The Adventures of Melisende
"With Bones and Flesh Intertwined"
"My name is Melisende, a private detective..."
Chapter 1
"Oh, you still living in this dump, Melisende?"
Upon hearing the familiar voice, the deerstalker-capped head let out a small sigh and looked up. Through the windows, the trenchcoated figure responded with a wave, before moving to open the door. The amble sunlight leaked into the room, casting on the tired face as the blue eyes narrowed.
"Why, you have a better place for me to be, constable?" the detective coughed a bit as the man made her way through the room and took a seat. The wooden chair creaked against his weight as his eyes glanced over her.
"Unfortunately, no. Maybe I can arrange something for you if you go rob a store," he let out a small chuckle as he shook his head. His hand reached into the trenchcoat before procuring a small slip of paper. The blue eyes casually glanced over it, before her attention was caught by the writing on it.
"Another case from the Yard?" she reached for the paper from the man and gave it a closer read.
"In a way," the hand reached for the bottle to the side, as the constable helped himself to a glass of liquor. "You see, this case has bad luck written all over it. The higher-ups just won't touch it."
"Calavera... a deadbeat?" Melisende narrowed her eyes as the details began to sink in. Deadbeats in the Kaiserreich were not an uncommon sight - merchants, soldiers, and sailors frequented the docks of the city, trading goods and supplying their ships in anticipation of their enemy.
"Sounds like a whole lot of nothing for a dead merchant if you ask me," despite that, she still pocketed the slip in her own coat.
"A dead merchant, maybe. A deadbeat merchant, though..." he attempted to pour another glass, but a glare from its owner stopped him in the act. "Especially during this season. You know what season this is, detective."
"Of course, of course." Melisende nodded as she leant against the back of her chair. A drop of sweat slid down from her forehead before it was wiped away with her fingertip. The hot season had just begun - and for people living on this southern coast of the continent, the wind blowing from the depths of the land meant one thing: the strange people from the south would be coming. Always sailing against the wind, their infamy preceded them - they were raiders and hunters, and their game was the most dangerous one. Perhaps fortunately, that was also why many of the deadbeats were here. They were the hunters of the hunters.
A navy could not run without provisions, though, and when their warehouses could not supply, their merchants would be lending a hand to them - with an interest, of course. Naturally, it also made deadbeat merchants like Calavera targets of the raiders and their friends. Rumours had it that their bloodthirsty cult was everywhere, even in the Kaiserreich. People had indulged in stranger fetishes - especially those with more power and wealth than they knew what to do with. Regardless, it would not be impossible for the cult to assassinate deadbeat merchants right before their raids to impede the resupply, and thus the ability for the fleet to fight against them.
It was perfect... perhaps too perfect.
"Won't be constabulary be after the case?" she asked the obvious question, and the answer began with a dismissive hmph.
"The higher-ups told us off. Said they had it dealt with," he mumbled with some more words that a lady like Melisende would rather not hear. "Told you, it has bad luck written all over it. Won't be surprised if some Fönixid's in the cult pulling the strings."
"I can't go against direct orders... but I can't stop private eyes from looking into the case either," a grin emerged on her face as he leant against the table, causing the detective to pull back at an equal distance.
"Except with a ball of lead," she pointed out.
"Except with a ball of lead," he repeated, with his eyes straying onto her upper body. Beyond the admittedly curvy shape, a leather holster housed a piece of fine wood and steel. "And a draw faster than yours, of course."
"... fine. You owe me a big one, Burton," upon hugging her coat tight and letting out a sigh, the private eye stood up from her chair and straighten her clothes. Her gut feeling told her that she would not be seeing much sleep on this hot spring night. Might as well get started before the trail went cold.
"Of course. I'm sure Mr. Calavera's family would pay handsomely for the truth behind such unfortunate death," the constable mused to himself as he reached for the bottle once more.
"If you keep drinking, it'll be Mr. Burton's grieving family that I have to deliver the news to."
"Nonsense. It'll take more than just glass to take me down," his chuckling disappeared behind the door, as the detective got to her business.
She had expected foul business, but Melisende would never expect what she had gotten herself into.
Chapter 2
By the time Melisende arrived at the address, moonlight was already shining gently in the night sky. The warehouse district did not see much traffic at this time of the night - so much the better, really. Too many unwanted activities would no doubt ruin the crime scene, not to mention being found alongside a corpse without an official reason could land her in serious trouble.
As the detective made her last turn before arriving at the warehouse in question, though, a silhouette by the door stopped her in her track, and the figure had no doubt noticed her presence as well. Fortunately, perhaps, she was not greeted by the smoke of gunpowder, but rather a friendly, if slightly nervous face. Judging by the pale orange uniform and the standardised weapons on her belt, it appeared that this young woman was from the constabulary as well, something that she immediately confirm with her greeting.
"Good evening, ma'am! Constable Burton has already told me you'll take up the job!" the almost naive smile on her face only seemed to make her rawness even more apparent. At least, this constable-in-training appeared to be friendly, and the private eye released her grip on the handle beneath her armpit as she let out a sigh of relief.
"The crime scene's inside, right?" she asked, gesturing to the closed, but unlocked the door to the warehouse.
"Yup! I'm told to stand guard here until you come. Something about keeping it undisturbed." with a confused expression, the young girl turned and pushed the door open, allowing Melisende to enter the scene. As moonlight seeped into the windowless building, the detective quickly scanned the surroundings, witnessing the numerous crates and barrels lining the inside of the warehouse. Almost all of them were organized neatly, with the exception of a few crates laid in the middle of the room.
"Let me light it up for you, ma'am!" before she could respond, the sizzling noise of something catching fire was heard behind her. As the ember glow quickly turned into the flickering light of a torch, the interior was quickly illuminated, revealing the scene of a crime as the distinct colour of blood emerged.
Several wooden boxes were laid in the middle of the room. On top of them, shackles anchored to the four corners pulled the limbs of a humanoid body in a spread position. The victim appeared to be emancipated, his deathly pale skin forming a sharp contrast to the red stains covering the wooden planks, turning the bespoke business suit into an undifferentiated black. The thick stench of blood dispelled any doubts - this was a crime scene.
"Gruesome, isn't it?" the novice constable said between the coughing noises. Melisende, on the other hand, simply marched forward and began examining the body. Despite the skinny appearance, the body felt just as heavy as a well-built man - a tell-tale characteristic of deadbeats due to their dense bones. Of course, it did not save him from his untimely death, and the cause was soon made apparent. As the detective attempted to lift his arm to unshackle it, it proved to be unnecessary, as the clutched fist was pulled out from the sleeve, leaving her a gnarly stump at the wrist, causing a suppressed cry from behind.
It was not an accident of decomposition, either. After a quick examination, it was made clear that every joint of the limbs, as well as his neck, was severed by some kind of blade. Deadbeats might have reinforced bones and organs, but any ligaments soft enough to allow a normal range of movement would be no match for weapons or specialized tools. A lack of other major injuries on his body suggested that these wounds were likely what killed him, either by decapitation or blood loss.
The killer was definitely someone with extensive knowledge of the humanoid body and the durability of deadbeat bones. The cult from the alien shores appeared in her mind once again. From what Melisende heard about them, they were remarkably knowledgeable on the function of the human body - a knowledge they used to draw out the suffering of their victims before feasting upon them. Perhaps the lack of muscles among deadbeats left the last step of the ritual undone?
As the cadaver was removed from the crates, Melisende could see a pile of paper soaked in viscous blood, alongside something shiny. Carefully reaching into it and pulling it out, the object revealed itself to be a broken piece of trinket. As the blood dripped onto the floor, she could discern the fragmented symbol despite half of it missing - a white snake coiling around a purple clock, resting on top of a golden cross.
"Oh, my... that symbol," picking up something potentially meaningful for a change, the blonde detective turned towards the pale-faced constable, who had been watching while holding the torch. She appeared to be on the verge of vomiting,
but ultimately managed to keep it in.
"Reminds you of something?" the detective asked as she held up the brooch for her to see, while her hand moved onto the papers. Unfortunately, they were all glued together by blood, and most of them were indecipherable. However, they appeared to be some kind of cargo manifest, perhaps for some of the goods here. One thing that stood out from the half-molten papers, though, was a wax seal bearing the insignia of the deadbeat navy, suggesting a likely recipient.
"It's from the cult. I think it was from one of the cannibals' goddesses," the inexperienced officer answered, struggling between moving towards it to get a clearer look, and moving away to avoid touching the gore still dripping. "I saw that in a few raids and other - "
"Other?" Melisende perked her ears as the brunette constable stopped herself.
"... other scenes. This was the third case of the month," any dedication to secrecy was no match for the blue, inquisitive gaze. After a moment of silence, she parted her dried lips once more, with her voice stuttering lightly. "W-we were told to keep it under wrap. They said it would hurt the garrison's morale when - if, I mean if - the raids come!"
"Right..." Melisende let out a small sigh. Why was she stuck with a mess like this, and the only help around was probably not qualified to hold the gun on her waist? If nothing else, she would want the client to be a voluptuous woman that looked like the fabled Kaiserin, not the broke and drunk constable Burton!
"Sh-should we write it off as another human sacrifice?" the officer asked as she covered her nose, seemingly looking forward to leaving this place once and for all. Indeed, it was pretty obvious that this was the case, especially in light of other similar incidents. This deadbeat was part of the war effort against the cult raiders; he was chained to the crates like a sacrifice on an altar; the killer was eerily familiar with the human body; the accessory was apparently from the cult. Everything lined up perfectly.
Too perfectly.
"Not so fast..." her fingers took hold of the clenched fist. It was unusually tight, especially for someone who died in such a way. As if to break the series of coincidence, the blonde detective dug her fingers into the fist, slowly but surely piling it open. Eventually, the dead muscle gave way, and the bloodied fist finally released itself - and the reflection of metal painted a smile on her face.
"... aha," partially embedded in the pale skin was a piece of precious stone reinforced by a metal frame. The bloodstain did not hide the careful polishing it must have received, not to mention the well-crafted frame of gold and silver. The emblem carved on the greenstone was not one she recognised, but there was no doubt that its original owner was quite affluent - and the letters on it were used by the Kaiserreich.
"Is it from the cult?" the shaking head widened the smile on Melisende as she put down the dry, severed palm. A new, discordant lead at last.
"I see... say," the private eye slid the two adornments into separate pockets on her coats. Their boiled leather interior would keep them protected without staining the rest of her wardrobe. "I don't suppose you happen to know someone from the cult?"
Chapter 3
The pale, serene moonlight continued to pour into the empty streets. As the majority of people fell asleep once again after the watch, Melisende emerged from the shadows of the back alleys once more. Despite her occupation, she was never really a fan of dealing with people - this lazy stroll across the pebble street gave her a brief respite before she had to dive into the investigation again. Even then, memories of what she had seen continued to bubble up in her overactive mind. A drop of sweat slid down from her skin... Perhaps Burton was right - this case was all bad luck. The more rational side of her felt it might be better to drop the investigation before she learnt something she would rather not... but the other side of her was curious, maybe too curious for her own good.
The blonde detective eventually stopped her steps, the capped head looking up to her next destination. While its location in the urban business district made it necessarily smaller than prodigy houses in the countryside, it was still a rather luxurious building. Neat rows of red bricks lined the wall, interrupted and reinforced by straight pillars that defined the shape of the building. Large windows between the pastel frames showed that it had three storeys, but the drapes concealed every single one of the dark rooms within. Several stagecoaches occupied the small, well-maintained lawn before the arched entrance, their refined embellishment suggesting the status of its inhabitants. Hanging before the building, the name of this establishment was bronzed on the tight grain sign - "Mai's Inn".
If the information she received from the fresh constable was correct, though, this merchants' hall was not what it seemed. Supposedly, hidden somewhere in it was one of the gathering places of the cannibal cult. Although not exactly illegal by itself, many of the gorier practices of a cult like this would nonetheless land them on the wrong side of the law. Then again, if they could operate in an opulent building like this, they either manage to evade investigation good enough, or they indeed had someone powerful in their ranks to protect them.
