“What do you mean a little strange?” Ekkehardt asked. Althaus scratched the back of his head.

“I guess there is nothing I can do other than repeat the accounts of Freimann and the others…” Althaus responded before taking a deep breath. “As Metzger plunged his knife into the killer’s chest, the killer landed a hammer-fist right on Metzger's right ear. Metzger lost control of the knife, leaving it lodged in the killer’s chest.”

Althaus took another pause and breathed in.

“Metzger was knocked back and stunned for a few moments. He took a moment to regain his composure and draw a second knife, a large meat cleaver, from his belt,” Althaus explained as he mimed Metzger’s actions; clutching his hand into a fist near his waist before lifting over his head, “He raised it and just as he was about to strike a finishing blow, old Mr. Freimann saw something he couldn’t believe: the top half of Becker’s peel, the part that broke off earlier in the fight, began to shake. Up until this point it had been lying in the middle of the road in between Freimann and the others, but now it was moving by itself. The broken piece of wood began to rotate, so that the flat end pointed towards Freimann and away from Metzger.” Althaus explained.

“Before Freimann could process what was going on the broken peel launched itself through the air like an arrow. The broken end, which had a pointed edge, rammed itself into Metzger’s right asscheek. He squealed like an animal before dropping the cleaver and falling on his side.”

“Metzger hit the dirt, but his cleaver didn’t. Instead it remained motionless in the air. It didn’t fall; it just rested parallel to the ground and at waist-height, as though it was sitting on an invisible table. Becker was still trying to strangle the killer, so either he didn’t notice what was going on or he did notice, but couldn’t do anything about it. Either way, he kept struggling with the killer as Metzger’s cleaver began to spin. Freimann said that the cleaver began to rotate; slowly at first, but after a minute or so it was going real fast.”

“Once the cleaver got to the point where it was spinning so fast that it looked more like a gray and brown disk than a knife, it launched itself towards Becker and the killer. It just barely flew past the killer before cutting into the right side of Becker’s large belly. Blood splattered over the side of the bakery and the knife lodged itself deep into the bakery’s wall,” Althaus explained.

“Becker fell backwards, clutching his side. The killer used this opportunity to get back on his feet and grab Becker by the collar. He pulled Becker up and pinned him against the wall of the bakery. Freimann thought that the killer was trying to say something to Becker, but he was too far away and his hearing wasn’t too good to begin with. All Freimann knew was that whatever the killer said to Becker just made him pissed off. Becker tried to grab the killer, but before he could do anything, the killer punched him right in the face so hard that he caused the back of Becker’s head to hit the exterior wall of the bakery.”

“Freimann saw a large bloodstain appear on the wall, right where Becker’s head hit it. When Becker slid to the ground, a thick blood smear followed his head. He hit the ground ass-first and ended up in a sitting position with his back against the wall,” Althaus explained as he pointed to a section of the bakery wall.

“This is just Freimann’s opinion and maybe it didn’t come from the mind of a genius, but he thought that Becker had been beaten senseless at this point. Nothing he said from that point forward seemed to make any sense and he didn’t seem to act like a normal person would in that situation,” Althaus explained.

“What do you mean by that? I don’t think many normal people end up in Becker’s shoes,” Alexandra asked.

“I mean, he didn’t seem to respond to the danger he was in. He just sort of, stared off into the distance with a dumb look on his face,” Althaus explained, “Anyways, at that point neither Becker nor Metzger were in any position to fight back against the killer. Becker was staring off into space, thinkin’ God-knows-what and Metzger was lying on his side with half a baker’s peel lodged in his rear. Freimann saw the killer disappear into the bakery and return a few moments later with a rolling pin in his hand and several burning pieces of coal floating behind him; roughly at shoulder height.” Althaus explained before moving to a spot in the dirt road.

“This is roughly the spot where Metzger was when the killer came out of the bakery. He was able to get to the point where he had one foot and one knee on the ground. Freimann couldn’t tell if he was trying to get up and fight or just get away, but when the killer saw him, he went straight for the wounded man and struck him across the face with the rolling pin.” Althaus said before pointing to his left, “Two of his teeth were later found in that direction. We think that the killer knocked them out when he hit him with the rolling pin. Anyways, this knocked Metzger back onto the ground, but this time he landed on the peel, pushing it further into his body until part of it emerged from his upper thigh,” Althaus explained.

“Once Metzger was dealt with, the killer returned to Becker with the rolling pin in his right hand. He kept his left hand open with his palm facing up as several pieces of coal rotated in a circle above it. Then, with one single gesture, he sent a piece of coal flying towards Becker. It ended up lodging itself into the wound on Becker’s right side. Becker howled like an animal. This is what would eventually get people to start noticing the fight.” Althaus explained.

“The killer then began speaking to Becker. He would say something to Becker, Becker would then either say nothing or say something that the killer didn’t want to hear, and then the killer would burn Becker with the coals or strike him with the rolling pin,” Althaus said.

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“That sounds a lot like some sort of interrogation…” Ekkehardt interjected.

“That’s what we think it was, but with Freimann’s hearing being what it was at the time we can’t know for sure,” Althaus responded before returning to his story.

