1. First Officer Rabindranath Duolo
“Why don’t you take a peek down the lady of the house’s neckline? Maybe she’s hiding her precious bauble there,” I said with a straight face, locking eyes with the man in a piercing stare as he glanced at me absentmindedly. He was rummaging through some trinket box on the table, given that the Countess had permitted us to search her boudoir thoroughly, desperate to recover her prized ruby pendant. My detestable partner looked like a black crow pecking at a bone right now…
I love staring down suspects like this. They get flustered right away and start babbling nonsense, and sometimes, amidst the gibberish, a kernel of truth or a hidden clue slips out. I figured it might work here too—perhaps the man would snap back in anger or crack a joke in return—but just then, Countess Grum called him over.
And no, this wasn’t a suspect. This was my new boss, the high-ranking detective First Officer Viscount Rabindranath Duolo. I’d loathed him from the moment he strutted into our precinct. Just like I’ve hated the first snow and slush since childhood—when the weather outside is miserable and your soul feels even worse—I started quietly despising him too. And wouldn’t you know it, he showed up at our department on one of the first days of December, right when the first fleeting snow fell that morning! A sign, no doubt about it.
“Viscount, here are the maids who cleaned this room yesterday,” the Countess announced grandly, gesturing toward two women who curtsied and stood by the wall with lowered heads, their faces flushed and tear-streaked. I could only imagine how this shrew must have torn into them when she discovered her precious jewel was missing! Poor girls. They must be paid well to put up with this… ahem… Countess. She was young and beautiful, and yes, her neckline could indeed conceal quite a treasure. At the very least, she flaunted her charms shamelessly—her dress teetered on the edge of vulgarity.
I paced the boudoir and approached the window, turning away to pretend I wasn’t involved. Let the Viscount handle the questioning; he’s the boss, after all. I’m just the subordinate. Since yesterday, that is.
My thoughts began to swirl chaotically, stirring up unpleasant memories and emotions.
This position should have been mine! I’ve slaved away at this job for ten years! One of the best in the precinct! The Chief promised me a promotion ages ago. After cracking the high-profile murder case on Jorreno Way, he even said, “Torrenso, you’re the best! I’m submitting the paperwork to His Majesty today to request your promotion. No more inspector for you. You’ll be a First Officer. Let the rookies come in, and you’ll train them.” Sure, I trained them alright. A rookie showed up—and took my spot. Ugh, I hate him!
In the windowpane, I could see the tall figure of the Viscount reflected. If only he weren’t so infuriatingly handsome! Every woman in our department practically threw herself at his feet the moment he arrived, figuratively speaking. Even old Oreyka, the cleaning lady, smacked her lips when she saw him in the hallway.
“What a man!” she exclaimed. “If I could shave off thirty years, I’d love to check if those buns of his are as firm as they look!” What a perverted old hag!
“Thank you, Countess,” the pretty boy bowed gallantly, probably just to sneak a peek down her plunging neckline. My thoughts were consumed by this insufferable man. If looks could kill, there’d be nothing left of Viscount Rabindranath but a pile of ash in the middle of Countess Grum’s lavish boudoir. “I have just one question for your maids. Did you notice anything unusual around three in the morning today?”
The Viscount glanced at the girls, who exchanged surprised looks. They probably thought they’d be accused, maybe even dragged off to jail for theft, but instead…
“No, Your Excellency,” the older woman, about forty, shook her head. “We were asleep at that hour.”
“No,” the younger one squeaked, lowering her head again.
“Thank you, no further questions,” the Viscount nodded, seemingly satisfied.
The Countess looked taken aback.
“And that’s it? What about searching their rooms? What about summoning a seer-mage? Maybe my pendant is hidden in the rags of these two scoundrels! Oh, Viscount, we live in such times that you can’t trust anyone! No one!” The Countess gasped dramatically, her chest heaving with feigned distress right in front of the man’s face.
“I agree,” my boss nodded. “Perhaps my partner has questions for the maids?” He suddenly glanced at me. I caught it in the reflection of the window, still turned away from the theatrical performance the Countess was putting on for the Viscount.
Outside, dusk was already settling in, though it was barely past midday. As is typical for December, the magical street lamps flickered to life early. One of them flared up near the entrance to the Countess’s estate, illuminating the black puddles where the first cursed snow had melted. And here I was in light shoes. I’d definitely soak my feet.
“None for the maids, but I do have a question for the esteemed Countess,” I turned around and bowed with exaggerated politeness. “Your pendant, or rather…” I flipped open my small notebook where I’d jotted down key details of the case and read aloud. “The pendant, consisting of a gold chain and a rather large ruby shaped like a teardrop—was it insured?”
