Marshall Law: The Cherny

[Cherny]

The boy shook his head at those questions, and took a moment to think, gnawing uncertainly on his thumbnail. After a moment he sidled past the Constable to pull one of the kitchen chairs from under the table, his movements nervous, agitated; taking a seat, he mimed spooning food from a bowl into his mouth, poorly feigning an air of blithe unconcern. Standing again, he retreated to a few paces behind the chair, crouching furtively.

What followed was a brief one-two-three: stepping quickly forward, he grabbed at the air where his head had been when he was sitting; pulling back, his other hand moved across the space previously occupied by his throat; finally, the imaginary blade lifted and descended to stab into what would have been his chest.

The Marshall, sitting and eating, taken by surprise, attacked from behind and murdered in a span of seconds with little chance to defend herself; her last moments re-enacted in a gruesome little pantomime.

[Glenn]

"Hnn." Another sip from the flask. Another long inhale. THAT was interesting. Jirai was a lot of things, but professional, that wasn't one of them. How much enjoyment would she get out of a murder like that, one where the victim wasn't even aware of it. What FUN was that, even if it was the Marshall. "Well, I guess that'll turn you off soup for a while." No barking, wheezing laugh. Just a matter-of-fact expression as he looked the boy over.

"Description of the murderer? How tall? How short? How shapely? No flashes of skin at all under what he or she was wearing?" A number of questions but that was so very necessary. He needed to get at least one good answer out of young master Cherny here. "And nothing at all was said? No gloating? No threatening of you? Nothing like that?"

[Cherny]

It had been fast; fast, and ruthlessly efficient. He'd encountered Jirai, yes, had suffered her attention and found her playfully cruel, entirely too fond of the fear her blade could instill. The Marshall's murder had been something else entirely.

Description... description. Height, he could only shrug a vague guess; a moment to recall how the murderer had appeared behind the armchair, then mentally comparing that to his own height; eventually he waved his hand a span or so above his own head. Taller than him, not as tall as Lentham. The question about her skin had him nodding, and he stepped to the hearth to dab soot from the bricks and show the Constable. His other hand gestured to his face, his arms, his legs, his midriff; he touched the cheap leather of his shoe before his fingers sketched thin bands across chest and loins.

He could only shake his head at the question of what was said; no, no gloating, no threatening. Nothing. Well. One thing. A touch to his chest - I - to his lips, moving as if forming words, fingers flicking the words out before him - speak - pointing to the Constable - you - to his chest again - I - and two fingers pointing to his eyes once more - see.

[Glenn]

Could be Jirai. Could not. That wasn't much to go on, but the boy was trying and that was appreciated. First a little, then after that last bit a lot. "Brave lad." Those didn't last long in Myrken. Lentham just shook his head. He had it clear, real clear, from what the boy head. Wasn't much more to say. Leather straps. Black skin. Cruel. Looked like a drow. Acted like a drow. Probably was a drow. That deserved a sip.

"Too brave, likely. Won't put you at more risk. There anything else I should know?" Cherny there had all of his attention now. Wasn't a demon. Made everything so much easier. Meant he could focus on his job for a change.

[Cherny]

There was an attempt at a smile in response to the Constable calling him brave, but not a very good one, coming across as forced and wan. He didn't feel brave. He felt frightened, had done since the murder, a constant background nervousness that followed him through the days and nights.

Anything else. Anything to bring to the attention of a Constable. He had to think about it, searching for any other piece of information of use; eventually, though, he could only shake his head and shrug. That's it. A glance for the door made it clear that he was quite ready to leave.

[Glenn]

Boy was brave. Others wouldn't have tried to help. Maybe he was afraid of Lentham too. That was fine. In Myrken, being afraid of two things equally made it all even out. Lovely place. Home. "I'll keep your name out of it as I move on with this, lad." Best he could offer. Somehow the miller didn't seem the sort to want a Constable hanging about to guard one scamp. "I'll have a quick talk with your master too. Let him know that you might be at risk. See if that helps. Can't hurt, right?"

