Chapter 176: Detective Spot

Chapter 176: Detective Spot

Over the next few days, I had a blast. Other than what the soldiers had started calling "The Hot Springs Incident," everything had been rather routine. I followed behind the army, cleaning up the best I could. Sometimes Arthur would ask me to come to spend some time upfront with him, and we would talk.

Well, he would talk. As we moved, I would write by engraving words on a large flat stone with my lamp. After I was done, I would erase the surface by blasting it smooth with a more broad beam. It was surprisingly efficient, and over time I got faster at this than at actual writing with my grabby arm. After a few messages, though, I needed a new rock. Engraving and erasing like this systematically shrunk any stone I used over time, especially with how deep my engravings needed for the optimal reading experience.

These breaks were nice. As fast as the army was able to march, I was able to clean much faster. This gave them plenty of time to accumulate large amounts of work for me. Then, I could do them all at once. It was much more efficient than if I was following along right at their heels.

Arthur and I would talk about all sorts of things. It would start off with some basic questions and answers, but Arthur seemed to enjoy just speaking about his past. He'd tell me stories about past campaigns or skirmishes he had been involved in. In return, I'd ask questions about tactics and leadership and how he made sure that all the waste and kitchens were cleaned properly in time to march. Overall, it was a nice exchange. I wouldn't say we were becoming friends, but it seemed like something close. There was definitely respect between us.

During the night, my duties became more typical of my usual experience. I previously would have wandered the castle, taking care of small tasks. I would wander the camp doing the same. This was a necessary job as we moved on quickly in the mornings. It was important not to leave any unfinished business behind when we did.

It wasn't much, but it gave me something to do. Besides, I didn't like leaving the camp dirty, even if it was only going to be seen for a short stint in the morning while everyone packed up. It always became messier when we packed, and then I'd have to wipe the area clean afterward anyways. This pointless work was a bit disheartening, but I did take solace in it. At least it kept me working on my skills. By now, I could level up a dirt patch so that I could barely tell the microns of difference in height from one side to the other. I was rather proud of this fact.

Several nights after The Hot Spring Incident, the first real disturbance occurred. I heard some odd noises outside long after everyone went to bed, and as I worked my way over on my cleaning route, I ran into a sleeping human. Well, I thought he was sleeping at first. Still, after a closer examination with my advanced sensors, I realized he was not breathing. Also, he was leaking a lot of his internal fluids. Blood, I corrected myself.

This leaking fluid was forming a puddle around his head. Odd. I did my best to repair him with my domain and poked him in the head a couple of times, but there was no response. It seemed I had found a broken human.

Now what? I really didn't know what to do next. I had seen some dead humans, but not many. Only the zombies and those few troublesome mean humans that tried to threaten the castle. I'd never seen just a body like this before, and I didn't know what to do.

It was surprisingly difficult to handle. If I thought of him as a human like this, I also had to think of everything that this human must have done in his life. The things that he would no longer be able to do. Was this why humans became sad at the prospect of death?

Shaking back and forth slightly to clear my processors and flush my cache, I refocused. It was suddenly a higher priority that I found out who did this.

Another thing he had on his belt was a small knife. I noticed that his hand was gripping the hilt of it when he fell, and it looked like he had pulled the knife out a bit. I was well aware that the sheaths were built to keep knives securely in place so they weren't jostled loose. The strap that would hold the cross guard of the blade in had been popped off by a quick movement of his thumb. So clearly, the man was expecting trouble.

Or I suppose he could have just been lazy. But judging based off of the crispness of his uniform, which I heartily approved of, that didn't seem to be the case. So if the person knew that he would be attacked and had tried to ready a weapon, it stood to reason that the attack must have come from the front. But if there were two assailants, as the prints indicated, then it was also possible that he had been assaulted from both sides and had been surprised.

Without much else to go on, I wasn't sure what to do next. Then I took another look at the footprints. And I was able to solve one part of the mystery.

It seemed that there was actually a person in front and behind. I didn't realize it at first, but I could actually tell the weight of a person by how deeply their footprint sunk. And I could tell that there were three distinct weights. Two were pretty similar but off by at least 5%. The last was obviously much heavier. Based on the foot sizes that lined up. And I could see more footprints coming in three sets from one side.

I ran a simulation based on my findings. One person walked and stopped, presumably the victim. Someone blocked his path from ahead - the smaller man, it seemed - while the larger man stayed behind him. I could see the footprints of the other two leaving from the other end of the alley, meaning the big man had just stepped over this man's body. So it seemed that the victim was, in fact, surrounded.

I was actually able to identify whose footprints were within a certain tolerance, depending on the amount of context provided. The information here gave a much more clear picture than I initially thought, though.

Not wanting to disturb the scene, I lifted myself off the ground a bit more so that my jets wouldn't move anything that was important to the scene as I moved. I would come back. Soon. Then I began to follow the footprints away from the body.