Putting Together the Pieces

Whatever triumph Velkric had felt from successfully taking out an entire guild of thieves was smashed to pieces upon his return to his manor.

"What do you mean another one?!" he half shouted, more out of shock than actual anger. Haldir, ever the good butler, didn't flinch.

"The Butcher has struck again. I received word not long over an hour before you arrived back here. Another young girl, Susanna, a serving girl at Candlehearth Hall. Had the unfortunate nickname of 'the wicked', though all reports indicate she was nothing but lovely." Haldir had rattled off that whole speech with not a single shift in tone. Velkric on the other hand was seeing red.

I must've passed the messenger on the way back. If I'd been quicker...

"Damn it!" Velkric slammed a fist into the wall. Ignoring Haldir's slight wince ("That stone wasn't cheap sir") he turned his back and immediately walked out the door he came in.

"Sir? Where are you going?"

"Back to Windhelm!"

"Sir, you must rest! You've just spent the night fighting thieves!"

"And I've got energy to spare! And anger!" he shot back.

"It's almost dawn! The Black Wolf doesn't walk around the streets in broad daylight!"

"But-" Velkric cut himself off, cursing. Haldir was right. He wasn't about to walk straight up to a dead body in presumably the middle of the streets looking like a nightmarish figure. "Fine. Then I'll go as Velkric."

Haldir breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you sir."

"But make no mistake," Velkric added. "The Black Wolf hunts tonight."

X-X-X-X-X

Night came slowly this time, probably due to the fact Velkric had spent all day seething. He'd made it to Windhelm quickly, pretended to be shocked by the news and offered condolences to the citizens for their loss, as well as reassurances that the Butcher would be caught soon. He'd then proceeded to come back home and sit around, pouring over notes from the previous two victims, do light exercises to keep himself warmed up and stare at Fjotli's locket, regret flooding through his mind.

"Sir, you cannot blame yourself for this. You were eliminating an entire guild of thieves, you were otherwise engaged" Haldir reasoned. In his state, Velkric didn't hear it.

"They didn't kill anyone. This bastard did" he replied simply, not looking away from the silver piece he held in his hand. "Did they at least get arrested?"

"Yes. They were brought into Windhelm not long ago. Ulfric is rather pleased by the news."

"Of course he is. A bunch of evil High Elves? It's a blessing from Talos" Velkric snarked. "No doubt this will escalate tensions."

"And prevent future crimes being committed. For goodness sake sir, you could at least pat yourself on the back a little bit" Haldir said, exasperated. Velkric ignored him.

"Susanna the Wicked, Fjotli Cruel-Sea, Friga Shatter Shield. Three young women within the span of about a month. Fjotli was mutilated and from what I managed to observe, so was Susanna. Obviously I couldn't conduct a thorough examination at the time, but given the similarities between her corpse and the previous victim, it's safe to say it was the Butcher. If I can cross-examine Friga…"

"Sir. Are yo-"

"I'm going into the Hall of the Dead. Tonight. And then I'm going back to Susanna's murder scene. I'm figuring this out now."

Haldir sighed. "I suppose there's no stopping you?"

"I'm saving lives, Haldir. I don't care how it gets done so long as no blood ends up on my hands or on Windhelm's streets" he replied. Despite himself, he glanced at his butler. "I'm sorry."

"No, you've nothing to apologise for in this case." Haldir's response surprised him. "My concerns were based around honour and pride, neither of which are what the Black Wolf stands for. I realise that now. In any case, we cannot allow any more young women to die. Take whatever measures you need Velkric, you'll find no argument from me" he finished. Velkric smiled.

"Thank you. But now, I need the suit."
"Actually sir, I think you need a rest." All the bravado and build up died with that one sentence.

"But-"

"You've been awake for more than 24 hours and exerting yourself for most of that time" Haldir reasoned. "If you wish to commit breaking and entering into the most sacred place in the city, short of Ulfric Stormcloak's bedroom, you'll need your strength."

Velkric opened his mouth to argue, but as if Haldir had spoken with all the convenience in the world, he noticed how much his exhaustion had caught up with him. Running to Uttering Hills cave, beating up a whole guild, running back, travelling to Windhelm via horse and back all while his mind was going a mile a minute and then reflecting over notes for hours?

Yeah. I could use a nap. "Fine. No later than 9, got it?"

