Ezita waited outside the manor, pulling her cloak tighter around her. The air of these mornings of early spring was still cold; the morning fog hung low to the ground, leaving chilled droplets on one’s skin. It was a strange place, this city of Eletheia. Ezita was no stranger to living in a city, but it was difficult to get used to the unfamiliar sights and sounds of living in a place so close to the sea. Maybe after a few months she might feel at home here, or at least not find herself so lost among the narrow, winding streets. Maybe she would eventually learn how to navigate between the districts, like she had had to do this morning, travelling from East Tassos to the Eupatridae District—the distance was not even particularly far, but she had somehow gotten turned around, travelling south instead of west, and had needed to ask for directions from someone else who was up at this early time of the morning. Such mistakes, and the necessities of relying on others for help, served to remind her that she was a stranger in a strange land.

She was still waiting for the investigator she was supposed to meet with. Behind her, a few of the city guards, who called themselves Vigilants, were milling in and out of the impressive manor house. She could hear the creaks of their leather armour straps, the clinks of their weapons, as they moved to and fro. She inhaled a deep breath of the cold morning air. Ezita was not exactly familiar with investigating murder scenes, but apparently this was her task for today. One year, and then I’ll be out of here, and back to my studies. Just one year. She crossed her arms and shivered to try to keep warm.

* * *

Alexandros had been walking quickly, partly to make good time and partly to keep the morning chill off of him. Being near the water made the breeze even cooler, and he could smell the tang of salt in the air. He hated getting up this early, but when one of the Vigilants knocks on your door with an urgent dispatch from the captain—you listen. All the same, that didn’t mean he had to like it. Alex muttered under his breath some unkind words about just what he thought about mornings.

The location he had been given was in the Eupatridae District, definitely the fanciest area of the city—certainly not a place in which Alex would ever be able to afford to live on an investigator’s salary. The only way I’d ever be able to afford waterfront property would be if I set up a place under the docks, he thought to himself. But then I’d have to deal with some crabby neighbours.

Here, in the Eupatridae, the air smelled of salt, but decidedly did not reek of fish or sweaty sailors. Nor did it carry the noise of dockworkers as they loaded and unloaded cargo from the great kerkouros and hemiolia merchant ships that lined the docks. Here was where most of the nobility of the city lived; the houses in the district were practically palatial—spacious courtyards, servants’ quarters, and banquet halls the size of Alex’s whole house. The homes were the very definition of grandiosity and opulence. But now, one of these homes had become the site of a grisly murder.

“Excuse me, over here,” a woman called out. Alex looked in the direction of the call; he didn’t recognize the woman, but there were several other Vigilants milling about the entrance of the manor house, so evidently he was in the right place. “Are you Alexandros Miniades?” she asked as he got closer. He sized her up as she did the same. Him, a stocky, bronze-skinned man with brown eyes, curly sandy-brown hair, and a two-day beard. Her, a thin woman with pale skin, raven-black hair pulled neatly back into a ponytail, and sharp, angular features. She wore a green cloak that was unlike the typical mode of fashion in the city of Eletheia, but as with Alex, she had it tightly wrapped around herself to stave off the chill of the air. She squinted at him and pursed her lips, clearly waiting for a response from him that was taking just a bit too long.

“Oh, yeah, that’s me. You can call me Alex. And are you the Auspex?”

She gave a little nod. “Yes, I am.” Adding dryly, “Try not to look so thrilled to see me.”

Alex gave a little chuckle, and shrugged. “Doesn’t rattle my cage neither way. I’m here to do my job, same as you. You got a name, or should I just call you Auspex?”

She sighed. “My name is Ezita Almasi. I just arrived from Kor-Tur not less than two weeks ago, and yet somehow I ended up at the scene here before you. I even got lost on the way here, yet still I had to wait. How is it that I can find my way around the city better than you?”

Alex raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Whoa, whoa, I had to come all the way from the Silver District! That’s all the way on the other side of the city! Sorry it took me so long. You could have waited inside.”

