Chapter 439: The Crime Scene
“Brother Vader, is this really all right?” Firehead kept plucking at her tattered coat. “Chief Knight said the uniform is a symbol of authority. We’re supposed to wear it neatly when on duty.”
“And there’s a punishment for dirtying it,” Whistle added, eyes moving left and right, watching for colleagues. “Let alone not wearing it at all.”
“Stop fussing.” Vader spat into the snow. “Wearing it is symbolic—I get it. Standing in the snow in a black uniform also broadcasts to every criminal within fifty paces that police are present. How do you catch anyone that way?” He looked at them. “You’re both from Border Town?”
Both policewomen straightened. Firehead nodded. “My father was a hunter, lived on Old Street. He could put an arrow through a fox’s neck while it was running through the woods.”
Whistle: “My father too, but he said hunting was uncertain and wanted me in the mines. He’d already found a hoe for me. If His Highness Roland hadn’t become lord, that’s where I’d be.”
“I can tell,” Vader said. Only a hunter’s child ends up with a name like Whistle. “Since you’re locals, you care more about public order than I do. If I’m willing to risk the punishment, why are you hesitating? Is the uniform more important than the law His Highness laid down?”
They thought about it. “You’re right,” they said together.
“Besides,” Whistle added, “you’re not really an outsider anymore. You have your identity card. His Highness said anyone who carries one is his subject.”
Vader laughed and said nothing. He fixed his gaze on the row of cave dwellings on the eastern edge of the temporary housing area.
Nearly three months as a police officer. He had arrived thinking a patrol team was a patrol team—you extorted, you covered for whoever paid you, you filled time between payoffs. He had grown up watching the Valencia patrol teams work exactly that way. They were city guards’ backup, useful for menial tasks and illicit income, a parallel economy running alongside the official one.
Border Town had dismantled that assumption inside a week.
The volume of work alone was unlike anything he’d experienced. Police accepted refugees, mediated disputes, made arrests, hunted informants. The First Army fought outside the walls; the police managed everything inside them. Two separate systems, two separate chains of authority, no overlap and no freelancing. He had looked for the usual arrangement—some superior who skimmed, some area where the rules bent—and found none.
What surprised him most was where the targets came from. Not orders passed down from above, but reports from citizens. Every time a foreign merchant ship docked, a handful of citizens walked to City Hall with information. He had revised his assessment of commoners substantially since arriving.
No spy could hide here who hadn’t grown up here. Everyone watching, everyone reporting, the whole population as a surveillance apparatus that cost nothing to maintain.
Of course, not every operation went cleanly. The foreign merchant they’d arrested last week had turned out to be a noble from the Kingdom of Dawn. Vader had braced for consequences. None came. His superiors showed no particular concern about the incident—which told him something useful about how far the rules extended.
“Gold’s moving,” Firehead said softly.
“Don’t react. Keep sweeping.” Vader held his broom steady and watched the target—the serf with the code name Gold, who had emerged from one of the cave dwellings and was moving through the eastern district without any visible cargo. A reconnaissance pass. The deal wasn’t happening yet.
Two days ago, the Ministry of Justice had received a report: a serf trafficking grain. Carter had assigned the case personally and given the directive—arrested alive, goods seized intact. He had named it the Gold Hunting Mission, which was the kind of name Carter gave things when he considered them important.
The first day and a half had produced nothing. The problem was the uniforms. Vader had figured that out quickly. In this district, news of a City Hall official’s presence spread through the resident population in minutes. Serfs watched authority the way prey watched predators—continuously, from the edges, never quite meeting your eye. Black police uniforms in the Eastern Zone were visible from fifty meters and telegraphed arrival thirty seconds before it happened.
So: tattered coats. Brooms. Swept snow going nowhere. Three officers rotating through the thoroughfares, unremarkable.
Gold vanished into his cave dwelling and came out carrying a large sack on his back.
“Wheat,” Whistle said under her breath. Her fists were tight.
“Bastard,” Firehead said. “We should take him now.”
