Another day, another murder for the infamous Jack The Ripper, says the Sheriff jokingly. What do you mean? asks Dunk. I suppose he didn’t have time to tell you. He’s been in this city for less than 36 hours and he saw a many murders. But the first one was a woman getting stabbed with a ripper, explains the Sheriff. What? How? asks Dunk. Long story, I try to brush it off. What do you know about the murder? asks the Sheriff. They were four blokes. Clit, Dick, Harry and John, I think were their names. They came to kill the guard Nicholas and to break out the husband of Amalia, I explain to the Sheriff. You’re taking the piss, right? A hairy dick named John and a clit? Who even is Clit? A cat? asks the Sheriff looking at me in disbelief. No, you’re wrong, says Dunk. What do you mean? I ask. Their names were Clitheroe, Robert, John and Henry. The guy they broke out was the husband of Alice, not Amelia. How are you this bad with names? asks Dunk. I was focused on not having anyone else die. Especially someone that was feeling rather suicidal, I nudge Dunk. Really? What’s my name then? Dunk asks. It’s Dunk, I reply. What kind of horseshit name is that? asks Dunk. Then what is it? I ask. It’s Dirk, he says. So what else can you two love birds tell me? asks the Sheriff. It happened during the shift change, says Dirk. That means that they had to know when that change happened, somehow, says the Sheriff. Most probably, says Dirk.
One last thing. Can you show me the four through some magic? asks the Sheriff. I can’t. The only way to do that is to somehow turn back time. And I do not have that type of god-like power, I explain to him. Then can you describe them to me? he asks. I am sorry. I barely remembered their names, I don’t know if I’ll be able to describe them well, I explained to the Sheriff. I don’t know how you weren’t jailed earlier or even executed, says the Sheriff. Clitheroe was rather tall, but not skinny, not well built either. Had a big nose and a big lower lip, a bloody knife in his left hand and he had brown eyes. John was smaller than Clitheroe, but with the same build as him. He was also square faced, tiny lipped, eyes far apart, you can’t really mistake him for another being. Henry was the fattest of the four and only a bit taller than John. And Robert was plainer than a potato, says Dirk. Can you give me a bit more details about Robert? asks the Sheriff. I would, but I barely remember him, says Dirk. What of the man they got out of this place? asks the Sheriff. He was a monster of a man, tall as Clitheroe, fat as Henry and kept saying ‘aye’, says Dirk. Well, let us hope we can find these five and whoever else helped them. I will let the jury and the judge know of your help, says the Sheriff. Thank you, I tell the Sheriff. So you have a friend with the law, says Dirk smiling. I sure do hope it’s a friend, I say as I look around at the people still staring at me.
So, you’re a magician, huh? asks Dirk. No. I am not a magician, I tell Dirk. What’s the difference? I thought it’s the same devilish curse with a different name for different regions, says Dirk. Why are you so well spoken? I ask without even thinking. I had an uncle that was a priest, may God bless his soul. He thought us to read a bit and how to speak proper, says Dirk. I am sorry for your loss, I tell him. It is fine. So, do tell me, what’s the difference? asks Dirk again. It’s the specializations. That’s the only difference. Magicians deal with the magic of light, that’s why their good at doing tricks that deceive the eyes. Witches control the magic of the night and dark. Wizards, like me, do a bit of everything. We’re historians of some sort. Preserving all types of magic. My master used to call me a Jack of all trades and a master of none, I tell Dirk. Those are the only differences? asks Dirk with child wonder in his eyes. No, those were just a couple of examples, I tell Dirk. Fascinating. I never knew. Our uncle always told us that after the war with magicians we are not to trust your kind. Since you have the power of the devil on your side, says Dirk. Let me show you something, I tell Dirk. I take his hand, turn towards the wall with my back towards the dungeon as I didn’t want them to see what I was about to do. Hold still and trust me, I tell Dirk. I light a fire at the tip of my finger and push it against his hand. See? Magic fire does not burn you. If we were what your uncle said we were, shouldn’t we burn human flesh? I ask him. He stands there dumbfounded looking at me. We got them! we hear someone exclaim excitedly.
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