Season of Starlight

Third Month

The Kaleno Security Bureau

The City of Kaleno, The Cronia Region

2326

After a half-hour drive from the crime scene, the silver Enigma arrived at the Kaleno Security Bureau on the city's southern border facing the sea.

Waves splashed against the rigid shoreline, corroding the pale sedimentary rock as the high tide brought the water to the edge of the road.

"Park here," Henri said, directing Miss Hastings with his finger while looking through the front windshield at a tall building made of stone brick. It was two stories tall and shaped like a diamond, cut down the center with a knife's precision into two divisions. A wall of tall trees formed a barrier between them, green shrubbery accommodating the gaps around the trunks to fill in the landscape.

Henri had read about the unique structure of the KSB in the newspaper a few years ago when they held the grand opening of their new facility.

The building on the left with the elaborate quartz archway over the entrance was Local Security. While it served as the central station for the KSB, the government had also approved the construction of a second division specializing in homicide.

Kaleno, a desired tourist destination, had slowly begun dipping its toes into gambling.

Due to the city's strong religious presence, several traditions in other parts of the Cronia Region were not practised within its borders.

Inevitably, casinos found their way inside with the help of the new senator-elect, Koros Duval, which prompted a new addiction within the community. It caused greed to fester inside the residents' hearts, and soon, the crime rate surpassed that of the Cronia capital, Woalani, which held the unfortunate honour for nearly twenty years.

Robbery shook Kaleno to the core, and soon the authorities were desperate to end the violence when the thieves turned into murderers.

The death rate tripled in six months, and the Prophet Society criticized Senator Duval for unleashing a fatal disease that plagued the city.

The KSB was the largest bureau in the region, with a staff count reaching almost two thousand.

It was impossible to think there was no one at Henri's disposal to aid the investigation. Still, when he walked inside the homicide department with Miss Hastings and Constable Abbott hot on his heels, reality soon consumed him.

There wasn't a single body lingering in the front foyer.

Officers sped on the grey tile floor, binders grappled in their arms and voices bellowing.

Secretaries were magnetized to the phones at the reception desk, vigorously scribbling notes on paper. After a call, they ripped the page off their notepad and passed it to nearby constables.

What Henri saw wasn't chaos but a strict, orderly procedure. If broken, it threatened to fail the entire operation.

Approaching cautiously, Henri placed his elbows on the desk, peering over the rim at a young man in a dark green uniform.

He appeared no older than twenty-three, around Abbott's age, with a soft jawline and thick ginger hair moping over his right eye. As he looked up, Henri was penetrated by a cold blue iris. The bronze badge on the man's left lapel showed a lone star framed in a skinny border, signifying his rank.

Constable K. Sterling.

"Good evening, sir. Welcome to the KSB. Can I help you?"

"Yes," Henri said, glimpsing at his entourage. "My name is Detective Inspector Henri Fraser of the TDB, and I require your assistance. My colleagues and I have been investigating The Vagabond killings, and we require a spot in your forensics laboratory to conduct a post-mortem on the body we found. Are you able to do that for me?"

The young man grew still. "You are the detective from Trylla?"

Henri sighed. "Yes, I am. I do not intend to be demanding, Constable Sterling, but this procedure must happen immediately. We do not want the victim's condition to deteriorate before we can examine him further," he explained.

"Right," Constable Sterling said, picking up one of the phones before a receptionist could take it. "I will inform Commissioner Heartstone and see what we have available."

Henri nodded his approval and took a step back, turning to Abbott. "Well, this is going well."

Abbott returned a pleasant smirk.

"I must admit, I am surprised they allowed The Vagabond Case to slip through their fingers," Miss Hastings said, looking around. Her black hair bounced with the craning of her neck. "I expected them to prioritize the murders of the city's religious oligarchy. Kaleno is known as the holy capital of Cronia, after all. One would think the authorities would take the situation more seriously."

