Season of Starlight

Second Month

Café Lagrousa

The City of Trylla, The Cronia Region

2327

Henri Fraser insightfully flipped through the daily newspaper, like an academic scholar collecting information for a research report.

The café was bustling with life. Coffee pots bubbled in the background, whiffs of cooked meat and eggs came from the kitchen, and conversational guests prepared to enjoy their anticipated lunch.

Henri sat at a corner booth, framed in a round window projecting the bustling sidewalk and street view while occasionally drinking from a hot cup of Bulberry tea.

He graciously absorbed the fruity ambience on his palette, then put the cup down and studied a particular article under the Sports Section of the Moonlight Angle with his finger.

"Motorsport Championship to continue revving its engines to the seasonal starting line despite legendary driver Sebastian Hahn's murder," he read aloud. "With a probable suspect identified in James Abbott, the son of Hahn's previous rival, the race stewards, in partnership with the Onoco Security Bureau, are confident further danger to the other drivers is forfeit."

"Horrible species, those journalists," said a coarse feminine voice. "Always looking to stir up trouble."

Henri looked up as Flo Lagrousa bent over him with her wild purple hair and an Ecosav cigarette pinched between her lips. She blew a green cloud into the air, grabbed his teacup and filled it to the rim.

"Tell me, babes, why do you read this crap?"

Flo's large bust almost smacked Henri in the face as she retracted her arm and stood tall at the table's edge. Her white apron was blotched with coffee and food residue, but her twig-like figure was well groomed, with wrinkled hands and stunning yellow eyes evidence of a vigilant, hardworking woman.

"I am trying to understand what could have happened to Sebastian Hahn," Henri said, re-reading the article.

"From a newspaper?" Flo asked, looking over his shoulder. "Damn, you are good."

Henri smiled briefly. "James was quite secretive about the whole affair."

"Well, James didn't kill him. That is the truth," Flo said with a grunt. "The boy couldn't even hurt a rat; that is a true sign of virtue."

"I just don't understand why he didn't tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"That he was the prime suspect," Henri said. "I would have flown with him to Onoco to figure this out. I can't imagine the hostility he must be going through."

"Then go to him," Flo said. "He is your constable. You're practically brothers, a team that operates the best when you are together. He needs you, Henri, but sometimes, when it's personal, one forgets to include your friends."

Henri set the newspaper down on the table and sighed.

"I guess so."

"Can I get you anything else, love?"

"Just the lunch special. Thanks, Flo."

"Coming right up, babes."

As Flo left, she grabbed the newspaper and whisked it out of Henri's sight.

"Hey! I was reading that!" he said with a light chuckle, turning his head and torso to follow her fleeing figure.

Flo refilled another customer's cup and puffed her cigarette. "Enough is enough!" she said. "Enjoy the view, Detective."

Henri shook his head and slumped forward, with his elbows on the table and eyes gazing out the glass door at the passing pedestrians.

Each one had a unique story, rushing from one place to the next with their fantastic hair, clothing and choice of carry-on possession. A tall woman carried an umbrella on a perfectly sunny day, and another man walked hand in hand with his small son, who dragged his father's briefcase on the ground.

Every person had a past, present, and future, and most of them would remain a secret for the rest of Henri's life, a blank canvas that allowed him to create backstories.

Perhaps the father was a widower, caring full time for his son, and the woman with the umbrella used it to fend off unwanted attention, a master swordswoman blending into ordinary society.

Henri found himself enjoying the game.

It allowed him to look beyond death and destruction.

Suddenly, his eyes widened, and a cold shiver ran up his spine.

A red-haired young woman crossed the street and approached the café wearing a blue dress.

Thump. Thump.

Henri's heart pounded, and his breath quickened. He blinked his eyes, making sure the person was real.

It can't be.

He squeezed his eyes shut, waited a moment, then reopened them.

Ding!

The young woman's existence was confirmed when she walked through the front door.

"Be right with you, love!" Flo yelled from the kitchen.

Henri was speechless.

Elza Parks looked around the café until her sapphire gaze fixed on him. She quickly approached, sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"Hello, Henri."

