The Secrets of Tyrrus

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The more she drank, the more infectious Lucian's laugh was. Kara grinned in response, finishing the drink she had stolen while she worked on a reason to leave this scene. Upon finding one, she relayed it to Lucian, whose response was very different than she could have predicted. But that was what made life fun, wasn't it? Watching Lucian walk up to the man, Kara's gaze sharpened as she analyzed the interaction between the two. The man didn't have very long to yell before Lucian cocked his arm and punched him full on in the face. Kara's eyes widened, and then she grinned. So, low on patience and eager for the fight? What a potent mix. Getting to her feet, she took her time finishing the alcohol that was left on the table before making her way to the two males grappling and wrestling along the floor. She would have been content to watch, had the rest of the slightly drunken adults in the bar not decided to also join in.

Grabbing Lucian's shoulder in between punches, she prayed he wouldn't hit her as she yelled that they should probably go before his buddies came and tried to arrest them all before darting out in order to avoid the drunken chaos.

 

Waiting out here was something that Zephyr could do provided he found himself a place to sit. The lack of a book to read could be beneficial on the off chance he heard something else that actually was useful. There weren't any high hopes on that happening though, no one else was really saying anything that could've been helpful. It suck, but there wasn't much anything he could do about it. Having little to no influences limited what he was able to do.

Walking around for a bit Zephyr did manage to find himself a place to sit and just wait around. The option to go find Kara did stand, but Zephyr recalled hearing the guard she was talking to wanted to get a drink, meaning that they could very well doing just that. He didn't want to deal with that kind of atmosphere or the people in that atmosphere at all if he could have any say init. In this case, he did very much have a say in that.

 

Mirabelle afforded the Sergeant a small smile as he answered her question. She considered informing him of her little deception soon, likely when all was said and done with the crime scene. Doing that may well improve their relations with him, although she suspected that her ruses had not worked and he was well aware of the truth. Nevertheless, it would be good to come clean as a show of trust.
"Very good Sergeant. We will work together well I should think." She said honestly, before they proceeded inside. Dylan was wary of Constabulary officers, and perhaps for good reason in some cases. Something about this man however, struck her as someone dependable. Upon their return to the office she would propose that he let his dislike go in this case.

They were soon admitted into the room where the chaos had taken place. She pulled a grim face as she surveyed the bloodshed. The injuries spoke of an excellent marksman. Not a single missed shot. There was a vague scent of gunpowder in the air. The room was sparsely furnished, though the choice of decor was formal with some embellishment, and were it not for the dead bodies and scattered papers it would have maintained its atmosphere as a calm place to conduct discussion. Notably, two of the dead were people she knew. Minister, and Lady, Karen Hawk she had spoken to at a party not long ago, and she knew of her colleague Minister Winston Wallis. She felt a little sad to look upon her body here. She quite enjoyed Karen's company and was considering meeting up with her again soon. That would not be possible now it seemed. Mira looked away, there was other work to do and she had to piece together why this shooting took place.

She watched Sergeant Crowne pace around the room. She raised an eyebrow when he pulled out his revolver, but his intentions became clear. However, there was something that had caught her eye. A small corner of the carpet had been lifted, and it seemed a little unusual. Such a thing was not neat, or orderly. The chairs were spread out across the room, but that made sense. Naturally there would be a ruckus and some seats moved and knocked over in the scramble. The carpet being lifted in that area seemed unusual. With Dylan's talk of escape tunnels, she wondered if the architect and the designers of the room would put a tunnel in such an almost predictable place.

