Here's Zasit, Captain of the Guard, and Solon Beridos the Hammerer in Zasit's office. I'm not sure if there's any gameplay mechanic at work here, but it's still cool. I like to think their meeting went something like this:
Zasit's eyes were sunken from lack of sleep. That, and the gray in her burnt umber hair, made her look older than ninety-six. Solon knew what was keeping her awake. It was keeping him awake, too.
"A miner was found dead last night.," she said after a long silence. "Edem Listurdim. He was still in his bed, completely drained of blood."
"Aye." Solon didn't care for speaking any more than he had to.
"Before his death," Zasit continued, "Vabok was heard by a number of other dwarves, complaining about the lack of a well. He was having trouble sleeping, too, because of the nearby construction." The miners were digging out a hallway full of bedrooms for all the new migrants that had just come in. A lot of dwarves were complaining about the noise keeping them up. Solon didn't understand the complaint about the well, though. Four new wells had just been installed that pulled fresh, clean water from an underground lake.
Zasit drummed a quick tattoo on her table, exhaling sharply. She did that when she was exasperated. "Vampires don't need to sleep. They don't need to drink, either."
Not water, at least, Solon thought bitterly. "The mayor saw it," he said. He was starting to have doubts. He was not easily moved to pity, but these doubts unnerved him. If Vabok wasn't the vampire... if Vabok wasn't the one who had done those murders... Solon was a hundred and seventeen-year-old soldier. He'd never had a position as important as Hammerer. He'd killed three hundred seventy-four monsters and enemy soldiers, and never had to have a doubt about it. He'd been up all night after hearing about Edem's death.
Zasit scratched behind her ear, a sign that she was thinking. She'd been up all night too, talking to several of the dwarves who knew Edem, and Vabok... and the mayor. She's much better at this than Goden.
"The only witness to Monom's murder was the mayor. I've heard people talking about our illustrious mayor. Kol Besmarotin is known for his many, many talents. He's a hunter, thresher, miner, and from what I've heard, nearly as good with a mace as you." Solon clicked his tongue in irritation at that. "He's skilled at flattery, intimidation, comedy, mediation... no wonder he was made mayor. He's been a member of more organizations than any two dwarves combined. How old is he, really?"
Solon didn't have an answer. But he was starting to understand the implication.
"He's an admirer of the arts, too," Zasit continued. "He had good things to say about the craftsdwarfship of Datanerith's beds. Even that ridiculous, spiked chrysoprase thing he sleeps on. But he's never talked about sleeping. Never had a good night's rest to brag about. Nobody's heard him grumble about losing sleep to all that construction. He's had no opinion about the food lately, and I know everybody who's eaten Mistem's new food has had something to say.
"Kol has made some complaints about feeding, though. Right before Edem died, he was heard to grumble that he can't even remember the last time he had a good drink." Zasit leaned forward pointedly. "I spoke with Asmel the Bookkeeper. Datanerith has never been without booze, Solon. Not even during the Hunger. What kind of thirst could Kol have been hoping to slake?"
Zasit and Solon shared a long, intense silence. Solon broke it.
"Aye." There was nothing more to say. He pulled the steel mace from it's hoop and, with a nod to the Captain of the Guard, wasted no time in turning around and making his way to the mayor's private dining room. Nothing he did could rectify the wrong he'd done Vabok, but at least justice would be done in Datanerith. Never let it be said that Solon Beridos, Macelord and Hammerer, shied away from justice.
He clicked his tongue. Maybe it was time to see how good Kol Besmarotin truly was with that mace.