Gallows Square was home to what passed for the royal judicial system in Jinwick. It was home to the court, the jail, the gibbet, and, of course, the gallows. There were other gibbets, in places which would send a message to specific peoples. This one sat empty, but one on the docks held the rotting remnants of a pirate. Wilcox had an office in the Court House, which I admit I had not taken the time to visit. With tall walls on two sides and a short walk to the West Gate, Gallows Square was both out of the way and readily accessible to the public. I winced as I made the mistake of moving my arm again. My nose hadn’t been broken and had stopped fountaining of its own accord, but the arm had needed cleansing and stitching. I’d declined the medicinal somnifer for the sake of keeping a clear head. The pain was almost as distracting as the opiate would have been.
“Acting Magistrate?”
I looked up to see a man with nut brown hair, a lean build, and a gnarled scar covering much of his right cheek. The neat, rectangular shape of the edges of the scar told me someone had carved off a patch of skin from his face long ago.
“Yes?” I asked.
“I am Arn Freedman, the Court Bailiff.” The name immediately told me what the scar was. They’d cut off a slave brand, and none too politely. His accent was minimal, but he had to have been from Vartenthral. Had he been born a slave, he’d have been lacking a surname. Given how spitefully he’d been manumitted, I guessed he’d picked the name just as spitefully.
“I have been meaning to stop by, but things have been a bit busy.”
“You do have cases that need hearing.”
“Anybody currently held in the jail?”
“Just the Long woman.”
“I will speak with her first.”
Arn nodded and led me inside. Despite the light leaking through windows high on the walls, the interior felt dim and oppressive. Though the delay in adjusting to the gloom didn’t help. Freedman had the keys to get us deeper into the jail. The floor plan was simple – a central corridor, one large room on either side, those rooms divided into holding cells by iron bars. Wooden buckets served as chamber pots.
“I would have thought we’d have more prisoners given the number of criminals.”
“The good Captain charges for the use of his guards, so your predecessor was quite thorough in making sure we cleaned out the cells as promptly as possible.”
“They charge us for guards?” I asked, incredulous.
“I’m afraid so.”
I scowled as we entered the side reserved for female prisoners. There was one guard to make sure our one prisoner didn’t escape. I approached the one cell where the tavern girl sat on a crude bench. She scowled back at me.
“Is Shelia even your real name, or was it Magdelene?”
“Ya gonna take yer revenge for me witnessin’ against ya back in Atlor?” Shelia asked.
“What’s she talking about?” Freedman asked.
“I was falsely accused of theft back home. She testified at my trial against me. Though at the time she went by Magdelene and was a dancing girl instead of a tavern wench.”
“You was found guilty,” Shelia said.
“Well, when you swore before the gods that you saw me emerging from the house with the jewel when no such thing happened, that might have prejudiced the magistrate.”
“Doesn’t this constitute a conflict of interest?” Freedman asked.
“Strangely enough, that doesn’t actually disqualify me. But you are right. I would like you to keep me objective.”
“We just met.”
“All the better. You’ll be more impartial.”
“I ran ’cause you figured who I was and I knew you was gonna lock me up in revenge.”
“I only had questions,” I said, “But I do wonder what would bring you to Jinwick under a new name.”
“I get paid more ‘ere,” she said, putting on a haughty air.
“But why not keep your old name?”
“I didn’t like it. Didn’t need it.”
“When did you last see Thornton?” I asked.
The haughty expression slipped.
“What?”
“I’m trying to establish the Magistrate’s movements leading up to his death. When did you last see him?”
Shelia glanced between me and Freedman, her mind spinning as she tried to figure out my ulterior motive.
“Before curfew, the night before ‘e was found.”
“At your place or his?”
“Neither. It was in a room above a boot shop. ‘E had paid the cobbler for using it.”
“Were you the only girl he brought there?”
Shelia waved dismissively. “‘E might have had his hands on other girls, but we was somethin’ special.”
“You know he was married.”
“But ‘e didn’t love ‘er none.” The haughtiness was back, she’d found a confident lie again. My brow furrowed as I tried to come up with a way to break through to the truth. Shelia Long wasn’t a terrible looking woman, but she was nothing like the sort of woman an aspiring gentleman would make a mistress out of. My thoughts were disrupted as the door banged open amid a torrent of spitting curses. A tangle of guards dragged in an older woman with a voice like a fishwife and an equally caustic vocabulary. They deposited her none too gently in the cell furthest from us.
“Got a new prisoner for ya, Jasper,” Ardo said strolling in my direction. “Assaultin’ a shopkeep, and disturbin’ the peace.” He glanced at Shelia. “When I said you might talk to the ‘ousekeeper, I didn’t think you were gonna arrest ‘er. ‘Ow’s it goin’ Magdelene?”