The Sergeant interrupted her investigations, passing over a note. She had been listening as he talked, going through his theory of events, and to her eyes it seemed to check out. A murder-suicide would have left them no trail, that much was for certain. One thing struck her as incomplete about the theory though.
"Interesting, interesting..." She held the note and tapped the head of her cane with her clockwork hand as she read. She nodded to his whispered statement. Could survival instincts overpower mind control, or was there a certain fact that they were missing? Could something possibly have disturbed the magic's function somehow? If so, what? "But how did the Grand Minister factor into this? Why would she have opened fire with such unerring aim, but fail to kill the most important person? The purpose of this attack therefore must be questioned. Your reasoning indicates that her marksmanship would have allowed her to hit whoever she so chose... As a side note Sergeant Crowne, might I direct your investigative talents to that upraised carpet there? I wonder how that lifted area fits into your narrative." She gestured to the area in question. She could only hope that he might have the same thought that she had - That perhaps one of these hidden escape tunnels that Dylan was interested in could be located there as a place to hide it. It may not be, and it was hardly the most practical place, but it could be.

Something about the situation seemed off, as if they were missing the true purpose of this mission. Now that she had passed on the responsibility for looking at that area of carpet to someone else, she could focus on things closer to her sphere of knowledge. Mira wondered - Was she there for the Grand Minister at all? Immediately, her mind fell to political motives. The Minister of Foreign Affairs turned around and opened fire on those attending this conference, felling the guards quickly enough that they could barely react and missed the highest ranking politician in the room. Why? Did the Grand Minister flee too quickly? She set her mind to it and began to consider the possibilities.

Mirabelle ran through recent events in politics. Her conversation with Minister Hawk and other aristocrats with knowledge of Ministry affairs had revealed to her a new policy that had yet to emerge. Lilian Harbrook planned to place regulations specifically on the influx of Hirokiri immigrants, reducing the amount that could enter the country. Despite the two countries nominally being at a cease fire, Mira had no doubt that there was some tension boiling beneath the surface. Sadly, she could not quite confirm that theory, but Hirokiri/Tyrranean relations had always been tense. If Lord Gallahowe had a Hirokiri practitioner of mind control magic as his conversation with Harbrook herself seemed to imply, then it would only make sense that she was controlled by a catspaw of his. By either eliminating her outright, or discrediting her if she lived, that bill would surely fail as the Grand Minister opposed it. Its major proponent lost her credibility or died, and its major opponent yet lived. There was nothing yet to connect the Grand Minister to Gallahowe's hypothetical intent here - Not yet. If he employed Hirokiri immigrants then it did play awfully well into his hands that it just so happened that the one who opposed that bill was killed. He could have his Hirokiri workforce. Perhaps there was a further agenda - Considering that the cease-fire would not last forever, could Gallahowe be considering something even bolder? A power-grab with Hirokiri backing perhaps? Their beliefs of unity would engender them to banding together as Hirokiri. Could he be influenced by their cause? It seemed big - Far bigger than reasonable. For now, he just got potentially cheap labour to work in his factories and the skilled ones could help him in his workshop.

Mira withdrew her fountain pen from her pocket and a small notepad and wrote a written note to the Sergeant which she handed to him, and a copy to show Dylan later.

