1

Delving into the documentation, I began to draw up a list of suspects. While the files on foreigners were recent and severely limited in their information, those on arrested criminals were much more comprehensive.

I made a list of the bandits who had served their sentences, or who had been released prematurely, limiting my search to those approaching thirty. This first list was quite extensive, but one candidate particularly caught my attention.

Thaur Khrôma, thirty-two years old, former member of a gang. He had been arrested and convicted for criminal complicity and was suspected, without sufficient concrete evidence, of several murders. This individual had not hesitated to cut off part of his beard during his arrest: it had gotten stuck in a door while he was trying to escape, he had sacrificed his honor to fail anyway.

During his time in prison, he had learned the basics of plumbing during his community service and he had been released almost a month earlier, before the murders. He was the most obvious suspect and my instinct told me that I was not wrong. The bail for his early release had been paid by a foreign tycoon who had recently arrived in town, but he had apparently had to add a bribe, since an ink stain filled the space where his name should have been.

I sent the Watch to question the officials in order to find the culprit. They could provide me with a description of the wealthy philanthropist who had freed the criminal. However, the latter was on bail and forbidden from leaving the city, having to check in regularly with the Jailers to confirm his presence in Bruma.

The case was finally moving forward. Even if the answers still eluded me, the keys to the enigma were within reach…

At least that was what I told myself before Thaur Khrôma was found that evening.

The individual had not checked in the day before and a search warrant had already been issued. The combined efforts of the Jailers and the Watch allowed to found him during the day, but I understood then that the solution was still far away.

Khroma's body was discovered by technicians in charge of maintaining the mechanisms that powered the steam turbines. Between the chimneys, a beardless body lay, the back of the head pierced by a dart.

Despite the lack of a beard, the Watch’s facial recognition services were able to immediately confirm the identity of the deceased by comparing him to the data provided by the Jailers. For me, it was a new lead that ended in a dead end.

But I would not let myself be discouraged. I had the order given to have all foreigners of high economic class who attempted to leave the city monitored and to hold them for as long as was legally possible.

Once the official capable of recognizing the wealthy foreigner would be arrested, he would allow me to sift through this list of suspects. I also ordered a few of the agents to discreetly monitor the entrance to the bank of Goldentree, where the victims’ loot was kept.

The law forbade me from having my men enter the bank and I could not order their staff to betray the secrets guaranteed to their clients. So, I could only rely on the sketchers at the Watch to draw a portrait of anyone who entered the building on the day the vault was opened. I had no way of knowing, however, whether the gold would be taken away or left there, perhaps in another vault.

2

After the opening day, I obtained the suspect’s portrait. The arrested official confirmed that it was indeed him among the various images and the list of foreigners provided me with a name: Aurum Ictu.

However, we could not find his trace. I guessed that he had probably changed his identity, perhaps with the help of one of the false beards of his murdered accomplice.

The investigation was therefore left in suspense, for lack of new evidence. Bitterly, I continued my usual activities, without the questions about this mystery ceasing to haunt me: who were the killer, finally, and where were they?

3

It was a week later that a final body finally shed light on the whole affair.

An elderly man, with a fairly short beard, was hanging in the middle of the luxurious suite he had booked a little over a week ago in one of the city's chic hotels.

As I entered the room, Captain Obsidian gave me a look that was halfway between annoyed and embarrassed. I immediately understood why when I observed the crime scene.

There were no signs of a struggle, but around the corpse was a circle of all too familiar objects. A small shovel, a purse, a quill pen, a hatchet, a letter opener, the Gas lamp that should have been at the head of the bed, a compass and a small wooden box, formed a circle around a little axe.

Obsidian was annoyed because this case proved that he had been wrong to close the case. He claimed, of course, that it was probably a murderer copying the other's modus operandi, hoping to lead us down a false trail. However, his face clearly indicated that he did not believe it himself.

Finding nothing unusual in the examination of the corpse, I authorized Doctor Alun to lower it from his rope for a more scholarly study. I observed the surroundings while listening distractedly to the statements of the hotel staff.

The deceased gave his name as Dives Ventus and claimed to have recently arrived in Bruma. Having paid generously for his suite and left behind good tips, he was certainly a rich man.

However, I found no trace of money in his room. A few empty chests, at most, which could have contained some. Looking more closely at the clues, I saw that several gold shavings were lying on the ground and Dr. Alun reported that he had found others in the victim's pockets. The small quantity of the precious metal was in no way a fortune. They seemed to be pieces that had been scraped from some ingots.

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On the walls were words similar to the previous messages addressed to the victims. Pieces of paper delicately calligraphed and attached to the walls with some glues. I found a total of eight words addressed to “Pala”. They expressed regret at his attitude and his responsibility in the death of their supposed authors.

One of them, signed in the name of “Ultio Cophinus”, seemed more cheerful and said that he had appreciated that “Pala” usurped his identity and pretended to take revenge, but that it was now time for him to join them too.

Alba's one was also different, saying that she would join them in her time and that she thanked Pala for sparing her life during his murders: sentences that the real Alba Magister, given the fury that had filled her at the death of her husband, would never have written herself.

The identity of the deceased seemed obvious to me then: the last piece I was missing in this sinister puzzle.

Driven by a presentiment, I headed towards the circle of objects and opened the small chest. I noticed in passing that it was different from the others, indicating a different craftsman. As I had suspected, it contained a paper filled with the same writing as the words on the walls. A writing different from that of the previous murders. A writing that I knew. I read the message:

All dead on the dead man's chest...

