Pilara - Chapter Six

During the reconstruction of Letennia that followed the Second War, the Palace was the very first building to be erected. It comprised of a massive collection of shimmering domes, blended together in an organic fashion to resemble the piles of gold of a dragon's hoard. The golden heart of the mighty city, and in turn, the heart of the entire nation.

However, to De'lauclan, the various 'bubbles' of glittering light were a hurdle for him and his duties. The inspector grumbled under his breath as he and Meck walked up the enormous set of steps to the entrance, the shorter sword-for-hire fighting back the urge to laugh. His employer was notorious for his distaste for the ruling party of Letennia, who often made his job more difficult than the actual hunting of lawbreakers.

After De'lauclan had left the Menagerie the day before, he had fought tooth and nail to be able to speak to the Council before Letennia's ruling body was dismissed for Harvest Festival. It had taken the inspector and Meck hours of waiting at the Palace to speak to the Council adjutant, and over three hundred Letennian marks to encourage the secretary to make the appointment.

Stepping through the open archways that marked entrance to the geometric and political center of Letennia, they were afforded a view of the enormous statue known as Marek's Call. It was easily thirty feet tall, crafted of a gargantuan diamond mined from deep within Kar'naan. The effort to bring the stone to the city was as difficult as the sculpture itself. Diamond was notorious for being resilient to magic, requiring the finest sculptors from across the land to be summoned. The statue portrayed Marek Letennus, the city's founder, plunging his sword into the foundation of what would one day be Letennia. Tourists from as far as Teligrad and Laresh would come to see what was renowned as the greatest piece of artwork to be constructed since the Reckoning.

Reverently tipping his head to the statue, De'lauclan made his way around it, avoiding a crowd of lizardlike Ra'kulans who clung to one another, murmuring and admiring the piece.

Meck seemed to be on the verge of distractedly veering off towards an attractive member of Maharran nobility on vacation in the city as De'lauclan jerked him out of the way of a massive cloaked figure, wrapped head to toe in black robes and bandages. It seemed to be slightly hunched, and moved with a bizarre gait. The two stopped for a moment, and De'lauclan seemed surprised. Meck noticed, and asked, "Wha's all that about?"

"Look at the feet," De'lauclan murmured.

"Sweet mother o' Marek," was the quiet reply, as the mercenary's eyes wandered lower on the robed hulk. Under the multitudinous folds of the fabric that it was adorned with, strange claw-like appendages carried it across the plaza, clicking quietly against the smoothe marble floor, resembling the tarsal claws of an insect. A brief glimpse of the leg was seen as well, clad in a mottled black and brown carapace. "It's a Kresh."

"Kireesh," the inspector said, correcting Meck. He was hardly surprised Meck didn't know the proper name, impressed that he had some idea what it was. The Kireesh were a little known race, with very few details known to even the most accomplished scholars. They were insectoid in appearance, arthopods that had evolved greatly from their cousins; the ants, flies, and bees of the world. They were capable of learning the human tongue, and the few that existed outside of their nearly unheard of hive-cities were normally encountered in the outskirts of civilization, along the edge of the Keljonian wastelands or in the depths of the seediest black market regions of Maharra. Secretive and mysterious, nobody knew where the hive-cities were, and the Kireesh that were encountered in the civilized world never allowed themselves to be tracked. The general opinion on the matter was that they would stay an enigma as long as they wished, no more, no less.

"Wonder what one'o'them is doin' in the Palace. Maybe'e's lookin' fer some honey," Meck quipped about the insect-man.

"Yes. I wonder," the inspector said, and turned on his heel, continuing the journey that had been interrupted by the alien passerby.

"'ey, maybe that's the killer, huh? Don't they got big narsty claws'n'stuff?" The thought seemed to excite Meck, hunting a bug-man, and he began making comical clawing motions at the air, simulating the murder of the prostitutes.

"Supposedly, yes, they do." De'lauclan avoided responding to the question Meck posed to him; despite a hunch that the insectoid was hardly here as a tourist, he had a feeling it didn't venture to Letennia in the hopes of slaughtering harlots. Meck shrugged, giving another claw through the air at the Kireesh, and turned to follow his employer as he began walking again.

A few minutes of navigating the halls and multiple levels of the Palace, the duo entered a long hallway, slightly sloping upwards before leveling out after about one hundred feet. At the end stood a gargantuan set of double doors, two armored soldiers standing before them. Lining the walls on either side were long marble benches, home to at least a dozen Letennian citizens. Some were dressed as peasants, some nobility, and one was shackled, sitting between two soldiers. De'lauclan smirked as he recognized the man, having been the one who had revealed his coldthistle smuggling ring.

