"Greetings, and welcome, my friends! Please, come on in, we have been awaiting your presence in the sitting room. Please, come in, come in! Mister Ashbury. Madame."

Alastor Greyheart greeted his last two guests personally at the door, as he had for the seventeen other guests already waiting in the manor. A good host did not leave such an important task to servants, in his mind. Especially not for an event as important as this.

Then again, perhaps a dramatic entrance after all guests had been seated would suit the mood more, add to the suspense? Ah well, a thought for another day, the greetings have already been concluded. All there was to do now was move onward!

Then again, perhaps it was not too late... "Please, make your way inside. This is the room. Make yourselves at home, and Mister Tsuramon will get you any refreshments you require before dinner. If you would please excuse me, I will see to the final preparations." Nailed it.

Alastor made his way to the kitchen, telling a servant along the way to inform the guests he would not be joining them until dinner. Reaching the kitchen, he declared, "Quickly, we have an alteration! I would like to do a grand entrance at dinner! If we could move the table so my seat is in front of the grand double doors..." He noticed three bus boys chuckling, and looked to his right hand man, Bob. Bob looked at Alastor with a great grin, and gave a short yet elegant bow. "Oh, you know me too well, Robert, my friend. Alright then, I will occupy myself with other preparations. Bob, please inform me when the guests have been seated for dinner. I will be in my sitting room."

"Of course, sir. And shall I prepare the good whiskey for your... 'last meal'?" Bob said with a chuckle.

"Oh, how you tempt me, old friend... Alright, you have me, but a very light glass! And one for the missus as well, if you would. Extra poison!" Alastor left the kitchen workers chuckling, a big smile on his own face as well. Everything was going splendidly so far. But he had to stay calm and collected. Nothing ruins a dry joke faster than an explanation, but a smile before the punchline is a close second.

Having taught his expression the very definition of serious, he entered his drawing room to find a ghastly sight. It appeared someone had been murdered, and several important files had been stolen from exceptionally disheveled and destroyed bookshelves and drawers. There was no body, but if the bloody candlestick was any indication, the murder had been swift and brutal. The room was an absolute mess.

"Dear gods of the high realms," the wealthy patron declared. "Torus, it's beautiful! If I didn't know any better, I'd think it were real!"

"Well that is kind of the point," Torus, a stellar detective, spoke from the corner of the room. "Lots of experience to draw from, as you well know."

Indeed, Torus had been a family friend ever since... For many years. His exceptional ability to solve any mystery made him the best co-conspirator to come up with one of his own. "And you used... it, did you not?" Alastor questioned, eyeing the candlestick apprehensively.

"Yes, as requested. A perfect match. Are you sure about this? It's a bit too close to reality."

Alastor waved him off, turning away from the grisly scene. "It's in the past, and everything must be absolutely perfect if I am to entertain my guests to the greatest of my ability. I would not use anything less, we must move onward."

"You've been moving onward a lot," the detective said pointedly. "Not much looking back. Sure, it's good to move on, but... all things in moderation, you know?"

Alastor stayed quiet, pondering his words. There was good wisdom there, and he had learned better than to brush Torus off so easily. It was uncomfortable to think about, but maybe if it hurt, that meant it was working? Like setting a bone.

A swift pat on the back brought him back to reality. "Just food for thought. But don't get too ponderous, looks like the master butler needs you."

Indeed, Bob was standing in the doorway to meet them. "The guests will soon be ready for you, sir."

"Knock 'em dead," Torus said, "I'll be waiting to add the finishing touches, as discussed."

"Yes, of course," Alastor mumbled distractedly. "I'll see you then, old chap." He stopped in the doorway for a second. "And thanks."

The detective nodded as they stepped into the hall, Bob getting more curious by the second. "Anything I can help you with, sir?" he asked, holding up a rose to his master.

"Not yet, thank you," the head of the manor replied, taking the rose and giving it a good whiff. Torus had crawled through a rose bush that day. The smell reminded him of freedom, escape. It was soothing.

"Just..." He held the rose in front of his face to examine it. "Revisiting old wounds."

"I understand. But for today, at least for now, perhaps it's best to keep moving onward? We do have guests to entertain, you know."

"Yes... Yes, of course." Alastor took a deep breath to calm himself, before painting a big grin on his face. Not too jovial, though, or they might get suspicious. He raised his hands to the double doors.

"Wait, sir! One moment." Bob pushed his ear to the door, the pair waiting in silence for a long moment. Confused, yet amused, Alastor patiently stood by as robert held his head to the door, mumbling to himself guesses as to what was happening inside. They waited almost four minutes before Robert declared, "Now!," before backing away from the door.