"What I have learned from this business is that when it comes to religion, it is easier to turn a blind eye than invest dozens of hours formulating a response to something not worth pursuing," Henri said, slumping on the surface of the reception desk with his forearms extended.

Miss Hastings raised a brow. "But why should religion be treated differently? A murder is a murder."

"Miss Hastings, allow me to enlighten you with a little secret," Henri said, smiling. "A person's political agenda always determine these sorts of situations. If it doesn't suit them, why bother? Think for a moment. In the last year, religion has been viewed as a burden to society. Thousands of people without knowledge of the subject rebuke the Prophet Society's teachings, claiming their beliefs are radical, sexist, and discriminatory.

However, those smart enough to study the subject before forming a valid opinion realize those are nothing but false accusations declared by a crowd of hypocrites. We live in an age where nobody does anything about religion because we have been trained to view it as a threat. Listen closely, both of you," Henri advised, watching Abbott. "This world desires for the teachings of the Prophet Society to fade into extinction."

"How terribly cruel," Miss Hastings reflected. "How can you be certain of this?"

"Because I used to be one of the hypocrites," Henri said.

"And now?"

"Someone with an understanding."

"What changed your mind?" Miss Hastings wondered.

Henri pondered the question, fading into a trance. He looked over the reception desk and saw a woman sitting there, her lush red hair dangling down her spine and fair skin illuminated by the yellow lantern attached to the ceiling above. She met his stare and grinned.

Henri briefly closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the woman was gone, replaced by a stranger.

"The wisdom of an old friend," he said.

Constable Sterling finished his conversation and dropped the phone.

"Alright," he said eagerly. "Commissioner Heartstone has accepted your request. He wanted me to let you know that he is extremely grateful for your dedication to the investigation and will grant your doctor an office and room in the laboratory to conduct their assessment. Is Dr. Hinz with you?"

Miss Hastings leaned on the counter. "Actually, I will be conducting the post-mortem," she said, extending a hand. "Minnie Hastings, a pleasure."

Constable Sterling shook it wearily. "Where is the doctor?"

"Dr. Hinz is ill, and I have a corpse ageing in my motorcarriage. Shall we get it to the lab so I can begin my evaluation, or do you wish to continuously risk losing valuable information due to your concern about the doctor's whereabouts?" Hastings questioned sternly.

Constable Sterling gaped. "You have the body in your motorcarriage? That goes against all ethical protocols!"

"Well, if you don't have many hands to work with, then one compromises to get the job done," Hastings said, strapping on her gloves. "So close that mouth and bring me a stretcher. We have work to do."

Constable Sterling prepared an argument, but Miss Hastings was out the door before he could spit it out. He merely sulked in his chair, massaging his forehead. "This is not how we normally do things. The commissioner will have my badge for this!"

"If Heartstone has a problem, then he can talk to me," Henri said. "Please do what Miss Hastings says. Until the good doctor returns, she is in charge."

He watched Constable Sterling rise from his seated position. "Yes, sir. Excuse me for a moment to prepare the lab."

"I will join you," Abbott said.

The pair left, side by side. Henri watched them keenly until they walked into a corridor out of sight.

Fraser paced the foyer, examining the white walls. They were covered in photographs, many reflecting the grand opening of the KSB. They were colourless, the small details lost in a smudge of black and grey.

Henri noticed Senator Duval standing in front of the entrance of the building he currently occupied.

The Homicide Department was less glamourous than that of Local Security. The front facade was bland, without the visual distinction of the quartz arch to identify it. It felt more like a backdrop to the other division, dull and easily forgettable.

Henri supposed his career was of less desire to the city, let alone the region.

Murder was a cruel act that governmental powers longed to be rid of. However, society grasped onto it like a prized possession—a simple solution to solve their problems.

Such wickedness instilled fear and shrouded a city in unfavourable headlines—so the less conspicuous the department, the better.

Next to the senator stood the man in charge of Kaleno's prosperity, Mayor Brittleburn, nothing more than a loyal disciple to Duval instead of an independent prophet of the law.