“Around this time Lia Forst, the wife of a lumberjack, showed up to investigate Becker’s screaming,” Althaus said before pausing to point towards the blacksmith’s building, “Ms. Forst approached the scene from the road behind the blacksmith’s building. She didn’t see Becker or the killer until she rounded the corner. Once she had done that, she was able to see all three men, but she wasn’t able to figure out exactly what was going on. She assumed that Becker and Metzger were injured and that the killer was trying to help them. I guess this was one of those situations where being half right is worse than being completely wrong. Anyways, she ran towards Becker and the killer until she got within ten paces of them. At that point she saw the killer standing over Becker, covered in blood, and holding a bloody rolling pin over his head while Metzger, still bleeding from the wounds on his thigh and asscheek, had once again risen to his hands and knees. She wasn’t paying too much attention to what they were saying, but she remembered the killer saying something about Becker’s daughter Elsa before she heard Metzger shout something along the lines of ‘Get help, he’s going to kill us all’. Ms. Forst didn’t even think; she just ran to the blockhouse,” Althaus explained

“The blockhouse?” Alexandra asked.

“Yeah, it’s just down the road,” Althaus said while pointing to the road that ran perpendicular to the road the bakery was on, “It’s the only fortified structure in the village. Back in the Time of Red Snow, we would all try to hide there during the Bergman raids. When the count made peace with the Bergman we started using it as a place for the sheriff to store his weapons and idle in when he wasn’t on patrol. We installed a cell in there too, but I don’t think we’ve ever had to use it.”

“I see,” Alexandra said.

“Anyways, when Ms. Forst ran to the blockhouse that day, she slammed the door shut behind her, collapsed and vomited onto Sheriff Taube and his friend, a farmer by the name of Dirk Hase. It was only after a minute of dry-heaving when Ms. Forst was able to explain to the sheriff what she saw and even then she wasn’t exactly being coherent. He wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to Ms. Forst; after all that part about floating coals must have been hard to believe…” Althaus explained, only to be cut off by Alexandra.

“Wait a minute, you said that the killer put a piece of hot coal into Becker’s wound, right?” She asked.

“Yes, sir. He did.” Althaus replied while nodding his head.

“Do you think he was trying to cauterize the wound?” Alexandra asked.

“Cauter-what-now?” Althaus spat out.

“Cauterization, it’s a means of using heat to stop blood loss. You burn the wounded part of a patient’s body to get it to swell and slow the bleeding,” Alexandra explained. Althaus scratched his chin for a moment.

“Why would he want to do that?” The old man asked.

“You said that he was trying to get information out of Becker, right? Maybe he was trying to keep Becker alive for long enough to tell him whatever he needed to know? You said that Elsa is involved in this, right?” Alexandra inquired.

“Well, that’s what Ms. Forst said, but we tried talking to Elsa multiple times. She’s always said that she doesn’t know anything about what happened to her father,” Althaus explained.

“You think either Elsa or Ms. Forst are lying?” Alexandra asked.

“Well, in the case of Ms. Forst, I don’t know if what she heard was true, but I know for a fact that she thought it was true. She was a very honest person. I don’t even think she was physically able to lie. Was she misremembering? Maybe. Memory can be a tricky thing when stressful situations are involved,” Althaus said before taking a brief pause.

“As for Elsa… I don’t know. We’ve asked her about what happened to her father multiple times and she’s always said that she didn’t know anything. This is just a gut feeling, but… I don’t know… something just doesn’t feel right. Then again, she was only a little girl back then, so who knows?” Althaus replied.

“Alright, what happened next?” Alexandra asked.

“Once the sheriff decided that Ms. Forst hadn’t just lost her mind, he picked up a club and a crossbow before telling Hase to inform my father, who was the village elder at the time, that something was going on in front of the bakery. The sheriff ran off to the bakery while Hase ran off to the church across the street,” Althaus explained.

“And why did Hase go to the church?” Ekkehardt asked.

“His wife was friends with my mother and she told him that my father was going to be speaking with Father Taggart that day. This was right before he really started going downhill,” Althaus replied.

“I see,” Ekkehardt responded.

“Hase burst into the church, ran up to my father, and told him that Becker and Metzger were being attacked. Hase would later say that, once he said that, something lit up in my father’s eyes; like he just realized something. Hase also said that he thought my father would just tell everyone to stay inside until the situation had been resolved and send him to find a doctor. Instead, my father ordered Hase and the people around him to mobilize the village militia so that he could personally lead it to the bakery. Hase and the others would follow my father’s orders,” Althaus said before looking at the ground and sighing.

“What was happening down at the bakery while all this was going on?” Alexandra asked.

“Well, Mr. Freimann said that the killer went back to Metzger after his outburst and struck him on head once again with the rolling pin. We don’t know for sure, but Freimann believed that this killed him. He then walked back to Becker and began to speak with him for a little bit, but Sheriff Taube, who was about eight paces away, interrupted their conversation. He pointed his crossbow at the killer and shouted at him; ordered him to get away from Becker, drop the rolling pin, and put his hands up. The killer shouted back, telling the sheriff something along the lines of ‘This is none of your business’. Taube didn’t listen. He repeated his order several times in an attempt to pacify the situation and each time the killer refused to cooperate. After a while he just said that the killer had five seconds to comply or he would put a bolt in between his eyes. He counted down to five as the killer stared at him. When Taube counted to five he fired his crossbow. The bolt flew through the air only to stop right in front of the killer’s face. It hung there for a moment before flying backwards and planting itself nock-first into his right eye. Taube dropped his crossbow and fell to the ground. He let out a painful shout as he clutched his face. As this was happening, my father and a dozen village militiamen showed up to the bakery and nobody could have foreseen what happened next.