Truth be told, Melisende did not think that grey-eyed rookie was entirely reliable. If things went south, she would probably be more of a liability than an asset. Still, her lead was the only one so far, and Burton trusted her enough to guard the crime scene. Swallowing her doubts alongside her saliva, she lifted her hand and knocked on the door before making her way in.
The lobby was suitably well-decorated for a building like this. Polished chuubanite mounted on a chandelier illuminated the area with their magical glow, showing the sandalwood doors and stairway leading to the rest of the building. Mounted on the wall before the parting staircase, an exquisite oil painting of the elegant Kaiserin cast her masqueraded, smiling gaze on the detective, before her attention was drawn by the soft greeting from the side.
"Welcome to Mai's Inn. How may I serve you today?" standing behind the counter, a brown-haired maidservant offered the blonde private eye a bow, her emerald eyes meeting the sapphire eyes as she smiled.
"Oh... I would like a room, please." the pounding from within her chest quickened as Melisende answered. So far, this place looked just like a regular, if well-maintained inn... then again, it was not like she could normally afford a night in such an establishment. Concealing any uncertainties that might reveal her true nature, she parted her lips once more and whispered the code she was given. "Oh, and a stagecoach to Okachimachi in the morning, if it's not too much a hassle."
"But of course." the smile on her face deepened. The metal-nibbed pen danced on the ledger, leaving behind a row or two of records before returning to its resting place. Then, the maidservant gracefully moved away from the reception and towards one of the side doors. "Please follow me to your accommodation... my friend."
She had passed the first hurdle, from the look of it... that, or the maidservant was simply luring her deeper into the building, away from prying eyes before making her move. With a polite nod, the detective followed her through the door, her crossed arms resting on the wooden handle hidden beneath her coat.
"May I ask if this is the first time you graced our modest establishment?" the room behind the door was not as well-lit as the entrance hall, but its plastered walls were nonetheless adorned with fine relief. Rows of barrels laid on their side on the wooden shelves, each with their unique markings befitting for fine wine.
"Ah, yes. A confidant of mine told me of this place. They said it will cater to my... needs well," the detective's answer on the fly was not met with further inquiries. The chambermaid reached for one of the casks leaning against the wall. Pulling open the head, the inside was not filled with liquor from the land of owls like the label suggested, but instead some kind of block and tackle leading into the wall.
"Indeed we will," with a gentle tug of the well-weathered rope, the faint squeaking noise echoing between the walls suggested something was being moved, and the otherwise unassuming plank floor to the side gradually sank into the ground, revealing a dark path down from the light. Once the ropes stopped their movement, the maiden turned to the detective and offered her a curtsey.
"Please, enjoy your stay..." the gentle slope was inviting, and the blue eyes could see some kind of doorway at the end of the brick corridor. With a deep breath, the boots began marching down into the unknown - it was not like she had any choice now. Once she stood before the shut door, the ramp behind her was pulled up once more, the light from above narrowing until she was covered in pitch darkness.
"... my delicious friend."
Chapter 4
By all accounts, Melisende's wait in the dark lasted only for a brief moment... but it felt like an eternity for her. She was sure she overheard the maidservant saying something... and she would be effectively trapped in this tight space if there was any foul play. The fingers clenched tightly against the stock as her gaze danced around the darkness. She could see the faint patterns between the bricks, and the thin lines of light seeping between the planks. If she was to go down in this place, she could at least ensure she would not go alone.
Fortunately, it was not a decision she had to make tonight. With the sound of metal grinding against each other echoing around her, the door before her parted ways as torchlight
flooded the space, causing her to raise her hand before her eyes for a moment. Just like the darkness melted before the flickering lights, the metallic sound also gave way to the sound of carousing cheers... intertwined with screams of pain and pleasure alike.
It appeared to be some kind of basement encased fully in bricks and wooden beams, with the ceiling lined with tight metal grates in lieu of windows. With no natural lights from the night outside, the only sources of light were the torches and oil lamps mounted on the pillars. Apart from that, though, this place looked more like a cross between a tavern... and a torture chamber.
On one side of the large room, about a dozen well-dressed people were feasting around a long dining table. Served on the silverware was a myriad of gourmet food, from fine red wine served in chalice and glass, to meat roasted and raw being sliced by sharp knives and seasoned with carmine sauce. The scent was welcoming, and the gourmets were clearly enjoying every juicy bite of them, but her gut instinct warned her against eating anything here.
On the other side of the room, numerous racks, shackles, and chains were mounted on the brick wall. Many of them were... occupied. People of all shapes and sizes were bound, their mostly-exposed skins receiving constant attention, from hands and whips to fists and sticks, and one was even using a sling to cast bags of beans against them. Marks of bodily fluid and bruises, as well as the cries echoing between the walls with each contact, showed that at least some of the participants were not holding back. Curiously, though, some of them bore unworked skins belonging to highborn, and many of them appeared to be enjoying the abuse...
"Oh, a new meat!" "Which side of the rack do you think she prefers?" "She would look good with a whip..." despite the somewhat rowdy scene, the private eye's presence was effectively announced by the heavy doors, and several pairs of eyes were soon cast upon the uneasy blonde. To her relief, none of them bore any signs of hostility - if anything, it felt more like a mix of welcoming and curiosity... as well as horniness for at least one. She released her fingers on the wooden finish, but the arms were kept crossed before her chest.
"Welcome back! I don't think I've seen you before... how may I help you?" a woman soon approached her with a warm, almost cosy smile. She had the physique of a nice housewife, as well as a pair of coiled horns on her head - perhaps she was from the land of watermelons? Regardless, the blue eyes could not help but gaze down, at her bare midriff which was marked with all black and blue. It was obvious what kind of activity she was engaged in beforehand, but the smile looked genuine, without a hint of coercion.
"Oh, evening, ma'am... I'm new here, yes," the detective scratched her head sheepishly, all the while her eyes casually glanced left and right in this strange place. Despite the constant rough treatment, this place was surprisingly clean - she could only see a few scratches on the abusees, and there were no red stains anywhere on the wooden floor. As for the participants, it was difficult to tell their identities through the masks and blindfolds some of them were wearing - for good reasons, perhaps - but Melisende remembered seeing some of the familiar physique entering the mansion of the local lord the other day. "May I ask if there's anyone I should greet before I, um, enjoy myself?"
"You don't need to worry about it, darling~ We're all brothers and sisters here. I'm sure you'll fit in soon!" the sheep lady giggled as the green eyes examined her casually, causing her to tug the overcoat tighter. "But if you're looking for the abbess, she's at the innermost sandbag."
Brothers and sisters? Abbess? She's in the right place after all, the detective thought to herself before returning the seemingly friendly smile with a touch of nervousness. Upon further inquiry, the sheep gestured towards the end of the underground hall, where a small crowd had gathered, and the sound of powerful punching and crying could be heard from a distance. It seemed this abbess was quite partial to whatever violence was occurring there. Before the private eye could thank her, though, the motherly lady was already enjoying a touching embrace with another masked man, who looked suspiciously similar to the Volksernährung minister for the city.
Putting herself at relative ease, the detective walked across the room as she approached the small crowd. Even before pushing through the innermost ring of people, she could see an iron chain anchored to the reinforced beam above. The chain was clearly bearing load as it rattled every time the thing dangling on the other end was punched. Judging from the high-pitched scream, it probably belonged to a young girl. Normally in a scene like that, she would have to shoot and stab her way through as she rescued the damsel in distress, but by now, she was no longer sure what to expect in this strange place.
Finally, she arrived at the innermost sandbag - or at least, that was what they called it. At the other end of the metallic chain was a young, feminine figure. Her hands were bound behind her with a thick rope attached to the chain, and her legs were dangling just above the drenched wooden planks. The simple black dress she was wearing was tugged almost all the way up, revealing the heavily bruised stomach... and the telltale sign of her being him despite the feminine appearance.
The brief observation was quickly interrupted, as a clenched fist landed right on the stomach, adding another mark as the meaty sandbag let out a cry... and physical signs of arousal as she swung from the sheer force like a pendulum. The owner of that powerful punch, surprisingly, was a similarly petite girl. Her lithe physique was clad with a form-fitting, sumptuous dress of black and red, almost as if she just walked out of a masquerade ball. However, the crimson eyes and grin beneath the chest-length silver hair indicated she was enjoying every moment of this grisly exercise.
She must be the abbess... and with this thought, Melisende waved to her and, failing to turn her attention off the panting captive, gently rested her hand on the exposed, sweating shoulder right when she was pulling for another punch. "Huh?" Pausing for a moment, the girl turned her face towards the detective and asked with a slight tone of annoyance.
"I'm sorry to bother you, abbess. I just want to greet the owner of this place before - " her words were stopped as the girl revealed her sharp teeth and interrupted her sentence. "What? I ain't the abbess, girl."
"Huh? But-"
"Good evening, user... ~" a weak voice from the side put an end to the awkward exchange, as the bruised figure greeted the bewildered detective with a yearning grin. Dealing with delinquents and cadavers was one thing, but the genuine love and desire for being abused behind that smile were disturbing in their own way. Still, she knew better than to express her immediate feeling in a place filled with people with similar inclinations.
"My apologies, ma'am-"
"Just 'Akira' is fine~ How can Akira serve you~?" by this point, the attention from abbess effectively turned Melisende into the centre of attention from this small crowd. Her newcomer status was made apparent, and her ears could pick up whispers guessing what her inclination was. Even with the seeming lack of exclusivity, it was definitely a rather tight-knit group... just like a cult.
"May I borrow a bit of your time to have a private ta- private time for us," the detective had no way to tell if such a request was outrageous or not, but keeping the case away from unwanted ears was more important - the culprit might be watching her right now, and the blonde private eye would rather not share the same fate as Mr Calavera. Whispers around her became louder as her request was heard, and she could not help but feel tense, her gaze quickly scanned the shortest route to the entrance, before returning to the widening smile on Akira's face.
"Borrow, you say~? Akira doesn't mind that at all... but how would new user return the time?" Melisende blinked at the odd question. Did the abbess not know the meaning behind that expression? Or was this a suggestion for exchanging favour? Just as the blue-eyed detective parted her lips, though, she was interrupted by the same baby-like chuckle.
"Oh, Akira knows~" the baggy indigo eyes rested upon Melisende as the abbess licked her lips, a few drops of her saliva dripping onto the floor in the process. "Would user like to use this sandbag~? Akira just need a few more punches to... hehe~"
"Well, you're in luck, girl." the white-haired girl who had been standing by the side chimed in. Having cooled down somewhat, she held up her fist towards the detective and released her fist. In her sweaty palm was a short, grooved rod, seemingly made of some kind of alloy of gold and copper. Melisende remembered seeing something similar in her previous case concerning a pugilist - this simple and easily concealable tool could strengthen one's fist, allowing even a skinny lady to deliver devastating blows to the brutalised abdomen.
"Alright..." it was too late to back down now. At least, she could take comfort in the fact that her target was apparently enjoying it a lot, and the myriad marks already on her skin suggested that she would not be worse for wear with a few more. Her fingers wrapped around the warm metal as the detective lowered her centre of gravity. Perhaps seeing what was about to unfold, the surrounding crowd began cheering on as well. What a surreal scene... "Are you ready... Akira?"
Responded with an eager nod, the detective swallowed her hesitation and began pulling her punch. Then, with an instinctive yell, the steeled fist pierced through the drenched air
and landed squarely on Akira's stomach. It was warm and soft... almost tenderised. She could barely feel any resistance as the light body swung in the air, the lustful moan seemingly encouraging the detective to punch harder, backed by the obviously excited body.
"Nice one!" "Aim lower!" it was obvious that a single blow would not suffice... better to get it over with sooner rather than later. Wiping the sweat off her face, the detective quickly delivered another blow to the stomach, the mushy feeling becoming more familiar this time. Compared with an actual sandbag, the softer touch and the smooth way her force propagated inside her torso were definitely superior. It was perhaps not a good feeling, one that she would rather forget as soon as possible.