Henri viewed his role in the constabulary as critical. His department did not encourage murder but devoted itself to stopping it.

Once again, here he was, pushed into the background due to politics. Senators blamed the killing appetite on the city, but Henri knew they also desired the taste of blood. Corruption and murder frequently went hand in hand. It was a sickness that befell his family in the past, choices that led to dire consequences.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Footsteps tapped on the floor.

"The KSB was such a tremendous accomplishment for Kaleno. Were you present at the cutting of the ribbon?"

Henri turned to find a woman in an orange sheath dress beside him.

Her bare arms folded together over her chest while a clump of ebony hair nestled onto her head streaked in grey. Her burgundy lips were narrow and desaturated, puckered as she assessed the photograph with fleeting interest.

Henri smiled. "No, I did not have the pleasure."

The woman studied him. "What a shame. It was quite marvellous. There was a celebratory party at Senator Duval's penthouse for weeks. He had wine imported from overseas specifically for the occasion. I will never forget it."

Henri did not find the conversation relevant.

"Excuse me," he said politely, transitioning toward the center of the foyer. He travelled for the exit doors to join Miss Hastings outside.

The woman called after him.

"Do you not hunger to solve the mystery of The Vagabond?"

Henri stopped dead in his tracks.

He spun around, the woman meeting him. A pearl bracelet twirled freely around her wrist.

"Lady Jezebel Croftdale," she said, shaking his limp hand. "Quite a grip," she laughed, releasing his fingers. "A little weaker than I anticipated."

Henri squinted his dark eyes. "What were you expecting? Who are you?"

"Darling, I already told you. Lady Jezebel-"

"What is your interest in The Vagabond?"

Jezebel grinned. Behind the false mask was a woman riddled with disappointment.

"Inspector Fraser, I own the largest private excavation company in Cronia. Croftdale Enterprises, a nurtured inheritance from my late husband. We specialize in removing ancient historical artifacts, and I believe I can persuade you to help me."

Henri scoffed. "I am in the middle of a murder investigation, and you are advertising another proposition? That is in quite poor taste, don't you think?"

"Yes, it would be if I didn't have this," Jezebel said, holding up a golden amulet.

Henri gasped. "That's-"

"A relic of The Order of the Covenant, yes," Jezebel said. "With this, you will lure your Vagabond out of the shadows on a leash."

She threw the amulet towards Henri. He caught it in a quick action.

"As an admirer of old cultures, I intend to learn everything I can about this medallion. I am currently funding a program at the Kaleno Museum. A doctor there specializes in artifacts linked to the Prophet Society.

Inspector, there is a meaning behind this sacred treasure, a reason why The Vagabond kills to get their hands on it. Don't you want to know what that is? The information could help expose your suspect!" Jezebel declared passionately.

"Right," Henri said, "and in return, you will have another story to tell tourists at your museum. I will not tolerate you using my investigation to further your fascination with archaeology," Henri said, rubbing a thumb over the amulet.

The texture was rough and jagged.

"My purpose is to help in any way I can. What other leads do you have to follow?" Jezebel argued.

Henri didn't say a word.

"Exactly. You have none. Inspector Fraser, is it not my understanding that you wish to solve this case as soon as possible?"

"Yes."

"Then go to the museum and get the answers you seek. With my help, every door will open. Besides great wealth, the Croftdale name holds superiority in the Kaleno aristocracy. I am your golden ticket to a fountain of information."

Henri hated that he agreed but took his chance meeting with Lady Croftdale as no coincidence.

Despite personal reasons, she held a status granting him access to almost everything, a proposition he could not refuse.

Henri did not doubt Jezebel held an ulterior motive behind the partnership, but right now, he had to dig his fingers into the mystery, and the only way to do that was through Croftdale's charity.

He recalled a notable token of wisdom from his childhood.

Everything happens for a reason.

"Alright," he said, gripping her attention. "When do we start?"