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Captain's Log. 21st of Timber.
I did my weekly rounds today, and while doing so, realised I had not seen our Tax Collector in some time.
While usually this would be a cause for rejoice, not hearing from him didn't feel right.
I decided to go visit him in his room. He wasn't there.
I continued making my rounds, and found him in some unnamed bedroom, a pathetic mess of a dwarf.
His upper torso had clearly been smashed, and his right arm and leg were broken, and had not been set. He croaked at me.
"Thirsty!" he said, deliriously.
I asked him, begged him, what happened to him.
How long had he lain like this?
He remained tightlipped on the subject.
I did some investigating, after sending someone to care for the poor man.
This had clearly happened after his most recent mandate, the one for the production of crowns, was failed.
Normally I would suspect an Elk attack, but there's really no reason Silverfinger would ever want to leave the fortress, and even if he did, the outside was far safer now that the wall was mostly established.
And why would a mere tax collector want crowns? It made no sense, by itself.
The only conclusion I could draw was based entirely around Baron Dirty.
Dirty indeed.
I called a meeting of the founders to discuss this. This is the first time I've ever had to do this in verging on ten years.