Chapter Two: House Of Death

Detective Wine Carle wore a silk robe the day he arrived at Aynak, a small city located southeast of the grand country of Orbele. Despite it being small and not populated, many rich folk and scholars tend to move down and settle around the southeast portions of Orbele, due to the many collages and job opportunities.

Wine came here to find answers. As he walked, many began to stare at his unfamiliar clothing. His silk blue robe flapped slightly as some wind blew. He reached into his pockets, pulling out a small note, with a simple yet effective message left on it.

‘Go to Aynak, and find the one they call the “Allman”.

It was a famous title. Allman referred to someone who knew all things. If you wanted answers, or wanted directions, or really needed anything done, you can go to an Allman and they can make things work. Few existed, and many were spread out across Poriya. Wine, being a master detective, didn’t believe this talk of Allmans and anything religious.

There had to be a cause and effect. The talk of gods never amused him. His brother began to speak nonsense over the years, talking of abandoning the war, sharing hearthstones, and becoming one with the founder. That led to him distancing himself from his brother, who was now dead.

Aynak was a lesser city, having two sides to it all. The backhand was filled with refugees, war verterans, and poor people. Living in cubical cobblestone houses, that were small and only had one window. At the front of the city, was a large gate separating the rich side to the poor side.

Wine hated it here already. This city had a hearthstone. Why only use it in one half of the city? There existed far more poor folk than rich folk in Aynak.

Wine made his way past the beggars and stealers, and up the steps towards the gate, which was being guarded heavily. The guards stopped him, both walking up to the man and searching him. “State your name, and reason for attendance.”

The man would sigh. “Wine Carle. Detective and-“ The guards looked at one another, pulling the chains as the gates flung open. “We know who you are. Go on ahead. Enjoy your stay.”

Wine smirked, tipping his hat down slightly as he walked past the gates. For a moment, he forgot he was famous. Many tales arched through the lands of Wine, the continent of Humber all but knew his name by now. Did you need to find a missing person? Call Wine. Did someone steal something? Call Wine. He was notorious for this sorta thing.

The detective walked through the rich half of Aynak, seeing the housing made of bricks and the floors made of sturdy stone. The poor side was clearly natural, existing long before the forming of Humber. But this? Manmade. Ruined by posh rich dipshits who just had to come and destroy a historical city like this. It angered him.

Women in gold and pink silk dresses walked with their arms clung to handsome young men, who strolled about with shit-eating grins on their faces. Some looked towards the man walking with his robe on, passing him off as another rich man. This was good.

Wine was rich. But hated showing it. Here, he could easily blend in with the snobs who used their heartchange to bend their will through society. In actuality, he hated wearing a robe this big and soft. Made him feel like them.

He walked through the rich folk, reaching a large stone building in the shape of an onion. The sign-up front said ‘Aynak study center’. A place where scholars and explorers would go and read textbooks and meet other people high up in the latter of society. An information hub.

But that got wine thinking. Why was an Allman inside a study enter? Shouldn’t he know all already?

Walking in, the room was lit up by traditional lighting you’d find in another kingdom like Orbele. Yet the exterior and the walls were created from brick and stone, something you’d see out of a city like Drone. An interesting mix.

At the front, a lady sat behind a wooden desk, sketching something in her book. Wine walked up, hands in his pockets. “I would like to see the Allman, please.” The woman looked up. Good Poriya, she’s ugly. Wine thought, seeing her upper lip overlap the bottom. She gave him a good look, squinting.

“Aint no Allman here. Scram.” The title of Allman was rather sacred, and she was most likely trying to cover up the fact one was here. Wine nodded, reaching into his robe and pulling out a small brown pouch. He dumped three small fragments of hearts, about the size of a fingernail, down on the counter. They seemed to thump, throbbing as if it was alive.

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“Allman. I need to see him.” He gave her a carefree smile. She rolled her eyes, taking the bribe and pocketing it into her own pouch. “Upstairs, room 104.” Wine nodded with a grin, pocketing his pouch and getting a move on.

Wine knocked twice. After about ten seconds of silence, the door slowly opened, revealing a man in similar robes as Wine. His face was pale, his head bald, and his eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of his head. “Come on in.” The man said, moving from the door and going to sit down. Judging from his raspy voice, he was very old. Looked the part as well.

The room was lit with dim torches on the wall. A small bed in the back, next to it a small window and a bookcase, which was stacked with books on the lore and history of Poriya. “Please, take a seat. I wish not my guest to stand.” Said the Allman, pulling out a chair and placing it in front of the wooden table next to the bed.