Taking his cue, the master of the house pushed the doors open with strength, causing a mighty bang as they pushed back against the walls.

Everyone in the room, from the twenty around the table to the servants seating them, turned to see this majestic sight. Bob had chosen the perfect moment for his entrance, each guest still standing between their chair and the table. "Please! No need to stand waiting for me." A few servants had to suppress giggles at this line as they finished seating their designated person of interest.

"Welcome to my house, and thank you all for coming!" The head of the house took his seat at the head of the table. "You may not know each other, but I know each of you, from those I know well; my condolences Lerana, your husband was a good man and great detective. It's a terrible thing, what happened in that teleporter incident. My house remains open to you and your family. To those I have met but once, yet hold great importance in my heart; I thank you again, good Felix, for helping my uncle pass peacefully. I know it was difficult, but we are ever in your debt.

"We are gathered today to celebrate a most wonderful occasion. This is a day which will be celebrated for millennia," many eyes were rolled upon hearing this, as he stalled for just one more moment, "a momentous occasion which has changed the course of history forever. A day of celebration, of mourning, a day like no other. There will be much rejoicing! The day known far and wide across the world and all the realms of the gods as..."

With a gesture, a cue was sent, and shortly after, the chandelier above the table suddenly fell. Landing with a mighty thud which shook the room, but thankfully not exploding, the construct of flour and sugar stood magestically before an awestruck crowd. Before they could even gasp, and with timing perfected over several months of practicing, he shouted, "My birthday!," and at that moment the candles erupted in a shower of sparks and noise.

Each guest's face was alight with glee at the display, especially once they noticed the trays of food set among the "bars" of the chandelier cake. Alastor could only wait to see their faces when they saw the chandelier itself was dessert! "Dig in, eat to your heart's content! This day of celebration has only begun!"

----------------------------------------

After dinner, the party moved outside for a game of hobh. Inspired by the throwing of stones by trebuchets into castles, one wields a long stick with a cup at the end, and lobs a small ball towards a small hole. You continue throwing the ball until you get it in the hole, with the lowest number of throws winning. The courses set up for this game had great variation and challenge, with the longest being nearly a mile long. On his own property, Alastor had three relatively simple holes, which the group had great fun playing.

After this, came the baths. Men and women separated and bathed with the servants, to socialize, relax, refresh, and give the workers a break. Also to let their guard down around each other, as none are more vulnerable than when in the nude.

Next came the play. Some of his younger servants had volunteered to do a rendition of The Battle of Life, and Alastor happily obliged them. He sat in the front row, clapping and shouting at all his favorite parts.

Once they left, rain had begun to pour outside, along with a fairly strong wind. Asking around, Alastor confirmed with his guests that this was unexpected, and that most had not prepared to go home in inclement weather.

Good thing he had many guest bedrooms.

He led them all to a large sitting room to have drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Once all were gathered, he waited until two guests had left, as well as one specific person. At that point, he excused himself to go to his library and finish a little paperwork.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Along the way, he stopped at a veranda overlooking the hob course. Taking in the fresh rain-scented air, he smiled to himself at how wonderfully the evening was going. Not only were all guests entertained, they had no idea of every little plot and trap he set them in!

"Not much to see out here in the dark"

Alastor turned as his most special guest greeted him. "Perhaps not, but I enjoy the smell of rain." He formed a symbol with his hand, his partner confirming with one of his own that someone was listening. "Reminds me of when we first met."

"Down in our home village what, ten, twenty years ago?"

"Yeah, eighteen to be precise. Back before Sarah..."

"In happier times."

"Yes. Though, as much as I'd like to reminisce, I should stop distracting myself and get some work done."

"The Belthold project, yes?"

"Yes, I think it will be a great success. I'm just going to finalize the proposal."

"Well don't let me hold you up. See you later."

"See you." Alastor left the veranda, turning down the hall. Along the way he bumped into an older lady. "Good evening, madame Ashbury? How has the evening been treating you?"

"Oh, uh, lovely, thanks to your hospitality," the old gossip stuttered, hoping he hadn't noticed her eavesdropping.

"Glad to hear it. I hope you found what you were looking for," he quipped with a wink. With a slight blush and bow, she passed by without another word.

Another trap set. A "hint" for later.

Our gracious host then continued to his library, stopping in the hall for a moment to make sure nobody was nearby. He waited for the magic user inside to confirm his solitude with a tap on the door before continuing on.

"Preparations are complete," the shady man inside said. "All that's left to do is wait for your friend."

