Durin's Diary

Chapter 71 Fisher Gregory I
Fisher Gregory smoked a cigarette, and the old secret police chief looked at the body in front of the sink through the door. It was a young man named Harold Nash, whose head had been pierced by a pencil.

When Fisher heard the cause of death, he was even a little surprised - pencil?
Fisher could accept it if it was a dagger, an axe, or an awl, or even eleven bullets entering his body.

But how can a pencil kill someone?

Then he arrived at the scene and saw the small piece of pencil tail on the left side of the deceased's head.

"In all these years, this is the most outrageous and creative cause of death I have ever seen. The pencil was poked into the gap in the skull, and then the murderer slammed the victim's head on the sink, and the pencil hit the brain directly and killed him instantly. It was a bit painful before death, but I heard that he drank a lot before he died, so maybe he wouldn't be in so much pain." The old coroner in charge of the autopsy walked up to him, took a cigarette from the cigarette box in Fisher's hand, lit it and took a puff.

This is Fisher's old friend. He is not being sarcastic, but the profession of coroner is still too advanced for this world.

"Korkunov, where are the families of the deceased?" Fisher asked.

Just as they asked this, the two old men with gray hair heard the sound of the door being pushed open. They turned their heads together and saw the relatives of the Nash family coming.

Fisher made way for the tear-stained ladies, then shook hands with the old patriarch of the Nash family. "My condolences."

The two parties were of similar age and knew each other. Fisher's peers looked sad... It was no wonder he had two grandsons who died in a week. Some people say that bad things always happen one after another, tragic stories are always highly similar, and suffering is always rampant on the earth.

It’s not wrong, because that’s the truth.

Thinking of this, Fisher patted his shoulder, and then he heard the woman screaming. She screamed and cried, "It must be that dwarf! It must be the person he hired to kill!"

The cries eventually turned into sobs.

Fisher frowned when he heard this - when he heard that the dead person was Harold Nash, Fisher asked people to check where Tony was. The news came back that Tony was wrapped in bandages in the hospital, and he had been in a coma all day and had not seen anyone.

Therefore, it is impossible for him to have committed the crime. The fact is that any old gunman understands that after being shot five times and almost fatally, Tony has not been able to sit up in the past two days. It is a pity that he can wake up twice a day. The most likely possibility is that he is already dead and is now waiting in line at the crematorium to be put into the incinerator.

The weather in Copenhagen is so cold that you can even leave it outdoors without having to put it in the freezer.

As for Du Lin, that was even more impossible. Judging from the situation at the scene, even if Du Lin was here, he could not be the murderer - the pencil was inserted from the gap on the side of the skull, and the insertion angle was slightly downward and upward. It is known that Harold is 1.89 meters tall, and Du Lin is a little less than 1.3 meters tall. The latter needs to stand on a platform as high as 50 centimeters to be able to stab the pencil into the wound.

Otherwise there is no way to explain it.

And the thought of a little cutie standing on a 50-centimeter stepping stone, tiptoeing and using all his might to slap a big guy's head, which is no different from a honey-sweet watermelon grown in the south, on the marble of the sink like a pickled cucumber... is kind of cute, right?

So, since it was impossible that Tony and Dulin were the ones who did it, Fisher had reason to suspect that there was a third party involved.

In fact, it was not only Fisher who thought so, but also the men in the Nash family. After seeing the scene, several old men and middle-aged men in the Nash family felt that there was nothing wrong with the autopsy report.

The murderer was a human who was higher than Harold. His methods were brutal but very efficient, and his technique was impeccable. If one was not prepared for such an assassination, he would surely die if he was at the same level - not to mention that Harold drank so much alcohol before his death, and the murderer looked like an experienced assassin.

The higher-level harms the lower-level, the intentional hurts the unintentional, it would be strange if Harold didn't die - even his father said so.

The death of the child is indeed tragic, but the father also wants to find the murderer as soon as possible, and he does not want to put the murderer's hat on someone's head casually - if the other person is really not the murderer, it will bring endless malice to the family.

So the question is, who would have such a deep hatred for a child like Harold?
Tony is indeed a possibility, but he definitely cannot be the murderer now. If his family hired the killer, then where did the murderer come from?

Fisher searched his memory but couldn't find such a creative assassin.

Before today, the only impression Fisher had of assassins was that they were ruthless.

Although he knew that Dulin had also entered the Temple of the God of Vengeance, Fisher still felt that this method was not something this child would do. If Harold had been shot ten times and drowned in the toilet, then Fisher really needed to suspect Dulin.

So, who killed Harold?

When Fisher thought of this, an answer he didn't want to think about suddenly popped up.

A hundred years ago, the Nash family was the enemy of the kingdom. They were members of the commune. Later, they sided with the current emperor in the war of national restoration. Now... Thinking of this, Fisher looked at Harold who was being put into the body bag.