"Of course. Would hate for you to get even half the recommended hours…" Haldir muttered, moving over to the secret entrance to the lair. "Sweet dreams sir."

Velkric moved over to his bed, choosing to rather unceremoniously fall into it and shut his eyes. As expected of a body pushed very hard over the course of 24+ hours and one trained to fall asleep within moments, he was out like a light.

His dreams however, were anything but sweet. Damn it Haldir.

X-X-X-X-X

"Keep up Velkric!"

The young Nord was happy to oblige, snapping out of his reverie to make it back alongside his parents. "You can't keep falling behind. Haldir is waiting for us" his father gently reprimanded.

"I'm sorry father. I was just… it was so cool!" he exclaimed, eliciting a smile from his parents.

"Yes it was. The Tale of the Dragonborn. A remarkable play, quite gripping. What heros the Dragonborns were, aye?" his father asked. Velkric eagerly nodded.

"I want to be just like them! I'll be the strongest hero ever and save everyone!" he replied.

"What a brave boy you are," his mother said, patting him on the shoulder. "We should take him to see it again dear." Velkric's father sighed.

"I fear it won't be long til the Thalmor forbid plays of that nature, ones that glorify men."

Velkric frowned. "The Thalmor? But why would they ban that play?"

Unbeknownst to Velkric, his mother gave his father a look and he smiled (he'd come to realise later that smile was forced). "Never you mind Velkric. Now come, we're almost there."

The trio continued walking down the bustling city street, but had their progress interrupted by a crowd. Velkric tried to see what was going on, but was too short to get any meaningful view and his father held him back.

"Damn…" his father muttered under his breath. "What caused this?"

"Some sort of disturbance. Can we go around?" Velkric's mother replied.

His father looked around, seeing an alleyway that would cut through the buildings on their right and get them to where Haldir was waiting, or would be. "How about we cut through here?"

"Through there? But it's rather… backstreet."

"I know, but better this than braving that crowd, especially with Velkric here." He smiled down at him. "Don't worry, we'll be fine. We have our young hero with us after all, don't we?"

Velkric smiled back and nodded. His mother smiled at him too, ruffling his hair. The three of them turned away from the crowd in front of them and started down the alley.

X-X-X-X-X

Velkric awoke with a strangled gasp, sweating, fists clenched, heart racing. He placed a hand to his forehead, then ran it down his face, groaning as he did.

Not again…

"Sir? Are you alright?" Haldir asked, having apparently heard the noise. He clearly noticed Velkric's state, but said nothing about it. As was typical, neither did Velkric.

"The hunt starts now. Let's do this."

X-X-X-X-X

Breaking into the Hall of the Dead was easy, truth be told. The locks were nothing special and Windhelm, being so irritatingly Nordic, would never invest in something like magical detection wards. So now he was sitting there, fully clad in his armour, examining the dead body of a young woman taken far before her time.

The wounds… they appear consistent with Fjotli. But they appear to be in different… He checked his notebook, cross referencing it with his own memory. Yes, in different places. They're all very unnecessary, she would've died from blood loss far before all these could've been made. The fact the pieces are still missing, and she's the oldest victim, suggests…

His train of thought was cut off when he heard someone coming his way from around the corner, humming to themselves. He cursed, knowing that he couldn't put everything away before they came into view. He settled for just casting an invisibility spell and hiding in the darkest corner he could find. Annoyingly, for a hall full of dead people, it was very well lit so he had to hope whoever came along had no experience with invisibility spells.

In spite of what he'd said to Haldir about any means necessary, he (probably) didn't want to hurt this person. City guard is one thing, but innocent citizens? They didn't sign up for that.

His thoughts were once again cut off when the person finally rounded the corner, seeing as his whole dilemma and thought process had lasted a mere few seconds. To his relief, or annoyance depending on the events of the next few seconds, it wasn't a guard. It was an old woman in priest garb, no doubt the woman in charge of the hall.

Her jovial humming was cut off when she saw the body of Friga unwrapped and laid down on the ground. She gasped, and then gasped further when Velkric dispelled his invisibility and tapped on the wall next to him to get her attention. She opened her mouth to probably scream, then stopped and regarded Velkric carefully. He tilted his head.

"Good evening" he spoke, choosing to make the first move.
"Yes, it was quite pleasant before I found a body out of place. Who am I speaking to?" she asked, sounding oddly calm.