And the gold is gone!

The chest is empty...

The dead man is avenged!

The pickaxe was the culprit,

And the inspector saw nothing

Ut quisque suum debitum

I noticed that the paper was crumpled, as if someone had read it just before, that their hands had clenched on it, then put it back in place. On the other side of the sheet, the outlines in black ink of the symbol of Nemesis removed any doubts I might have had about the author of this message.

Gritting my teeth in rage, I continued my study of the crime scene. I still had to discover how this murder had taken place.

4

I was sitting on a bench in the city park the day after the case. The forest of giant mushrooms gave off a heady scent as the artificial light reflected off the luminous bays that adorned the vines descending from the ceiling. Although I preferred to gaze at the desolate moors above ground and the steam from the chimneys overlooking the city, I also sometimes went there when I was feeling a little depressed.

Once again, I had solved the case. But, once again, Nemesis had escaped me.

I noticed out of the corner of my eye a figure sitting down next to me. Moïra, of course.

After we greeted each other, she remained silent for a long time, perhaps understanding that I was not in the mood to talk. Of course, she eventually gave in to her curiosity.

“So?” I heard that the case of the ‘Dwarf Chest’ was finally solved. Yet, it doesn't seem to please you?"

I resolved to tell her the case in detail. Although annoyed at first, I felt better by speaking.

As I explained, the last victim was the culprit of the other murders: Pala Sternutatio. The first body we had found must have belonged to a poor man who, by his morphology, must have resembled Sternutatio. Someone whose disappearance went unnoticed. His beard had been braided as Sternutatio was accustomed to and he had been murdered, before or after that. Having access to his mine, Sternutatio had had no trouble bringing the body there, probably helped by his associate: Thaur Khrôma, a criminal whose bail he had paid under a false name. He had probably already cut his beard and was wearing one of the hairpieces he had had prepared for his crimes, when he had paid the sum. The body of their victim was placed in the theatrical manner necessary for their plan, then the murderers had disfigured his face in such a way as to prevent real identification.

They then began to eliminate the other associates one by one. Knowing their habits, Sternutatio had had no trouble setting up ambushes for them. The clues left had increased the distrust between the remaining shareholders and it was likely that the criminal had anticipated Alba Magister's reaction, which had led to eliminating two conspirators at once without any further action on his part.

Once all those who could access the gold were dead, or incapacitated, the killer had gotten rid of his accomplice. Unrecognizable under his disguise, he had then gone to the bank where he had withdrawn all that was left of the treasure, to take it to where he now resided.

In economic deficit and riddled with debt, the old man had decided to seize all that was left of the gold and start a new life elsewhere. To do this, he had not hesitated to borrow a lot of money, which he had used as funds after faking his death. Then he had killed his former friends and played on their mutual feelings of guilt and suspicion to prevent any coordinated action to stop the murders.

But once he had done his deed, Nemesis had struck. The hotel staff had told me that a red-haired lady, hiding her face with a mask, had rented the next suite. They had told me about her hoarse voice that sounded like a crackling fire, which had removed any doubt I could have about her identity.

It probably hadn’t been too difficult for the thief to force the lock at night. She had probably used a sleeping gas to keep the owner of the place asleep while she plundered the riches and staged his future death.

One of the dead man’s chests had wheels and a steam-powered movement system, which had allowed the deceased to transport the gold there and the thief to make it take the opposite route. She had then taken the stairlift back down to the ground floor and left the hotel despite the late hour, as confirmed to me by the night staff, to whom she had left a generous tip. She had thus bought off any suspicions they might have had about her hasty departure, for such is the power of money.

This is where Mr. Sternutatio’s weakness had come into play. The man, indeed, suffered from several allergies that made him dependent on medication. Doctor Alun had analyzed these and concluded that they had been replaced by powerful hallucinogens.

When he got up in the morning, his first instinct had been to take these products. Then, he had probably progressed through the rest of the room in a semi-conscious state. While the papers on the walls and the objects in the center of the room reminded him of his own guilt for the murder of his friends, amplified by the narcotic, he had discovered that his ill-gotten gold had been stolen from him.

Ruined after all these highly dishonorable acts, his mind troubled by the drug, the man must have considered the rope hanging from the ceiling and a small table that allowed easy access to it. He had climbed onto the latter, put the rope around his neck and taken the last step of his criminal life.

My story finished, I looked at the plants diving from the vault and sighed.

“So,” concluded Moïra, “the case is solved? You should be happy?”

“But I could not prevent these murders. Nemesis got there before me, knowing in advance what was going to happen. She waited for the last dead and pushed the criminal to join them, playing the avenger again on behalf of this man, dead fifty years ago...”

“And she stole the gold.”

“Yes, there is also that...”

“There is still something exciting and romantic about it, don't you think? The story of the dead man, told as if by himself by one of his murderers, himself supposed to be dead...”

“I suppose...”

“And in the end, justice is done and the forgotten crimes have been punished...”

“Maybe... But one day, Nemesis will also answer for her crimes. My hunt will eventually succeed, even if I have to pursue her to the edge of the world, to the abyss that overlooks the great void, where the lands of Zerkrôm end…”

Moïra burst out with her little clear laugh. With amusement and simplicity, she answered me:

“You don't need to go that far.”

It was true: Nemesis was hiding in my city of Bruma and, one day, I would surely capture her!

THE END