"Ah~ O-one more, closer to Akira's chest..." the widened blue eyes turned upward towards the swinging body. Even with a stomach that soft and malleable, Akira was a rather skinny girl, and Melisende could see the faint contour of a lump at the end of the rib cage. If the abbess took pleasure in pain, then that would be the place to hit. Catching her breath for a brief moment, Melisende turned her fist sideways, before the exposed metal drew an arc in the air, ending right at the bottom of the rib cage as Akira's cry echoed across the room. The bound body twitched in ecstasy, and the bystanders began cheering for the macabre performance as the dripping body swung in the air, the momentum slowly dying down while the human sandbag was still enjoying the afterglow. The drenched detective, on the other hand, took half a step back as she tried to keep herself standing upright from the sensation, the shaking hand released the metallic grip as it fell onto the hand of the grinning white-haired girl.
"You did well for a first-timer! I'm sure the abbess will be enjoying her private time with you," the shark-toothed girl patted her shaking shoulder a few times, before waving her goodbye. Meanwhile, as the panting scream from Akira finally ceased, some of the members around moved to release her from the clanking chain and rested her convulsing body. Surprisingly, by the time the detective turned her attention back to the human sandbag, the abbess was already standing on her shaky legs, and the dress was lowered to cover up the beaten lower body.
"Hehe~ Akira liked that very much!" the abbess approached the slightly drained detective with a wide smile, the steps almost hopping before stopping before her. The lithe hands lifted to take hold of her hands, with marks of bondage and shackling still visible on the pale skin. "Now, you said you want to spend some quality time with Akira alone~?"
"Not in tha-" not that Melisende disliked that idea in general, just that she had yet to be accustomed to all the black and blue around, let alone being aroused by that. That said, she stopped herself before the widen purple eyes, feeling that a brunt rejection like that in the open would not do her much favour. "- let's talk about that in your room, shall we?"
"Of course~" With a gentle tuck, the detective soon followed Akira through the door leading to an enclosed room. Through the door frame, she could see the walls were thicker than normal, perhaps with something stuffed between the bricks. The purpose of this was soon made apparent, as the door closed shut behind them, the rousing noises from outside were also kept out of this small room.
For what was assumed to be the private room for the abbess, it was a surprisingly humble abode. While the walls were still as well-paved and polished as the rest of the inn, the room did not seem to be filled with anything significantly valuable. The bed Akira was sitting on was large enough for multiple people, and the detective could see shackles being attached to its legs. Like the outside, the room was surprisingly clean, with no signs of blood or other bodily fluid on the floor or bedsheets. Next to the bed, a small table was used to house a full tea set. The scent was not something Melisende recognise, but it was surprisingly relaxing, and she could feel her body easing slightly from the intense activity before.
"So~ how may Akira help you, new user~?" perhaps surprisingly, the slender abbess did not immediately try to bed the private eye, instead pouring two cups of tea for them, their verdant colour suggested them to be some kind of herbal tea. The smile on her face remained unusually wide, but there was a hint of clarity within her gaze. With a gesture, the detective slowly picked up the cup of tea, although her hesitation was apparent even after the abbess took a sip from the other cup. "Don't worry~ Akira doesn't harm her guests unless they want to~"
"I see..." still, the detective was not ready to trust Akira fully just yet. Taking her seat by the bedside, the blue eyes glanced over the abbess while her free hand slid into the leathered pocket. The sticky blood from the deadbeat could still be felt - in fact, it felt almost warm despite it must have cooled down long before. "As you might've already figured out, I'm a private investigator. My case has a few trails that led me to your... establishment, so I would like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind, ma- Akira."
"Is that so~? Let Akira guess, someone was killed or eaten? Or both?" turning towards the private eye, Akira leant against the headboard while taking another sip from the warm tea. It looked quite therapeutic - probably necessary for the lean body to recover from the constant blows too. As the teaspoon stirred the tea, the amethyst eyes looked up to the detective, who simply nodded in response. The hand in the pocket soon retracted, holding the bloodstained brooch up. Her fingers formed an impromptu cup to prevent what remained of the syrupy blood from ruining the bedsheet.
"I'm told this belonged to one of the goddesses you worshipped. Would you happen to know anything about it?" Melisende's question, not to mention the sanguine piece, piqued Akira's interest. As the bagged face loomed towards her, the lithe fingers slithered upon the hand and clasp on the accessory. At first, she thought the abbess simply wished to examine it closer - maybe it had some kind of personal mark, or hints of it being part of a deeper conspiracy. However, Akira parted the salivating lips and, before the detective could react, gave the sticky blood a generous lick, scooping a good chunk of it back into the mouth as it changed into a grin.
"Hmm~ It's from a deadbeat, isn't it? Feels a bit lumpy too... Akira prefers younger ones~" on one hand, Melisende could see the benefits of being able to divine information with a simple lick. On the other hand, she was not about to become a habitual cannibal for that.
"That isn't what I expected... but I guess that saved me from explaining the case," the detective took a sniff at her tea. She was still unsure about drinking it, but the herbal scent was rather inviting...
"You're welcome~ As for the brooch, Akira does recognise it~" with that, the abbess reached for the drawer and revealed another brooch to the detective. A sharp contrast to the bloodstained and broken accessory, the one Akira handed to the private eye was squeaky-clean and complete, showing the entirety of the symbol embedded on the polished opal. "It's one of Akira's symbols, after all~"
"In that case, you wouldn't happen to know who killed the deadbeat, would you?" from the look of it, the abbess did not pick up any personal signs or forgery on the torn pin... or had elected not to reveal them. Even the full accessory was not indicative of Akira's innocence.
"Oh, of course not~ Akira is a law-abiding citizen, after all... hehe~" then again, it was not like the true offender would admit it outright, else Melisende would be out of a job. Perhaps sensing her doubts, though, the abbess leapt off the bed and began strolling beside the detective, the bagged gaze glancing over her body as the perky nose sniffed. "But maybe Akira could help the new user if she would like to show more of what she found~"
"... guess I can't hide blood from you, heh," Melisende Let out a dry chuckle as her hand reached into the other pocket, presenting the unknown emblem to Akira. Just like before, the lean hand reached for it and delivered it onto the dripping tongue. The relative lack of blood on it, though, did not seem to appetise the abbess.
"Not a fan of it, Akira?" the detective asked half-jokingly. Maybe it was the lack of iron in its taste. Unfortunately for Akira, the blonde had no plan to turn out her bloody pockets. "I found it in the deadbeat's hand. It doesn't look like something from their island, so maybe it belonged to the killer."
"Interesting~ though user might be in a bit of trouble if that's indeed the case~" the smile on Akira's face widened as the emblem was lifted towards the oil lamp, its light scattering through the gemstone. "Unless user wants to pick a fight with a Fönixid magnate~"
Melisende let out a small groan upon hearing that, although part of her already expected such - an elaborate symbol like that had to be from a Fönixid house, after all. She was just hoping that its owner was someone who had since fallen from grace, but it seemed this was not going to happen tonight. "And who would that be?"
"Ever heard of the von Pfilzens?" the detective whispered something unbecoming for a proper lady. They were not a major player in the Kaiserreich, but they still had significant influence in this city through their wealth from trade. To make the quagmire even deeper, a significant amount of their trade was with the deadbeats, and yet... "Both the Volksernährung minister and his daughter are regular users~"
The drink in the teacup was more tempting than ever, as she really need a drink right now.
Chapter 5
Inside the office that she called home, Melisende had been racking her brain since her visit to the underground establishment. By now, she had become fully aware that what started as a simple, if gruesome death of a merchant had spiralled into something far beyond her imagination - and most definitely beyond any rewards she might receive for solving the case, no matter who the true culprit was. However, that did not mean she would stop the investigation. It might not be a well-paying or respected job, but she had her pride as a detective - not to mention any dirt she could dig up might end up saving her life.
At least, there was a small comfort that she was not completely without allies.
"Good afternoon, ma'am! I've got the beans you want!"
A very small comfort.
The young voice from the constable-in-training broke her train of thought, with the orange trenchcoat peeking out through the window before the wooden door was slammed open, revealing the brunette with her hands full of daily goods. Ever since her last meeting with constable Burton, he had been preoccupied with more official business - part of Melisende suspected that the Yard had caught wind of their deal, and intended to make sure he would be too busy to follow up on him.
Instead, the one who was tasked to stand guard before Mr Calavera's altar became the usual fixture of her workplace. By her own account, it seemed that she was rarely given any task even when others were worked to their bones and skin - and the detective could see why. At least, she was quite good at brewing. Soon enough, the faint scent of roasted beans began to permeate the slightly disorganised room, and the unseasoned assistant delivered a cup of warm, dark liquid to the tired detective.
Imported from some faraway country to the south, this new drink had been making quite an impression in the Kaiserreich lately. Maybe it was the bitter taste or the aroma, but this "coffee" drink was remarkably good at keeping one's mind awake. "Thanks, mate," the private eye offered the nervous smile a nod, before taking a sip of it. It was definitely an acquired taste, but once she had acquired it, it had become difficult to imagine staying functional before noon without a good cup of this black, liquid gold.
"So, how's the case, ma'am?" Her nervousness dissipated somewhat as the detective enjoyed her brew. Taking a seat at the other side of the table covered in all sorts of papers, the blue-grey eyes glanced over what was probably too complicated for her.
"A whole bag of trouble, that's what constable Burton would say," of course, a drawback of this hot brew was that it made the already hot weather even less tolerable, forcing the detective to hang her coat by the side while fanning herself with a conveniently-positioned ledger. She could tell that her sweat was making the white suit slightly transparent, ensnaring the attention of the green officer in orange in the process - but she was too tired to care.
"The cannibal cult's still quite suspicious, what with the ritual and the broken brooch. However, I can't help but feel this is all too obvious... almost as if someone was trying to pin the murder on them," Melisende began organising her thoughts, her fingers aimlessly dancing on the papers, gathering some of the less useful ones into a loose pile to the side. The accessories, now fully cleaned, were sitting on a plate between them.
"Normally, when someone was bleeding out, their palms would be open or closed slightly, but Mr Calavera instead held his tight until the very end. Perhaps he pulled that from his assassin and wanted to leave a clue for intrepid sleuths. Of course, it just raised more questions than it answered," letting out a dry chuckle, her fingers held the emblem of the von Pfilzen up for the officer to see. After cleaning the stains off it and comparing it with heraldic documents, the abbess proved to be correct in the assessment - its holder would have to be from the Fönixid magnate family, or someone working under their auspice.
Normally, it would not be a major surprise. The von Pfilzens made their fortune mostly by trading with deadbeats, whose naval presence in this port city proved to be a rather profitable venture. In that regard, their main competitors would be other deadbeat merchants who were also eligible to supply them. By killing one of them right before the raiding season and pinning the crime on the cannibal cult, the combination of reduced competition and heightened threat would drive their profit even higher. However, that would be at odds with their presence in the cannibal cult... "Why would they risk an investigation that might expose themselves just to frame their own cult?"
"Maybe that's why the captain's told off from the case?" the novice lifted her finger up, almost like a student asking her teacher.
"Perhaps, perhaps. Still, there are safer enemies of Mr Calavera to pin it onto," the sleuth leant against the back of her chair, the creaking noise from the half-exposed joints warning her against leaning further.
"Oh, oh! How about they're actually on the cult's side, and they used their connections with dem bones to kill him?" suddenly, the orangecoat raised her hand fully, presenting the idea that no doubt sounded better in her mind. "But unbeknownst to them, Mr Calavera managed to snatch their sign before death!"
"If that's the case, though," the detective let out a sigh - why did she keep her around again? The fragrant scent of the brew reminded her of the answer, as she emptied the drink in her to clear her mind of the sleep demons constantly lurking in it. "They'll surely try to cover their track. I don't know how significant the rituals are, but I doubt cleaning up is sacrilegious to them. The trail would've run cold had they consumed the corpse, just like they seem to like."