"The Black Wolf. You don't seem too alarmed by me."

"If you were going to kill me, you would've done so instead of getting my attention" she replied evenly. Velkric suppressed an amused snort.

Wise woman. "Who am I speaking to?"

"My name is Helgrid. Are you here to help catch the Butcher?"

"What makes you ask that?"

"You're examining her body I assume, much like I was looking at Susanna just now. The guard who was watching over Fjotli one night also reported being knocked unconscious. Call it an educated guess" she said with a shrug.

"Could've been the Butcher."

"The guard was left alive."

"Hmm. Quite the deduction. What are you going to do with this information?"

"Help you, if I can," she replied. That surprised him.

"You'd help me? A criminal?"

"A criminal who wants to catch a murderer. Call it the lesser of two evils" she replied.

"You're very calm about all this."

"I saw those Summerset Shadows get hauled through the streets towards the Bloodworks. I've heard from a few of the citizens how there's been a black armoured saviour to help them at night, like young Virene. I think you're worth trusting on this. I don't want to prepare any more young women for burial"

She gave him a small smile, and Velkric gave a small nod of respect. This is not how I expected this to go, but I am not going to complain. "Thank you. What can you tell me?"

"Well I can show you Susanna's body if you like. But more importantly, I think there's a crucial fact I've found out."

"Crucial? Tell me, I might have missed it."

"These wounds, they weren't made with any normal blade" she explained. Velkric nodded. "They were made by a Nordic embalming tool." Velkric's eyes widened a little.

"A Nordic embalming tool? You're sure?"

"Of course dear. I am the only one in the city who uses them, so of course I can recognise them. Usually they aren't used for such a… grisly purpose though" she explained with a shudder.

"That would… narrow things down" Velkric said, thinking rapidly.

"Before you ask, no, I didn't kill these people," Helgrid added, sounding a little nervous for the first time.

"I know. You wouldn't have helped me otherwise" Velkric said, waving a hand to dismiss the idea. "I need to take one of your tools with me."

Helgrid shrugged. "Sure. I have spares."

"Have any of them been stolen?"

"No, all present and accounted for."

"So the Butcher must've gotten their own tools. But how?"

"You could find them in Ancient Nord burial grounds, but you'd need to be quite the adventurer to go in there."

"Hmm. Adventurer…" A good point. Mark it down for further investigation.

He followed her down the hallway to where he assumed she'd been working, seeing the body of Susanna on the table. A quick glance over her confirmed his theory. All different places for the wounds. Someone's collecting body parts.

He picked up an embalming tool and placed it on his belt. "Thank you. I'll stop him."

She smiled and nodded. "I believe you."

He nodded in reply, then purple light flickered in his hand and he vanished.

X-X-X-X-X

I'm aware these guards have other priorities, like being racist or catching sweet roll thieves, but could they not follow this obvious blood trail?

He'd followed the obvious blood trail from Susanna's death site through the streets, making sure to avoid detection by the guards as he did. Invisibility worked a treat, but he didn't really need it. For some reason, patrols were thin, not that he was complaining.

He'd stopped outside of a large house in the city called Hjerim, the ex-residence of Friga Shatter-Shield. The blood had stopped outside the door, and he had little reason to believe the inside would be free of anything incriminating. Within seconds the lock was picked and he was in. It was… an interesting sight he came face to face with.

The house was stripped bare, barely anything left in it of interest. A single table, a couple chairs, a hefty helping of cobwebs and obviously, so much blood. Whoever this Butcher is, he's not interested in subtlety.

The one thing that stood out to Velkric was a plain looking wardrobe. It was just an ordinary wardrobe, well built, in decent shape, up against the wall, and that was the problem. There was barely any other furniture leftover and it looked far too new compared to the table and chairs that were still there. He walked over and pulled on it, wanting to see what was behind it, but it wouldn't budge. Nailed to the wall, eh? Interesting…

He opened it, finding it to be empty. Perfectly reasonable. He noticed blood on the floor. Then he kicked it.

The back wall broke like it was made of thin wood (which it was). What he found inside was very worrying. It was a surprisingly spacious room filled with bowls containing blood and body parts, a small drawer section filled with paper notes and human bones lying around on the ground. It was a scene typical of any horror stage play (only with less props and more gruesome replacements). It even had the classic creepy stone altar table. On it there was… more body parts and blood. Lovely.

