Versais Gromel, Sadian Lir, and now Fortunato Calles; three days, three bodies. All three murders had been brutal and clearly painful, and all three of those killed had been firm political enemies of Gorudo.

Fortunato Calles would seem to have been ambushed on his way home from an inspection of his warehouses, late at night. His killer had taken him in a darkened street near his home but had not bothered to drag the body out of sight. Indeed, the corpse had been left in the middle of the road. Like the murders that had preceded it, the culprit had intended for the bodies to be found.

Zirane circled the body once more and saw nothing new. Calles' neck had been snapped so hard that his head was twisted most of the way around; someone had carefully and artfully broken his knees, his elbows, his nose, his jaw, several of his ribs, and each and every one of the unlucky politician's fingers. He had been stabbed in the eyes. His tongue had been cut out.

Frowning, Zirane glanced across the square at Liadon, speaking animatedly to a group of 'his' Knights, directing them in ever widening circles of search. It was true the Calles had not been killed long ago, as rigor mortis had not yet set in, but even so, Zirane was not hopeful that they would catch the killer.

It was getting harder and harder not to ask the obvious questions about the identity of the murder, and in spite of himself, Zirane found those questions hard to ask of himself. He'd always disdained blind loyalty in the face of more pragmatic influences; he fancied himself a realist and found Liadon's dependence on authority and rank somewhat sickening. And yet...

And yet, he found it very difficult to ask himself whether or not Gorudo was responsible for the murders. While it was true that Gorudo had never been known to do anything so overt as kill his adversaries, he hadn't hesitated to slander them into the floor, regardless of whether or not such slander subsequently turned out to be true. With the war going on in the background, coupled with whatever it was that Gorudo was planning, it was entirely possible that the Lord of Rockaxe had taken it upon himself to solidify his hold on the Knighthood. It certainly wouldn't be below Gorudo, at least not as far as Zirane could determine.

Zirane turned from the body and walked towards his horse, feeling nothing but disgust. The problem was, he couldn't figure out what that disgust was targeted at.

"Versais Gromel, Sadian Lir, Fortunato Calles." Gorudo was displeased. The sentiment against him was steadily rising as more and more of his political adversaries were horribly murdered. As convenient as it was that Gromel, Lir, and Calles had all been killed, Gorudo knew he wasn't responsible, and the rising tide of anti-Gorudo talk within Rockaxe was not at all what he needed.

Gorudo shuffled at the papers on his desk and set them to one side, then looked up at Zirane and Liadon, standing at attention in front of his desk. Dayne Mott reclined in a chair against the far wall, watching with a slightly sardonic grin on his face. "Tell me, Zirane, Liadon," Gorudo went on, "why these murders continue within the walls of my city, when my Knighthood is supposed to be the greatest in the world?"

Liadon bit his bottom lip. "There is no excuse, Lord Gorudo. But we've been able to find no trace of the killer's identity, and the only thing linking the victims is...is..." He trailed off. Zirane glanced at him, then back at Gorudo.

"The only thing linking the victims is their hatred of you, Lord Gorudo," Zirane filled in.

Dayne stood up. "Don't be too hard on them, Gorudo," the mercenary cut in. "I've been to the murder sites too, and there really is no clue."

His eyes turning cold, Zirane glanced over his shoulder, stiffening his shoulders. "Thank you, Captain Mott, but I believe that Liadon and I are perfectly qualified to assess the scenes of the crime without your insights."

"Mind your station, Zirane," Gorudo told him, though he was actually amused by the Blue Knight's umbrage.

Zirane turned back. "I believed that I was," he snapped, then blanched. "L...Lord Gorudo, forgive me...I spoke out of turn."

"Don't worry," Dayne interrupted. "I forgive you." Zirane's fists clenched and he bit his bottom lip.

"Enough of this." Gorudo slapped his fist against his desk and Liadon and Zirane both jumped a little. Dayne seemed to be having a hard time not laughing. "What do you recommend?"

"The most obvious course," Liadon said, "would be to assign all of your political adversaries an armed guard and hope that we catch the murderer in the act. Or, the thought of meeting an armed contingent might give the murderer pause, convince him to go ply his trade elsewhere."

"Not to mention," Zirane added, "that assigning people known to be politically opposed to you an armed guard might work to silence the rumours that you're behind the killing, Lord Gorudo."

"Unless, of course," Dayne said, approaching the desk, "the armed guard fails to protect the murderer's targets and stop the killing. If that happens..."

Gorudo nodded. "At best, I look like a hopeless incompetent, and at worst, it makes us look as if we let the killing happen...as if we were involved. You can see why this plan doesn't sit well with me, gentlemen."

"The problem is, Lord Gorudo," replied Liadon, "that we've no other way to go; Zirane and I haven't been able to find anything out at all. Unless we catch the murderer in the act, it's very hard to come up with a plan to catch him."