De'lauclan strolled past the former drug dealer with his hands in his pockets, whistling a tune as the convict's eyes widened with realization, jerking forward out of his seat. His rage was quickly stymied as one of his guards delivered a sharp kick to the back of his leg, causing him to crumple back into his seat. The soldier nodded respectfully to De'lauclan, who smirked at the drug dealer before stepping up to the door.

"Chief Inspector De'lauclan, you're late," chastised one of the door-keepers.

"Have I -ever- been on time, Jom?" the inspector asked, smiling coyly. Chuckling, the older guard and his companion pushed the doors open. Meck stood back a bit, taking a seat on a bench; the Council had issues with a hired sword being the head of the Inspectors Society's right hand man, and the mercenary knew De'lauclan needed all the favor he could garner. Nodding to his partner, the inspector stepped past the threshold into the Council's Chamber.

After Jorr V had rebuilt Letennia, despite his love for the city, he was not his father. Jorr's reign lead to a series of scandals involving the distribution of drugs and illegal arms through the Royal Treasury, with Jorr even being outed as a closet coldthistle addict. His rule was dissolved with brutal haste, and the nobility declared their kingdom would no longer be ruled by one man. A 'democratic' form of government would be instilled, the nation of Letennia being ruled by the elected Council of Seven.

De'lauclan was very, very bad at hiding his disdain for the Council; even as he entered their presence, he refrained from the usual kneeling and verbal tribute, simply saying, "Good day, esteemed Council members."

The Seven seemed to be hardly amused by his lack of respect, treating him with cold silence save for one aging man, a smiling, gray-haired, handsome ex-soldier named Madrim Solsar. Madrim was formerly at the head of the Letennian Army, until he was asked to join the Council; Madrim had a penchant for being a charismatic leader, a trait the Council tended to lack. During a skirmish at the border of Maharra with a group of smugglers, Madrim lost his eye to a stray arrow. He was quickly asked to help lead Letennia, as despite his own objections his combat effectiveness was brought into question after losing the eye. The military was sad to see him go, but he earnestly took up his new position, happy to be serving Letennia in whatever manner possible. De'lauclan reserved his dislike for all of the Council but Madrim, finding him to be the only one of the Seven he could tolerate, even going so far as to consider the former general a friend.

Madrim nodded respectfully, speaking with a strong and hearty voice.

"Good day to you as well, Chief Inspector. Today we will be forced to dispense with pleasantries I'm afraid. Very busy, you know," he said, giving a hearty chuckle. It was true; as Harvest Festival loomed in the week ahead, the Council was allowed the same time to spend with their families, only formally meeting at the end of the Festival week to announce the official start of the harvest.

"Quite alright, Councilman. I expect to be brief," De'lauclan said.

"Very good. What can you provide for us on the topic of the theft from the Museum of Antiquities, Inspector De'lauclan?" Sarin Lavelle stared from the heightened platform at which the Council sat, on the far end of the large courtroom.

De'lauclan cursed her in his head, and spoke with as little sarcasm as he could manage, "I'm afraid that case is inconsequential compared to the murder in Market District, Council-man- Lavelle." A smile had to be forced back as the female Council member's forehead tightened, a large vein easily visible on the aged woman as she silently fumed.

"Inconsequential? A priceless artifact from Faralon Masser's first expedition is inconsequential to you. Fascinating. Exactly what do you find to BE consequential, Inspector? The death of two prostitutes, no doubt?" Lavelle glared down at him with a cruel smile, which De'lauclan found extremely unnerving. -Something's wrong-, he thought to himself.

"Actually, yes, ma'am, I do find the -murder- of two -women- to be fairly important, when I have reason to believe it was done by a beast of some manner." De'lauclan folded his arms across his chest, absently stroking the patched claw-marks on his left sleeve.

"Inspector, the death of two prostitutes is hardly worth raising a fuss about. I'm inclined to agree with my fellow Councilmembers that the theft of the artifact is much more important." To De'lauclan's horror, these words came not from Lavelle or one of her cohorts, but from Madrim.

"Councilman Madrim, I can't believe what I'm hearing. As I just said, and as I'm sure as you all read in the report I delivered to you, there could be a seriously dangerous killer on the loose, immediately prior to the dismissal of over half the city's guards." De'lauclan's arms fell to his side again, fists clenching in anger.

"Inspector, we summoned you today to inform you your services on -both- cases are no longer required," growled Gerron Gall, an ancient man who had been on the council for nearly seventy years. "Consider it your vacation for Harvest Festival."

De'lauclan trembled with anger, clenching and unclenching his fists rapidly. Wisps of smoke began to grow from his palms, an occasional spark flicking to the floor.