"Um... maybe he's too lean? Oh, I bet the minister has gout!"
"Look, just... pour me another cup, would you?" Melisende was starting to miss Burton's companionship. Still, the only drink he could offer would be liquor, and despite the minor nuisance, the rookie still had her heart in the right place, even if she was suffering from her gross inexperience. With her worth proven one brew at a time, the beaming face soon returned with another cup of the good stuff.
"Where was I? Right, the von Pfilzens. Fortunately, my visit to the cult isn't entirely fruitless," the detective sampled the hot coffee - while it made the hot weather even less tolerable, leaving the coffee to cool down would just put its redolence to waste. Her fingertip danced on the pin, the minute sound of metal clicking against the table formed a nice rhythm. "The abbess was kind enough to disclose to me that dame Simone happened to have an... objectionable preference. The minister will be out of town in the next few days, which put her in charge of the household."
"The little princess was apparently not pleased with the activities happening beneath the inn, and wished for something more... ghoulish," a hint of concern emerged on the investigator's face. "She was trying to witness someone being executed by the noose, after which she will extract what pleasure there might be from the corpse. As horrid as her taste might be, this would provide the perfect entry to her bedchamber."
"Wh-what? You want to get yourself executed?" the ashen eyes peered at the private eye, suggesting that the timid constable could not help but imagine the terrible scene playing inside her mind. It definitely did not help elevate her in Melisende's mind... but at the very least, she knew she did care for her safety, which might well be more important for the next step of her plan.
"Yes, and the trick is not dying when I'm killed. With that, I'm afraid I'll need your help here," with that, the blonde lady stood up from her chair and began undoing her belt and lifting the soaked white suit right before the constable's eyes.
"W-wait! Stop it! N-not that I found you unappealing, but ma'am-" perhaps as expected, the panicked woman began to frail aimlessly in her seat. The narrowed glare from the blue eyes seemed to have deterred her from further actions, and the worried expression was surprisingly punchable... maybe the brief stay in Mai's Inn had caused her to pick up a sliver of sadism? Regardless, Melisende pulled up her shirt and revealed the leather corset hidden beneath. It appeared to be quite sturdy, although marks and unused loops suggested that whatever reinforcement it had beforehand had already been removed.
"It was a gift from the abbess. If you weave a belt through it and give it a separate lift, the noose would not have enough force to crush my windpipe," the detective swallowed as she explained her plan. Of course, it was still a very dangerous move, as any deviation from the plan - accidental or otherwise - would strangle her just like Simone desired. "Akira had arranged for me to replace the poor soul, as well as one other person to assist my plot. Could I rely upon you for that?"
"You... want me to be your hangman?" the officer was in disbelief. However, it seemed she was hesitant to reject the proposal outright. "I don't know..."
"Of course, you'll be compensated for your work - provided that I survive it," with a mischievous giggle, the fine fingers moved onto the ropes holding the corset in place as they began to loosen, unveiling the misty skin beneath. "You did say you found me appealing~"
"I, um..." the blushing face turned aside. "If... if you trust me enough to do so, ma'am."
It would have to suffice.
Chapter 6
Silver light from the waning moon illuminated the quiet streets as the carriage cruised through the pebble ground. Its frame was reinforced with metal, and there was not a single window on it, showing its use as a secure transport rather than a luxurious or comfortable one. Within the wagon saw three individuals, their minds all occupied by what was about to transpire. For Melisende, though, her concerns were probably the most warranted. While still dressed in her usual white shirt and short brown coat, tight ropes were weaved around her torso, digging into her clothes while keeping her hands bound behind her back. Her legs, while allowing a bit more freedom, were nonetheless shackled with cold iron. Even with the cushioned seat, it was not a very comfortable position for the detective.
At least, the other two by her side were her friends and allies - at least, one of them was. The constable-in-training had changed into an outfit more fitting for a maidservant, similar to the dirndl commonly worn by the commoners of the Kaiserreich. Despite not being restrained like the detective next to her, the concerns on her face were much more apparent, as the wavering grey eyes could not help but glanced toward her. Sitting on her lap was a simple, mostly-filled backpack, which contained most of the personal belongings of the detective, up and including her trusty wood and iron. As the wheel hit another bump on the road, the shake broke her train of thought and caused her to let out a yelp.
"Try to calm your nerves... my life will be on your hands, after all," the detective turned towards her and offered a futile reassurance. Her voice was calm if weak, and her breathing measured but shallow. Combined with the hidden corset, her breath was almost invisible to others.
"That's easier said than done, ma'am..." the shaking voice gulped in response.
"Hehe... Akira won't worry about that~ You were quite good when we were practising, after all~" sitting at the opposite side of the stagecoach, the abbess was definitely the most carefree of the three, humming some kind of exotic tune while the lithe hands doused a piece of cloth with some kind of transparent liquid from the jar. The bagged eyes scanned the two as the tune turned into a playful giggle.
Indeed, the three had been busy in the days before - for every practice, the private eye was bound in the same tight, calculated way, before her neck was put through a noose and her body was lifted from the ground. Concealed by the short coat and blond hair, a small buckle connected the noose and the leather belt beneath her clothes, where her weight was spread across the hidden corset instead of against her neck. Barring a few accidents, the blonde detective had learnt to maintain her calm while acting like her life was being extinguished.
Of course, a proper corpse would not breathe, necessitating the use of a strange tonic from the abbess. By keeping her breath shallow and light, the corset would be enough to make her breath invisible - although the drawback was that even without the noose, Melisende would have barely enough air to keep her consciousness. Then again, perhaps passing out would be a blessing - Akira was tight-lip about what would happen beneath the stage while the detective was being hung, but it was unlikely to be anything comforting. Not to mention, the faux corpse would then be delivered to Simone's bedchamber for her personal use, where the deception would likely not last long - if the investigator could not free herself from the solid bondage, there was little doubt that the minister's daughter would rectify the mistake quickly.
"Just treat it like a play and follow your script," after all, even a single mistake from the rookie would seriously threaten Melisende's life, with her having almost no way to rescue herself from the noose.
"But-"
"It seems we're at her place~" Akira's high-pitch voice, as well as the sudden stop of the carriage, signalled the duo that the time for conversation was over. Closing the half-empty bottle, the abbess stood up from the seat, the widened smile looming over the detective as the cloth wiped her lips. The faint scent of herbs invaded the private eye's senses and persuaded her breath to slow down. It felt almost as if she was slowly being smothered by a silk scarf. Her lips parted by their own, and the soaked cloth soon filled them as Akira let out another giggle, the lean fingertips caressing her filled cheek before another piece of cloth was wrapped on top of it.
"Haah... how beautiful you are, user~" the surprisingly soft lips landed on the tip of her nose briefly, before the giggling face moved onto her ear with a smile. "Try to remember what Akira wants while in there~"
Soon, a knock could be heard through the door of the carriage. Donning the backpack, the inexperienced undercover wrapped her hand around the detective's bound upper arm, while the abbess held onto the other. Swallowing one more time, the faux maidservant wiped the sweat off her forehead before pushing the door open.
Located at the edge of the city, the Rychenbach manor was home to the ascending von Pfilzen family, overlooking the vast farmland beyond the nearby river. Tonight, with the patriarch out of town, his daughter had seized the chance to wield his power in order to satisfy herself. She was not alone in her libertinism, of course, as a few well-dressed sirs and dames could be seen being welcomed into the mansion, their identity concealed by elaborate masks. Next to the wagon, several maidservants were already waiting to take the main event of the night to what they thought was her end.
Unlike their masters, the servants did not seem to be as interested, with some showing signs of suppressing their emotions. Still, they carried out the orders given, leading the trio as the bound detective was being escorted to the backdoor. Every now and then, Akira's fingers would dig into the strained arm of the private eye, eliciting a gagged noise and symbolic struggle from her. It was impossible to tell if it was done to convince others of her unwillingness, or simply because she could get away with that.
After passing through a kitchen filled with a myriad of meat and wine, Melisende found herself in an opulent banquet hall. Between the intricately-crafted walls, glittering lights from candles illuminated the sober faces of the servants as they aligned the few silverware on the lacquered tables. At the end of the chamber, a temporary gallows was already set up before another table. Judging by the sets of tableware, several of the esteemed guests would be enjoying the view of someone being hung up close while feasting.
One of them, it seemed, was the abbess, as the childlike body hopped towards the table before examining one of the seats there. Whispering something inaudible, a smile grew on the youthful face, before turning towards the duo as her finger gestured them towards the dangling noose. Despite a brief hesitation, the green maid soon hardened her resolve and took hold of the noose.
Perhaps it was the sound of her shackles, or simply because the scaffold was deliberately set to be the centre of attention in the room, the detective could not help but feel the gaze from the servants around, and the hints of emotions behind them. As the rough texture of the rope wrapped around her neck, she could feel the pity behind their eyes... even if none of them would intervene, lest they become the one on the gallows instead. More importantly, though, her tense body felt the faint sensation of the belt being attached to the noose. Her ear, still moist from the abbess' words, was touched again by the shivering lips.
"It should be secured... good luck, ma'am. I-I'll deliver your things to-"
The conversation was cut short by the sound of the main door opening. Flanked by a pair of burly escorts, the blue-haired dame quickly turned her attention to the bound detective. As she strolled towards the gallows, a grin emerged from beneath the amber eyes while the guards followed silently.
"Good evening, user~ Akira has delivered the girl like user wanted~" the abbess stood up to greet the lady, who returned the gesture with a bright smile.
"Thank you, Akira. I've been looking for this event for a long~ time!" with a small chuckle, Simone walked up to the bound detective. With the simple turn of her gloved fingers, the short horsewhip on her hand pressed against Melisende's chin, forcing her to turn her head left and right as the princess wanted. "So, who's this bird? A soiled dove?"
"Oh, user doesn't need to be concerned about her~ just a rrat Akira found poking around the basement~" the abbess was playing her role as planned... at least, the detective hoped that this was the case. She twisted her body again, and the squeaking ropes reaffirmed that she was genuinely bound. Upon hearing that, the noblewoman let out a small giggle, her whip tapping the stuffed cheek as she walked closer. Under the candlelight, the familiar emblem of her family gleamed brightly on the chest of her gown.
"I see~ well, it only makes sense for someone like her to contribute to the gathering. If anything, she's getting more than what she deserves... don't worry, I'll make sure your pretty face doesn't go to waste~" the tip of the whip slid down gently across her body, occasionally brushing against the fabric of her tightened clothes. This improper touch by proxy was responded with a glare against the noblewoman, and her mind also slipped a drop of fear beneath.
"Quite a fiery one, I must say~" with a giggle, the whip thrashed against the defenceless thigh, causing an instinctive cry that was quickly absorbed by the cloth gag. As the smile deepened, Simone turned towards the pale maidservant holding the hanging rope. "Make it slow. I want her to at least see the salad. If not... well, then you'll have to fill her place~ do you understand?"
"O-of course, milady!" the anxious undercover nodded quickly to the unreasonable demand, her shaking hands coiled the rope around themselves, before tugging it slightly as if to check its condition. Through the tackle mounted on the scaffold, the detective could feel the force through her neck and abdomen. Presumably having exerted her dominance over the soon-to-be-dead, Simone's whip gently tapped her cheek one last time before returning to the front row seat next to the abbess.
One by one, the discrete chairs of the room were being filled by other guests of the night. Befitting for a masquerade ball, almost all of them were dressed in a lavish manner, and the top of their faces was concealed by equally extravagant masks. Hidden between the panicked glances, though, the detective could tell that not all of them were used to such affluent clothes, either because of mismatching clothes sizes, or having trouble balancing themselves on heels.
Soon after the last guest was seated, one of the escorts approached Simone and whispered something in her ears. With a smiling nod, she stood up from her seat and approached the detective again. The golden eyes cast upon her were filled with a blend of emotions - curiosity, excitement, and... lust. The whip raised once again, this time smacking her cheek with enough force to leave a red mark at the edge of the cloth. "Why, why, aren't you a special someone?"
