[center]Gale McLeary and James Clearwell[/center]

Time: 9:50 am

Since her knighting, the captain had done much for her men. One platoon had been ordered out to her land to construct a village specifically for her soldiers to keep their families in and retire to, should they choose. From sharing drinks with the young lady, he knew she planned to build a second brewery and bakery there, in her family name.

Her personal platoon had more interesting orders. The rest of the platoon was to work with the Adventurer’s Guild and maintain a positive relationship with them. They would then use that positive relationship with the Adventurer's Guild to receive support the Army could not provide, like the cover of working for the Adventurer’s Guild when they really weren’t.

The squad’s standing orders were to blend in, and keep an ear and eye out in the places where the city enforcers did not tend to go, and even, sometimes, in places where they did. To ingratiate themselves to the slumfolk, but not so much they'd draw unwanted attention. Try to draw in the troubles of the slumfolk by gaining their trust. The men of the squad were comfortable with this strategy.. It boiled down to act natural and listen, pretty simple, and pretty lenient. They could even drink reasonably, whatever they needed to make the act a convincing one. After all, a genuine act was also a convincing one.

This is how the three men came to that particular place in the slums. They were idling about, chatting, keeping an eye out for anything while they did. The sergeant grimaced as his nose caught a whiff of something that reminded him of a certain head space. That was the smell of a fresh, dead body. It was faint, though. “Anyone smell ‘at?” One man said no, but the other confirmed after a few sniffs. “Hmmn. Mac, wha’did you say you ‘eard?”

After a brief explanation of what MacGregor heard, which wasn’t too much, the sergeant nodded. Someone hadn’t been seen for a day or two. Well, that was enough for the sergeant to poke around, as per orders. With enough snooping, one of the two men with him found blood and a rusted grate. Great. The sergeant and the other man went in to check it out. The man up top passed down a torch and lit it as he did.

The light let the sergeant see well enough to find something interesting. Two puncture wounds on the neck. “Mac, go tell the Lieutenant we’ve found a body. It’s interesting.”

~

Time: 10:00 am

The Lieutenant was at the desk he had in the space outside Stratya’s office. He often intercepted paperwork headed for her desk. He knew she would avoid it, and had resigned himself to completing what he could for her. For all her accomplishments, written language and etiquette were two battles she seemed to fear, or at least avoid. He supposed he had to understand. He felt similarly about combat, but she seemed so cavalier about that sort of confrontation. So confident.

There were, of course, papers he could not do for her. He had to track her down, sometimes, or tell the sergeant to relay the message. He always seemed to have some luck finding her, usually at the tavern. This time, luckily, she came to him when she delivered a basket of her baked goods to the knight's barracks, and he was able to inform her of some paperwork that needed her specific attention. She was on her way to a social event, and mentioned she was under direct order to mingle. The way she said it, the way she looked at him when she told him.. there was more to it she shouldn’t discuss openly.

A member of the squadron approached. James straightened up from the paperwork he was going over, nodding to the man, “MacGregor, what is it?”

“Lieutenant, we’ve found a body. Someone bothered to dump the bloke in the sewers. The Sergeant says its, ‘interesting’. Whatever that means.”

Lieutenant Clearwell leaned back in his seat, considering the information. The sergeant was not a fool. If Clearwell had been sent for, then clearly McLeary had something that was, indeed, interesting. To start with, hiding a body in the sewers in the slums was an fascinating move. Just hiding it in the slums might have been effective enough, but he could see why the Captain had her platoon doing what it was doing. To find things that would normally not be found, she was doing things that would normally not be done. “No name yet?” No. Hm. Well, then, there was only one course for it.

He put the papers on his desk away and locked the drawer before standing, “I’ll go. Bring a cart from the hospital to carry the body. We’ll take it to the morgue.”