The Stage is Set

The Police Station

Chief’s Office

SUNLIGHT broke the window in streaks, leaping around stacks of folders to fall upon police reports that were scattered across shelves, cabinets, and the floor. Speckles of dust floated lackadaisically through the natural light, only to be swallowed up in the long chains of smoke puffing out of Chief Ainsley’s mouth.

“Wires?” the chief said around the bundle in her mouth. Zosia hadn’t gotten a strong whiff of it outside yesterday, but now that they were sitting in the chief’s small office, the smell of the rolled herbs was almost as blinding as the sunlight to Zosia’s tired senses.

She had barely slept at all, and had instead spent the rest of the night turning constantly on her borrowed bed. It had been impossible to shake the image of crystal shards and teasing green eyes emblazoned on the back of her eyelids. Thankfully, if the chief had noticed Zosia’s dark circles, she hadn’t said a word.

Outside the office, muted through the thin wall, the buzz of the secretary’s summoning horn continued to hum.

“Wires,” Zosia affirmed. She uncrossed her legs, unable to remember when she had crossed them. “I stopped by the museum before I came to the office this morning. There wasn’t much left to see, but I did find a cable attached outside the window. I followed it to a tree just past the museum walls. A quick escape would be possible with a harness or some other apparatus.”

“That’s a new one,” the chief grunted around her cigarette. She tossed the papers in her hand tiredly onto the desk. They joined another pile, which slid beneath the added weight—right into a cup that had been partially buried beneath the chaos. The chipped mug tipped over with a thunk, spreading dark brown liquid across the ocean of papers.

“Damn it.” Chief Ainsley grumbled as Zosia hurried to snatch papers out of the way of the spreading tragedy. “I keep telling Angela to organize the files, but she never does. Who would have thought my last secretary would be the worst?” The chief leaned back into her chair, eyes falling shut beneath the weight of her furrowed brows.

Zosia held up the papers that had been damaged. They dripped sadly onto the floor.

“No sweat,” the chief said, cracking an eye open. “Toss those ones in the bin. You’ll just have to give me your copy for now.”

“Oh,” Zosia paused, holding the ruined papers over the waste bucket. Drops of liquid fell into the bin, softly patting against the pile of rubbish already waiting within. “I’m afraid I’ll have to write a new one up for you.”

“You didn’t make a copy?” the chief asked and Zosia could feel the judgment from the other woman. She constantly felt like she was being sized up for any potential failure—real or imagined.

“I did,” Zosia assured, “but I keep all of my personal copies in code. Here.”

Zosia set the ruined papers into the bucket, then took out a handkerchief from her pocket. She used the cloth to dry her hands as quickly as she could. When they were as clean as she could manage, she extracted her own files from within her bag.

The chief took them immediately, flipping the pages around, then upside down. After a moment, she huffed. Maybe it was her own pride reading too much into it, but Zosia thought she looked mildly impressed.

The chief tossed them across the table, avoiding the coffee puddle. “Huh. Indiscernible. Not bad.”

“I’ll make another copy and have it ready for your records tomorrow,” Zosia promised.

Chief Ainsley tipped back in her chair, sliding against the worn leather. “That’s fine.” She jerked her chin towards the papers as Zosia picked them back up. “Seems like you’ve picked up our department's filing codes and formatting pretty well.”

“I don’t mind paperwork,” Zosia replied humbly. She hadn’t delivered a thief for the chief last night, but she could at least display competence when it came to paperwork.

The chief laughed roughly, some smoke coming out her nose. “The previous detective took four days to fill out the form properly. By the time he got it down, he’d already had enough of the job. I think most of his hair was gone, too.” She made a sound that could have been another laugh or perhaps a cough. The air in the office was hazy, full of the scent of dried herbs and smoke.

“Well then.” The chief leaned back, turning in her chair slightly to look out through the grimy windows. “You don’t have as much time as he did, I’m afraid. Only one gem left.”

“Apologies again, Chief,” Zosia said. She looked down at her hands clasped in front of her, one wrapped with fresh bandages. “I’ll try to perform better at the next mission.” Zosia paused to look up. “Will it be a stakeout this time, or…?”

“Oh, you bet,” the chief said. “The mayor was furious when he found out that we were just there by happenstance last night. He yelled and stomped around, probably all the way back to the crystal carvers to order the next replacement. We’ll have to tape the whole place up to keep a hold of that last gem.” She exhaled slowly, tendrils of smoke curling around her wrinkled face. Beneath her breath she mumbled, “Can’t fathom why they don’t just lock the damn thing up. Is their reputation that important to have it on display? Damn nobility. You’d have thought the Empire crashing down would have taught them something about pride. Guess not.” She pulled her cigarette to her mouth for another long, deep drag.

Zosia subtly cleared her mouth, trying to keep her breathing short. She vaguely wondered if she would need to have her uniform cleaned after this. The chief could get away with it, of course, but Zosia didn’t feel that it would be professional for a normal officer to reek of fumes.

Chief Ainsley gave Zosia another appraising look. Then she shifted as she relaxed into her chair, groaning at the motion. “Well, hopefully it’ll go smoothly tonight. And assuming it does, every night after that.” She made a noise that could have been either a laugh or a cough. “The irony isn’t lost on these old bones. The longer we successfully protect those silly stones, the more work it’s going to be for us.”

Zosia wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. After a moment of deliberation, she settled on, “Whatever happens, I’ll try my best.”

The chief tapped her cigarette onto a tray peeking out beneath the papers. The ashes tumbled as she ground the rolled herbs against the stone. “I’ll count on that, Novak. All things considered, I’m glad the academy could send someone so quickly.”

“I’m glad I had an opening between missions,” Zosia nodded. “It’s my pleasure to serve.”