Did she find out who she is? The grin on her face seemed unusual, and the gaze of the lanky escort remain locked in the private eye. The only thing coming from her wincing in pain was the sound of tight ropes grinding against each other and her clothes. There would not be enough time for her to escape, even without the myriad of guards, guests, and servants filling the room who were, at best, indifferent to what was about to ensue. The struggling detective panicked - this time perhaps more genuine than before. As her desperate wiggling reflected on the citrine eyes, the dame let out a small crack before turning towards the guests.
"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Rychenbach house! Tonight, we have a rather special guest for our feast!" the soft voice of the host echoed between the finely-crafted walls, the unique shapes of the ballroom allowing her words to be heard further than they would normally be. With that, she moved slightly to the side, tolerating Melisende to share the centre of attention with her for a brief moment. The whip once again landed on her chin, this time lifting her head up, left, and right, forcing the sapphire eyes to scan across the room, where everyone had their attention on her. The seated guests offered their claps, almost as if the private eye was an actual esteemed guest, while many of the servants appeared to be fighting against the innate desire to look away. The guards, who had moved to flank the doors and corners of the room, regularly glanced over the room, their reinforced gloves resting on the handle of their sidearms.
"It appears that we have a rrat snooping around in our esteemed abbess' abode, someone who bit off more than she could chew. Well, good that we have quite the appetite to show her how it should be done, right?" the noblewoman let out a bit of laughter, which was followed by some of the guests. Then, her attention turned towards the detective, and the whip forced her attention towards the blue-haired lady as well. "So, little bird. I assume you were nosing around to join our special gathering, right?"
Between the bondage and the stiff whip, the only response Melisende could have was an indecipherable muffle and writhing, which elicited another giggle from the aspiring speaker. "Aw, having stage fright? Well, don't worry, you'll get used to it very soon!" with that, the whip swung and left a matching mark on the private eye's other side of the cheek, before Simone turned towards the frightened spy. The short whip perked up from the lady's hand, making an upward gesture that meat only a single thing. The brief yelp was soon followed by the ropes tugging against the detective's upper body, and her feet were soon lifted off the ground. Movement from both the tackle and the investigator caused her to pendulate in the air.
Another swing from the whip signalled the hangwoman to stop, and she hastily tied the rope at the base of the gallows, leaving the detective in distress hanging about a person's height off the ground. With this macabre part of the act complete, the satisfied lady returned to her seat as the full-course dinner began to be served.
Meanwhile, the creeping feeling began to catch up with the hanging detective. Unlike the numerous practice rounds, this time the gaze from below was not from only the amateur constable and the seemingly friendly abbess, but all the silk-stocking patrons and the unwilling attendants. As the rope pressed against her throat, the bound blonde began to struggle against her bondage and the noose. While it was meant to be but an act, the strange atmosphere around, not to mention the words Simone said beforehand, no doubt stirred up some of her deeply-buried fear, giving it an air of authenticity.
Of course, it also meant that the buckle was perhaps put under more stress than intended... To keep it concealed, it had to be small and light, and every wriggle in the air caused it to ring. The sound was inaudible to anyone but Melisende herself, but for her, it was clearer than everything else she had heard. Should the tiny clamp fail, almost all of her body weight currently pressing against her abdomen would be diverted to her neck, something that would no doubt kill her - and now, the clench might fail any second.
The scent of the abbess' tonic seeped into Melisende's increasingly turbulent mind. Supposedly, it was a special herbal medicine that could suppress one's breath and senses, and was used by the cult when people "bit off more than they could chew". Indeed, with just a few sniffs, she could already feel the invisible hands resting against her throat and lung. However, with her senses heightened by the growing dread, the strangling felt less and less delicate. Its combination with the noose caused her body to struggle for air, but every breath seemed to make the situation worse. As her mind began to dull and slumber, the indulgent gaze from below only served to muddle her mind more than she expected...
Am I going to die here? On full display when others are sampling dishes of vegetables?
As the darkness began to grow, she began to reminisce the faint scent of roasted beans from her drinks. A warm cup of it would wake her up immediately...
With her vision becoming more and more blurry, the struggling of her dangling body began to wind down. The familiar face was nowhere to be seen.
Eventually, darkness overtook the last of her senses.
Chapter 7
Melisende was not sure how long she had been submerged in the boundless darkness. The painful sensation of ropes grinding against her neck, and the corset that suppressed her breathing alongside the tincture could no longer be felt. However, it could not have been long, for she could still feel her hands bound behind her, and the lingering sore indicated that they were never freed. As her mind gradually solidified from the melting darkness, she twitched her fingers slightly, gaining only a shred of comfort when she could feel the one piece of contraband that could be smuggled into the manor on her person.
The jolt that summoned her soul back to this realm also landed her body onto something soft and smooth - perhaps some kind of bed. Her eyes remained shut and her breath shallow, lest her handlers be warned of her survival and had it swiftly rectified - the fact that she remained bound was enough indication of threats present. Her posture was not the most comfortable, but at least it would not hinder her light breath or kept her hands at an immobile angle. As her fingers continued to jiggle between her body and the bed, her ears listened to the surroundings, to get a glimpse of her situation while keeping her eyelids shut.
"- just leave the toys here, and leave us alone!" the first thing to enter the detective's mind was the demanding voice of Simone, channelling the mannerism of the acting matriarch of the household for the night. The indistinct voice of her subordinates apologising could be heard during the brief pause as the investigator felt a piercing gaze scanning her still body. "Tell the guests the late-night meal will be ready in an hour... actually, make that two."
Panicked response from the other party was quickly drowned out by the sound of a door slamming shut. Her experience as a private eye told her that both the door and the frame were likely made of some kind of hardwood, perhaps reinforced with metal. Combined with the bed she was laid upon, there was little doubt that she was indeed delivered to the bedchamber after being hung. The single set of stepping noises after the door shut also suggested that they were the only persons here... it was about as good a chance as it got, but the blonde detective knew she did not have much time.
"Useless servants... now, we can finally enjoy some quality time~" as Melisende felt the weight of the damsel pressing against her pelvis, the lady's voice rang again. Instead of the annoyed, controlling tone, her words were now softened with swelling lust. With an impish giggle, her refined hands rested upon her collarbones, gradually sliding downward as the private eye felt the air before her slowly stiffened by her shadow. Then, a pair of warm, moist lips rested on her nose, the floral scent from the genteel lady seeping into her noise, replacing the remnants of herbs inside her throat as the detective quickly held her breath.
At that second, both of them became aware of the same thing.
Simone sniffed the corpse beneath her, while Melisende's fingers focused all their force on the contraband. At that moment, the blue eyes opened once more, letting the view of the golden eyes fill most of her vision. Obviously not expecting the victim to still be alive, the amber eyes before
her quickly narrowed, her lips rapidly pulling away from the living face as her hands frantically push her upper body up.
Just as the noblewoman began to inhale, the rope binding the investigator's hands snapped behind her, and the tense arms quickly swung up from the bed like a pair of wings. Drawing an arc in the perfume-filled air, the black object clenched in her hand landed a quick blow right against the side of Simone's head, causing her words to transform into a painful cry.
Exploiting the brief moment of surprise, the detective twisted her freed legs and turned herself while her hand was still pressing against the lady, pushing her aside while her other hand moved to pull the cloth off her mouth, allowing her to spit the drenched cloth out as the scent of the calming balm dissipated in the air.
"Get off me, you b-" despite her developed physique, Simone was quickly pinned to the edge of the bed, now with the freed blonde sitting on her lower body. Her warning was quickly cut short, though, as the hand that struck her dived to the side of her neck. With a gentle press, the gentlewoman could feel the freezing sensation of something glass-like resting against her smooth neck - something that was very, very sharp.
"Keep your voice down if you want to live!" Melisende's first words for quite a while almost immediately killed the voice coming from the blue-haired woman, as she swallowed her words and simply offered a slow nod, almost as if she feared that even her minute move might cause the contraband to cut into her. After a few tense seconds, the detective slowly pulled her hand from the neck, revealing the black blade she had been holding. Small and short enough to be concealed almost entirely in her grip, it was another gift from the abbess - something that Melisende had to use to free herself from the ropes. Speaking of ropes... "Put your hands up."
With the noblewoman more or less cooperating, it did not take long for the private eye to retrieve the cut ropes on the other side of the bed. Once she applied the bondage to her hands and legs, she finally pulled herself from the bed and scanned her surroundings in a more calmly manner. With only a few candlesticks lit and most of the moonlight being blocked by curtains, most of the room was shrouded in a thin, black veil. However, it did not look like the bedchamber for a lady - a cylinder desk instead of a dressing table, and bookshelves instead of chests of drawers. In fact, apart from the large bed the two were in, this room looked more like a study than a bedroom.
Regardless, there were more important things than judging her place of intimacy. Melisende glanced over the only entrance to this room - a pair of large mahogany doors. She leapt from Simone and reached for the door, quickly locking the door with its latch. Then, her attention turned to the small wooden crate sitting by the door frame. At a first glance, it was filled with all sorts of leather and metal tools and restraints, no doubt moved here by Simone's command for her night. However, as the investigator dug through the peculiar toys, a familiar backpack emerged from the bottom, and a smile appeared on her face - despite everything, she ultimately played her role well.
Inside the bag, the private eye found her belt, sheath, and holster, items handed to the airheaded constable for safekeeping and delivered back to her. Taking the belted holster out, she skilfully fastened it beside her chest, a move that she had done enough times to not think twice of it. Then, from the holster, she pulled out her most trusted companion - a pepperbox pistol. Carefully crafted to her personal specification, this multiple-barreled sidearm had saved her skin from delinquents and petty thieves more times than she could count. While the shortened barrels meant each shot would be less powerful, the more compact design allowed it to be hidden beneath her short coat and curves. Plus, while reloading it was rather tedious, a fully-loaded pepperbox was able to deliver rapid shots before it was emptied, mitigating the issue in most cases.
Once the items inside the bag returned to their rightful owner, the investigator took her seat by the bed, keeping the bound damsel at a comfortable distance - far enough to avoid sudden strikes should be free herself, but close enough that the small dagger in her hand could still threaten her with ease. "Now... sorry to interrupt your evening fun, but I'm here to talk tonight. To ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."
The noblewoman, with her desire dying down, appeared to have calmed down, although her displeasure was still on full display, both on her face and in her tone. "... fine, ask whatever you want and be on your way!" her wrists rubbed against the bondage slightly, although their exposed position meant she would have a much harder time to free herself without being noticed.
"Right, let's cut the pleasantries. A deadbeat merchant was murdered a few days ago. Name's Calavera. I found something identical to this on his corpse," Melisende raised her hand towards Simone's chest and, with a bit of difficulty, removed the pin on the chest of her gown with her skilled fingers. As the detective held it up in the light of a nightstand oil lamp, the symbol of the von Pfilzens shone brightly before the two. "You wouldn't happen to know who's behind this, would you?"
"What? No! I'm not into deadbeats, let alone a he!" it was not exactly an answer Melisende expected - she expected her to lie if she was involved in it, but at the same time, the reaction appeared genuine, and she doubted the lady was that good a liar.
"That's not what I mean... you might not have a personal interest in him, but there might be a business interest in removing him from life. A family business interest, perhaps?" the detective pondered out loud, her fingertips toying with the badge a bit. While it was not as elaborate as the proper coat of arms, it was nonetheless crafted with precious material and a steady hand - it would take considerable effort to counterfeit. Its value also meant that not every servant of the household would receive one, which significantly narrowed down the possible owner of what was in the deathly clench.
"Ah, business talks... thanks, I hate it," while her distaste continued to seem authentic, she also turned her gaze aside, and other minute body language pointed toward her trying to hide something. "C-can we go back to intimacy? I won't even mind you taking the lead, what with being alive and all..."
