<div style="background-color:#3e3e36; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><img alt="" src="https://i.imgur.com/iThe4tT.png" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/>Swindon was a mostly quiet town, as woodland towns go. There were bar fights and pickpocketings. Occasionally, a traveling merchant or other wanderers would be attacked on the road and ask the Swindon Woodsmen for help. With the amount and complexity of crime, and the general policy that if it wasn't life-threatening, it wasn't important, there wasn't really a whole lot to do, honestly, so the local unit only consisted of ten people; one captain, three teams of three. <br/><br/>"We've got a murder on our hands."<br/><br/>Captain Blätt's voice was low and worried, unusual for him. The nine other Woodsmen sat a little straighter in their chairs. They had all heard the rumors from last night, of course, but rumors are not always true. Liv had hoped they weren't, this time. She had seen Grandma Reed often, just a little old woman going about her business, bringing justice in her own way. She had been the reason the Woodsmen and Red Cloaks had existed peacefully. Under Grandma Reed's strict guidance, the Cloaks had let the Woodsmen deal with crime on the surface in return for much freer hands than the Woodsmen, and a Royal Army not being summoned to arrest them all. It was a weird, not quite symbiotic relationship, but it had worked. A little bribe here and there, sometimes from townspeople, sometimes from a more zealous Cloak who had a hankering for violence and wished to not be disturbed, had given the Woodsmen a comfortable, easy existence. With the death of Grandma Reed, this balance was threatened.<br/><br/>"We don't know much," Blätt continued. "She was found in an alley, covered in blood and axe wounds." Every Woodsman winced. That was a coincidence begging to be misconstrued by the public. "The local fur trader known as Wolf was reported fleeing from the scene. He might have killed her, he might simply have been unfortunate. Either way, I want you to talk to him. He's a regular at the Tavern and probably still hungover from last night, so I think two of you should be enough. Any volunteers?"<br/><br/>Liv stood up immediately. There was something about murdering an old woman (even if she <span style="font-style: italic">did</span> lead a group of vigilantes) that did not sit right with her, and talking to a suspect was certain to be far more interesting than going to the scene of the crime and look for tracks. Out of the corner of her eye and to her slight dismay, she saw Martin get up from his seat, too, but there was nothing for it. With a nod from Blätt, they left for the fur trader's cabin in the forest.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">***</div><br/>"Do you think he did it?"<br/><br/>The pair had barely passed the 'Welcome to Swindon' sign on their way out of town before Martin couldn't keep his mouth shut anymore. Liv furrowed her brow.<br/><br/>"How would I know? We haven't even started the investigation," she answered.<br/><br/>"Well, no, but you must have some thoughts hiding beneath that braid."<br/><br/>"No."<br/><br/>Martin chuckled. While he was never unfriendly, Liv thought he was unprofessional with her. Thomas had a braid, too, but Martin never made any mention of his appearance. Refusing to make any more conversation than she had to, Martin's humming soon became a pleasant backdrop along with birdsong and the gentle rustle of the leaves. Hardly weather to make anyone murderous. As the neared the cabin, they heard a loud crash. They shared a puzzled look before proceeding.<br/><br/>To Liv's surprise, the cabin wasn't about to fall apart. She had expected that from the local semi-alcoholic, womanizing hunter. Liv raised her fist and pounded it twice against the wooden door.<br/><br/>"It's the Woodsmen," she announced loudly. "Open up."</div></div>