“Yes,” the Countess fanned herself. “A long time ago.”
“‘A long time ago’ is quite vague. Can you provide an exact date?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Is this an interrogation?” the Countess asked nervously. “I don’t like your questions. Do you think I remember every silly date and document? I called detectives to find my stolen ruby pendant! Instead, you’re not searching for it—you’re interrogating me!”
“That’s all, thank you. I have no further questions,” I replied curtly.
Turning back to the window would have been a blatant breach of etiquette—after all, I was in the presence of a Countess, even if she was a former cabaret dancer. And the Viscount and I were on duty, performing our professional responsibilities. So I simply averted my gaze and began inspecting the lavish vanity table, crowded with an army of jars, vials, and bottles, presumably filled with creams and other rejuvenating concoctions. A fortune had clearly been spent on this collection, obvious even to the untrained eye.
“Countess, we’ve inspected everything we needed to,” the Viscount said, heading for the door. “We’ll update you later on the progress of the investigation. I believe by tomorrow morning, you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how swiftly the detectives of Ovistock solve complex and tangled cases.”
Was he joking, or was he serious? Did I detect a hint of sarcasm in his tone?
2. A Person First and Foremost
We left the Countess’s estate and walked down the driveway toward the wide, brightly lit street.
“Why did you ask if the pendant was insured?” Rabindranath inquired, suddenly enveloping us both in a warm, faint blue haze of a heating charm. Indeed, the wind was biting, and my feet were already soaked after just a few steps. My shoes squelched unpleasantly.
“That’s where we should’ve started,” I snapped. “First, check all the paperwork: whether the jewel is insured, if the Countess has any debts or liens, and the state of the couple’s finances. Only then, fully prepared and armed with facts, should we have come to her with a search.”
“This wasn’t a search,” the Viscount countered. “I simply wanted to form a general and personal impression of this woman. I believe an investigation should start there. A person first, and only then the paperwork. Often, we get so caught up in documents that we miss the human element…”
Well, look at the philosopher! He’s going to teach me how to conduct an investigation! Where did this guy even come from? I was itching to throw a snarky remark at him, but I held my tongue. I just huffed. “He’s the boss, he knows best,” I thought with an irony that even annoyed myself. There was some sense in his words, but admitting it would be like praising this pompous fool. Never gonna happen. I’d rather stay silent.
“So, what impression did the Countess make on you?” I couldn’t resist asking.
“She’s hiding something,” he replied thoughtfully. “But personal impressions can’t be filed as evidence,” he added with a nod. “So, by this evening, you’ll look into the Countess’s documents. Head to the Department of Notarial Affairs now and copy anything you deem relevant. I’ll visit Furg’s jewelry workshop, where, according to the Countess, the pendant was crafted. The sketches provided by the Department of Precise Data show the hallmark of that jeweler’s house. Besides, I don’t like that the pendant disappeared right during the boiling of dragon’s blood. That’s concerning.”
“Is that why you asked the maids about three in the morning? Do you think someone’s trying to revive old traditions?” I asked, surprised. “It’s been so long. I think Zherlosmok really did perish, as all the mage-scholars claim. These periodic attempts to resurrect him through rituals are pointless…”
“We need to check the theft statistics for ruby jewelry in other precincts,” the Viscount mused. “I’ll swing by the office now. The communication crystal at the Statistics Department should still be active since, though it’s nearly dark, it’s still within working hours. You head to the notaries,” my insufferable boss ordered. “And if necessary, I’d even check the Countess’s neckline myself,” he added suddenly, clearly recalling my earlier jab.
“Oh, sure,” I started to boil over for some reason. “Especially since the Countess didn’t seem to mind. Ever since her husband took ill with some mysterious ailment, I bet she’s been craving a man’s attention… You could comfort the poor woman and do your job at the highest level all at once…”
“I do everything at the highest level,” this self-absorbed jerk replied, waving his hand to hail a carriage that had just rounded the corner. “I comfort women and solve cases… Don’t be jealous, Inspector Torrenso. I never mix personal and professional matters at work! See you at the precinct!”
He hopped into the carriage, and it rolled off, leaving me fuming with indignation and rage. Jealous? He can go jump into a dragon’s maw for all I care! What a self-proclaimed hero-lover! Ugh! I despise men like him who think that just because they’re handsome and clever, every woman should fall at their feet! Sure, there might be some naive girls out there, but I’m definitely not one of them!