"I see you prefer being a socialite to a manager. Well, unfortunately for you, I'm not attracted to people who were trying to hang me just hours ago," with that, the obsidian blade inched closer towards the dame, her body struggling against the ropes in vain, until the cold blade was about to touch her bare skin. "Regardless, you must know this family's wealth is built on trading with the deadbeats, right? I can't imagine being involved in killing one of their own would be good for his business, especially considering the unique preference of you and your father."
"Is that a threat? Are you seriously trying to blackmail us?" Simone glared at Melisende, who responded with but a carefree smile.
"No, no. I have no interest in getting rich by extortion. I just want to know what's really happening," the detective stood up from the bed and slowly walked around the room, her gaze switching between the shelves and desks, and the lady still bound in bed. Her fingers moved towards the fine finishing, keeping the fingertip just a bit away from actually touching them. "Of course, if knowing that also allows me to not get killed, that would be nice too."
"Then you've made a terrible mistake, peasant. My father will hear about it!"
"Would he?" her fingertip stopped at the red cylinder desk. As its name implied, the working space of the desk was covered by a curved lid, which was locked in place to avoid unwanted eyes and hands. However, it appeared that being in the depths of this manor had made its owner negligent, and the lid was only kept in place with a simple latch. With a gentle swing of the black knife, the latch came open without leaving any mark, and the table was soon revealed to the inquisitive blue eyes. "In spite of his membership, I doubt he would approve your activities tonight. Otherwise, you wouldn't have to wait until he's away from home."
"Grr..." she might not be a sadist, but the defeated expression on Simone's face was a small treat given what she had made the blonde go through before. With that, the investigator turned her attention to the unveiled table. Given the myriad of ledgers and papers, this was probably the minister's bureau, the place from which he directed his business public and private alike. The ink and quill he used were suitably extravagant - under the candlelight, tiny sparkles could be seen floating in the ink, coming from either precious metal or chuubanite. Turning her focus back to the job at hand, the private eye quickly scanned the rows of books stored in this secured space, before picking up one of the ledgers. A sharp contrast to the luxurious household and stationery, the ledgers were much more mundane, even slightly worn - it would not look out of place even in Melisende's office. Once the candlestick was rested by the desk, the investigator laid down the book and began flipping through it.
"What are you doing?" a question that, had the private eye foresee a few days ago, would be asking herself. The ledger was filled with all sorts of seemingly irrelevant, dull records of transactions, but after flipping through a few pages, the sapphire eyes began picking up familiar names among the local farmers and lumberjacks - from the deadbeat garrison to Mai's Inn and, of course, Mr Calavera too. The lack of details for each transaction, further obscured behind complicated numbers and jargon, meant the exact nature of these trades remained mysterious, but the sheer amount of information written in the minister's ink would no doubt prompt many others like Melisende to investigate, just like how Melisende was prompted in the first place.
The abbess, she thought, was more shrewd than the childish, masochistic appearance suggested.
"Well, since the heiress isn't paying attention to the family business, I had to take a gander at the records. Surprise, surprise, I found a familiar name in it~" the genteel blue-haired lady, she hoped, would be less attentive to details and bluffs, as the detective waved another ledger before her. "It appeared that the victim was the extortor after all. Do you think your father might decide to silence him, lest the deadbeat expose his - and your - preferences?"
"What do you m-" it took for a brief moment for the dots drawn by the private eye to connect, and the implication soon dawned on the bound noblewoman as well. Of course, it also betrayed her undisclosed knowledge about some of the less savoury operations of the family business. "If that's the case..."
"Hmm? Anything you would like to share?" The smile beneath the azure eyes deepened as the bait was being taken.
"Well, no, but..." Simone paused for a brief moment, but a cough from her captor quickly put her back to speed. "A while ago, I saw dad talking with someone here. I think he was telling a deadbeat how someone of 'his kind' is undercutting him, but I don't think he would order others to be killed..."
"Like father, like daugh- wait, deadbeat?" just as all the pieces of this puzzle were falling into places, that one off-hand remark from the blue-haired lady sticked out like a sore thumb. As it turned out, the riddle she thought she just solved was just yet another piece in this perplexing case. She could really use a sandbag once she was out of the woods.
"Yeah, one of those slender fellows. I didn't catch any details since it's not my business," she shrugged as the detective sank into her thoughts again. She was expecting that the von Pfilzens were using their connections with the cult to remove competitions, if not assisting them in undermining the deadbeat defence. If that was the case, though, why would they tell a deadbeat about that? It would immediately make them suspicious even if Calavera did not snatch the badge. Not to mention, the murder looked almost as if someone was trying to frame the cult for it, and painting a target on the cult they were in would only make it riskier. None of these made any sense...
Suddenly, the sound of door knocking broke her train of thoughts, and a grin emerged from the damsel's face. "Oh, my, it seems your time's up. Should've run when you got the chance~ Servants! Force your way in! The rrat's escaping!" the private eye scanned across the room. Apart from the banging door, though, the only thing coming into the room was the pale moonlight seeping through the curtains.
It would have to suffice.
"In that case, I'll take my leave. Please send my apologies to the guests who are expecting the late-night meal." Melisende pulled the curtain open, revealing the large sash window overlooking the vast fields beyond the river. Beneath her, some of the guards were standing by the closed main gate. She would have to find a different way out.
"Oh, I'm sure they can wait a bit until you're delivered back," ignoring her taunts, the detective pulled her deerstalker cap down as she tucked the ledger into her belt. Quickly undoing the latch keeping the window secure, the investigator pulled up the metal casement and let the warm night breeze seep into the room.
As the shouting from beyond the bedchamber became louder and more widespread, she swallowed her doubts and leapt out into the night.
Chapter 8
BANG!
A deafening noise pierced through the night breeze. The musty and sulphuric smoke seeped out from one of the barrels, before quickly dissipating in the dashing air. The sound of the gunshot was immediately followed by that of glass shattering. The lone guard standing between the broken window and the half-shut door instinctively winced from the sudden shattering, before trying to draw his sword from the side. Before the narrow blade could be fully unsheathed, however, the private eye was upon him.
Her free hand grabbed onto the drawing arm, stopping the arc in its track. His eyes widened as the wooden grip in the blonde's other hand landed right on his face. The strong blow, helped by her momentum, managed to ram the guard caught off-guard to the wall behind him. Two strikes against his head in such a brief moment were enough to release his grasp, but the hilt did not stay unoccupied for long - by the time he landed on the floor, his sidearm was already in the investigator's hand.
"Argh!" shielding himself from what he thought was the inevitable stab, he was instead dismissed by the sound of the door being pushed open and shut right after. On the other side of the door, the panting detective quickly slid the sword through the handle, making an impromptu latch as she ran through the floor covered by broken glasses.
"Useless servants! She's on the balcony!" through the shattered window, yelling noises could be heard briefly before she ran deeper into the manor. "Go get her! And fetch me my dad's-"
"Ha.. hah..." even with a short rest on the bed, the prolonged hanging had not been kind to her body. Her heart had been racing since she made the one-floor leap. At least she did not break her ankle and cut her escape - and life - short.
There was no time for her to rest, though. She could hear the echoes of rushed footsteps beyond the corner, no doubt looking for her. After swallowing once again, her hand quickly pulled the hammer back until it was locked into firing position, before moving her free hand onto the scabbard behind her waist. The armed shadow slowly walked before the flickering candlelight, and the silhouette slowly emerged.
Now!
Her rapid steps alerted the guard, who quickly turned towards the approaching shadow. His hand pulled back slightly, before pushing the smallsword towards her body - and gasped. By the time he saw the silvery reflection on her hand, it was too late for him to stop.
CLANK!
The thin blade slotted into the metal teeth where the blade of the dagger should be. With a twist of her wrist, his weapon was locked into the swordbreaker, and his momentum was easily guided away from her body. A smirk appeared on the sweating face, and the private eyes quickly kicked upward, hitting the surprised guard in his weak spot. The jolt of pain was the final push needed for him to drop the smallsword to the ground.
The blue eyes quickly turned towards the other end of the corridor. Several more armed men were coming through the doorway. Quickly distancing herself from the cowering man, she raised her gun towards the pursuers, making them stop in their track. The darting eyes quickly skimmed the other end of the corridor. Once she ensured she was not completely surrounded, her arm drifted upward before pulling the trigger once again.
Golden sparks danced as the flint ground against steel, igniting another shot as the sound of gunpowder discharge echoed the corridor. The lead ball landed on the small chandelier above the door, causing another clear clang as the guards flinched instinctively. By the time they lifted their head, the escapee had already disappeared behind another corner.
"There must be a backdoor or something..." the sweat-drenched detective murmured to herself as she pulled the hammer once again, turning the barrels to one of the remaining cold ones. She could only hope that she was outside the manor when she had to reload.
"Don't let her escape! Kill her if you have to!" the all-too-familiar sharp voice spilt from the staircase, followed by more rushing footsteps. Concealing herself behind a vase on a stand, Melisende saw several figures running down the stairs, before dispersing to the rest of the floor. Fortunately, in their hurry, they failed to notice their target.
Just as she was about to make a run for the staircase, the sound of high heels clacking down the steps halted her move. The blue-haired lady had been freed, and the exquisite hunting rifle in her hands showed her will to join in the manhunt. However, unlike her hastened subordinates, she decided to stand guard by the stairs. Melisende would have to go through her - and quickly - somehow.
The distance between them meant her long arm would provide a major advantage, either in a direct rush or a shooting match... and even with this circumstance, killing a Fönixid magnate's daughter would still reflect very badly on a "lowly" detective, both inside and outside the legal system.
The blue eyes perked up to her cover. It would have to do. Sheathing her parrying dagger, her hand grabbed the vase and silently approached the manhunter. A grin emerged on her face the moment Simone turned her probing gaze towards Melisende, and the clenching hands moved up as well.
"Come here, you little s-"
Her words were interrupted by the arcing vase and its content. With both her hands occupied, the water splashed onto her face and the bedroom gown unhindered, causing her to let out a piercing scream as her finger tightened instinctively. Despite the drenched steel, the well-polished rifle managed to fire. Its spinning bullet grazed the detective's waist right before she slammed herself against the wet woman, pushing her back and onto the ground.
"Ah! Stay away!"
The blonde had no intention to linger longer, but her plan was abruptly interrupted as a lithe arm emerged behind her, forming an impromptu noose around her neck as she was stopped dead in her track.
"I got her, milady!" the maidservant's voice was soaked in panic, her arms shivering as she fought against the detective while her mistress regained a footing. The blue eyes widened as her heart thumped rapidly inside her, propelling her arm to strike back. With a loud cry, the barely-trained servant let go of the hold as she clutched at the overwhelming pain beneath her chest.
Before the private eye could move, though, the princess was upon her. With a wide swing, the ornated hardwood stock of the rifle landed squarely on the detective's temple, briefly blinding and deafening her. The impact unbalanced her, forcing her to lean against the wooden handrail of the staircase.
"You're... going to... pay for... THIS!" the gilded club began wailing on Melisende. Even with her scrambled mind, she knew she could not withstand many more blows. With no other choice, she was forced to take the risk. Pressing on the wooden bannister, she mustered every ounce of her strength and pushed herself off, narrowly dodging the swinging club as gravity pulled her down the shaft.
"Gaaah!" Melisende fought through the clouds forming in her mind and swung her hands up, grabbing the base of a baluster while pointing her gun upward. Another discharge sent the round into the ceiling, forcing the peeking Simone to duck. The loud noise, though, bounced in her dizzy mind, and the grasp held on just long enough to slow down the fall into something manageable.
She hastily pulled herself up from the floor and dragged herself into another corner before the pursuers made their turn down the stairs. Incoherent screams and cries could be heard upstairs, surrounded by mumbling noises difficult to pick up from the pounding, ringing headache. As the private eye tried to wipe the distracting sweat off her head, though, she caught a shrinking figure from the corner of her eyes.
