen, my brother."

To cleanse himself of his sins, Tusha began to travel around, searching for the original recipe that could truly improve the elixir and make it acceptable to all races. It was during this time that he saved Brego. After a long period of fruitless searching, he had almost lost hope until he eventually arrived at the Hidden Booty Bay.

"I discovered that this place has the highest number of 'dinner' users in the world, and their reactions to the drug vary, which opened my eyes. It made me realize that my previous method of searching for materials in the wilderness was incorrect. I needed a sufficient number of samples to thoroughly study the original recipe and the effects of the 'dinner' on different races before I could truly begin the improvement work. So, I stayed here, helping Miss Glocara manage the poisoned 'dinner' users, observing and recording their reactions. Two years ago, I heard that my tribe had almost been wiped out, likely because I took away the original recipe... but I couldn't stop my work. There was no turning back. Even if the bloodline of our tribe is extinguished, as long as the original recipe is accepted, we will still be alive because it carries our souls. I've always considered this work as an act of redemption, but once it's completed, perhaps I'll see it as a secret honor and be proud of it. Jorgen, my brother, will you arrest me?"

"I can't find a reason to arrest you."

"That's good to hear. However, there's one thing I'd like to ask of you."

"What is it?"

"Please, don't reveal my identity to Brego. Dealing with an orc who always sees honor in fighting... that would be troublesome."

"'Deal with'? What does that mean?"

"My former identity is dead. If Brego were to find out, do you think he would be able to keep it a secret? Moreover, he would definitely seek me out, the true savior, for a duel, a fight to the death. And I can't afford to die. Of course, if you don't keep it confidential... our friendship would come to an end as well. Trust me, as long as I'm willing, you won't be able to step beyond this door. And don't tell Miss Glocara either."

With that, Tusha burst into a hoarse laughter. While he told his story, Jorgen saw a moment of hesitant contemplation in his eyes, like the last flicker of a candle before it goes out. This elusive troll had his own way of surviving.

Whether Brego initially knew that his "Vossuva" was an impostor or not, Jorgen could no longer verify. But regardless, the outcome remained the same. Just as Tusha said, in a place like this, only things passed on by word of mouth become facts. The rumor Jorgen had Rivigaz spread, "Brego assassinated Vossuva," had also become a fact. There was no third person who overheard his conversation with Tusha. It didn't exist.

Jorgen had to admit that Brego was a genius. He didn't just manipulate specific individuals, but their reputation as well. Regardless of whether Brego or the "Vossuva" emerged as the ultimate winner, it would bring him fame in different ways. Before the final match, he didn't abandon the impostor; he simply delegated the outcome to the abilities of the two contestants to save on operational costs. Jorgen believed that regardless of which participant's heart stopped beating, Brego would cheer with delight. Although Brego's victory would result in financial loss for him, he considered it worthwhile, as it would make his choice appear more genuine and credible.

The common characteristic of all impostors was their vanity and their desire for effortless gains. However, relying on deceitful means to gain excessive benefits, they would mistakenly believe they possessed true power. With Brego's assistance, the easy victories in each match deluded the impostor into thinking they could always win effortlessly. Tusha's initial statement, "Vossuva died a plain and ordinary death," was partially correct. A venomous creature who mistakenly believed they could still easily triumph, consumed an excessive amount of the "dinner," and then fell to the ground, only to have Tusha end their life.

Indeed, Silversnap's plan was almost successful, but the flaw lay in his underestimation of Brego himself. Who could have anticipated that the person most yearning for victory would become the most doubtful of it? Without the orc's commission, it would never have begun.

In Booty Bay, life would continue as usual.

As Jorgen entered the room, he saw Glocara sitting by the window, smoking. The absence of a corpse in the center of the room made it suddenly feel much emptier.

"Jorgen, you're alone? Elin didn't come with you?" Glocara asked.

"No, he didn't."

"That's good. I don't want to see him anymore."

"You said the same to me."

"I have the freedom to say whatever I want, to whomever I want. Unfortunately, you're not someone who listens to others. Did Tusha change your medicine for you?"

"Yes, he did. Should I pay him for his services?"

"He prepared everything very carefully before you arrived. It seems like you two get along well. Do you want to hire him?"

"He's too valuable. I can't afford to hire him," Jorgen replied.

"What do you mean? Is this a joke?" Glocara asked.

"No, it's not. Forget I mentioned it," Jorgen quickly replied.

Glocara nodded subtly and turned her face towards the window. She set down her smoking pipe and placed the palm of her right hand on her forehead.

"Jorgen, I'm ready," she said.

"What do you mean?" Jorgen asked.