Irritated and furious to my core, I trudged down the street in the opposite direction, toward the Department of Notarial Affairs. Unlike my detestable new boss, I didn’t have the funds to splurge on transport carriages, which were quite pricey.
Renting a small apartment near our precinct ate up half my salary. It was almost in the city center, after all. Still, I was content with both the landlady and the fact that I no longer had to walk from the outskirts of the capital, as I did in my early days here. Then there were expenses for food, water, magical artifacts, and books! Plus, I needed decent clothes and little feminine necessities now and then… Yes! This isn’t like the army of cosmetics on Countess Grum’s table, where a single jar of cream probably cost as much as several of my paychecks…
The Countess used to be a dancer at some exclusive club frequented by Count Grum. That’s where she ensnared him. He was no spring chicken, to put it mildly… Well over seventy. They married, and the capital buzzed with gossip about such a mismatched union for a while, but soon everyone moved on to fresher scandals and intrigues, which popped up daily in the city. Josie Pin, as she was once known, adapted to high society flawlessly. At first, she even attended royal balls and social events with her husband, playing the innocent lamb, pretending not to hear the whispers and mockery. Once everyone got used to her, she started hosting her own balls…
And why not? Within three years, she established one of the trendiest, flirtatiously courtly salons in the capital. Rumor has it even His Highness Prince Rinuat visits on occasion…
As for the Countess’s husband, he’s been unwell lately. He hasn’t been seen at receptions or balls for a while. He doesn’t even appear at his wife’s salon anymore.
I knew all this because it’s part of my job. At the precinct, we need to stay informed about the major goings-on in the capital’s high society. That’s precisely why this upstart Josie irritated me.
I wouldn’t say I envied or judged her. Not at all! Everyone claws their way to happiness in their own way. The Countess had a stunning figure—and she used it to achieve her goals: marrying a wealthy, titled man.
There are plenty of dreamers like her, but only a few actually succeed. The Countess was one of them, so I didn’t think she was as dim-witted as some of my colleagues secretly joked. On the contrary, she clearly had a sharp, tenacious mind and a strong character… while pretending to be a ditzy, delicate nymph…
I wonder, when exactly did she insure that pendant of hers?
3. The Dragon’s Sarcophagus
I turned down Cedar Street toward Raspigny Way and could already see the bright lights arranged in circles on the massive hemisphere that stood at the heart of the capital. This was the long-sealed Dragon’s Sarcophagus, an ancient landmark of the city. Tourists from across the kingdom flocked here to marvel at the sturdy, semi-translucent onyx dome, beneath which the last dragon of our world slumbered in near-eternal sleep.
A thousand years ago, the kingdom’s knights and mages managed to capture it and plunge it into a deep, unbreakable slumber. The dragon couldn’t awaken or come back to life, bound by countless spells that held it in this trap. The secrets to undoing those magical bindings had long been lost.
And that’s probably for the best. Even now, there are people who want to bring the dragon back to life. Every so often, deranged mages emerge, trying to unravel the mysteries of ancient magical formulas, poring over old tomes and chronicles, forming secret orders, gathering like-minded followers, and striving to restore the cruel dragon to the throne of our kingdom.
The country is currently ruled by the Limbario dynasty, whose ancestors once freed our kingdom of Estantia from the dragon’s tyranny…
The dome was staggeringly enormous. For a moment, I imagined the dragon awakening and breaking free from beneath the multi-ton, multi-layered dome. What a colossal beast it must be! If it spread its wings, it could probably cover the entire city center. It could easily crush the royal palace under its massive feet! And if it breathed its icy, frigid fire, it might blanket half the capital in snow and ice, all the way to the outskirts! And yet, there are fools who want to resurrect this nightmarish monster!
A chill ran down my spine as I pictured this scene. Brr! I already hate the cold and winter, and now my imagination was conjuring up such horrifying images.
Soon, the period of the boiling of dragon’s blood would begin! That’s when blizzards and snowstorms sweep through the kingdom, when snow piles up knee-deep, and even in the capital, the weather mages sometimes can’t keep up. Don’t even get me started on the provinces! Only transport mages clear the main roads connecting the kingdom’s major cities, keeping them in somewhat passable condition. No, forget about carriages traveling those paths! Special magical sleds are reserved only for postal services and a few other essential operations. For nearly two months, the dragon’s winter reigns over the land. And inside the sarcophagus, the dragon sleeps, its hot yet cold blood beginning to boil and surge through its veins…
But this is also a risky time, when our precincts work overtime to monitor magical fluctuations and investigate peculiar crimes with heightened vigilance. It’s during this period that followers of the dragon’s restoration become especially active, searching for a particular artifact known to every citizen of the kingdom. Surprisingly, besides the lost spells to awaken the beast, another component is needed—dragon’s blood. In other words, a ruby.