"Shhh... Stay quiet. Please." the shadow did not seem to be hostile, although it was not like the detective could hold against another enemy right now. As the azure eyes focused, she saw the timid figure donned in a maid uniform. Could that be...?
"I-I thought you were..." however, the voice was not a familiar one, causing the investigator to stiffen instinctively.
"I got better..." still, an unfamiliar friendly face was better than the other alternative. Resting slightly against the wall, the detective tried her best to look up from under the deerstalker. Her face was somewhat familiar... she might be one of the servants she saw in the ballroom.
"Y-you're bleeding a lot... can I help you?" upon processing what the timid maid said, the detective lowered her unusually hand before her face... and it was dyed fully red.
"Don't mind my wound... but I could really use an unguarded exit from this place right now."
"Oh... try the kitchen. The disposal drain should lead to the river." the what? It did not matter - as long as she could escape her hunters.
"Thanks... I owe you one." squeezing a smile onto her face, the detective politely tipped her head towards the frightened maid, before pulling herself in the direction of her finger.
"You're welcome... and, if you can..." the shaking voice gradually faded behind her. "Tell them I'm sorry..."
Her ears continued to ring, and invisible stars danced in her twisting view, and every step felt as draining as trying to push through a bog. Still, she managed to push towards her destination, knowing full well what kind of fate would wait for her should she fail. Leaving a bloody mark on the door, she found herself in a familiar place.
Crackling noise flowed from the burning stoves, and the chefs were chopping large lumps of meat into smaller ones. The strong scent of spicy sauce pierced into her head, and even the coppery and tinny taste of red wine from the bottles bothered her more than usual.
"Who are you?" "Isn't she..." "No guest allowed here!" the sound of her bashing through the door caught the attention of almost everyone working in the kitchen. Butchers lowered their cleavers, porters moved their foodstuff away, and a dishwasher dropped her plates, the breaking sound waking the private eye's mind from the spinning world.
"Where's the disposal... urgh, where's the drain?" she turned her head around slowly, picking up a tong nearby and latching the door shut. The kitchen staff remained silent for a moment, until a loud cough from Melisende led to the vegetable chef pointing her towards a slope down into the earth.
Pushing through the carts nearby, the detective walked down the stairs beside the slope and pushed open a metallic door. Beyond the door, the light from the working kitchen disappeared behind the closing door, but the faint moonlight from the far end of the sewer allowed her to barely make out the surroundings.
The sewer was surprisingly spacious, with enough space for three, or even four people walking side by side. The brick walls around had seen better days, but the flat walkway on the side suggested it was well-used. In the middle of the drain, though, the water was shallow and stale. Perhaps to ensure she did not trip over anything, or out of sheer curiosity, the investigator pulled out a small gadget from her belt. As she tightened her fist against the crank at the handle, the sound of chuubanite rocks grinding against each other could be heard. Soon, a gentle glow began flooding from its opening, signalling the hand to stop and hang it on her waist as a small torch.
Holding her gun in one hand and the brick wall against the other, Melisende slowly walked through the drainage road towards the far moonlight, her twitching eyes flitting left and right as she tried to stay alert. For something leading from the kitchen of a busy mansion, there was little refuse in the way. The most she could see was some small lumps of detritus, almost like compost.
The minute slope caused the stale water to slowly retreat, revealing the parallel grooves in the middle of the canal. Straight lines suggested they were regularly ground against something metal and round. Combined with the faint metallic taste in the stagnant air, it felt almost as if she was walking in some kind of mining shaft.
Even if she tried to focus on her escape, her mind could not help but burden herself with stray thoughts, leaking into her like blood from her wound. She would never believe that the only part that remotely made sense here was her being hung! What was in the ledger, and why did the abbess know of its existence? What was with this absurd sewer-like place that barely had any wastewater? Why the carts and grooves?
And who planted the accessories on Calavera? Why?
Eventually, as her mind gradually coalesced, the piling riddles were suppressed. The fading light from her belt was replaced by the silvery light from the moon outside. Almost reaching the exit, the private eye could see the serene moon resting just above the horizon, looming over the vast farmland on the other side of the river. More importantly, she could not see anyone in the way.
This cursed night was finally over.
With relief seeping into her pumping heart, the detective could not help but let out a small laugh. Her tired legs stumbled forward, pulling her forward until the bloodstained body could bathe in the ghostly moonlight -
A gaunt hand landed on the gun barrels and twisted her unprepared arm sideways. Another one cleaved right against the joint, sending a jolt of pain that unwound her hold. Right before the exhausted detective could yelp, the handle of her pistol smacked into her face, sending her back into the sewer as she collapsed into the dried canal.
Standing before the pale moon, a lanky man in a guard uniform towered over her. Despite the local lederhosen-derived garment, the skeletal appearance was unmistakable. He was a deadbeat - and he was the guard she saw whispering to Simone when she was hung.
"Quite impressive for a sleuth, I must say." his voice was calm, and his hand was steady as he raised the gun toward Melisende. "Nice gun too."
"Who... are you?" the end of the rush had plagued her bloodied body with fatigue, making even standing up difficult.
"Just a humble servant of the Holy Ghosts... not that it matters to you." the wavering eyes glared at the armed deadbeat... until the private eye saw something. At least, she thought she did - her vision was getting blurry, and it was getting hard to focus as her head was drowned by the mystery fished out by the strange person before her.
"Alright... then tell me what matters to me," the detective pulled herself up slowly, her eyes tracing the slight movement of the gun before her. "You haven't shot or captured me yet, so that must mean you want me not on Simone's grill."
"Indeed," the barrels gestured towards her waist, where the stained ledger was still held to her side by the belt. "I would like to have the ledger if you don't mind."
"The ledger again..." she tried her best to focus her mind and sieve through the unsorted memories. The von Pfilzens, the abbess, Calavera, the deadbeats... soon enough, the dots began to connect.
"I see... " a weak smile finally appeared on her face. "It's for Mr Calavera's death, isn't it?"
"Calavera..." the deadbeat paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing on the private eye. "Indeed so. I might have underestimated you there."
"In hindsight, it's quite obvious," if she was fated to not survive this night, she comforted herself, then at least she could voice her thoughts beforehand. Not to mention any time she bought might... "The minister had voiced his displeasure to his deadbeat competitors. In fact, I reckon you might well be the deadbeat that lent him your ears."
"... continue," the deadbeat raised his eyebrow slightly. It seemed that she had piqued his interest, even if her gun continued to trail at her body.
"Well, if you happen to be someone who disapproves of the minister and his daughter's... proclivity, then a murder investigation against them would be a clean way to expose them," the detective pressed gently against her temple. At least it had stopped bleeding. "And if he didn't order the hit... doing it yourself and then framing them will suffice as well, right?"
"... perhaps, but the deed has already been done. By a professional, no less. A clean cut, and no evidence," he pointed his thumb at his neck, before making a quick slicing move.
"So you planted the emblem," he nodded at her speculation. "I had my suspicion when I pry open his hand. If he was clutching it when he died, it would've been hard as a rock. Plus, it was less bloody than the rest of his body. However, I only had my confirmation when I tried removing it from Simone. It's not something you can easily yank off... I assume you took it from her wardrobe and put it in the dead hand, am I correct?"
"I wouldn't say it was bloody, but otherwise you're quite perceptive," the deadbeat glanced to the side for a brief moment, before turning back to Melisende. "That said, the ledger is too valuable to be taken away. Its information can lead us to other dangerous cultist activities."
"Or the naval garrison's," this time, his reaction to the interjecting conjecture was less friendly.
"Indeed... I'll have to make necessary adjustments to mitigate the impact on our effort," the barrel gestured to the ledger once again. "It would be nice if you can allow me to start early."
"Wait - "
"The time to talk's over," he interrupted her question, as yet another piece untangled the mystery once again. "Hand it over. "
"Very well..." Melisende took a deep breath, the iron stench was not something she wanted to get used to. Still, she was willing to bet on her plan rather than follow the order - the case was not yet solved. Plus, if her hunch was right...
"The ledger's yours..." raising her still aching right hand in the air, her left hand began sliding into her coat by the waist. Her fingertips tapped on the slightly moistened cover.
"If you can take it!" her left hand dug behind the book and pulled the dagger out of the scabbard. With a loud shout, she pulled herself up while shielding her upper body. The steel blade gleamed under the moonlight - and the sparks from the flint. As the sound of the gunshot echoed through the sewer, the last barrel discharged right into the detective's abdomen, knocking her down into the canal as she fell before his eyes. Soon, everything returned to silence.
"What a shame. You would've been a valuable asset to our cause," shutting his eyes for a moment, the deadbeat let out a small sigh. Putting the now-empty pistol into his pocket, he moved towards the ledger and reached for it. Just as his fingertip landed on the book, though, he noticed something odd.
... she was not bleeding.
His eyes widened as he realised what was transpiring, with his racing thoughts quickly confirmed as the blue eyes opened once more and glared at him. Her left hand grabbed onto his reaching arm, while her right hand grasped onto his belt. Pouring all the strength she had left, the detective tugged herself up to him and rammed into his head. It was by no means a powerful blow, but it was enough to send Melisende's mind into a spiral once again. Still, her hands clutched tight against him despite his effort to shake her off.
"Hehe... never underestimate a lady's undergarment," blood dripped out from her scalp once again, until one of her eyes was practically covered in a crimson veil. It did not diminish the grin on her face, though, as the blue eyes cast beyond the deadbeat towards the shadow before the moon.
"I knew you managed to survive the hanging somehow... if only your body is as strong as your mind!" The deadbeat gritted his teeth and lunged against her, pushing her to the ground once more.
"Goodbye, detective. It has been fun," he drew his smallsword towards the downed private eye. This time, the tip was aimed towards her definitely unprotected throat.
"Goodbye, indeed," Melisende grinned, her eyes gazing at the familiar face behind the man. His expression only had a brief moment to change before a large rock smashed right against the back of his head. It was a rather heavy blow - she could almost hear the sound of cracking from either the boulder or the skull. With one final throw, the deadbeat collapsed to the ground, revealing the brunette in maid uniform holding the blood-soaked rock. Unlike her usual self, she seemed surprisingly calm... until the grey eyes spotted the blood on Melisende's face.
"A-are you alright, ma'am?" putting down the rock, the undercover constable rushed to her side as she checked on the wound.
"I'm fine..." the detective wiped the blood off her forehead and face. Her mind was still somewhat scrambled, but at least she did not have to face it alone. Looking up, the worried face soon turned into a smile. "I didn't expect to say that but... thank you."
"Don't mention it, ma'am... I'm supposed to help you escape alive, after all," was she? Well, regardless, she was happy to hear that. That said...
"What about him?" the private eye gestured to the fallen deadbeat. He was still alive despite the large smear of blood on him.
"Right..." the constable gulped as her eyes wandered to the bloody rock. "I don't really know what his deal was... but he'll keep chasing you down as long as he lives."
The investigator grimaced slightly - not just because it was a distasteful idea, but also because deep in her heart, she knew the undercover was right. With a heavy sigh, her hand reached for the parrying dagger and turned it aside, revealing its sharp blade. However, just as she was about to approach the deadbeat, the constable's hand stopped her.
"The wound would be too obvious with your dagger... as nice as it looks," her eyes glanced over the detective's soiled belt. Right above it, a small hole revealed the lead ball embedded in the half-torn corset. "Do you still have that thing the abbess gave you?"
"Let me check..." the blonde fiddled with the pouches on her belt a bit, before pulling out the piece of black glass. Surprisingly, even after all the fighting, this brittle blade managed to survive in one piece. Barring its sharpness, the wounds should not be unique enough to be identified - unless Melisende managed to find her match in the business.
"Nice... give it to me, please."
"Huh?"
"Simone's still looking for you, as will any possible partners he might have," her hand rested on the one holding the obsidian blade. Gently but firmly, her fingers released the grip and let the handle fall onto her grip. "Not to mention... you'd get in trouble if they found out you killed someone. Me, though... I guess this is one of the less savoury perks of being a constable, heh."
