Season 1: E1 "A Delicate Matter"

 Episode 1: "A Delicate Matter"

Studying the abstract calculations and metric notations on the blackboard, Thomas Thompson failed to notice the heavy boot tread of his approaching visitors. What was more tragic was that his calculations were completely incorrect, and he would have more benefited from diving out the nearest window instead of getting tangled up in the complicated matter of murder. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It is a marvel how much stock humans put into simple devices like deadbolts, chains and rope to secure all of their mortal possessions in the world. Thomas had trusted his security, and the ability to avoid his creditors, on a simple door chain. He had neglected to update the chain lock on the door which had, sometime previously, been added as a precaution against intruders. Thomas failed to notice that the screws were too short and worn to actually hold the chain in place. His confidence was then shattered when a man who had defined his life by being strong and not asking too many questions, threw the door open with a jerk, the chain giving way with no resistance so as to give this heavy man unnoticeable trouble. Thomas, thus cornered, was reluctant to engage with his visitors as they trudged in. He was wise to have his cane at hand, the thin blade inside a last resort if the men who had failed to show common decency and knock, decided to examine the flexibility of Thomas' spine between his strong hands.

Leigh McNab is a curious fellow. It was a misfortune that Thomas could not have met this man under better circumstances. Not that Thomas would have been any the richer. People who spent any amount of time tended to experience the exact opposite of wealth when around McNab. But Thomas, like many human, tended to see people like barristers, the tax man, bailiffs and the woman who meticulously scrutinizes your application to practice magic down at the guildhall, as a kind of obstacle, and not a actual person. They are a thing to get around. This was why Thomas never noticed the complex nature of McNab, a silver fox beastman, who lived true to his breeding as in the stories of faerie. Thomas might have had time to admire the ability of the man who could both sound completely dishonest and trustworthy both at the same time. His ability to smooth your ego and rifled your pockets for change was a artform. And I love art.

But despite Thomas' lack of self-awareness, he was savvy enough to know that a visit from McNab was never straight forward. McNab, once settled on a stool and leaning forward on his cane, asked Thomas to look into a "very delicate matter". Thomas of course failed to ask the most inane questions, which, properly applied with a few quick jabs of his swordcane, might have saved him from the ppredicament he soon found himself in. Thomas relented to follow the footsteps of a courier who McNab had sent down to the customs office to procure a simple package addressed to Wilford Dolittle, postmarked on the steamship SS Jessamine. Thomas, like all men scrambling to keep breathing through the normal orifaces of their anatomy, asked whether this favor would reduce the amount of money owed to McNab, who readily agreed that it would definitely help. And of course, delicacy and keeping ones nose out of the business surrounding the nature of the package was strongly encouraged.

To the Tradeways

After his visitors left, Thomas grabbed his coat, hat and cane and left his laboratory in the Guilded Row, taking the elevators down from thos tranquil halls of academia and innovation, to the crowded streets of the Tradeways. Choked by the constant throngs of peddlers, merchants and itinerate preachers either calling for repentance or the selling of one's soul, Thomas bobbed and juked his way through the crowds of people, unable to avoid the smell of briny sea air mixed with the oily lacquer which clung to the cobbled streets and stone walls. The main passage led right into the heart of the mountain into the subterranean harbor which was bustling with ships and boats bringing goods into the city of Newhaven.

It is a wonder that a marvel so complex and mysterious as the magical locke system which transported boats up out of the water, several stories right into the city where workers unloaded their cargo and right into the stalls and factories of Newhaven. Greater men merely marvel at its invention and beauty. Simple minded men merely nod and thank their lucky stars they don't have to walk as far. It is indeed a wonder, dredged up from the depths of a ancient world long forgotten, rebuilt by a visionary empress and a clever artificer. Nobody would have thought a arms dealer had been the architect of such a wonder. But those were the early days.

It was at this point that Thomas remembered why he never picked a job that paid you to stand behind bars and provide...how do they phrase it now...customer service. Thomas experienced this "customer service" himself. While he waited for what felt like a hour, he endeavored to use his charms to wrangle information out of the huldafolk clerk who was drowning in a endless sea of forms, receipts and ledgers which his predecessor, who had run off with a Eldren wench (he claimed she was of high birth. It was in all likelihood, a very good looking human female who exaggerated her other qualities, as women often do). The clerk, a very honest fellow with keen sense for terminology and the proper phrasing of favors, was half expecting financial compensation for his trouble, received a business card, a understanding face and a promise of assistance in the future. I, like the clerk who turned the card over in his hand, highly approved of the name which Thomas had selected for his vision of a world devoid of magic. It showed imagination. The clerk rummaged through his ledger and noted the number of times "Dolittle" had shipped through his office, and informed Thomas that the package had already been taken and signed for not two hours ago. A shudder passed through Thomas' spine, perhaps the natural thoughts of the welfare of his kneecaps aided this sensation, but Thomas prudently realized that he needed to find this person quickly. Leaving the office, he saw a old acquaintance of his. As strange as it was to bump into a woman in a city this size, he quickly discarded the usual pleasantries in leu of his current predicament. But this was, as some literary critics refer, a foreshadowing. Thomas' random encounter with this woman did many psychological things, many of which he failed to note at the time, as he was a man of science and not coincidence or a believer in a higher power. But this chance encounter, and the encounters which followed, would inevitably save his life. But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