Ezita paused a moment, then shook her head. “Sorry. I suppose I am simply grumpy this morning. I imagine you would prefer if I were not here, and I am not particularly thrilled to be here either.”

“Hey, it doesn’t bother me. We’re here to get the job done. Just always seemed odd to me to request wizards all the way from Kor-Tur to help us out with criminal investigations. Most of the criminals here tend to swing swords and daggers rather than wands. We don’t tend to trust magic much around here; people generally see it as a coward’s tool…uhh, no offense.” Ezita gave a little shrug at this. She had read up on the area before arriving, and was well aware of the general disdain for the arcane arts. Alex continued, “So I don’t know if there’ll be much for you to do on this case. But what do you say we go inside and see, shall we? It’s cold out here.”

“That it certainly is. Alright, let us go in.”

And so, the odd pair of investigators went through the front gate of the manor house, nodding to the guards as they went by, and made their way to the master bedroom in silence.

* * *

The scene within the bedroom was a scene of pure, savage violence. Blood was splattered all over the walls, and even the ceiling had the residue of blood that had since dripped back downward. A dark red pool had collected on the bed, soaking into the feather pillows, spreading around them, and dripping onto the floor. The body—what was left of it, anyway—was lying on the bed, hands extended up toward the head. Only…there was no head. Instead, in its place, there was only a mushy pulp of skin, bone, and brain matter scattered about above the neck.

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“Sunell protect us…” Alex muttered involuntarily upon seeing the grisly sight. He had entered the room first, and now instinctively reached his hand back to slow down Ezita. “You might want to stay outside, to be honest. I see murder scenes on the regular, but this is…a lot. Even for me.”

“And just how exactly am I supposed to do my job if I cannot even investigate the scene of the crime?” Ezita pushed past his arm and entered the room, then turned pale for a moment as her hazel eyes widened. “I, uhh…oh. Wow. Yes…I see what you mean.” She closed her eyes and took a moment, breathing deeply to give herself a chance to recover from the startling sight. Then, standing up straight and steeling herself, she opened her eyes again and continued. “Okay, so how do you normally begin these investigations?”

Alex poked his head back out of the room and motioned one of the city guards over to them. “Were you the first on the scene?”

The Vigilant nodded. He was a large man—broad-shouldered, forearms as big as some people’s calves—clearly well-suited for a life devoted to making sure everyone within his eye-line acted in accordance with the law. “Yes sir,” he drawled with the local accent native to the city of Eletheia. “Man by the name of Nikolas Vascatos found him—sent a servant to fetch a Vigilant, which turned out to be me. Mr. Vascatos, he’s some sort of noble. He ran off before we arrived, the other servants said he had business to attend to and that he left his name with them. So we don’t have much, just that he came in this morning, then left in a hurry.” The guard pulled a piece of parchment out of his satchel and handed it to Alex. “I’ve got his name and address there for you. Servants didn’t have much else to say, other than that the senator,” here he pointed inside to the mutilated body on the bed, “seemed troubled the past few days. Hadn’t been sleeping well, seemed upset. Servants just figured he was dealing with some important senate business, that sort of thing.”

“Hmm, alright. Not much to go on there, but we’ll have to question this Mr. Vascatos. The senator’s name is Dimitrios Barelis, correct?”

“That it is, sir. I don’t much follow politics, but he’s clearly a known person. Could be he’s made an enemy or two.”

Ezita jumped into the conversation, looking at Alex. “Do you know who he was? I read a little about the city before arriving here, I understand these senators form some sort of governing body in the city, yes?”

Alex considered for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain the local politics to an outsider. “Well, it’s a bit complicated. Yes, the senators rule the city, fifty of them; they make the laws, and they hold court to cast judgment when necessary as well. But a couple of months ago, the Princeps, the chief senator—person by the name of Violeta Lazili, a silk merchant who gained a seat in the Senate—they managed to push through some laws that meant all new legislation had to be put before the people. The common folk, I mean. Any citizen now can come to the Solus to vote on whether a propositus becomes law.”