“Wait.” Vader kept his voice flat. “Carter wants him with the goods and the buyer present. We move on my signal.” He ran through the positions in his head. The old city wall ran north of here; the only route to the inner market passed through a single gap in the masonry. “Firehead—go now. Get to the old wall gap ahead of him. Don’t let him see you moving fast.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll lead—walk ahead of him, not behind. If he doesn’t know where I’m going, he watches me less.” He’d learned this in Valencia, watching better operators work. Following from behind triggered awareness; preceding the target, especially if you moved at the same pace, created a blind spot in their attention. “Whistle—stay a hundred steps back. Don’t look at him.”
“Understood.”
“Go.”
Vader picked up his broom and walked, at the ordinary pace of a man clearing snow with nowhere particular to be, directly in front of Gold and slightly to the right. He tracked the footsteps behind him without turning. He had done this enough times that the slight shifts in gait—weight transfer, hesitation, the split-second pause that preceded a turn—read to him as clearly as words on paper.
Gold moved through the eastern district. Past the old wall gap. Past the point where Firehead would be positioned and waiting. He stopped at the corner of a street on the interior side and set the sack down. Waiting for the buyer.
Vader turned into a side path and pressed himself against the wall.
A few minutes later: a local man, pushing a handcart, appearing from the direction of the market. He moved slowly, checked his surroundings twice, and then walked up to the serf. He lifted the flap of the sack, examined the contents, and reached into his coat for coins.
The moment his hand came out, Vader stepped back into the thoroughfare and raised his arm.
They came from three directions simultaneously.
The buyer froze where he stood, hand still extended, coins catching the pale winter light. Vader drove Gold down into the snow with a knee in his back. Coins scattered and rolled. He heard them ringing against the cobblestones even as he was pulling the man’s wrists together.
“You’re arrested.”
Chapter 439: The Crime Scene
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
“Brother Vader, is… this really Okay?” Firehead said while fiddling with her own clothing. “Chief Knight said that our uniforms are the symbol of our status, and thus we must wear it neatly when we’re on duty.”
“What’s more, there’s a punishment for dirtying the uniform, let alone for not wearing it.” Whistle kept looking left and right as if he was afraid of being spotted by a colleague.
“Stop nagging. It’s symbolic enough to wear it. Standing in the midwinter snow in the black uniform will alert everyone in the vicinity that policemen are around. How are we supposed to catch any criminal?” Vader spat on the ground and then continued, “You’re both from Border Town, right?”
The two policewomen became more spirited the moment Vader mentioned this. “Yes, I am. My father was a hunter who used to live on Old Street, and his skill was remarkable. He was able to strike the neck of a fox scampering about in the woods with only one arrow.”
“Me too. But my father often told me that hunting was an unstable career, and he preferred I became a miner. He’d even prepared a hoe for me. Had His Highness Roland not become the new Lord, I would have spent my days in the mines.”
“I can tell.” Vader shrugged his shoulders. “Only the children of hunters would have such uncommon nicknames,” he silently thought. “Since you’re both locals, surely you’re more concerned about the public order in the town than I am, right? If even I’m not afraid of being punished, why are you afraid? Is wearing the uniform more important than enforcing the rules and laws laid down by His Highness?”
“Hmm…” The duo hesitated briefly, before they replied with conviction, “You’re right.”
“But, Brother Vader, you’re not an outsider. Haven’t you already received your identity card? His Highness once said that anyone who possess the identity card are considered to be his subjects,” Whistle muttered.
Vader laughed and did not say a word. Instead, he fixed his gaze on a row of cave dwellings on the eastern side of the temporary housing area.
After serving as a policeman for nearly three months, he had grown fully accustomed to life in the Western Region. Before he became a policeman, he thought that a “patrol team” would have nothing to do apart from extorting and cheating the people. Little did he know that there would be more work than could possibly be completed every day.
The police were required to accept refugees and handle disputes among the citizenry. It was also the police’s duty to catch criminals and spies. Whereas, apart from fighting against the demonic beasts, the First Army did not help or intervene in the internal peacekeeping of Border Town.
This was completely different from what he had initially expected.
In Valencia, the patrol team was more like the city guards’ backup. They handled menial tasks and were not of much use. This was the reason why many patrollers would seek money from illicit sources. However, in Border Town, the police and the First Army belonged to different systems. The former handled internal affairs while the latter handled external ones.