Is it them?

Fisher wasn't sure, but he was sure of one thing.

In the days to come, this land may be flooded with blood, and no one will be immune.

interesting.

Thinking of this, the old secret police chief took out his cigarette case again.

He wasn't prepared to reveal his guess.

why?
Simply because he doesn't like traitors.

The Nash family shed too little blood, it was not enough.

As the cigarette was bitten, Fisher took out a lighter to light it for himself, watched the woman who fainted from crying being helped out, watched her family leave, and then he followed the queue.

Lord Tommy Irvine was dead, and now Sir Harold Nash was dead too. Was the tragedy that befell the descendants of these former Commune leaders, now pillars of the kingdom, really just ordinary vendettas? Not necessarily, but who would care?

Putting aside this ridiculous thought, Fisher looked at the old friend who came in: "Carl, my old friend, you are finally here."

"That old woman in Alvin is keeping me awake. She's saying her grandson died again. If I hadn't come today, she would have driven me crazy," the old wizard said, lifting his glasses to take another look at the scene. "My arcane spectrometer detected at least twenty residual auras. How could so many people have entered the scene? What do you want me to do?"

"Let's go to the alley outside. It's well sealed and there won't be any interference." Fisher said as he led his old friend to the alley.

"This place is nice and suitable for my performance." After saying that, the old wizard raised his hand.

The technique he is using now is called Past Tracing, which can show everything that happened here in the past period of time.

However, this requires a very high level of arcane attainments, and it is difficult for ordinary mages to use it to accurately trace back to the past.

It is difficult because places like cities have too many past memories. If you are not proficient in this technique, it is likely to fail. Even if the keywords are enough to make the technique successful in tracing back, it is very likely that a different picture will appear in front of everyone.

But Fisher's old friend Carl is a legend, and he quickly completed the positioning.

The next second, what appeared in the eyes of the two old men was an old man constructed with arcane energy.

He climbed out through the window.

"A stranger, an old fellow like us, but in much better health than us. Maybe he's a half-elf." Carl looked at the figure with curiosity and motioned Fisher to follow.

The two old men followed the blue 'old man' until they reached the canal, where they watched as 'it' took the money from the wallet and burned it.

Then they noticed that the old man turned around and suddenly disappeared.

"You missed?" Fisher looked incredulous.

Carl's face was grave. He shook his head. "No, it's my spell that can no longer track the murderer. Strange, he doesn't look like the assassin of the God of Vengeance... Fisher, do you think he could be a lawbreaker from Savoy?"

In the Savoy Inquisitor sequence, there is a branch ladder called Spellbreaker. Spellbreakers specialize in fighting against spellcasters. If they are unintentional, an experienced Spellbreaker can indeed leave his consumption mark here to destroy the traceability.

"I don't know either. There's no recent record of an Inquisitor entering Copenhagen."

The two old men could only return to the starting point of the alley.

Since there was no trace of him, Fisher could only send his old friend away, and he returned to the scene once again.

Perhaps all this was just an accidental act of greed for money. After all, the young man's wallet was missing, but as an old man, Fisher knew it well - this little trick might be enough to fool others.

This must be revenge. Perhaps Harold Nash had discovered something, but he died here before he could say anything.

Perhaps the grassland elf named Fabien Iyer would rather starve himself to death in order not to expose his comrades, and ultimately chose such a painful path that would not be forgiven by the teachings of the original creator.

Perhaps this is an order issued by the new generation of Night's Watch. The new generation of field agents of the Northern Inquisition have already accepted their mission and returned here. They will begin to settle accounts with the original traitors.

I'm afraid everything will come back.

At this moment, Fisher seemed to have returned to that summer many years ago. That year, the deadly battle between humans was in full swing. There was no distinction between justice and evil, only differences in beliefs. Everyone thought he was the savior, so everyone lived like a madman.

There is no difference between the world and hell, Fisher. Our mission in this world is to change all this.

I still remember how my mentor taught me.

As a result, the mentor fell asleep early in the Cathedral of St. Dominic, sleeping under the care of the original creator.

There is no difference between the human world and hell, because no matter how beautiful the future is, it is not the future that everyone expects - not to mention that reality is not beautiful.

Fisher narrowed his eyes as he walked out of the bar. The brightly lit square made this old fish feel a little uncomfortable.

But just as he turned his head to avoid the light, he noticed someone who shouldn't be in the square at this time.

Durin Elsh, the Duke's heir, held his owl with a smile on his face and nodded slightly to Fisher.

Fisher also nodded in silence and raised his hand to lift the brim of his hat.

So in the next second, Du Lin released his eagle owl, pulled up his hood and turned to blend into the crowd.

Fisher smoked a cigarette, exhaled smoke, and the corners of his mouth gradually rose.

What does it mean that the young are to be feared?

This is.

(End of this chapter)