The Detective

It is a well known fact that raccoons, while they have an affinity for playing strings they lack a certain knack for producing enough air to make a flute sound like moist wind being sucked through a straw. So it was no surprise that when Thomas arrived he was greatly aggitated by the raccoon, known as Hendrick, working the holes on a stolen recently acquired wooden recorder and attempting to wrap his snout around the other end. The other raccoons, who had made their home together with the help of Thomas, were in various stages of sitting, dozing and cleaning their fur. Their relationship, such as it was, is a curious story for another time. Suffice it to say, Thomas had freed the gaze of raccoons and had employed their good noses and propensity for finding curious items to good use. So Thomas, attempting to talk over the wheezing of a recorder, that he communicated his desire for Hendrick, Round Craig, Walter, Herold, Lefty and Ralph to find the package in question, rejoining Thomas for lunch after they had found the person who had picked up the package. Assembling into a specially designed collection of prosthethics made by Thomas so the raccoons could feign themselves a human, named Roku. 

Roku went to the street outside the customs office and examined the scene for himself. One cannot say how the mind of a detective works. The conclusions deduced from a few small peices of information, strung together based on years of experience and a innate distrust of humanity, rooted in the knowledge that men ultimately are creatures of selfish habit. Or you can do as Roku did and just ask someone nearby who saw something useful and can point you in the right direction. The particular vagrant, who peeped out from behind a unkept beard and a old blanket wrapped around him like a cocoon, and pointed to the nearest set of warehouses and then seized the coins and retreated into his blanket. Roku spent some time walking amongst the wooden buildings, flickering lights creating pockets of yellow light which struggled against the oily shadows. 

Trail of Blood

The strange instructions from McNab

Roku was thus occupied, drifting from shadow to shadow when he noticed one of the doors to a warehouse slightly ajar. Walking up an down the dark interior, the hazy light filtering into the large open room from high windows, Roku picked his way among the tall rows of crates and barrels. Resisting the urge to steal every last one of them as this was impractical, he stumbled upon a smear on the floor which looked out of place. This is a moment when deductive reasoning and police procedure are highly effective, if not primitive. Roku deduced that the mount of blood was small, fallen from a not very great height given the splatter of droplets. It was smeared by a bootheal towards the left. Following this line of reasoning he soon stumbled upon a fallen corpse. Examining the body, he noted the man had been in an altercation (flick knife in his hand, bruises on face, bloody knuckles), he had suffered head trauma (gooy blood in the hair and scalp). Roku went through his pockets and found a scrap of paper and a few coins. Fitting the description from the vegrant and Thomas, Roku noticed the only thing missing was the package.

A Bounty of Detectives

Roku went to the nearest Constabulary and filed a murder report. Normally apprehensive as policemen are of the means and ways of those employed in the hobby of sleuthing, they gave him the normal amount of respect due a flat-foot and filed his report with as much interest as a man has in the gossip rags for actual news. Also, any man who wears a hat so low over his head so as to normally conceal his full face, and having also drawn a smiley face and eyes on the outside of it, does very little to inspire the confidence of serious constables where actionable information is concerned. But Roku was completely oblivious to this. I give credit to the officer who took the report that he even took down any information at all. But Constable Whitlock was a good man who lived by the mantra that it is the detail ignored that can be the most important. Constable Whitlock was not a philosophical man by any means, but he had a quick ear and a desire to drop a few little nuggets around the office from time to time to ensure he was not considered a complete nitwit.

It was here by some fate that Roku, as he was relaying the details of the murder scene, was interrupted by a large Orc who introduced himself as Ed Gurukul, who had just finished pocketing a few wanted posters which would fetch him enough coin to keep eating. Though not likely bedfellows, it is sometimes the most opposite of perspectives that find a kindred spirit. This did not happen. But a desire for money and a simple desire for justice were enough to bind the fates of these two tradesmen together. Roku, having finished his business, and realized the potencial for money should any new information arrise, suggested Ed accompany him to the Shifty Whale, where he would have lunch with Thomas and let him know what had happened.