This precious gem is believed to resemble the true blood of a dragon, frozen or solidified into stone. Legend has it that among all the rubies in our world, there is one that holds the key to unlocking the ancient spells binding the Dragon’s Sarcophagus. A key to resurrecting the dragon. That’s why the police pay special attention to any crimes involving rubies.
Of course, no one really believes in this legend. So many centuries have passed since the dragon’s entombment that finding this stone would be impossible. Even if it did exist somewhere, it would likely be just a gem in some piece of jewelry, with no one suspecting its supposed powers…
“Ha. For instance, it could be in Countess Grum’s pendant,” I chuckled to myself. “And someone stole it to try opening the Sarcophagus again.”
It was so absurd—comparing some (albeit expensive) woman’s ruby jewelry to a powerful magical artifact—that I smirked skeptically and dismissed the thought.
Naturally, my first theory in this case was that the Countess had secretly sold or pawned the stone, or more plausibly, hidden it somewhere herself while claiming it was stolen. Now she likely wanted to collect the insurance money on top of it. That seemed logical and plausible. So, checking the woman’s documents was absolutely necessary.
I glanced once more at the towering, and frankly, somewhat eerie dragon dome—especially to an unprepared observer—and hurried down the street. A thick, wet snow had started falling, blinding my eyes and slipping down the collar of my thin coat. The sidewalk was already dotted with puddles, and now snow was adding to the mess…
My feet were thoroughly soaked. I wanted to wrap up my errand quickly, swing by home to change into boots, and then head to the precinct as the new boss had ordered.
Angry as a chained, starving dog, my mood soured once again at the thought of my upstart new boss, with wet shoes and thus wet feet, and covered in wet snow from head to toe, I finally trudged up to the Department of Notarial Affairs. And it was closed…
4. A Strange Fire
Surprised by this unexpected turn of events (it was still within working hours, yet no staff were present), I tugged at the doors, peered through the windows, and shuffled through the ankle-deep snow. Shrugging, I decided not to leave just yet and instead circled the building’s perimeter. Returning to the precinct with an uncompleted task wasn’t an option. Who knows how the new boss would react? He might start mocking me. He didn’t seem like the type to belittle subordinates, but I didn’t know him well. After all, he’d already started spouting nonsense about me being jealous! Definitely overconfident! And overconfidence is just a step away from arrogance.
At the back of the Department of Notarial Affairs, there was a service entrance, which I had suspected existed—logically, coal or firewood for heating the building had to be delivered somewhere, and certainly not through the grand front doors. Sure enough, the small door was unlocked, and I slipped inside a narrow, long corridor that ended with a staircase leading upward.
As soon as I crossed the threshold, a sharp, unpleasant smell of smoke hit my nostrils. It was distinct, as if something had recently burned—or was still burning. The further I moved down the corridor, the stronger the odor became. Quickening my pace, I hurried up the stairs and found myself in a wide hallway with an arched ceiling. To the right were narrow windows, most of them flung wide open, and to the left were several doors, one of which was ajar, with agitated voices spilling out…
“Woe is me, woe!” a short, elderly man with sideburns and a shiny bald spot on his head paced between towering shelves, lamenting loudly and complaining to a tall young man holding a rag in his hands.
“Burro, we need to check all the orbs—maybe some aren’t too damaged? And the papers! Some of them are beyond recovery! It’s a good thing the fire barely reached the orb section! Have you called the law enforcers?”
“No, Notary Dros,” the young man replied, busily sorting through what must have been rescued files, papers, and objects on the floor, likely saved from the flames. “The head, Mr. Zhurbius, forbade it. He said this is an internal matter. He even claimed the fire started due to our negligence. We’d get slapped with a huge fine if we reported it to the precinct, and do we really need that?” the lad repeated, clearly parroting the boss’s words, as he vigorously scrubbed the floor with the rag, smearing ash and soot even further. “We’ve been ordered to clean everything up by morning.”
“We’re not to blame, no matter what anyone says!” the elderly notary exclaimed indignantly. “I know for a fact that all the lamps were magically protected! I checked them just recently! It must be some flaw in the magical wards! But who’s going to prove that now?”