The chief coughed as she nodded. It took her a few moments to settle herself, during which a quiet fell over the office. Zosia realized that the horn was still humming tirelessly outside.

Oblivious to the noise, the chief stared into space, lost in thought. Zosia was just wondering if that was a sign to excuse herself when the woman continued.

“If we let that thief walk over us again, it’s game over. You can’t even imagine the paperwork losing the last gem would cause. Unlike you, I’m not a fan of it. And I hate dealing with an angry mayor even more.”

“Understood, Chief.”

The chief nodded. Then she brushed her hand holding the cigarette towards the door. Zosia was torn between leaving and watching to make sure none of those red embers fell on the desk. One pool of spilled coffee wasn’t going to be enough to prevent the pile of papers from going up in flames.

After a moment of deliberation, she stood up to take her leave. She already had her hands full preventing one calamity; the chief would have to make do in her own office.

Her hand was turning the doorknob when the chief called out behind her.

“Oh—Novak.”

Zosia turned around as the chief gestured again. “I don’t know if this will help you in the case, but… maybe it’s worth mentioning. Every clue helps, right?”

Zosia nodded. “Agreed. What do you have?”

Chief Ainsley tapped her cigarette on the tray again, despite it still being still unladen with ash. She glanced at the door. Zosia, reading the hesitance in the chief’s eyes, pulled it shut tight again, closing them off from the rest of the office.

Satisfied, the chief leaned forward. Despite the fact that they were alone, her voice dropped into a raspy whisper.

“Before she was a shard in our sides, The Star was on the hunt in Marzena. She stole one of the Dire Crystals there too, remember?” She eyed Zosia pointedly, as if to double-check that she had read the related reports.

Zosia nodded; she had the reports memorized. Unlike common sun or moon crystals that provided light, star crystals were rarer and served a variety of miscellaneous purposes. The Dire Crystals were a legendary pair of star crystals that were rumored to have once been a single stone. When the two halves were struck together, they sparked an inferno capable of ravaging entire cities—it was supposedly how the capital city of Lorelain had been razed back during the final days of the Empire.

Unlike the Dire Crystals, the Crown Jewels on display here in Partyn were, thankfully, much less dangerous. They had once sat in each of the six points on the Imperial Crown, making them both historical artifacts and exceptionally valuable. Zosia wasn’t aware if they served any greater purpose than looking beautiful, though. There were no records of their uses that she could find. If they did have some greater ability or power, it hadn’t been enough to save the Empress who once wore them.

“Of course,” Zosia replied to the chief. “But there was only one Dire Crystal in Marzena. On its own, the half crystal is useless.”

“That’s true. Thankfully. But you’re only looking at the surface, Novak.” The chief grunted, her brows furrowed. “I reached out to the chief of the Marzenian police force. He thinks that all this nonsense with the recent heists—” Chief Ainsley gestured at the pile of paperwork on her desk “—might be bigger than it appears.”

“Bigger?” Zosia straightened her back. “As in…?”

The chief nodded. “The public record and those dratted Marzenian reporters went on and on about the Dire Crystal. But that wasn’t the only thing our thief stole. While she was digging around in Lord Hinterton’s vault, she also grabbed a scroll. Not something of much monetary value, mind you. It was a historical artifact with some scribbles from the Advancement Age—and an item that a certain group was rumored to have their eye on.” She paused. The air hung heavy with smoke. Zosia wished she could open one of the windows—it was reaching the point where it was difficult to breathe.

“W—” Zosia coughed, clearing her throat and, hopefully, her lungs, at least a little. “Ugh, excuse me. What else did the chief in Marzena tell you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“They seemed to think that our thief might be part of some larger crime organization. Perhaps…” she trailed off. Her gaze drifted back to the windows, the soft rays pulling shadows on the creases around her eyes. “…even the Under.”

“The… Under?”

The chief wrapped her fingers together, her cigarette caged between, looking slightly uncomfortable. “The Under is a dark rumor that may or may not actually be out there. If there’s any truth to the whispers, it’s a small but elusive crime organization that has pulled the strings of some of the most elaborate heists. Nothing has ever been proven, though.”

Tension hung in the air, even thicker than the fumes of burning herbs.

The chief glanced up at Zosia. “I’m a bit surprised you haven’t heard of them, Detective. Perhaps they haven’t struck in Lythenor yet. Makes sense for a neutral territory, I suppose.” She sighed, then cracked a weary smile. The pressure lessened slightly. “Perhaps I should request a relocation over there.”

“They’d be lucky to have you,” Zosia said politely.

Outside, the horn started humming again. Zosia hadn’t realized it had stopped until the trembling vibration picked back up.

“That damn thing,” the chief growled. She waved her hand at Zosia. “Right! I’ve kept you long enough with rumors and hearsay. Never thought I’d end up like this. Thought I’d ease into retirement quietly, but that damn mayor won’t let me step down until this all over, one way or another.” She scowled, then relaxed, as if the effort of all this was too tedious for her to deal with.

“Thank you for telling me, Chief,” Zosia said, pressing her hand to her chest in a sign of sincerity. “It’d be nice if you got the retirement you’re dreaming of.”

The chief barked a laugh. “I appreciate that, Detective. Now go on—you’re dismissed.”

Zosia smiled as she twisted the doorknob and stepped outside the room. The wave of fresh air outside felt blissful in her chest.

“Oh!”

Zosia froze, then debated turning around. Again? I shouldn’t have signed out from my shift before coming here...

Somewhat hesitantly, Zosia turned around to glance back at her boss in the smoky room.

The chief yelled out, “Could you find Angela while you’re out there? Her break ended 15 minutes ago. The damn horn keeps ringing—when it goes off I can’t even hear myself think. Get her for me, will you, Novak?”

“Of course, Chief.”