Shelia glared silently at Ardo.
“What’s the matter?”
“Ardo,” I said, epiphany crawling into my brain, “I think you should check the eastern side of Upton Street. There’s a spot where you can climb from the low road and bypass the North Gate entirely.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Our friend here isn’t greeting you because she can’t decide which accent to wear. Whether to retain her lower class affectation as Shelia Long. Or to put on a Valayan tongue and become Magdelene the dancing girl turned housekeeper. She kept needing an escort from the West Gate because the Whaling Hare closes after curfew. She could slip past the North Gate, but still needed to get into the Citadel.”
“Why would the girl be working a dockside tavern if she had a job as a housekeeper in a posh house?” Ardo asked.
“She was a go-between, for someone that Wilcox couldn’t afford to be seen with.”
I looked at Shelia.
“A man with one eye?”
Shelia spat invectives to rival the other prisoner, impugning my filial relations and my own nighttime proclivities. I let her vent until her creativity waned.
“I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me where to find him?”
The profanity Shelia spat was answer enough.
“Right now we’re going to hold you on suspicion of theft and murder. The charges may change as I sort this mess out,” I said.
“You think she stabbed ‘im?” Ardo asked.
“It’s more complicated than that,” I said.
Ardo frowned.
“Now we have to talk about you billing the jail for guarding prisoners,” I said, starting to walk outside. Ardo followed after me, and Freedman behind him.
“I only have so many men, and keepin’ them ‘ere takes away from those that can be elsewhere. Besides, I report direct to the gov’na, not you.”
“I suppose I’ll have to take the matter up with him.”
“Hardly, ‘e’s almost packed and ready to go back to Atlor. We’ll have a new one ‘fore long. Probably appoint someone to replace you when ‘e arrives.”
“Good. This job is awful, but while I have it, I plan to do it. Where did you say Wilcox’s mercenary friends were staying?”
“I didn’t,” Ardo said.
“It would help my investigation if you did.”
Ardo stiffened his back. “How so?” he asked, glowering.
“I may not have been a soldier, but I’ve been around enough, especially once they get to drinking socially. Womanizer like Thornton is bound to brag about a few of his lady friends. It will give me more people to talk to.”
“I’ll… ask around,” Ardo said.
“I appreciate it.”
The kerning in LibreOffice kept making Arn look like Am. I may need to pick a different font to compose in, but I’m accustimed to my ways
Almost looks like a retro FarCry game cover.
I blame stable diffusion. I asked it for a stack of pulp-style magazine covers under the pretext that the story was serialized in a number of different issues.
I like the weird AI text bye the way.
Which font are you using?
“Liberation Serif” I think it was a default for LibreOffice
Ah. I’ve used Liberation Mono a few times over the long quest to find the perfect coding font.
😄👍
I figured it’d paint the picture of the scene better than my imagination with regards to language would.
That *is* fantastic. Bravo, UCS.
Jinwick, jail, gibbet. Very alliterative.
Of course, the etymology of ‘gibbet’ by itself is interesting.
And it’s not pronounced jibbet.
My google-fu says jibbet. I have an old dictionary at home that says hard ‘g’.
As a layman, I just say whatever works.
I like ‘j’ in the context of your story because, to me, it implies fate or subtle divine influence.
I had a similar conversation with my wife regarding the pronunciation of gaol.
“jawl” ?
The “jif” people are wrong.
Not to mention the *.gif people
No. Just, no.
U.S. in the hard G party will be rounding up all the lesser, sun starved soft j folks in the not too distant future.
The “jif” people are wrong.
Are you saying they shouldn’t be so choosy?
I’ll put the seed oil purveyors in camps too.
I’d send groups of people to the gulags that would make Stalin blush. No commies though, they only get a departure flight.
Well, if the internet says it’s “jibber”, that’s final. The internet is never wrong, after all.
Heh.
It’s just always been one of those words that is mutable in my head.
Now a word that pisses me off is ‘ Gloucester’. Who invented that stupid word? I can never pronounce it correctly.
Worshteshire… Worcestershire is also on my list.
Gloucester
My ancestral home.
“Gloss-ter”
And blame the Romans
LOL!
It would have been funnier if it happened here and the guy trying to hide was Jesus de la Rio Grande.
I suspect a hoax but it’s still funny.
Now I have that song in my head.
Thanks.
Relevant
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4723pNrX69w&pp=ygUYZ2VvcmdlIGNvc3RhbnphIGl0IG1vdmVk
An amusing first:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_(Grindelwald)
My kind of Firsting. No climbing involved.