"Elza..."

He trailed off when Elza pulled a red folder from her purse.

"We don't have that much time. Our flight leaves in an hour, and I thought it best to show you my preliminary assessments," she said, pushing the folder toward him. "This is how we prove James' innocence."

Henri opened it cautiously.

"What?"

"Onoco is filled with some of the region's wealthiest, yet despite its security bureau and local politicians, it is run by three major families that have claimed territories throughout the city. The Hahns, the Goldmoore's, and..."

Elza trailed off as Henri leaned forward with anticipation. After all this time, she hadn't changed, still baiting him like a fish lured to a worm on a hook.

"The Abbotts," she finished, her words filled with disbelief.

"So James comes from a wealthy dynasty. How does that prove his innocence?"

Elza sat up straight. "You don't actually think he..."

"Of course not," Henri said, shaking his head. "You were saying?"

"It is a criminal enterprise," Elza said, fanning the flames of Fraser's interest. "The families control the city. Their wealth, reputation, and identity are based on one thing: power, and they will cut out any infection to preserve it."

"The Mob Families of Onoco are a myth," Henri said.

"We both know nothing is impossible, and if it is true, Sebastian Hahn could have found himself on the wrong side of their mercy, and now James is taking the fall. You must realize, Detective, that while Onoco is split between three families, they will not hesitate to sabotage each other for sole supremacy."

"A desire for that kind of power can drive you mad. It can make you kill," Henri said, deep in thought.

"Come with me," Elza pleaded.

Henri stared intently into her eyes as she slid an airship flight pass across the table towards him.

"I haven't packed."

"I will take care of everything."

Henri smiled.

"It is good to see you."

"Likewise, Detective."

"You look well."

Elza blushed. "So do you."

"Keeping busy, I see," Henri said, glancing at the folder. "How did you get this?"

"Oh, you know, I use my seductive charisma and bewitch people to get what I want."

They shared a laugh.

"So much has happened in the last two years," Elza said, taking a moment of silent reflection. "The Abaddon Case prompted me to break the negative stigma around the Prophet Society, so I have been travelling around Cronia, seeing where I can make a difference."

"How is that going?" Henri asked.

Elza shrugged. "One step at a time. Force-feeding information, whether right or wrong, is a strain in any attempt to open a stranger's mind. By creating a welcoming, compassionate atmosphere, you shed stereotypes and allow El Olam to change hearts when they are ready to listen."

"They will," Henri said. "I'm sure that won't take long."

Elza's diamond earrings sparkled in the rays of sunlight that poured through the window, reflecting tattoos of light across her collarbone and upper chest.

Henri couldn't take his eyes off her.

A waiter arrived at the table with a notepad. He was a large man wearing a shirt too tight and an apron too short.

"Can I get you anything, Miss?"

"So," Henri said, raising his teacup. "Here we go again."

Elza grinned and acknowledged the waiter.

"I will get-

Smack!

In a swift action, the waiter punched Elza in the face and rammed her head into the table, muting her scream.

Henri lunged at the man, but a giant fist shot out and struck him in the throat. Henri gagged and collapsed, writhing on the floor.

The waiter grabbed Elza by her hair and threw her out of the booth, her body hitting a free-standing table, which toppled over once she made an impact.

A nearby couple jumped up from their seats and hurried to intervene, but the waiter pulled a red pistol from under his apron and gunned them down.

Bang! Bang!

It only took one shot each to the face to stop them.

Henri crawled forward and grabbed the waiter by his ankles, stabilizing the man as Elza emerged holding a chair.

She struck the man over the head, and the chair splintered, barely affecting him.

He remained sturdy like a pillar of stone.

With a grunt, the waiter raised his leg and kicked Elza in the stomach, hurling her across the room.

Henri reached under his coat and pulled free his copper pistol.

The waiter saw this and ran for the front door.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Clash!

Henri fired four shots, shattering glasses and plates on nearby tables standing in his line of fire.

Bang!

He nicked the waiter in the shoulder before he fled and disappeared into the panicked crowd outside.