I have a theory as to what might be the motive for this murder. Minister Harbrook was proposing a bill to limit the amount of Hirokiri immigrants that were entering the country, while the Grand Minister opposed it. If Gallahowe does indeed have a preference for Hirokiri immigrants to work for him, then there may have been action by him to deliberately stop the bill. By having the Minister of Foreign Affairs murder two guards and three Ministers then she would be discredited and the motion all but forgotten. Better if she had killed herself, dying on top of ruining her reputation. Its main political opponent survives, hence the Grand Minister being unharmed when she could easily have been killed.
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Dylan stood back and surveyed the room, his eyes fleeting across the bodies, the blood, the layout of the room, and the anomalies. Sergeant Crowne proved surprisingly observant as he quickly analysed the scene, re-enacting the events. Dylan agreed with his assessment, but something caught his attention; the first five shots were made with the skill of a marksman, the last shot couldn't possibly have missed, and she can't have been captured until several minutes after these events. Like all magic, Dylan suspected that this mind control had its limits. Dylan raised an eyebrow as the Grand Minister was mentioned "I agree, If the perpetrator of this crime wanted the Grand Minister dead, then we'd be staring down at her body right now" Dylan observed "And do you guys wanna stop handing around notes like school-children? Seriously" Dylan rolled his eyes as he stepped over to the section of upraised carpet which, he too, had noticed. Kneeling down, he noticed bloody hand-prints around the section of floor. As he examined the floor, he spoke some of his thoughts "Lilian was commanded to kill herself, but she pulled back at the last moment. To my mind, that means there's a limit to this magic. It works until you ask someone to harm themself. Yet the fact this mage tried anyway means that they were hopeful it would work. Soooo, they're learning still. Interesting" Looking at the layout of the room, this area was much closer to the head of the table than it was to the exit door. "So, Grand Minister Draycaster, who had been seated right there, sees Lilian going berserk. First thing she does, try to escape" Dylan noted the placement of a male minister's body between the Grand Minister's seat and the door "A man dies in front of her, she gets blood all over her, carries on towards her escape, but the door..." Dylan's examination of the floor had yielded a slightly upraised floorboard and a faint seam in a square shape. He ran his fingers along the edge of this board and found a button. Pressing it, he heard a lock mechanism click, and yet the door still refused to budge "...is stuck. Likely something on the other side of the door, blocking it. I doubt it's anything amazingly secure, so something with enough force should get us through"

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"Medical records... good idea" Lynda nodded with appreciation "But we don't keep that sort of thing here, I'm sure you'll be glad to know you won't be digging through those archives anymore" Lynda said with a good-humoured accusatory tone. Lynda thought for a moment. The Steiner Institute would be a good place to visit for this sort of thing, but many nobles had their own personal doctors. "It's possible Miss Harbrook might have her own personal doctor, in which case it might be best to visit her mansion. But even they might have to report back to the Steiner Institute of Medicine, which would definitely keep recent medical records of their patients. In any case, the mansion might be a good place for finding other clues to this case. If you have a preference for a location to visit I can start getting us a permit"

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The crowd surrounding Dragoncrest Plaza had begun to disperse as the interest died down, yet one man remained staring out into the square. He'd been there the whole time, immaculately dressed in his black jacket and waistcoat, a pair of tinted black sunglasses resting on a handsome face, topped with fashionably styled hair that was almost white. Eight years of rigorous training earlier in life had given this man the muscles of a wrestler, the reflexes of a cat, and marksmanship that outclassed even specialist assassins. And yet, he blended in with the civilian crowd with ease, appearing as just another charming gentleman. This was a man who could take on an army, a highly trained elite, the paragon of the human form, a-
The man was interrupted from this chain of thought as the radio on his hip buzzed. He sighed, and brought it up to his ear.
"Mum? Yes. Yes. I know. Okay, I know. What? No. NO! Yeah, got it. Bye. No, Bye. Bye. I get it. Bye. Love you too"

 

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"How much is 'enough'?" Jebediah asked walking up and standing next to the panel in the ground and examined it, it was old, that made it strong... but hey, it was worth a shot! He ushered Dylan back as he stood up right and lifted his right leg and tightened the bolts on his knee joint before lowering it back on top of the door very slowly though this seemed to be for comfort more then anything "Okay; this should work." He assured everyone as with an elegance he raised his knee to his chest before slamming it down upon the trap door with immense speed.
Thankfully for his pride the door swung open downwards, first the sound of wood snapping as the wooden board behind the door snapped in two before; a loud bang swiftly followed as as the door hit itself on the stone lined walls of the revealed ladder down into darkness, that part he based on the sounds echos as Jebediah found himself looking directly at his leg massaging it with one hand and frantically loosening the joints with the other as he breathed through his teeth, after the tension was released he was able to gasp a small private cry giving everyone else time to get a look down the hole, only after did he glance at it "So... Ladies first?".