"Good, good... And then plenty of time to reflect."

"Yes. Hard to run away from the past when you've been magically paralyzed and it's been on your mind all day."

"Indeed... Thanks for reminding me," Alastor replied sardonically.

"Always a pleasure," Torus retorted.

Alastor sat at his desk, "preparing" papers as Torus looked through the room again to add finishing touches. A few minutes later, at about the appointed time, they heard knocking. Alastor looked up excitedly, but Torus shook his head.

Crap... An unwelcome guest.

Alastor took a moment to look around the room, before deciding it was probably best not to let anyone inside, even with an illusion covering the room. It wouldn't do for someone to trip over an invisible table, or wonder why they had red liquid covering their feet as they left. So Alastor walked to the door as the visitor knocked once more, calling, "Yes, who is it?"

"Missus Driscoll," came the reply. Good, she should be easy to fend off. Not quite as nosy as Ashbury, but still good at picking things up. Time to put on a not so brave face.

"I'm sorry, but I cannot entertain guests at the... moment." He tried to add a strong hesitation to almost every word before hurreidly finishing with, "Please come back in fifteen minutes."

Silence. Good, she's probably picked up what he put down and is considering her options. "Fifteen minutes," she stated solidly, indicating exactness.

"Fifteen minutes," he confirmed. Perfect timing for a witness to pass by.

"As you wish, I will wait in the hall until then."

"Thank you, madame." He put the barest sliver of relief in his voice. "There are some wonderful paintings to your left if you care to examine them as you wait."

"Thank you, I think I will."

Perhaps having a witness would benefit them, but it means about ten more minutes of acting. A pain, but not enough to throw the plan away. He had to ensure mystery, however. "Torus," he whispered, "tell our friend to wear a head covering, we have a guest."

Torus nodded and pulled a crystal out of his pocket, whispering a command. That should cover everything, so all they had to do was wait.

Two minutes later their patience was rewarded with a peculiar knocking sequence. The awaiting detective confirmed it was their guest, so Alastor guessed the knock was meant to be a code made up at the last second to give Alastor a reason to accept this guest over the one waiting and listening. Torus' doing, he was sure, that crafty, lovable bastard. "Come in!"

The figure entered, almost unrecognizable with the head covering. "You're early," Alastor announced loudly. "No matter, come to my desk."

They passed a few minutes in quiet conversation, speaking of nothing, but occasionally interjecting with loud shouts and proclamations to drop more hints for the game ahead. Eventually, Alastor stood in the middle of the room, speaking of random business dealings, before abruptly stopping. At this point, the figure moved some things in the room around to cause a lot of noise, before leaving shortly after.

With little time to spare, Torys cast spells of paralysis and false life on the newly "departed". Alastor waited and felt his life slip to the fringes of his existence, as though he were a ghost hanging to this pile of flesh by the thinnest thread. He could still feel, hear, but he couldn't see or move. His being forgot rhythm as his life was sustained by magic, rather than a beating heart.

It felt quite surreal, to say the least.

"Alright, old friend, that should fool about anything but the most powerful divinations. How are you feeling? Any random itches? Land in a weird position? Gotta take a piss and only realized now that you can't?"

Alastor willed his spirit to send messages of doom and destruction Torus' way. He wasn't sure if the detective felt his spite or simply guessed at it, but the man laughed all the same. "Alright, moment of truth. Have fun. I'll be back tomorrow to heroically rescue you."

With that, Torus left the head of the mansion alone with his thoughts.

----------------------------------------

Hmmm...

Ho, hum....

Blegh....

... Hmm.

My nose itcheaAAA Dammit Torus!

Shit, what's something else I can thinkmurder death family

NO!

Anything... Anything but that.

Blank.

Nothing.

White shapes floating in an empty void...

In those shapes, an image rises.

A tiny music box, tinkling away its little tune. Or is it? It's silent, but I feel like it's playing music I'm just not imagining yet.

Sitting on a table next to...

No. No no no. No...

Hahhh, maybe it would be good to revisit the past. To attack these visions head-on and show myself they aren't as harmful as I think. Funny that now that I'm thinking this, none of the images are coming to mind. I have to force it, but...

Nothing.

Weird. My mind is completely blank...

How long has it been? I feel like Missus Driscoll should have been here by now. Is time really that dilated when you're alone with your thoughts? I guess I've just been so busy my whole life I never really noticed.

For good reason, too, I guess. Mix of conscious and sunconscious desire not to think about...

The whole setup took almost the whole fifteen minutes, and with all the rustling I know she couldn't-

"AAAAHHH!"