The Shifty Whale

It is unknown why men name their business establishments after objects which have little to no relation to their trade. Public houses are known across the lands of Fearun to feature colorful names to match their colorful pasts. Most are shams and merely pretend to have a long and sordid past which is exaggerated with old weapons on the walls, relics of prior owners and framed pictures of patrons who nobody actually knows. The Shifty Whale was actually a mistake. The owner, a ambitious, retired sailor with little imagination took his two lifelong passions, a love of the sea and his desire to celebrate every occasion with liquor, and merged them into the name. He was, however, illiterate, and the man who painted the sign misheard. But since the old salt had no idea how to spell, he never caught on. Ironically, the Shifty Whale was a fitting name. Police raids on public houses was a common occurance since they were notorious for criminal activity and gangs to congregate. The Shifty Whale was no exception. (Some denizens, who had developed low opinions of this public house, had adopted many more vulgar terms to name the establishment that had incurred their sultry humor.)

Thomas had wisely waited outside, sandwiches in hand as the party of two arrived. As Roku dumped food down the neck into his shirt for Hendrick, Round Craig, Walter, Herold, Lefty and Ralph, Ed relayed the situation, with Roku filling in as needed. Thomas, realizing his package has been lost, determines they should return to the warehouse and have another look at the crime scene. Thomas fills Ed in on what is happening, careful to conceal key details which would perhaps thwart the persona Thomas has so carefully crafted.

The Crime Scene

The Warehouse

As they trio approached the warehouse, they were greeted by the police line which composed two constables keeping a vigil against unwanted peepers. Constable Wallace and Constable Witlock groaned internally as they saw the amateur sleuths approach. Thomas, blessed with a silver tongue which had gotten him into as much trouble as out, convinced the constables to let him pass by and look at the body in hopes they could provide new information. The constables were not shallow men. Where Witlock was a staunch officer of the law, Wallace had spent enough time on the street to know when it was easier to just shift things up the ladder and let someone else deal with the situation. And since Thomas they were technically witnesses, they might just as well let the Detective sort it out. Leading them into the warehouse, a constables and a mortician were busy with the body, combing for clues and trying to piece together what happened.

Detective Morse

Thomas had little to no idea how fate twisted in this meeting. It was here they met Detective Morse. It was a odd coincidence that nobody bothered to get the man's name, nor did he offer it. The man was dressed in a simple grey suit, pointed shoes and wore a simple mustach. Beneath his black homburg was a receding hairline and piercing brown eyes. Thomas managed to dodge around the questions Detective Morse put to him. Thomas explained that Wilford Dolittle, was distantly related and they had been corresponding. He had lost touch with him and then found out he was here in town. he had hired the detectives to find him. The Detective ended the interview with a simple reminder that any information should be filed in a report, along with Dolittle's last known address and anything else Thomas might know, along with one of Thomas' business cards, TechEverlasting. Roku, while this was going on, managed to snap a few pictures of the scene and dead body, hoping he could learn something else later.

As Thomas is contemplating returning empty handed to McNab, Ed suggests bringing in someone who is better at reading people and getting a feel for this McNab. To Thomas' surprise, Ed mentions a mutual aquaintence, Lindion Mavienness. Fortune favored the searchers as they located Lindion dining with her former pupil, Henry. This relationship, though unknown to the others, was a fond connection Lindion cherished highly. Henry, a "special", as Lindion liked to refer to them in deference to their unique challenges, had been her pupil since a young age. Lindion, still a single young woman, looked on Henry, a man now in his twenties, more like a son. Though she never used those words, she could not escape the sense of motherly effection she had for the keen man. They had enjoyed a stroll down to the tradeway, where Henry had exclaimed his good fortune in securing a spot on the ship Covanant as a navigator. He was also going to be married to Claire, a young aristocratic woman of good breeding. This would be a very interesting connection, for Lindion, who knew how little this woman would be a constant source of pain in both of their lives.

Henry politely excused himself to get more tea, allowing the men to explain the situation to Lindion. She agreed to accompany them and took her leave of young Henry. Reaching the Shifty Whale for their meeting with McNab. Lindion excused herself and took Roku to a nearby table for drinks and food. Lindion positioned herself with a view of McNab and his men. McNab is suspicious and his men alert as Thomas explains the man McNab sent is dead. Explaining the details and avoiding anything that would get him in any deeper, he manages to convince McNab that someone else has gotten to his package. McNab allows that given Thomas' assistance, he will still get his reward. Lindion, from her perch, can only assume he is a clever man but there is no falsehood as far as she can see.

Leaving the public house, Lindion returend to her home, Thomas returned to his lab to fix the lock on his door, Ed ventured off to go look for more information regarding the murder from a reliable linecook he knows, and Roku went in search of something to eat.