Yeah that’s BS and we all know it.
https://www.foxnews.com/media/nancy-pelosi-says-she-had-no-intention-tearing-up-trumps-state-union-speech
A tone remember the pictures of her copy of the speech that had been pre-torn on the edge so the frail lizard person could tear it?
I member.
Anyone. Damn me and my Steve Smith sized fingers.
Whatever. Her party wants to destroy the country. Was that “intentional”, Nancy?
Secure the assets necessary to ensure the longevity of your tribe.
Burn down everything else so as there will be no competition in the future.
For you fans of English sportsball, if you didn’t see the Leeds United goal today, it’s worth a watch: https://youtu.be/IIJb-qYUlQg?si=Mv6SdBRypqikFJR4&t=331
Nice.
My company has an office there. 😑
The Incline Railroad up to Lookout Mountain was sold out, but we have tickets for Tuesday. We ended up in in the caverns. That place was damn cool. Tons of gnomes and underground fantasy stuff. Some lady made the dwarven figures and their homes and workshops, most in smallish alcoves on the underground trail. Apparently, they were art someone made (local?) for the caves and have “lived there” for 100yrs.
Really good trip. so far. Tomorrow’s a bit of a chill day, so not sure how I’ll spend it. Biggest contender? Relax and enjoy our mountain view, with hopes of gentle productivity. And sleeping the fuck in .
Colorado?
Chattanooga IIRC?
My tomorrow is “work”. Ugh.
Yes. I we walked the blue beaver trail up lookout mountain when I was a boy scout way back in the dark ages.
I drove through Chattanooga many times. Asked some TN friends what there was there to see and they only replied ‘didn’t know’ or ‘meh.’
They didn’t get out much in hindsite.
When I was growing up, there were endless “See Rock City” signs starting a hundred miles or more out from Chattanooga.
I looked up Rock City once before we passed through. Was not impressed by the photos so I didn’t stop.
Yep, Chattanooga. (We’re in Dunlap.) It was touristy, but not too much so, and the cave trails were lovely. The 5yo had no trouble, yet interesting for all ages.
Glad Bro is commanding a throw-back, homage trip like Dad did, whose also enjoying it, but he’s still being a bit of a bitch about his knee.
WTF Idaho?!
“ Around 349,000 Idahoans live in neighborhoods governed by HOAs, just under 20% of the state’s total population” https://www.foxnews.com/media/christmas-lawyer-who-went-war-hoa-spends-windfall-holiday-cheer
I would guess 2% would be high but nearly 20%?! A Boise (via California) state of mind.
Probably the same in any state.
HOA’s are a suburb thing and America is a country of suburbs. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I wonder how many people live in one and dont even know it?
Steelers got their shit pushed in real good like AND Myles Garrett didn’t get the sack record. Nothing will be funnier than seeing that overrated race-baiting clown failing to get it next week, as well.
All in all, it was a Firstivus miracle.
Watt not only should be the sole record holder, but there wasn’t a fraction of the hype for him when he was making history. The league won’t be taking a sack away as they did with Watt. Christ, the cunts in the media refused to even give Watt DPOY that season.
I wasn’t expecting ‘Shelia Long’ to have been involved with our protagonist’s exile but it makes things tidier.
Graphic language – I agree its better to let the reader use their imagination than to let it all hang out. Plus it would detract from both the story and the style it is being written in. The same goes for physical violence. That’s one problem with movies and shows these days; the writers and directors are so enamored with their own imaginations they forget to try to engage their audiences’ imaginations.
Ugh. Back to the grind this morning.
😒🌨️🥯
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1KNCAgkpko
There’s no way to make this song any better…oh wait…I’ve got an idea…
🎶🎶
Well, that is a random addition.
Very.
Happy icy Monday. 🙁
Good morning, Ted’S. and Sean!
No ice storm nor snow here, but the temperature took a nosedive overnight – from high 60s (maybe even 70) yesterday to the current 30 (“feels like 17.”) And it’s predicted to get colder as the morning goes on, not to mention being quite blowsy. 🥶
Morning.
I just took the trash to the curb. I expected a slippery walk, but the rain took care of the ice, so I can mourn the loss of my adorable mini bucket (I thought I was buying a five gallon bucket online, but didn’t look close enough and bought a one gallon bucket that was perfect for spreading ice melt.) It developed a crack in the bottom.
Good morning, U! Poor little bucket! 😢 How are you today?
Well, I didn’t fall on my backside, I’ve connected to work, and I’m awake, I guess. I’ve got those going for me. I did sleep on my arm such that my little finger is still asleep, but it’s waking up. If only I was still a two-finger typist.
#Angle #1287 1/4
🎉
https://www.angle.wtf