Gorudo raised an eyebrow. "Zirane?"

The Blue Knight cocked his head. "Lord Gorudo?"

"I'd like you to investigate the crimes yourself."

"I believed that I was already doing that, Lord Gorudo."

Gorudo shook his head. "Not in that way. I mean, at street level. You must have connections, Zirane...use them."

He could tell immediately that Zirane's opposition to that idea bordered on the violent. It was true that Zirane had worked hard to distance himself from his street-rat roots and be seen simply as the scion of the Delamarque family, not their adopted son.

Considering Zirane's feelings, however, was not part of Gorudo's duties.

"My Lord, I don't think..."

"I don't count on you to think, Zirane," put in Gorudo. "I did not ask for your opinion. I was under the impression that my wants were to be seen as your commandments."

"Yes, Lord Gorudo, but..."

"No buts. Surely you must know of someplace where you can investigate the underworld of the city."

Defeated, Zirane hung his head and sighed. "Yes, m'Lord."

"Take Liadon with you, to watch your back." Gorudo looked back down at his desk, considering the conversation over, but Zirane persisted.

"I don't think...I don't think that any of the places I plan to investigate will be Liadon's sort of places."

Liadon looked suitably affronted. "Zirane, I can..."

"No, you can't. I'd rather go alone, Lord Gorudo."

Gorudo shook his head. "Unacceptable. However," he smiled, "I'm certain that if they're not Liadon's sort of places, they will most certainly be Dayne's. Captain Mott will accompany you."

"Lord Gorudo, please..."

"Zirane!" Gorudo looked back down. "This conversation is over. You're all dismissed."

Standing in his chambers a few hours later, Zirane examined himself in the full-length mirror against his wall. He was dressed in straightforward leather clothes, belted at the waist, and high, dark boots. His red hair was tied back very loosely, and he carefully tugged a couple of hairs loose to make himself look more tousled.

He hated it, he hated it all. The clothes, the tousling of his hair, the peasant's act; the entire thing revolted him. Turning, he looked at his blue surplice where it lay hung over the end of his bend, and fingered it a little with a wistful sigh, then chided himself for such stupid weakness. He was a Blue Knight, doing what his liege commanded. It was the civilized thing to do.

And Zirane Delamarque was most definitely civilized.

A knock came at his door and he dropped the surplice onto the floor as if it had burned him, then carefully folded it and laid it at the foot of his bed before answering the door.

For what it was worth, Captain Mott hadn't changed his clothes, but looked like a peasant anyway. "Are you ready to go, Zirane?"

It was still raining intermittently as Zirane and Mott arrived at the tavern that had first leapt to mind when Lord Gorudo had mentioned his 'underworld contacts', a seedy dive at the edge of the city. The door hung open (or off its hinges, in the near dark of twilight Zirane couldn't tell) and light spilled out onto the street. Mott looked up and down and grinned again. His habit of grinning just before he took a shot at Zirane was a habit the Blue Knight found most tiresome.

"Nice place. This home. Zirane?"

"My home," Zirane snapped at the mercenary, "is with my family, in the good part of the city."

"Sure, sure," Mott said, starting towards the door of the tavern. "Let's just go in."

"No," said Zirane, standing his ground. Mott turned to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, no. I want to know why you keep doing that to me. I want to know why you can't be in the same room as me without reminding me what I was. I want to know why humiliating me is always your first impulse." Reaching up, Zirane brushed his wet hair back from his face. "Do you hate me, or something? Have I done something to offend you?"

Mott stood in the rain and looked at him, cocking his head. After a moment, he sighed. "No, I guess you haven't. You remind me of somebody I used to know, that's all."

"You must hate that person a lot," Zirane snapped sullenly. He hadn't expected an actual concession from the mercenary.

Mott sighed again. "I don't know, sometimes. Anyway, can we go in now?"

"I suppose." Zirane brushed past the mercenary and stepped into the tavern.

The chatter in the tavern fell silent as Dayne and Zirane appeared in the doorway, as if in spite of their dress, the people in the tavern recognized that they had a motive other than getting drunk. For a moment, silence reigned, and then a drunken voice raised itself in a riotous cry.

"Zirry!" Zirane flinched, his eyes flying to the bar, where a grizzled patron slightly older than Zirane himself sat, raising his glass as if in a greeting. He staggered to his feet and began to lurch towards Zirane and Mott. "Zirry, how the hell are ya? It's been, it's been, it's been..."

"Years, Orrie," Zirane replied quietly. "Since I was adopted."

"Adopted! Yeah! How'd that go you, anyway? Used to see you all the time, Zirry..." Orrie rested a hand on Zirane's shoulder and lurched drunkenly, spilling beer across the front of Zirane's tunic. Zirane flinched away. A thick, heavy scent of stale urine, beer, and sweat rose from Orrie. The rest of the patrons began to draw away. "Zirry an' me, we cut a few purses when we was kids, didn't we, didn't we, Zirry?"