“Good evening,” I said, stepping over the threshold and startling the notary, while the young man froze on the floor with the rag still in his hands. “Inspector Torrenso Goodwin, Ovistock Kingdom Precinct,” I introduced myself formally, flashing the magical insignia of a law enforcer before the stunned clerks. “What’s happened here?”
“Uh, we didn’t call for law enforcement,” the young man muttered nervously, standing up from the floor. He looked a bit comical with the dirty rag in his hands, short hair sticking out in all directions like a hedgehog, and pince-nez sliding down to the tip of his nose. “We, uh…”
“I was just passing by,” I reassured the men, noticing the anxiety in their eyes. They were probably terrified of their boss. “I saw the windows wide open. It’s not exactly summer out there! That seemed suspicious to me. And the smell… Do you need any help?”
“No, no,” the young man stammered, shrinking back. “We… uh… we’re managing…”
“This isn’t an official visit,” I winked at the men. “Just a courtesy. And us law enforcers don’t exactly get paid a fortune either,” I hinted, suggesting I could help sort out their situation for a small fee. My bait was taken by Mr. Dros.
“Oh, if only we knew what happened! We didn’t call for enforcers because we managed to put out the fire ourselves. But where it came from, we have no idea.”
“For a couple of edge-coins, I can take a look.”
Yes, I was playing the role of a less-than-honest officer looking to make a quick buck on the side. But so what? If it helped the investigation, all the better!
“Ms. Torrenso, I’m Notary Dros, and this is our apprentice, seventh-rank archivist Burro Beta,” the elderly man introduced himself, mentioning names I’d already overheard. “I’d pay even three coins if someone could tell me what happened here! You see, calling law enforcement means endless hassle, piles of paperwork, documents—and an uncertain outcome. The Department of Notarial Affairs could be shut down during the investigation. The precincts are so slow! No offense to you, of course,” Mr. Dros caught himself, remembering he was speaking to a representative of said precinct. “It’s just…”
“Mr. Dros,” I said briskly, walking through the room with purpose. “We’ll formalize my visit as official after I’ve had a look around. I’ll write up my observations. That way, you won’t lose any time. Agreed?”
“Excellent!” the man exclaimed, relieved. “The fire burned several shelves over here!” He led me to a corner of the room, and I followed.
Behind us, the apprentice Burro shuffled along curiously, sniffing audibly. With the windows wide open, the room was quite chilly. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone caught a cold by tomorrow.
“I thoroughly inspected the premises last night. The lighting,” the notary pointed to the ceiling where, surprisingly, a magical lamp still flickered, undamaged, “the protective magical seals,” he gestured to one of the seals on each shelf, meant to guard documents from thieves, “and even the fire-prevention wards are intact!” Mr. Dros approached the wall and pointed to small squares embedded in it: these were fire alarm triggers designed to alert of any blaze.
“Then how did you realize there was a fire in the room?” I asked, examining the most soot-covered shelf, where orbs lay covered in ash. Some had cracked and shattered into pieces, meaning the information magically stored within was lost forever.
“Smoke!” the young archivist Burro piped up from behind us. “I was walking down the hallway past this room and smelled smoke! And just in time, too! The fire had only just started. I know a bit of magic, so I extinguished the flames right away, but it still damaged a lot of documents.”
“What kind of documents were stored here?” I asked, pointing to the shelf.
“Wills, inheritance papers, and orbs of last testament, which hold legal weight,” Notary Dros explained. “That’s my area of work. Burro here mostly handles documentation related to insurance for citizens, property, real estate, and land.”
Ah, that’s exactly what I needed! I inspected everything carefully and delivered my verdict:
“I’ll issue you a document stating that the fire was caused by a malfunction in certain lighting fixtures. But I’m not interested in payment—rather, a favor in return, if possible,” I said, looking at Mr. Dros inquiringly. “Some information about a certain person. It’s, uh, a private matter…”
“I think we can come to an agreement,” Notary Dros smiled.
A short while later, I was sloshing through puddles, cold but satisfied. Tucked into a special pouch at my side was information confirming that Countess Grum had insured her ruby pendant just a month ago, even paying extra for expedited processing of the paperwork. Apprentice Burro had even shown me the insurance document. It was all there.
I’ll admit, I was worried the insurance papers might have been destroyed in that strange fire. I had no doubt it was arson, but I decided not to draw attention to that just yet. Once I obtained permission for an official inspection or search of the Department of Notarial Affairs, I’d handle things differently. But as Mr. Dros rightly pointed out, that’s a lengthy process. So, my on-the-spot improvisation worked flawlessly and yielded excellent results.
I wonder what interesting tidbits my boss dug up at Furg’s jewelry workshop?