"Tell me... how did Idoli die? He was a lost cause from the start, but he was still my brother... When he was two years old, I carried him on my back while I went to work, and that ungrateful little brat would pull my sister's hair. At the age of eight, he learned to steal things from our home, but thankfully, I always caught him. When he was thirteen, I taught him the skill of handling corpses, and he ran away from home, saying he'd rather die in a pile of gold than return to the lower levels of Booty Bay. They're all terrible memories. But I need to know, Jorgen. Did he leave anything behind...?"

It had been a long time since Jorgen felt that a sentence would be so difficult to utter.

"...There's nothing. He stepped on a velociraptor's eggs, which attracted..."

Glocara suddenly turned her head, sweeping the smoking pipe from the windowsill with her left hand and onto the floor.

"Don't make me throw you out, Jorgen. Tell me the truth," she demanded.

"This is the truth. I followed him into the rainforest... and that's what happened," Jorgen replied.

Glocara shook her head. "No, it's not possible. He wouldn't be taken by a velociraptor... absolutely impossible. You're lying to me."

"I swear, it's the truth. Why would I lie to you?"

"Swear? What do you have to swear with? You appeared here, hiding your identity, meddling in people's lives and orchestrating things behind the scenes, and somehow you became a famous detective who exposed the conspiracy of Benkurik. What could possibly make your words trustworthy?"

"Glocara, if you want the whole story, I can tell you. But at least on this matter, you must believe me."

"Idoli was as familiar with velociraptors as he was with his own fingers. He loved recklessly running into the rainforest since he was a child, knowing everything about what velociraptors liked, what they did, and where they laid their eggs. He even wanted to bring one home as a pet. Jorgen, my brother could smell the scent of a velociraptor nest from fifty meters away! And now you're telling me that he was..."

She stopped talking, as if she had suddenly choked, and then she raised a tin cup from beside her and hurled it at Jorgen. Her arm swung with force, but the cup didn't go far and landed at Jorgen's feet. She looked around for something else to use but couldn't find anything apart from medical tools. She let out a low groan, picked up the smoking pipe, and quickly walked back into the inner room, slamming the door shut. Two loud thuds came from inside, as if she was pounding her shoulder or back against the door.

Jorgen couldn't remember how he had walked out of the white room. The sunlight was somewhat blinding. He covered his eyelids with his right hand and stood there for a while. He couldn't calm down.

Idoli's last words echoed in his mind: "I've had enough. I don't want to run anymore. But I won't go back to the prison, not even for a minute."

From Glocara's words earlier, Jorgen found the missing second half of that statement.

"I would rather die in a pile of gold coins."

That afternoon, Jorgen borrowed a few goblin guards from Livigaz and drove away the velociraptors near Idoli's place of death. He dug up five hundred gold coins from under that tree. Jorgen speculated that Idoli had buried them there before the velociraptors laid their eggs. Idoli had found a perfect way to hide his loot.

He held the bag of gold coins in his hand. It was heavy with just one hand, but with two hands, it became much lighter. When Brego held seven hundred gold coins in his hand, it must have been quite heavy. And when he scattered the coins, it became lighter.

Jorgen recalled Tusha's words: "A bit of secret glory." Perhaps everyone had their own secret glory. It remained hidden deep in their hearts, unknown to others, but irreplaceable to the one who possessed it. For Brego, it was surpassing his benefactor. For the impostor, it was the desire to replace reality. For Livigaz, it was silently waiting for an opportunity to reclaim wealth. And for Idoli, it was the ability to die in a pile of gold coins.

Jorgen didn't know if he had already acquired it.

Having dealt with Brego and retrieved the five hundred gold coins, can that be considered glory?

With doubts about himself, Jorgen returned to the white house once again and handed over all the gold coins to Tusha, saying, "When you think it's appropriate, hand them over to Glocara. Tell her... that Idoli had placed them with you and asked you to wait until the storm settled before giving them to her."

"Jorgen, my brother, this lie is terrible, and you're pushing the responsibility onto me. Let me come up with a more reasonable explanation that won't mention your name, alright?"

"Suit yourself."

"To be honest, there's no harm in telling the truth. Miss Glocara will be grateful to you."

"Will she?"

"Oh, even though you might still get slapped, she will be grateful in her heart. I know this, and you know it too."

"But the price is still too high."

You're right, Glocara. I have nothing to swear upon. But even if I did, I couldn't compensate for all the unhappiness I've brought you. However, these five hundred gold coins are the only thing I can do. At least I can do that much.

Before leaving, Jorgen stood at the exit of Booty Bay, overlooking the city that seemed on the verge of collapse yet indestructible. Another large ship was docked at the pier, and people of various races were coming and going on the gangway. This scene would continue because paradise would never have its final day. It would always breathe with vibrant humans and wandering ghosts.