Nyle eyes shot open as a raging headache was slowly building in his temples. Hours prior he had a huge fight with a person he held dearly, and after she had left, swearing that she would never return, he mitigated the pain and anger that he was feeling inside in the only way he knew: drinking alcohol. He couldn’t remember, even if had forced himself to, how the did he end up in the awkward position he was in. However, of one thing he was sure. The empty bottle of whisky that was laying right next to him was for sure the main culprit.

After standing up, groining from the pain he was feeling in all his limbs, he frantically searched for the small chest he kept over the fireplace, right under the painting of some kind of ship. Inside the giant mess that his living room was in, with broken furniture he didn’t remember being broken before, it was hard to pick things apart. The blurry vision that was feeling certainly didn’t help.

Then, as his frustration was reaching a dangerous point, a low-pitched noise echoed in the room. Someone had knocked on the door.

Nyle instinctively put his hands over his ears. His head felt like it was going to explode. But he couldn’t simply ignore it, not matter how much he wished to, and throw himself on the bed, hiding his head under the fluffy pillow. His work, or what it represented, prevented him from doing so. So, reluctantly, he walked over the chaos that had taken over what once had been his floor, and opened the door.

This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    “Good evening, Inquisitor. The captain has told me to…” said the man, who was wearing his pristine uniform like it was his most prized possession. Then he suddenly drop silent. The pungent smell of alcohol that was hoovering like a deadly cloud from Nyle’s mouth made him wince in sudden understanding. “Damn! Detective, you smell like a distillery! Had a rough night?”

Nyle closed his eyes. The high-pitched voice of the man that was in front of him felt like daggers to his brain. “Shhh. Lower your voice. I feel like my head is splitting in two.”

    “Yeah, I can see that. Must suck to be you.”

    “Yes. So, if you got nothing to say…” said Nyle as he was feeling even more frustrated. “I’ll be going to lay down.”

    “Wait! You must come with me.”

    “…Why?” asked Nyle, clearly not fond of the idea.  

    “There has been a murder.”