"Control yourself, Inspector," Madrim said sternly, gazing down from the higher perch at De'lauclan. His eyes were strange, and as the angry detective prepared to snarl a retort, the Councilman winked. De'lauclan's anger quickly disappeared, blinking with confusion for a moment. "The last thing this city needs before Harvest Festival is the fear that there may be something stalking the streets. The investigations, both of them, will be postponed until the start of the new month, and that's final."

"I... Yes, I understand Councilman."

"Very good. I'd like to see you in my chambers immediately Inspector. The Council will re-convene in one hour, ask the rest of today's visitors to wait, Jom," Madrim said, his voice a low growl. The guard nodded, and stepped out, closing the large doors behind him. De'lauclan was stunned by his friend's behavior, much to the pleasure of the rest of the Council. They chuckled and joked to themselves as they filtered out, leaving the befuddled Inspector alone.

---

"Had you going there, didn't I, Ramn?" Madrim chuckled heartily as the younger man sat down in a large, comfortable chair.

"Was that really necessary, Madrim?" De'lauclan asked, frowning and folding his arms across his chest out of habit.

"Entirely, my young friend," the Councilman said, pacing back and forth before De'lauclan, "Did you happen to wonder why the Council decided to nix both of your cases?"

"I figured it was because they didn't want to have to be here during the Festival."

"Ahh, yes, that's part of it. The other part would be the fact we've come into a fairly incredible bit of information." Madrim reached De'lauclan to the desk sitting nearby, and set a piece of parchment in his lap. As he looked at it, De'lauclan's eyes widened, and the ex-general nodded. "I assume you understand what this is."

"It's a map to the underground," he murmured, inspecting the paper intently. It was an incredibly well-detailed layout of the sewer system in the city, and depicted the entrance to the headquarters of Letennia's Thieves' Guild. "I knew Dark Run existed, but is this real? Where'd you get this?"

"We have an incredibly reliable source," Madrim said quietly, seating himself behind a gold-wrought table. "The Council has decided that tomorrow, at dawn, the Thieves' Guild will be purged from the city."

De'lauclan's head jerked upwards. "They're sending the army in there?"

"Yes. Lavelle and the others decided it would be a fitting start to the Harvest Festival to have the leader of the Guild executed in plain daylight. You know how little tolerance they have the unsavory types, Ramn."

The inspector shook his head, a hand reaching up to stroke the stubble of his chin. "This is enormous, Madrim. The fact someone came forward with this information, when the guild's operated for at least a few hundred years now. Incredible. Who was it?"

"One of their own. Incredibly influential. I met with her myself, and that's all you need to know," Madrim said, and De'lauclan detected an odd tone to his voice. Adjusting the leather patch that shielded his marred eye from the world, the councilman turned to the side, staring out a window at the rest of the city. "I want you to go with them."

"What? Why me?" De'lauclan had refrained from giving his real opinion on the matter, to protect his own interests from any eavesdroppers that might be listening in; he had as many connections through people in the Thieves' Guild as he did legitimate contacts. The guild never operated in excess, and was extremely opposed to violence, leaving De'lauclan with very little to complain about.

"My source also revealed another important fact. The Gauntlets of Oro'volun, the stolen piece from the Museum, have been located in Dark Run itself. They refused to give over whoever had them, as they'd done enough in giving me that map," Madrim said.

"Which has what to do with me, exactly?"

Madrim smiled softly at De'lauclan. "I want you to apprehend the thief and deliver them to the Council."

"I don't care about what the Council thinks of me, Madrim."

"Ahh, but you should," Madrim said, a dark cloud passing over his face. "The Council has talked of dissolving the Inspectors' Society."

"What?!" De'lauclan leapt to his feet, fists balled at his side. As in the Council's chambers, wispy trails of smoke rose from his hands, magic energy seething, aching to be released.

"The Inspectors ruffle too many feathers in regards to the Council and their, backers, shall we say." It was common knowledge that, aside from Madrim, the Council was at the beck and call of Letennia's most noble and affluent citizens. "You need this. It might not be today, it might not be a month from now, but either way, the Council is highly considering eliminating the Society."

De'lauclan fell back into his seat, gripping the arms of the chair with murderous intent.

"I can assure you, if you managed to bring the thief in with the artifact, the Society's permanency would be ensured, Ramn," Madrim said, standing and walking past him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Remember. Dawn." With those last words, the dignitary walked out of the room, De'lauclan once again left with his thoughts, and his thoughts alone.

"Meck."

The mercenary had been posted outside the door, and he peered inside, looking to his employer curiously. "Yeah boss?"

"Go home for the day, and get a good night's rest. Meet me at the office an hour before dawn."

"Before dawn! Why so early, Inspect'r?"

"We're taking a tour of the sewer system."