persisted. He walked slowly, limping, inching his way back toward his newly birthed future.
CHAPTER 7
A rmin Wan’der Markssin believed he was one of the more talented people in the world. Not surprisingly, he had felt honored and challenged by the letter he had received one day, signed by the posh and nob of the Caytorean society, asking him to investigate a series of mysterious murders of power figures in Eybalen, their capital. He had instantly accepted the commission from the High Council of Trade and sailed forth from his homeland of Sirtai, bringing along his three wives and seven children and his priceless knowledge as an investigator.
He had spent his first week in the big city as a tourist, learning the environment, the people, the political currents. Then, the day after, he had left his wives and children in the rented mansion and reported for duty before the guild masters of Eybalen.
They had eyed him like some rare species of wildlife, not quite sure what forensics or analytics were, but took him for his word. As the founder of the Academy for Criminal Reasoning in Tuba Tuba in Sirtai, his fame preceded him. He was known as the man who left no crime unsolved. Whenever powerful and rich people needed help in solving difficult legal problems, they turned to Armin for help. They were convinced he would produce a long list of facts and artifacts he called evidence, which would overwhelmingly prove someone’s guilt and bring a peaceful and just end to their conflicts of interests.
Sirtai society had changed because of him. No longer were murders or blackmail conducted in blatant and careless ways as before. Whenever rich men contracted an assassin to dispose of one of their rivals, they made sure the crime could not be traced back to them. Because Armin could and would find the guilty party and expose them to the world.
Even though he was their greatest menace, he was also their greatest ally, a token of stability and balance, a pillar. They counted on him to protect them as much as they feared him and his devilish ways of ferreting out the truth.
The transition had been almost instant. One day, the academy had been merely a very expensive school for eccentric scholars. The next, it was a stable, breeding some of the best investigators in the world, cherished by the rich like jewelry.
In order to survive both as a person and an idea, he had fought tooth and nail to keep the academy neutral. Luckily, he was a rich man himself, and his own capital and influence allowed him to stay afloat in the turbulent waters of Sirtai politics. Huge wealth, amassed in many a successful endeavor by his colleagues and himself, had helped him expand his services, recruit more investigators, and even establish a sort of an independent police that protected the academy.
Today, Sirtai was a civilized society. Political murder had replaced physical murder. While rich people would always dread ostracization and bankruptcy, they could now almost be sure to stay alive even if their rivals stripped them of their last shred of honor and money. As a backlash, the new reality had also bred some of the most cunning criminal minds and most spectacular crimes, but these only served as inspiration for Armin Wan’der Markssin.
In Eybalen, they had armed him with letters of recommendation to ensure cooperation by various circles of the city’s officials, and a fair sum of gold to grease the axles of a rusty society.
His first target for today was the House of the City Watch. Customarily, dead people were a private matter of concerned families. In the streets, beggars and thieves made sure the bodies vanished before they started to stink. But sometimes, when murder struck, and the victim was a person of some notice, the City Watch took it upon themselves to mark the crime in their ledgers and round the usual suspects.
Armin hoped he did not look too much out of place wearing a simple linen robe that was the traditional garb in Sirtai.
CHAPTER 7
A rmin Wan’der Markssin believed he was one of the more talented people in the world. Not surprisingly, he had felt honored and challenged by the letter he had received one day, signed by the posh and nob of the Caytorean society, asking him to investigate a series of mysterious murders of power figures in Eybalen, their capital. He had instantly accepted the commission from the High Council of Trade and sailed forth from his homeland of Sirtai, bringing along his three wives and seven children and his priceless knowledge as an investigator.
He had spent his first week in the big city as a tourist, learning the environment, the people, the political currents. Then, the day after, he had left his wives and children in the rented mansion and reported for duty before the guild masters of Eybalen.
They had eyed him like some rare species of wildlife, not quite sure what forensics or analytics were, but took him for his word. As the founder of the Academy for Criminal Reasoning in Tuba Tuba in Sirtai, his fame preceded him. He was known as the man who left no crime unsolved. Whenever powerful and rich people needed help in solving difficult legal problems, they turned to Armin for help. They were convinced he would produce a long list of facts and artifacts he called evidence, which would overwhelmingly prove someone’s guilt and bring a peaceful and just end to their conflicts of interests.
Sirtai society had changed because of him. No longer were murders or blackmail conducted in blatant and careless ways as before. Whenever rich men contracted an assassin to dispose of one of their rivals, they made sure the crime could not be traced back to them. Because Armin could and would find the guilty party and expose them to the world.
Even though he was their greatest menace, he was also their greatest ally, a token of stability and balance, a pillar. They counted on him to protect them as much as they feared him and his devilish ways of ferreting out the truth.
The transition had been almost instant. One day, the academy had been merely a very expensive school for eccentric scholars. The next, it was a stable, breeding some of the best investigators in the world, cherished by the rich like jewelry.
In order to survive both as a person and an idea, he had fought tooth and nail to keep the academy neutral. Luckily, he was a rich man himself, and his own capital and influence allowed him to stay afloat in the turbulent waters of Sirtai politics. Huge wealth, amassed in many a successful endeavor by his colleagues and himself, had helped him expand his services, recruit more investigators, and even establish a sort of an independent police that protected the academy.
Today, Sirtai was a civilized society. Political murder had replaced physical murder. While rich people would always dread ostracization and bankruptcy, they could now almost be sure to stay alive even if their rivals stripped them of their last shred of honor and money. As a backlash, the new reality had also bred some of the most cunning criminal minds and most spectacular crimes, but these only served as inspiration for Armin Wan’der Markssin.
In Eybalen, they had armed him with letters of recommendation to ensure cooperation by various circles of the city’s officials, and a fair sum of gold to grease the axles of a rusty society.
His first target for today was the House of the City Watch. Customarily, dead people were a private matter of concerned families. In the streets, beggars and thieves made sure the bodies vanished before they started to stink. But sometimes, when murder struck, and the victim was a person of some notice, the City Watch took it upon themselves to mark the crime in their ledgers and round the usual suspects.
Armin hoped he did not look too much out of place wearing a simple linen robe that was the traditional garb in Sirtai.
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