"... I owe you one," Melisende paused for a moment, before taking off her bloody hat. With a smiling nod, she retrieved her gun from the deadbeat just as the constable was carefully aiming the tip of the blade against the back of his neck - one of the few places where their robust, all-encompassing skeletons could not cover.
Melisende looked at the scene one more time and, with a small sigh, left the sewer at last. As she walked up to the road connecting the lush farmland and the prosperous city, she turned her head up towards the starry sky. The cold, night breeze was refreshing, and the gentle moonlight bathing her wounded body was so... serene, peaceful.
Another drip fell from her face, and her finger instinctively move to catch it. Was it another drop of blood from the wound? As she looked at her bloody hand, though, she could only see a transparent droplet, reflecting the indecipherable expression on her face.
Chapter 9
It was already night when Melisende opened her eyes today. With the starry night outside, the wavering light from the nightstand oil lamp was the only thing illuminating the familiar ceiling above the bed. She had been mostly confined to her office home ever since the flight from the Rychenbach manor - with the rush fully subsiding, she was now feeling all the pains she should have felt when running for her life. At least, the newsboy was kind enough to deliver the public gazette to her bed.
"Ugh..." even pulling herself up was somewhat draining for the detective, her hand pressing against the bandaged forehead to mitigate the slight pounding from within. It would not be a bad idea to sleep her way through the recovery, but her mind... despite the pain, could not help but ponder and digest what it had learnt every time she shut her eyes. In fact, it felt almost as if her thoughts were trying to escape the confines of her skull despite trying her best to suppress them.
And yet, she could not help but reach out. The final piece of the puzzle beckoned. She could almost hear it.
With her most trusted partner, the private eye pulled herself out of the bedroom and towards her office, her steps syncing with the faint clicking sound from the otherwise silent street. Without the guidance from moonlight, her memories of this place, as well as the faint silhouette of the furniture, were the only things keeping her from tripping over something.
Despite a few near-stumbles, the private eye soon arrived in her office. Just as before, her workplace was kind of a mess, with papers, books, and even broken devices scattered around. Her coat and hat were hanging lazily at the stand next to the chair, faint signs of her blood still visible despite being rinsed multiple times. Before the book-filled desk, that person was already there. Her fingertips danced between the books quietly, and her thoughts clearly devoted to her task at hand.
Then, the click of a hammer being cocked behind her head focused her thoughts as only a loaded gun could.
Her hands stopped in their track. Without a word, she slowly raised her hands up, and the ledger she was holding dropped on the desk, its loud thud rattling the empty inkwells, breaking the silence between the two.
"I was starting to wonder when you would visit me again," the detective's voice was slightly coarse. "You should've knocked."
"... you've read the newspaper, right? the yard has been busy dealing with Simone's mess." The constable let out a dry chuckle. "I barely have any time to sleep, let alone visit you, ma'am."
"Is that so? Well, good that you're quite proficient in brewing coffee," a faint smile appeared on her face in spite of the discouraging ache. "I could really do with some myself. Haven't been sleeping normally since we last met."
"Well, I could brew you one if you want, ma'am."
"Thanks, but I think I'll pass," her fingertips rested uneasily on the trigger. "I prefer being able to wake up again."
"Wh-what do you mean, ma'am - "
"Stop fooling around! ... please," it was difficult for Melisende to raise her voice, and the sudden burst quickly subsided. Her echo melted into the warm air around. "I'm not in the mood for yet another cat-and-mouse game."
"... well, if you insist, ma'am," the brunette let slip a small sigh, before gently turning towards the shaking detective, the loaded barrels pointing right between the bluish-grey eyes. They were the same as Melisende remembered, but the hesitation and flitting had evaporated, revealing the steadfast mind behind them. Leaning slightly against the table, the planks cracked slightly as she offered a small, but seemingly smile. "Would you like to tell me your deduction? Otherwise, you would've pulled the trigger already."
"Do you really think you have me all figured out?" that said, the pistol began carefully lowering itself, although the barrels remained locked on the figure. With a frustrated groan, the blonde leant against the door frame, using her body to block the way out. "I can't believe I'm starting to miss that chucklehead."
"Don't we all?" as the two assumed a somewhat more comfortable position, the orangecoat rested her hands on the table, although still visible to the detective and not touching anything on her desk. Through the window behind, faint lights from the city cast a faint shadow on her face.
"... my suspicion was only confirmed when we were in the sewer," after pondering for a moment, the detective's voice broke the silence once more. There were so many things she would rather not admit. "That deadbeat - an agent of the Holy Ghosts, if I'm not mistaken - was the one who planted the badge. At least, one of the badges. Even if he only did so after the murder, it would have been bloodier. Furthermore, it's hard to imagine a spy framing a crime would make the mistake of not smearing it with all the blood deliberately."
"Unless, of course, the corpse was clean at the time. I believe he even alluded to it when we have our talk," the blue eyes gazed at the grey eyes. "It was your work, wasn't it? You were in control of the crime scene when I arrived, after all. In fact, you might not have left it in the first place. The window of time between the initial kill and the blood becoming too clotted for the ruse was quite narrow for deadbeats, after all."
"Interesting hypothesis... but wouldn't it be too hasty to assume whoever guarding the corpse also meddled with it?" she did not deny the conjecture - in fact, a slight nod all but confirmed it.
"Of course. Few would suspect a timid constable playing others like a fiddle. That said..." the detective dipped her head in response. "I don't know if it's a slip of the mind, or you were too eager to show your true capability, but you revealed you know more than just another constable-in-training."
"Following my investigation might allow you to explain how you knew about the weak points of a deadbeat, but your hands were too steady for someone who had not practised it extensively," Melisende narrowed her eyes and glanced at the hands resting on the junk-filled table. "They're some rather bloody hands, aren't they?"
"You get used to it."
"I would rather not, to be honest," she closed her eyes for a brief moment, before parting the eyelids to ensure the other was still in her place. "Now, I think I've talked enough. How about you do the same?"
"To a degree - I figured you deserve at least that much after all you've gone through," for someone being held at gunpoint, the lithe woman appeared quite comfortable with the situation, almost as if it was still just two friends chatting with each other. "I'm sure you still have some questions, especially if you've been doing some light reading on, say, the ledger."
"Indeed I do," Melisende paused for a moment, before turning her gaze up and back to the once-familiar face. "For starter, why would you frame the cult for the murder? I doubt putting the abbess at risk aligns with your affiliation."
"Oh, you don't need to worry about her. The obsidian blade is not the only sharp thing of hers. Not to mention, I'm sure you're aware of how crowded the current venue had become," she commented as the grey eyes wandered, but a loud cough turned her attention back to the observing investigator. "Think of it like moulting - a better environment would nurture a better development."
"As for why... have you ever made baits for fish?" the smile deepened slightly at the shaking head. "It's an art in itself. You see, if a bait is too obvious, the prey obviously won't take it. However, if it's hidden well, then the prey won't notice it in the first place. To make the perfect bait, you have to let it stand out just enough for the prey you want to take the bait without suspicion."
"As it turns out, humans are much the same as fish. In fact, the more perceptive mind makes them even more susceptible to baits," her finger glided between the disassembled gadget and the weathered, but otherwise clean books, drawing a winding path between the unsorted information. "Without the overt sacrifice and the abbess' pin, the von Pfilzen emblem wouldn't have stood out as much, right? I can still remember how much you're bothered by the one odd piece in the otherwise straightforward puzzle."
"... can't argue with that. I guess I really got hooked on your bait."
"You're too kind~ How does my brew taste?" the undercover chuckled a bit. It sounded genuine.
"Never dry, but mostly bitter, with a bolt of iron," the detective mused audibly. "I think I'll stick to beerenauslese."
"I thought your experience with Simone would sour your taste for noble rot," Melisende could not help but chuckle, causing the brunette to follow suit.
"Well, I doubt she would be indulging her desires anytime soon," the detective let out an almost relieved sigh. She would hate to make an enemy of an affluent and sadistic Fönixid. "It kind of diminished the meaning of the ledger everyone's seemingly going after, though."
"Oh, only slightly so. I would say it's less a treasure and more a map to it," the brunette's heel gently clapped against the wooden floor, its rhythm diffusing in the night air. "We can still reap the benefits even if the sower is no longer with us. Fittingly, the Volksernährung minister has done well fertilising the field."
"Literally?"
"That too. In fact, I believe his interest in it precedes the abbess' service," at least, that was another question answered. Still, uneasiness lingered within the private eye - just like before, the pieces were falling into places. By now, she almost anticipated the one final piece served only to untangle the whole riddle once again.
"Well, as much as I enjoy your company, I'm afraid duty comes first. I'll remember to keep your preference in mind next time," with a smile, her fingers took hold of the ledger behind her and slipped off the table. "How does cider sound?"
"Sorry, but I doubt there'll be a next time," as her heart began to race, the injured investigator stood herself up and raised her gun at the unfazed undercover. She raised her voice to drown out the clopping sound from her feet. "I'm afraid you'll have a lot more explaining to do, and not just to me either."
"Please, I don't want to hurt you more than I have to - " her lips halted the moment she noticed something was wrong.
The clapping sound was from behind.
Without missing a beat, the rhythm invited another to the chorus - the sound of windows shattering. A large clay pot was fired through the window behind the smiling face, landing right between the two. Immediately, sizzling noise filled the room, quickly followed by thick smoke from the smothering compost and ash exposed. The scent of exotic spice and herbs was alarmingly alluring.
She quickly pulled herself out of the fogged room, her hand clutching the pepperbox tight as she pointed towards the wavering shadow within the smoke. Dispelling her emotions, she pulled the trigger, filling the corridor with the deafening echo of her shot as the lead round pierced into the smoke.
No response.
Realising the implication, Melisende took a deep breath and dive into the smoke. It was oddly comfortable despite its thickness. Pushing through the desk, she reached the other side of the room, where the broken window frame had disappeared completely. On the street below, a cloaked, horned figure was riding on a masked horse, its hooves galloping against the pebble road. The pot-filled saddlebags and the sling showed the last piece meant for the detective.
"Almost...!" the private eye gritted her teeth. Her hand turned the barrels and cocked the pistol, before firing toward the horse. The bullet easily connected and embedded itself in the fur, and the horse slowed down before the building... until the familiar figure emerged from below and leapt onto its back, helped by the cloaked figure. On her belt, the neat ledger was tugged snugly against her body.
"I've learnt much from you, ma'am!" the brunette waved to the coughing detective with a smile as the mount sped up into the night, delivering her away from sight by the time she turned her barrel once more.
It appeared that the private eye had been outsmarted - and then, a smile emerged from her face. The smoke bomb appeared to be not as powerful as she heard, and the lingering smoke soon dispersed into the aerated office. As the pain returned once again from the calming body, Melisende took her seat before the desk and reached into the simple, mostly-filled backpack hanging beneath. From it, she pulled out the soiled ledger and mused to herself:
"Keep learning."
Epilogue
By the time the moon had waned and waxed once more, the private investigator was already back in business. With a bit of research, the detective was able to extract some of the more curious records on both sides. Despite his initial confusion, constable Burton was delighted to purchase the list from her at the bargain price of a nice bottle of wine. It would be a busy month for the constabulary. As for the original copy, well, sometimes a treasure was better never found.
Tonight, she leant against her chair with a glass of wine in hand, and the blue eyes glancing up towards the serene moon. "What a peaceful night," she thought to herself as she took another sip, enjoying the sweetness and rich aroma highlighted by a faint, sour taste. Just like how she liked it. It was a shame that there was no one else to share the experience with: the constable was buried with work, and...
Her moment of calm was ended by the ringing bell at the door. "Come in," as she turned herself from the repaired window, she rested the half-empty glass next to her emptied torch. The visitor was a fine lady, and the worried expression on her face reaffirmed her role as a new client.
"Please take a seat. How may I help you?" the detective straightened her posture and offered her a comforting smile. "Oh, where are my manners? I should introduce myself first."
"My name is Melisende, a private detective..."
