Everyone in the room was watching Art and Merylin where she stood in the corner, their apparel a shining beacon of white. But Art instead had her eyes glued on the detective that strolled confidently across the murder scene.

The modest 1-room home had been broken into. The wood-drawn window smash violently in from the outside. A single bed in the corner had its pillows and blanket thrown aside the floor, signs that the victim had been taken in their sleep and dragged across the room to the centre, where now laid a lump under a ragged brown cloth, blood seeping from the body underneath into the fabric.

A man squatted next to the body, lifting the cloth slightly with leather gloved hands to look at the corpse. He had a notepad in one hand which after covering back the body, he quickly jotted down in. His bowler hat was striking, as was his twirling moustache. His short coat was dark brown and travel baked. His leather boots were spot shined to perfection.

But Art's attention was on the elven woman that paced around him, her head tilting at every single object and corner of the room, elven green eyes glinting. Her chequered tweed hat held on to her neatly tucked brown hair underneath. She moved from the bed to the window, her maroon travel coat flowing behind.

‟Excuse me?!” The mayor exclaimed. ‟You two have been at this for an hour. How long is this investigation going to take? We shouldn't even be letting outsiders like you in. You should leave it to the Knights!”

The two investigators had their heads turned to the mayor for the brief moment he spoke. But almost immediately when the outburst ended, they returned their attention to the case, ignoring him.

‟Why you bi-!” The mayor caught his tongue, looking over to the Knights in disbelief. His two town's guards and assistant stood by, confused and unsure of what to do.

Merylin, a human woman whose wild grey long hair betrayed her late 50s age, spoke up. ‟Lae Art, shouldn't we stop them?” Her dark black eyes rolled in questioning as her slightly wrinkled tanned face creased even more in thought. ‟They aren't exactly deputised in any way.”

‟It's fine. I think they are far better equipped for this than we are.”

The female detective walked over to her companion. ‟Well, Doctor, what's the prognosis?”

The doctor explained, ‟The cause of death is loss of blood from a slash wound to her abdomen,” He got to his feet and read through his notes. ‟We're looking for a five-pronged slashing weapon. It would have to resemble something like a rake.”

‟A weapon?” The mayor released another exaggerate call. ‟It's a monster. Claws! Claws are what you're looking for! From a monster. Some sort of bipedal beast. We've told you this already, that we have witnesses of these creatures!”

The female detective sighed. ‟Doctor Watson, please do the honour of explaining to the plebeian here.”

‟Pleb-!” Before the mayor could retort, the doctor waved a hand of apology.

‟The wound does look like claw marks on the surface, but the depth of it is perpendicular to each other.” He held his hand up and formed a claw in further explanation. ‟A biological claw would leave wounds that angled differently, as the joints would bend. Sherl?”

Watson passed his observations to his partner, Sherl. ‟There aren't any marks on the ground. An animal would likely leave scratches in the event of a violent confrontation. The windows are broken in, savagely, I might add. But again, no signs of natural weapons.” She paced to the bed. ‟And the victim was dragged out of her bed, as you should be able to tell from the path of blood. The time it took from the window breaking to entering should have given our victim the time to wake and stand. But they didn't.”

Art had not noticed that detail, and in genuine inquisitiveness, promoted an idea. ‟So... the victim was killed in his sleep before the window was broken.”

The detective, Sherl, nodded, slightly impressed. ‟That's right. I guess you're not just a face with muscles, Miss Pendragon.”

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Just then, the door to the house opened, and the room turned to the newcomer. The townsfolk that had not seen her before - and even the mayor that had - let out slight gasps upon witnessing Morgan's face as she strode in alone. However, the detective looked not one bit fazed, while the doctor wore an expression of intrigue.

‟Morgan,” Art greeted. ‟Did you find anything?”

‟Nothing to be concerned about. Should we wrap things up and get a drink?” Morgan asked, to which Merylin raised a brow.

Art casually answered, ‟Sure.”

The detective, Sherl, moved across the room with a gait that grabbed everyone's attention as she approached Morgan. The elf reached gently for the button on the knight's cloak, an action so lacking in malice that it did not trigger any defensive reaction from Morgan.

‟Nice buttons.” She let wiped the drop of blood on the metal before sliding her hand down to the scratch on Morgan's gambeson. Then, their eyes met. ‟Mind if I join you for your drink?”

Morgan looked over the strange elf's shoulder to Art for direction, her eyes asking, What do you think?

Art gave a silent nod back.

‟Excuse me!” Mayor Soira cried out a third time. ‟There's a monster out there, or a murderer, or whatever! And you're making drink plans?”

The detective stepped away from Morgan and reached into her coat. From a pocket within, she pulled out a smoking pipe into her left hand which she then brought to her lips. With a snap of her free fingers, she produced a small magical flame at the tip of her thumb. The flames licked near her cheeks as she took the fire to the pipe for a light.

With a deep inhale and hold, she held the breath of the room before releasing the smoke. ‟There's not much more we can do now, plebeian mayor. Without more information, we won't be able to move forward. So I suggest we wait and see our killer's next move.”

Art added diplomatically, ‟Don't worry, Mayor Soira. We'll add our knights to the patrols to help keep an eye out for the time being. For now though, we'd like to request access to your town's archive for information on the previous killings, as well as interview all the witnesses. For now, I want to personally investigate this scene a little more.”

The mayor looked agape at the disrespect from Sherl, but was quick to regain composure so as to not lose the favour of the Knights.

‟Very well,” he finally said. ‟I will head to the town archive to prepare what you need. It should be ready for you tomorrow.”

He and his assistant gave a bow before leaving with the guards, the four of them giving a slight berth from Morgan, leaving the 3 knights alone with the 2 detectives.

Morgan was the first to speak. ‟Who are they?” She pointed to the two detectives.

The doctor approached her with a right hand shake. Then, noticing the cloaked arm, quickly changed to his left. ‟Doctor John Watson. This is my friend, Detective Sherl Octavia.”

‟Sherl Octavia?” Morgan took his hand in a quick grip and release. ‟From the Holmes Report?”

Merylin confirmed. ‟The very same.”

‟Dilly-dally, shilly-shally,” Sherl mocked, removing her smoking pipe. She held her hand over the burning embers and used her magic to pull out the remaining fire in dissipating sparks and smoke before returning the pipe to her coat. ‟I'm more interested in what you found.”

‟Who said I found anything?” Morgan retorted.

‟Your ‟drink” with Lae Artria here is code, is it not? And your armour is cut. Freshly too. Something must have happened. Dirt deeper on the side of your boots meant you dug in your feet. For a fight, maybe? The angle suggests you turned a corner for thrust, or a smash with a hammer. Is that your weapon of choice? A hammer, or a one hander piercing armanent?”

Morgan admitted, ‟Your reputation does you disservice.”

Sherl smiled wryly. ‟You jest.”

‟What have you found, Morgan?” Art cuts in and asked.

Morgan turned to her leader. ‟A lizardkin.”

Art replied, ‟That would fit the description of the witnesses of a bipedal saurus-like creature. But are you sure? We have not seen one in hundreds of years.”

‟I'm sure. I have him locked up in a shed next to the lumberyard right now. I do not know if it will hold him, but if we want to interrogate him further, we should go now.”

Art nodded in agreement. ‟Very well, lead the way.”

Sherl smiled giddily. ‟Well well, I've not been this intrigued in ages.”