The Trap of the Dawn
The whispers began in Realm of the Crown like thin smoke; now the smoke smells of conspiracy. Those caught in it swear they knew nothing; one of them swears falsely. Suspicion has fallen on Sava the Bell-Ringer, Father Nicodim and Grigore the Cupbearer — and until the proof is plain, none of these names leaves the room. The places named in the testimonies — the old dungeon, the scriptorium and the guild forge — each await their turn under scrutiny. Study the testimonies at your leisure, fit them into the grid, and pronounce your verdict without haste.
From the Chancellery archive
A conspiracy is never hatched in daylight, and this dossier carries in its very name the hour at which it was uncovered: dawn. When the sky finally paled, three people with no business standing near one another had each, separately, been somewhere that did not suit them.
The three were chosen by opportunity, not by suspicion. Sava the Bell-Ringer sees the whole town from above and forgives nothing he sees. Father Nicodim carries the confessions of the entire court in his head and considers forgetfulness a gift worth selling. Grigore the Cupbearer tastes the king's wine before anyone else. Three trades that live, each in its own fashion, off what they learn about other people — which is precisely why none of them can be dismissed at the outset.
The places speak too. An old dungeon whose “abandoned” cells look rather less abandoned than the word suggests, a scriptorium where a quill scratches louder than a conscience, and the guild forge, where the fire never goes out and small metal things have a habit of disappearing.
This is a tier I dossier: it yields to clean elimination, with no hypotheses driven to absurdity. Which makes it the right place to learn the discipline of the grid.
Suspects
He has rung the cathedral bells on the hour for thirty years. He sees the whole city from above and forgives nothing he sees.
1.83 m
right-handed
brown eyes
greying hair
He hears the confessions of the whole court. Forgetting, he says, is a gift from the Lord - one he sells dearly.
1.72 m
right-handed
blue eyes
greying hair
He tastes the king's wine before anyone else. A trade with a short future, he says, but a rich past.
1.70 m
right-handed
brown eyes
chestnut hair
Locations
the old dungeon
Cells abandoned since the new dungeon was built. "Abandoned" is one way of putting it.
the scriptorium
Slanted desks, ink, and working silence. Here a quill creaks louder than a conscience.
the guild forge
Anvils, tongs, and a fire that never goes out. Many small metal things vanish here.
Open the Grid (below) to solve the case, with the testimonies at hand.
Touch a cell: blank → ✗ (excluded) → ✓ (certain) → blank. Each pair of categories meets exactly once.
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Verdict
The culprit always lies; everyone else tells the truth.
- The Chancellery checked twice: the tallest suspect never set foot in the old dungeon.
- The tracks in the dust do not lie: the suspect with chestnut hair was in the place where the fire never goes out.
- An unsigned note, slipped under the door: "the culprit was in the place where a quill creaks louder than a conscience".