The mid-morning sunlight spilled through the door of Morn's tavern as James and Danny entered. Morn, busy cleaning tables and floors, looked up and greeted them with a warm smile.
"Good morning, gentlemen. Settling into town, I hope?" Morn inquired as he wiped down a table.
James nodded, "Yes, thanks to your recommendation. We appreciate the hospitality."
Morn leaned on his broom, curiosity in his eyes. "What brings you here today? The tavern isn't open yet, as you can see."
James hesitated for a moment before responding, "We're looking for information about the recent death of a young girl. We were hoping you might have some insights."
Morn furrowed his brow, setting the broom aside. "Ah, that unfortunate incident. It was two nights ago when Gunther, the girl's father, burst into the tavern. He was in a state of panic, saying he found his daughter dead in the street. He mentioned something about masked figures taking her from him."
Danny chimed in, "Did he provide any more details? Why would someone target his daughter?"
Morn sighed, his expression clouding with uncertainty. "Gunther owed money to someone, that much I know. As for the details, he was too distraught to explain further. Maybe you can find out more from him directly."
"Thank you, Morn. We appreciate your help," James said, conveying gratitude.
As they left the tavern, James and Danny debated their next move. "Should we talk to Gunther ?" Danny asked.
James considered for a moment, "Let's go have a meet him"
heavy with the weight of the task before them. As the door creaked open, a weary voice asked for their identity.
"I'm James, and this is Danny. We're strangers in town, but we want to help. We heard about your daughter," James explained.
Gunther eyed them cautiously, suspicion etched in the lines of his grief-stricken face. After a moment of scrutiny, he reluctantly accepted their story and ushered them into his home.
Once inside, James took in the surroundings. Gunther, a man in his 50s with a face marked by grief, led them to a small sitting area. The room felt heavy with the palpable sorrow of a father who had lost his child.
"Please, have a seat. How can I help you?" Gunther's voice cracked with emotion as he gestured toward the chairs.
Taking a deep breath, James spoke gently, "We heard about your daughter, and we want to find out what happened. We're here to help, Gunther. Can you tell us what you know about that night?"
Gunther's eyes welled with tears, and he took a moment to compose himself. "It was two nights ago. I was coming back home from the tavern, and found masked men dragging her out. I spent the next hour looking all over town for her until I saw her, where she rests now"
Danny, sensing the pain in Gunther's words, spoke softly, "Did you see who did it? Any clues at all?"
Gunther shook his head, a deep sadness in his eyes. "No, it was dark. I couldn't see their faces. They wore masks and took her from me. I tried to fight, but they overpowered me."
James, empathetic to the man's grief, continued, "Did your daughter owe anyone money, or do you have any idea why she might have been targeted?"
Gunther's face contorted with sorrow. "She owed some money, yes. We've been struggling, and I've been trying to make ends meet. I don't know who would do this to her."
As the conversation unfolded, the weight of the tragedy settled in the room. James and Danny listened intently, knowing that the key to solving this mystery lay in the details Gunther could provide. In their quest for justice, they found themselves navigating the intricate web of a grieving father's heartache and the shadowy circumstances surrounding his daughter's untimely death.
James then took a deep breath before asking, "Gunther, do you mind if we have a look around the apartment? Maybe there's something that can give us a clue."
Gunther, still visibly distraught, nodded, "Feel free. Look as long as you need. If it helps find who did this to my daughter, I want to know."
James and Danny began to carefully inspect the apartment, searching for any signs or clues that might shed light on the mysterious events of that fateful night. As they combed through the rooms, their eyes scrutinized every corner, every piece of furniture, seeking something that could lead them closer to the truth.
After an extensive search, as they were about to leave, Danny's sharp eyes caught a few links of chainmail scattered on the floor. James picked them up, examining them closely. The links seemed to have been dislodged during a struggle, hinting at a possible altercation.
"Gunther," James inquired, "do you own any chainmail?"
Gunther looked puzzled. "Chainmail? No, I can't think of any villagers who even own a set. Why do you ask?"
James shared his findings with Gunther, "We found these links on the floor. It seems like there might have been a struggle. Maybe someone wore chainmail during the attack. We should check with Horst, the town's blacksmith. He might know if someone around here has such armor."
Gunther, now more intrigued, nodded in agreement, "Horst might be able to help. He knows everyone's business in this town. Please, find out who did this to my daughter."
Danny thanked Gunther for his cooperation and offered condolences once again. As they left the house, the weight of the investigation hung heavy on their shoulders. The glint of chainmail links in James's hand hinted at a potential lead, and with determination in their hearts, they set out to seek answers from Horst, the town's blacksmith.
As James and Danny left Gunther's house, the weight of the investigation pressed upon them. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. With the links of chainmail in hand, they made their way to Horst's house, seeking answers that might unravel the mystery surrounding the young girl's death.
Arriving at Horst's dwelling, they found the smith busy at work, hammering away at a red-hot piece of metal. The rhythmic clang echoed in the air as James approached.
"Horst, we need your help. We found these links of chainmail at Gunther's place. Do you know if anyone in town owns a set of chainmail?" James inquired.
Horst paused his work, wiping sweat from his brow. He squinted at the links in James's hand before shaking his head. "Chainmail? Ain't no one in this town wearing something like that. That's a bit odd, ain't it?"
James nodded, the puzzle pieces slowly coming together. "It is. We need to figure out where these came from and why they were at the scene. Any ideas?"
Horst leaned on his anvil, deep in thought. "Well, I'm the only one who works with metal around here. If it's chainmail, it's likely mine. But I haven't lost any recently."
Danny chimed in, "Could it have been stolen from your shop? Maybe someone took it for malicious purposes."
Horst's eyes narrowed in concern. "I keep my shop locked up tight, and I haven't noticed anything missing. But let me check to be sure."
The three of them made their way to Horst's blacksmith shop, where he meticulously inspected his inventory. After a thorough examination, Horst confirmed, "No missing chainmail. Everything is where it should be."
James furrowed his brow, deep in thought. "This is getting more complicated. We need to find out where this chainmail came from and who it belongs to. Any other ideas, Horst?"
Horst's eyes widened in shock as he processed the implications of the discovered chainmail. The realization hit him, and he turned to James and Danny with a stern expression.
"There's only one explanation for this. The chainmail you found must belong to the soldiers that arrived in town recently," Horst declared, a mix of anger and concern in his voice.
Without wasting any time, Horst called for Elaine, instructing her to send private letters to the townsfolk. "Tell them to meet at the special spot in the forest when the moon reaches its peak tonight," he directed. Elaine nodded in understanding and quickly set to the task.
Turning back to James and Danny, Horst expressed his gratitude, "Thank you for looking into this. Your group is welcome to stay at my house for as long as you need. We'll continue tending to David."
James nodded appreciatively, "Thank you, Horst. We appreciate your hospitality."
Horst, now focused on the upcoming meeting, looked at James and Danny with a serious gaze. "I need you two to attend the meeting tonight. The townsfolk can trust you now. Present your findings and let them know what's happening. We need everyone on the same page."
Danny and James exchanged glances, silently agreeing to take on this responsibility. "We'll be there," James affirmed.
As the day wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows over the medieval town, the weight of the impending meeting hung in the air. James and Danny prepared themselves for what lay ahead, knowing that the revelations about the soldiers could reshape the fate of the entire community.