Velkric didn't feel sick, but he did feel angry. These were people. Living people who did nothing wrong besides being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This bastard killed them, and for what?

While looking over the disgusting scene in front of him, he noticed Nordic embalming tools (Yes! Theory confirmed!) and also a book. Eyebrows raised, Velkric walked over and gave it a flick through. Hardly daring to believe his luck, it was a journal. What kind of murderer leaves a journal around?

He read through and frowned at the contents. It wasn't anything he could use to identify the Butcher, no unique writing quirks or signed name, nothing personal. What he did find was a paragraph saying they'd had been planning to murder Susanna for a while, specifically for her tendons. He is collecting body parts. Combine that with the skeletons, the nordic embalming tools, it reeks of a necromancer's ritual. Let's see…

Flicking over another page, he saw a list of 'ingredients' for whatever the madman was planning. It was sizable, listing things like 4 buckets of blood, lots of marrow and other things that made up a person's body, but it was just that. A glorified shopping list, nothing to help him find the Butcher. Because it was all things you could get by murdering people, there was no way he could trace it back to a store, and even the Nordic embalming tools wouldn't be of any direct use because all of Helgi's were present and accounted for.

However, there was one thing the list made clear. He's nearly got everything he needs. One more victim could do it. But who is he trying to bring back? It's a woman, based on his murder victims, but who could it be? There's a civil war on, nearly everyone has lost someone dear, and I can't go around inquiring into people's dead relatives and friends...

He went over to the shelf that had lots of papers within and looked at one. It was a 'Beware the Butcher' notice, he'd seen one of the Windhelm citizens putting them up all over the place only for them to go missing soon after, no doubt the work of the Butcher.

He picked up another one to confirm they were all the same, only to feel his hand touch something substantially more solid than paper. He rummaged through the pile, shifting them aside and then saw the outlier.

It was an amulet. A very peculiar amulet. An amulet with a skull engraved into it. Very classy. Also magical. Very magical.

It was clear that it didn't belong in Windhelm, and it wasn't being used for a good purpose. He tucked it into his belt, the killer wouldn't be needing it back.

I could stay here and wait for him to return… No. The longer I wait the more people he'll kill. He needs one more victim, maybe two at worst. He'll move fast. Velkric breathed deeply. It has to end soon. Tonight ideally, or maybe tomorrow. If only I knew what this ritual was...

He glanced down at the amulet, examining it a little closer. Let's see. 8 sided, carving of a skull, ringed with ebony. Has enchantments that enhance magical capability, though I'd need to experiment more to see what exactly.

An idea then struck him. If he was after magical knowledge, why not head to the most magically knowledgeable person in the city?

A darker idea then struck him too. Who else in Windhelm could possibly know about all of this besides him? What if the court wizard was the Butcher?

He pocketed the journal, one of the fliers and one piece of bone and moved out of the room, closing the wardrobe behind him. He had intended to leave it as he'd found it, but then remembered he'd kicked the secret panel apart. He left Hjerim and turned towards the palace of the kings, preparing to pay a visit, but then he remembered one other piece of jewelry he had on his person. He took it out, looked at it, clenched his fist and walked off in the opposite direction.

X-X-X-X-X

Torsten Cruel-Sea walked into his house, exhausted. Since Fjotli's death and his encounter with the nutcase in the black armour a couple nights ago, he'd had awful sleep and today had taken so long that it was past midnight by the time he made it back to his living space. He trudged over to his bed, ready to fall asleep immediately. However, when he saw an inconspicuous box on his pillow, his heart rate skyrocketed.

He snapped to being alert and glanced around the room, looking for that madman, but it seemed like the room was empty. He hesitantly crossed the room and slowly opened the box, not expecting tears to form when he saw the contents, as well as a note.

I can't give you peace. But I can give you justice.

As Torsten clutched Fjotli's necklace in his hands and silent tears flowed, he began to reconsider his opinion of that stranger… the Black Wolf.

Detective Mode go brrr.

That's basically this chapter in a nutshell! I wanted to try portray how someone like Varion would actually go about deducing a murder mystery like this. Obviously it's not super mysterious when half the clues fall into the players hands in the in-game quest and half the people reading will already know the story, but I hope I managed to make it engaging!

If you're enjoying this story, please review, I'd love to hear your feedback.

Next time: It's the finale of the first arc. Brace yourselves.