Resist. Hah.

----------------------------------------

Upon discovering the body, the guests subsequently had the expected argument about who did it. Was it this guest or that? Was it the maid? Where are the police in all this?

Well turns out that storm from earlier had picked up in force. Winds strong enough to blow a carriage over, lightning about every minute, the whole deal. Nobody's getting in or out in all that.

A perfectly crafted spell, in conjunction with local druids who already planned on rain to stave off a draught. Could you add just a bit more storm and doom at the top of the hill? Perfect.

Even if someone could get out, who's to say the one sent isn't the killer? No, no! No solo runs to law enforcement tonight, thank you very much!

But that leaves us the issues of who killed him, are they going to kill again, and... well, what do we do with the body?

Luckily, one of the maids on duty is in charge of cleaning the family mausoleum in the basement, and wouldn't you know it, there's a table for enbalming down there! We can just leave him there, that's where dead bodies belong, right?

Alastor couldn't help himself as he heard every single word and step go according to plan. With his staff and an appointed guest or two prodding the rest in the right direction, this was becoming the Perfect Murder Mystery! He was absolutely giddy with excitement.

Luckily he didn't have to help himself, as the spells were doing all the work for him. He could enjoy this all he wanted and not worry about a thing! What a wonderful birthday present.

Only one final potential setback. He was about to be locked in a mausoleum for the rest of the night if none of the guests had the bright idea to have someone look at the body to see if the presumed cause of death was the actual cause of death. Everything else may still work, but he'd have to rely on recordings of the event rather than firsthand experience. Hoping that was not the case, Alastor crossed his imaginary fingers for luck and waited.

"Hey, what if the killer used something like poison, then just used the candlestick to finish the job?," one guest asked.

"What would it matter anyways?," a second guest retorted.

"Well if we're dealing with a poisoner, we can't trust any food in this place any longer. Besides that, who knows what knowledge we could gain from inspecting the body?"

"Ugh, listen, I know you're a doctor, but it's too soon for that clinical attitude. At least use his name when addressing him."

"Alright, I can do that if it makes you more comfortable. So, who could we trust to rummage around Alastor's slowly decaying internal organs?"

"...You know what? Clinical works for me."

"Such a sudden change of heart! I wonder what brought that..."

The two gentlemen slowly went upstairs, their voices finally fading as they went to discuss with the others. Thank goodness, Alastor thought, now let's see who they send.

It didn't take long before he heard new footsteps and voices, calling out, "I don't see why you wouldn't be the onvious choice! As a priest of Toara with a hem as light as yours, how could that grungy little woman suspect you?"

Must be talking about Missus Driscoll.

"Please refrain from calling the other guests 'grungy', Arthur. This is a time of high stress, we're all on edge. It's reasonable for everyone to have suspicion of everyone else, even if it is illogical, and they realize so. Instead, let us focus on the matter at hand."

"That's another thing, your divinations make you a perfect candidate to inspect the body, it just makes no sense how she could... Ugh, fine, I'm over it."

Good, they had left him with the priest, as planned. He should be able to cast divinations powerful enough to identify the false death Alastor was currently occupying. Then when he detects magic from outside, Torus will come in and-

"Remember, Arthur, The best divination for an autopsy is the common surgeon's tools. When the subject is dead and there's no chance of harm, in the right hands they can be just as accurate as diagnostic magic, and much easier than casting as well!"

Oh no...

Alastor remembered something that day he wished to forget for seven years, and successfully kept out of his mind for three more.

Being stabbed in the head hurt.

Traumatic memories of that day resurfaced. Memories of screaming, the smell of rust, and a man in a terrible mask; his own mother's face. The man raised a candlestick over his head and swung.

In a fit of panic and fear, Alastor's first thought was to get away, to stop that pain and leave the fear and hurt behind. He had to go, now. So he powered through the spell and lifted his head, sitting upright, ready to run.

Looking in the mirror, he saw it, for just a moment. A scalpel, embedded in his skull. He felt nothing, could do nothing but stare in shock at the horror before him. What was he looking at?

Realization waited until the scalpel fell backwards. He turned to look at it, only to realize it was still in his skull. His own, inanimate, lifeless skull. Sitting right behind him.

"Strange, I didn't think any receptors for movement were in that part of the brain," the nearby priest mused. "I guess we never will understand fully how the mind works. Anyways, could you hand me the foreceps? That unexpected jolt lodged my scalpel right in..."

Alastor was distracted from anything else the priest had to say, as a sight stranger than his own lifeless body beset his eyes. A sight one could only witness in death.