It was a foggy Sunday when I got the call. Mist like the smoke from a fire that forgot what it was in the morning after was wafting... no, searching for meaning in this dim city of ours. Clubna Huta was not accustomed to fog, after all the city is like a can, the light filters down from the quartz canals above and sometimes in the morning the mist seeps in through the exhausts of the industrial district, making the atmosphere of the ghost borough I do my business from even moodier than usual. I adjusted the volume of my little rain stone, that provided the white noise of rain that helped me concentrate and keep some of the thoughts that fog my mind at bay. You see in a city that has a lid I was lucky enough to have Seasonal Affective Disorder. Clubna Huta, in a stroke of what I can only imagine to be some bureaucrats wanting to put a feather in their caps, has a city wide park on top of the actual city, leaving the rest of us with filtered light coming from the reservoir in the form of a web of canals above the streets that displayed the sunlit exterior. Cool blue light. We can of course go up to the park from the lifts but it can be a hassle.

I sighed and looked over toward the window... Where was I? That's right the sending stone. I lunged towards the corner of my desk as the rock started to tumble from its wanton vibrations. I held the stone to my ear, a scratchy sound then clarity crossed my mind before a voice connected <>

"What is this about?" I asked the intermediary. I was struggling to put forth the normal amount of social effort--what with the even worse than usual weather. "Sorry but it sounds like they want a rush, so let's get to it." I said deadpanned.

There was a sigh than a humorous wry retort came over the stone, <> Wait did he say scones?

I immediately interrupted, "Wait you don't mean the black cherry scones?! You know those are my weakness, how could you."

<> Greg's sincerity seeped through the stone, giving me a brief burst of internal warmth. I coughed a little before responding.

"The weather has got me in the dumps!" I threw up my free hand. I gestured towards the window sardonically, "What can I say; I can't believe the fog has reached my 2nd story windows... How are you today, Greg?"

<>

"Our own meaning your syndicate friends or something closer to home?" I straightened up a bit. After a beat he said it was the 'family' business, which relaxed me.

I rolled my shoulders and scratched the back of my head. "Gotcha. Fill me in on the details as you know them." I said professionally but certainly not curtly.

It was a long debrief, not because Greg had a lot to tell me, but Helena, my bird, kept knocking the stone from my hand so I kept having to reconnect the stone call. After it was over I asked him to send the preliminaries to my slate so I had something to look at other than the jagged fragments of the story that my memory was holding onto thanks to the annoying yet loving disturbance my bird was in the mood to make at the time.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

It took awhile for the message to reach my slate and by the time it did I heard the buzz for my intercom, <> By the time he said delivery, I had already pushed the button to send him on up to my floor.

I heard the woosh of the lift outside before I saw him out on my balcony holding onto the classic rice paper bags that foretold my black cherry scones. I grinned, my mood perking up for the second time that morning. I went to go grab the food, handing the kid a silver coin and stopping by my kitchen to get a plate and a fork and knife. I poured myself some guava and got back to my desk. Sitting down I say to myself mostly but also to the room at large, "Alright, time to dig in." My bird stares at me pointedly head tilted before forcing eye contact by scone blocking me with her face.

"You want something too?" Her eyes seemed to scream 'Ya think?' I slowly rose to get up. "Ugh, fine. I'll go get you a treat. Why didn't you ask before I sat down?" As I went over to fix a snack plate for Helena, I went through the motions of the ritual that made me a stand out in my profession.

"About time," Helena indignantly squabbled her crest bobbing as she did so. Let me take a moment to fully describe the creature that composes my avian partner. Helena has talons as dark and dexterous as a crow, and has the same knack for tools, this is aided by her gentle sloping wings that feature something absolutely absurd, a bat like thumb that adds to her deftness with a lock. She had what she liked to call a crown of sorts made delicate long lacey feathers that fanned out at the edges of her head crest. And her feathers? Well they were iridescent at their base state and fluctuated with her mood, but if she so chose she could use them to blend in. All of which meant she sometimes made quite a show in her sleep which was always adorable. "I don't know what you are on about in that head of yours but I know you are probably rambling again. Daedalus to Proteus, ya in there bud?"

I rolled my eyes at her while I poured out some sun roasted seeds with dried cranberry mixed with lizard jerky. "Up for reading my slate to me while we eat? Okay jeez no need to flare red." I muttered, that reminds me. "What time is it even? 10:45?..." I stopped and met Helena's eyes before looking down... Whelp that explains it. "Ok look, I'm sorry for the late breakfast. Lets dig in to this report." I scrolled my eyes across the device.

The victim was a short orcish male of Eastern Central Beck descent, whose family had been in Clubna Huta for generations. The man, oh wait... my bad says here they were nonbinary. The masculine presenting individual had an unusually angular face and slim build. They had recently had a tumultuous breakup with their childhood paramour, but they had a couple levels under their belt whereas the ex was civilian. So she was ruled out even in the preliminary section. Lets skim a bit further and look at what the state of the body was. Ligature marks on the wrists consistent with being tied up for a couple days, lipstick on the collar, blunt force trauma throughout leading to bruising and minor cuts. Body also looks drained of blood, but method is unclear. Water in the lungs but didn't drown? What? Eyes look weird, but seem to indicate suffocation or heart attack. No signs of strangulations but there was bruising inside the throat. Heart seems fine, locate object verified lack of cardiac arrest. Cause of death is inconclusive but definitely murder. Well there is always the possibility of negligent homicide at the hand of a imprecise torturer.

The inconsistencies in the report intrigued me, I wanted to see if I could learn more by looking at them in the morgue when I noticed a red stamp at the end. Apparently they had signed up for letting their corpse be reborn. Poor kid, too bad they didn't have the money to afford a raise dead treatment like the rich whose deaths inconvenience them less than a bad hangover, or at the very least they didn't sign up for it in time. Well time to work without all the pieces, I hate when they transfer the cases late.