[Waldemar]

The boy nodded at that promise of anonymity, for what good it'd do; the murderer had seen him, knew that he'd seen her, so from that point of view he was already in trouble.

In any case he took that as indication that the interview was over, and that he had permission to leave. He had work to get back to, after all, so he turned with a quick duck of his head in farewell, hurrying to open the door and head out into the main part of the mill, and the din of industry drifted in; the wheels still creaked and turned, the stones still ground and grumbled in their tun.

Waldemar was near where the detective had left him, in the middle of directing the older boy as he hauled a newly-filled sack of flour over to wait with others for collection. The miller glanced up as the kitchen door opened, a keen look for the faces of both Cherny and Lentham, perhaps trying to divine what kind of luck the Constable had enjoyed.

[Glenn]

"hn." There was a temptation to accidentally spill some of the the flask upon the miller, just to see if he was one of Them, but he couldn't do that to everyone he encountered. The boy was alright. That'd have to be enough for now. Still, didn't mean he wanted to linger overmuch. Best to just get this over with. "Boy saw a murder. Murderer saw the boy. Could be a drow. Means that he could be a target at some point. Trust you'll keep an extra close eye on him just to be safe?" Only reasonable. The boy was an employee, one who had been doing SOMETHING vital before, thus needing to be replaced. Also, he seemed to have a decent enough head on his shoulder. Knew when to be properly terrified. No reason not to use just a bit of effort to keep him hale and healthy and with his head firmly attached to his shoulders, no?

[Waldemar]

Cherny had wasted no time in hurrying back upstairs, presumably to return to his tasks. The miller nodded slowly, though there was also a flicker of surprise that the detective had been able to get that much information out of the boy; perhaps the man wasn't as much of a drink-sodden wreck as he'd presumed.

"I'll not be running around nurse-maiding him." He'd likely not be running round in any capacity, given his reliance on that walking stick; even had he the ability he's a busy man with a business to run. Still, it wouldn't do to come across as too uncaring. "I'll keep an eye on him while he's near the mill. We're safe enough here." Certainty on that point, whatever he meant by it. In any event he was already turning back to the flour chute, once more monitoring the quality of the meal.

"I'll not take up any more of your time, Constable. Kotek." The one-eyed youth looked over, sullenly awaiting his master's bidding. "See the gentleman to the door."

[Glenn]

Of course Kurt Lentham was a drink-sodden wreck. More than that, he was a paranoid drink-sodden wreck, but he was one with years of experience and that made him fairly good at what he did, whatever that was. Here it was getting information out of Cherny; some of it had even been useful. Now though, he'd stare at the miller. Fairly eager to have him go. Could be he just wanted to get back to business as usual though. Could be that he was a hellspawn demon in disguise. "Hn." Still, there was other work to do and Lentham would just take a sip and shake his head.

"Iffin you think of anyone with good reason to ransack your mill, have word sent to me through the Constabulary." Waldemar did not seem particularly eager to pursue this further. Lentham was a bit suspicious about all of it. Nothing taken. No major reasons for disruption, but he had bigger business to deal with. "Likewise if the boy remembers anything else. Our thanks for your cooperation, then." A little, curt nod. "Good day." And there was Kotek to lead him off. He'd grumble to the youth as they went towards the door. "Strange man. Strange place, huh?"

[Waldemar]

The miller offered only a distracted nod, already well on the way to dismissing the detective from his mind entirely. The Constabulary would conduct their investigations, and if they found anything then it was good. If not... the miller had his own preparations. It was all taken care of.

Lentham's remark received a flat one-eyed stare and, eventually, a disinterested shrug from the red-haired youth; he'd been told to see him to the door, not engage in conversation about his employer.

The door closed firmly behind the Constable, and the mill's wheels rolled on.