"Yes." Zirane disengaged Orrie's hand from his shoulder, but still held onto it, gripping it tightly to prevent Orrie from moving away. "I need to ask you a couple of questions, Orrie."

"Sure, Zirry, whatever you need to know...just come over to the bar and..."

"My name is Zirane now," the Blue Knight told him, and broke two of Orrie's fingers with a sharp twist. Orrie howled in agony and dropped the mug in his free hand; it shattered across the floor. Orrie fell to his knees, tears rolling down his filthy cheeks, screaming. "Shut up, Orrie." The howling continued. "Shut up!"

Orrie choked off his cries and stared up at Zirane, eyes wide, biting into his lower lip so hard that a thin line of blood began to snake down his chin.

"You have two more fingers and a thumb," Zirane said, "on this hand alone, and I'll be very unhappy if I don't get the information I'm looking for. Do you understand, Orrie? Can you put that all together, Orrie?"

"Y...Yeah, Zirry...I mean, I mean, Zirane...Zirane..."

"Very good."

"Zirane..." Mott said warningly, extending his hand towards the red-haired Knight.

"Shut up, Mott." Zirane looked up from Orrie's tear-streaked face to address the room at large. "Versais Gromel, Sadian Lir, Fortunato Calles. Who killed them? I want to know."

Silence followed, except for Orrie's muffled cries. Zirane glanced around and artfully raised an eyebrow. "You have five seconds." He glanced around and waited for exactly five seconds. "No good? So be it." He broke another of Orrie's fingers.

When the cries had died down, Zirane addressed the room again. "I'll give you ten seconds this time, because I'm feeling charitable. When I'm done with Orrie, I'll start in on the rest of you, and then I'll be mad."

Zirane smiled thinly.

The next morning, Zirane stepped out of his chambers dressed in his blue surplice, with his hair immaculately washed and combed. Liadon was already waiting, leaning against the wall. As Zirane stepped out, the Red Knight straightened and walked over.

"Zirane! I'm glad to see you...I waited up most of last night but you and Captain Mott didn't come back. Did everything go all right?"

"Yes," Zirane replied neutrally, tugging on his gloves until they hugged his fingers tightly. "Where's Lord Gorudo?"

"The upper overlook. He wanted to see you as soon as you were awake."

Gorudo stood at the far end of the rectangular overlook, staring down two floor's distance and along the length of his throne room, far below. Light streamed in from the huge window behind his throne, lying long and white across the floor. As Zirane, Liadon, and Captain Mott entered, he pointed at the tower door at the far end of the hall and walked out of the castle into the light, where the three joined him.

Leaning against the turret with the flag of Rockaxe flying above him, Gorudo turned and regarded Liadon, Zirane, and Mott. "I'm waiting," he said neutrally.

"We weren't able to find anything that directly identified the murdered," Zirane began, "but we discovered that some interesting people are in the city."

"Go on."

"Miklotov is back," Zirane went on. "He arrived in town about the same time as the murder of Versais Gromel happened, so he might've been in the city at the time."

"That doesn't seem like the sort of thing Commander Miklotov would do..." Liadon began.

"That's Sir Miklotov now," Zirane said. "In any case, we don't know where he's been for the last few weeks. A lot might have happened."

"It's hard to believe," Gorudo replied. "Go on...you said people, not just Miklotov."

"The samurai who attacked you some time ago is also in town," Zirane replied. "I believe that you have specifically said that he was a security risk."

"I recall that," Gorudo said. "How did you acquire this information?"

"Anonymous man in a bar," Dayne interrupted. "He seemed very eager to dispense that information, Gorudo."

"I'm sure." Gorudo turned away. "Zirane, Liadon, you're dismissed. Captain Mott, stay here."

Zirane and Liadon both saluted and turned on a heel to depart. When they were gone, Dayne moved forward to stand beside Gorudo. "So, Gorudo. Do you know anything specifically about the man who knew so much about this samurai, Genshu?"

"Specifically?" Gorudo deadpanned. He looked at Dayne and sobered. "No, not him specifically. But, in answer to your next question: Yes, he probably did represent the Temple of the Silver Moon."

"This samurai is associated with them?" Dayne asked.

"In all likelihood. He had the same bearing and style as one of their more highly-ranked members, as well. He could be associated with the killings."

"You know, of course, that if a samurai of the Temple is in Rockaxe, he'll be very difficult to find if he doesn't want to be found."

"I know. For now, let it be known in the streets that I'm looking for him, and he'll probably show up on his own. And send Liadon to bring me Miklotov."

"The Blue Knight?"

"Yes. It's been too long. I should very much like to see that boy." Turning, Gorudo walked back into the darkness of his castle.

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"Gorudo" and "Suikoden 2" are (C) Konami. This chapter was posted on December 8, 2000