What surprised Vader more was that the majority of the patrol team’s targets came from public reports instead of direct orders from their superiors. Indeed, the citizens of Border Town had changed his perception of commoners. This bunch of lazy and stupid people would actively watch out for suspicious characters and report them to the City Hall. Whenever a foreign merchant ship arrived in the town, the Ministry of Justice would receive a handful of such reports.
Vader soon realized the tremendous power that lied within the town—no foreign spy could shut himself off from the public or integrate into society quickly unless he grew up here. With everyone serving as a vigilant watchdog, what enemy could hide among the populace?
But of course, not every arrest operation would be successful. For example, the sneaky characters whom they arrested during the previous operation turned out to be a noble from the Kingdom of Dawn. Vader was prepared to be punished, but his superiors showed no reaction and seemed unperturbed that he had beaten up a noble. This served to consolidate his current mentality towards his job.
“Gold’s here!” Firehead exclaimed softly.
“Ignore him and just pretend that you’re sweeping the snow,” Vader said calmly. “He didn’t bring any goods, which means he’s only here to check on the situation.”
“Gold” was the code name of their current target. The Ministry of Justice received a report two days ago that a serf was trafficking grains. His Excellency Carter attached great importance to this issue and immediately assigned the task to Vader. He demanded that the serf was arrested alive together with the goods, and called this the “Gold Hunting Mission”.
However, the mission did not start out smoothly. After making some inquiries, they began to uncover the identity of the target. Subsequently, a team of six people took turns to monitor the temporary housing area, but not a single trace of the target was found.
To Vader, it was clear that the reason for the lack of development was because the policemen’s uniforms were too conspicuous. He had lived in the Western Zone for some time, and naturally knew that whenever a City Hall official was in the area, news of it would spread rapidly among the residents. It was no different in the Eastern Zone. The people who lived here were serfs, and thus the black uniforms of the policemen were as striking as fireflies in the night sky.
That explained why he was adamant that Firehead and Whistle should take off their uniforms and put on a tattered coat. In this way, they could disguise as snow sweepers and stand on the thoroughfares of the Eastern Zone and Border Town. The suspect would not be able to escape their sights as soon as he appeared.
They saw Gold walking around the Eastern Zone briefly before returning to a cave dwelling. When he reappeared, he was carrying a large sack on his back.
“He’s indeed trafficking wheat…” Whistle clenched her fists tightly.
“Damn it! He simply doesn’t respect what His Highness has said.” Firehead cursed angrily. “We shall arrest him right now!”
“Don’t be rash,” Vader said and beckoned with his hands. “His Excellency Carter said that he wanted the target arrested alive together with the goods. We shall split three ways and act.” His instructions were in accordance with the previous operation to surround Rat. “Firehead, you’ll mobilize immediately and go to the old city wall area first. There’s only one route for him to enter the inner city.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll follow the target. This requires a lot of skills, and thus I’m the most suitable for this role.” He licked his lips in anticipation. “Lastly, Whistle, you shall stalk me from about a 100 steps back. Remember not to make eye contact with Gold.”
“Understood.”
“Then, let’s begin!”
Although the three policemen were similar in rank, they acted in full compliance with Vader’s plan.
Vader carried a broom and calmly walked a couple of steps in front of Gold. According to his experience, following the target from behind would easily
arouse the target’s suspicions. Instead, by “leading the way”, the target would be much less cautious. If he was fairly certain of where the target was heading, this would be the safest method of tracking. He fully concentrated on Gold—he was confident that the instant that he heard a slight change in the target’s footsteps, he could trip the target and prevent him from fleeing.
After passing through the old city wall, Gold stopped walking and rested by the corner of a street. He was ostensibly aware that if he headed towards the center of the town, there would be a high chance of encountering policemen. Vader took a dozen more steps forward and turned into a side path, where he waited for the buyer to show up.
A short while later, a local who was pushing a handcart appeared. He looked around the vicinity before he slowly walked up to the serf. After inspecting the contents of the sack, he took out a handful of coins to close the deal. At that very moment, Vader gestured for the two policewomen to act.
The three of them dashed towards the target from different directions. The dealer was so dumbstruck that he did not move at all.
Vader pressed the serf down on the ground, accompanied by the clinking sound of coins scattering all over. He yelled, “You’re arrested!”