They both sat across from each other. On the Allmans side, was a large leather-bound book of a beautiful golden-brown complexion. What lay next to that was an uneaten apple.

“I heard you were coming.” The pale man spoke, opening his book and reading once more. Wine would cross his legs, taking his robe off. Underneath was a simple tan coat he always wore during his investigations.

“So, it’s true. My brother knew you then. He told me to seek you out. It was his dying wish. Or note, might I add.” Wine pulled out the note, sliding it across the table. The Allman didn’t read it, eyes keened on his book.

“Is that so surprising? An Allman knowing a lesser lord, a king, is common nowadays. Especially when your brother showed me as much hospitality as he did.”

His voice screeched as if the words struggled to come out. Wine shook his head, crossing his arms “Quite the opposite. During his last few years, my brother became less of the battle-hungry king he once was and more of a philosopher. He had nightmares of the day of the end, and constantly spoke about how the gods would save us. He… was losing his mind, quite frankly.” Said the detective, eyeing the back of the book the Allman was reading.

He finally put the book down, raising his nonexistent brow. “Losing his mind? Detective, with all due respect, that was the only time in his life where he hadent lost his mind.”

Wine sat up, eagerly listening to what the crazy old man would say next. “Your brother and I met years back. He told me of his obsession with ancient history and insisted that I teach him what I know. I accepted and taught him. What I didn’t teach him was the anchient history of the gods long forgotten. That’s dangerous territory, and even he knew that.”

The Allman sighed, pinching his nose as he leaned back. He looked regretful. “That fool… It's his fault that he was killed. There exist cults and karma for those who aren’t Allman to explore history like that. It’s forgotten for a reason.”

Wine fought the urge not to slam the old man's head to the ground and beat him senseless. Calling his brother a fool like that… He had to remain calm. This man was the key to starting his investigation.

“Secret cult and mockery gods aside, my brother is dead. He was murdered. And I refuse to believe a god from above zapped him with his lightning finger and did it. A man did this. Flesh and bone killed my brother. And I won't let that man get away.” Wine locked eyes with the old man, who shivered to see the detective's expression.

“Very well… If I had to guess, your brother told you to come to me because of the house of death.” Wine raised a brow, leaning back again as he began to stroke his mustache. “House of death? Well, isn’t that a pleasant name? Go on.”

The Allman nodded. “Yes. The house of Death is a large mansion just outside of this city, which holds records written by the gods themselves and historians who once lived when the continents were united.” Wine nodded, narrowing his eyes.

“And why is it called the ‘house of death?’

“Because nobody that enters ever returns.”

The room fell quiet, the Allman gulping loud enough to break the detective's train of thought. Wine had a fedora on, shading his short black hair. A full mustache groomed and cleaned up. He wore a black suit, with a tan coat over it, and had fair white skin. He was considerably taller than the Allman.

“Not true.” Said wine, sitting up again. ‘My brother died three weeks ago. The last time he left Thamahtlev was one month ago. If he went to this sacred death house, then he surely survived his stay.” Wine looked as if he made a grand and glorious point. The Allman, however, simply put a finger up.

“I never said he visited the house. But he talked to me about going. Before he died, he… acted weirdly.” The Allman scratched at his chin. “He told me that he believed he was going to perish. And if he did, to seek out the one he was closest to and tell them to visit the mansion.”

Wine shook his head, as if in denial or disbelief. “It is truly the fate of the founder that you came to me today, young Wine.” Said the Allman, standing up. “Go to that house. Discover the secrets. I’m positive that it has a clue to your brother's death there.”

The detective sat there, thinking of his options. This sounded sketchy. But this Allman, his brother trusted well. And his brother was the most trustworthy man he knew. Even so, he didn’t like the sound of all this, it was the only lead he had now. He had to go.

“Very well.” Wine stood up, brushing off his pants and holding his robe in his right hand. “I will go to this house of death. To find out the truth of my brother's murder. And…” He gave the Allman a nasty look

“To disprove of all this god nonsense. Gods never existed. Only man has. And it will stay that way for the rest of time.”

Wine walked out. The Allman stood in his chambers, looking down at the ground. “Poor man… He’s walking to his death.”

Wine rented a room in the study center that night, settling down for his trip in the morning. The House of Death… Wine was sure it was nothing. He wasn't going to get the creeps over something that sounded so stupid. Yet still… he had chills. Something in the back of his mind told him this wasn't a good idea. He could almost hear his brother telling wine to forget about him and turn back. He was always like that.

But Wine never turned back. And for his brother's murder, he certainly couldn’t.