“I see. That seems…inefficient.” Ezita compared these ideas to the politics of Kor-Tur. A mageocracy, ruled by the top wizards of each discipline, certainly led to heated debates and endless council meetings to make rulings. One grandmaster nursing a grudge or waking up on the wrong side of the bed could draw out a decision for weeks. But allowing everyone to express their opinion? How would anything get done? “But okay, so the commoners have recently gained some measure of power. I would presume some of the nobility, or individuals invested in the previous order of things, might not particularly appreciate that change. Any idea of where this Senator Barelis stood on the matter?”

Alex shrugged. “No idea. I suppose we’ll have to ask around and find out.” He paused and looked back to the sickening scene by the bed. “But first, I suppose we should examine the body more closely.”

As the Vigilant returned to his post, the two investigators slowly walked deeper into the bedroom, toward the large bed. The quilted covers were richly coloured and ornate, with motifs of flowers and sheaves of wheat, and the mahogany frame of the bed was finely crafted with intricate flourishes. Now they all were decorated with the red-brown spots of dried blood as well. Alex noted no evidence of entrance or egress—there was no blood away from the immediate scene that might have dripped off a weapon as an attacker fled, no forced door, no broken window. The window, indeed, was shut and barred from the inside. As he noted these characteristics, he spoke his thoughts out loud, half to Ezita, and half to himself.

Moving closer toward the body, he noted that the deceased was dressed in nightclothes, ready for bed, yet his body was laying on top of the blankets. There were also some possible signs of distress with the way the body was positioned—one leg partially bent at the knee and slumped inward over the other leg, both hands extended upward toward the head. “Hmm, see this? He was laying in bed, but not under the covers, and the angle of the legs here doesn’t seem particularly comfortable for sleeping. Doesn’t seem like he was sleeping. But the blood here is pooled on the bed, around the corpse, so to me that says he was lying down at the moment of death—not killed and then laid down afterward.”

“Wait, so he was not asleep, but he stayed lying down as the attacker came in?” Ezita wondered aloud.

“Evidently. The mode of entry was not the window, so perhaps he knew the attacker. Or perhaps the culprit was also lying beside him.”

“Hmm, I think not.” Ezita circled around to the far side of the bed. “Look at the blanket—if there had been someone else here, they would have left an impression, but the covers are smooth and flat on this side of the bed.”

Alex looked at his colleague, then nodded in agreement. “Yep, I think you’re right. Hey, not bad for your first crime scene. Alright, so we have blood on the walls, and uhh, on the ceiling as well. Wow.” He knelt beside the bed carefully, trying not to disturb the scene. “I’m also seeing bits of flesh and bone down here on the floor. Whoever did this really made a mess. I’m thinking it could maybe be a hammer, or something blunt like that—could explain the extensive damage to the head. But a hammer wouldn’t typically leave blood dripping from the ceiling. The blood would splatter outward from the impact, not so much upward. What do you think—any magical spell that could do this?”

Ezita smiled quizzically. “Oh undoubtedly. There are spells that can do most anything you could think of, and several more that you could not. But most of these are tightly guarded secrets, highly advanced magics that would be known only by the most powerful of grandmasters. There is little chance such a spell would have been used here. No, most simple spells are manipulations of elemental vitalities—shaping water or fire, for example, or perhaps creating electrical energies. And these are usually directed. One does not mash a person’s head to pulp by shooting a spark of lightning or a bolt of fire.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “So…is that a no, then?”

She tilted her head and thought for a moment. “It would seem to me that the question is not whether it was a magical spell, but whether it was a magical effect of any kind. In this case, the blood and…other physical matter, has been directed outward. That would suggest to me that the origin point was inside—perhaps something swallowed, or injected inside by stabbing. A piece of food, perhaps, could conceivably have been enchanted to produce some blast of outward force.”

Alex looked even more incredulous. “You’re suggesting this was something he ate? I’ve had bad seafood before, but…”

Ezita just rolled her eyes.

“Okay, so something from the inside. But given the position of the body, food seems unlikely to me. People don’t typically eat while fully lying down quite like that, head on the pillow ready for bed. I’d expect he’d be partially reclined at least. But…alright, it’s a start.”