 

He had already resigned himself to the prospect of a dull day at the desk, wrangling paperwork and sifting through old files while fighting to maintain enough attention to actually pick something up from the dull materia when Lynda told him that today wasn't going to be such a day. He was overjoyed to be told that he wouldn't have to sift through the constabulary's own archives and was in a visibly better mood having received this news. "Ma'am you don't know half of it." Ulrich replied with a grin on his face.

Ulrich thought for a moment about the choice that was lain in front of him. While the Steiner institute might provide some more concrete answers as to how the blood was acquired or if there was a potential condition to be exploited in Miss Harbrook's case. However her mansion would widen their search and provide them with other answers. Ulrich figured it'd be better to cast the net wide on this one. "Ma'am, I think it would be better to go for the mansion, it has a chance of yielding those records and perhaps I could ask around whether there has been a Hirokiri around, if it seems like a reasonable conclusion to you that the suspect is most likely of Hirokiri origin or has ties with them, I mean the evidence seems to point at the use of the forbidden arts, so it would make a Hirokiri suspect a lot more likely." Ulrich said motivating his choice. Another small part of his motivation was that most likely he wouldn't have to sift through medical records, but both of them knew he wouldn't have to mention that little bit, either option could yield progress in this investigation and solving this case might help a little with the sore reputation of the constabulary.

 

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Rigel wandered into the street, running his fingers through his hair. He had forgotten his original mission, and instead strolled into a clothing store, where he had almost been talked into buying a pair of silk shirts for half off. After deciding he needed to save the money for food and rent, Rigel had walked into a bookstore, and been far more entranced by the shelves of old paper and bindings that promised knowledge. He had spent a good amount of time in there, reading through the old lore and fantasies the book keeper had to offer. Thoughts of once more figuring out what he had originally planned to do caused him to leave once again, but he promised the owner of the shop he would return when he had more time in order to purchase some of his fine wars. Now, Rigel found himself wandering around Savior's Spire, still unsure of his original purpose.

It was at this point he came upon a robotic figure, staring up at the statue that was central to the place. Wondering if he/it/she? was lost, Rigel paused in his walking. Could robots get lost? Perhaps this one had been programmed with the capacity. Clearing his throat, he stepped up next to Aspire. "Are you lost?" He asked pointedly, seeing no goal in beating around the bush with pleasant conversation. Most robots seemed to appreciate blunt words compared to the fancy figures of speech humans could use.

 

Zephyr watched as the once large crowd of people begin the process of thinning out and leaving, the lack of interest evident as he heard them mumbling various things to themselves as they walked past where he had seated himself. Times like these were wear he wished h had some way of getting closer to the actual scene of the crime....Okay a way that wouldn't cause problems for the others. At the very least he could keep an eye out for anything suspicious on the off chance something like that occurred.

It may not have been suspicious, but it did stick out to him somewhat noticing the white haired man. While waking around during his attempts at eavesdropping, he'd looked at the faces of crowd and not at one point did he recalled seeing a single hint of this guy. This both puzzled Zephyr as well as made curious about this guy. Maybe I should keep an eye on him.

 

Dylan hardly seemed to appreciate the note passing, but she could understand that. He was being left out of the loop a little, but she had every intention on filling him in on all the relevant details later. He made an interesting assumption about the competency of the mage that cast the spell. That seemed logical - The bullet hole in the ceiling attested to the attempt at suicide and it seemed more than a little unlikely that it was a gambit to make them underestimate the mage. After all, they had no idea how the magic worked in the first place. She watched her employer check underneath the carpet, and just as she suspected, there it was. The entrance that she suspected was there.

And then Sergeant Crowne busted the door with a steel leg. She looked at him sympathetically as he grunted quietly. Smashing through solid wood like that probably was not the most pleasant thing to do, especially with augments. She hardly would have relished the prospect of doing that with her own arm, albeit hers was a little more ornamental than the officer's. Hers would be far more expensive to replace. Mira peered down the revealed door, settling to one knee to get a closer look as the room's light failed to penetrate the darkness below.
"Do you have a light?" Mira asked, a shake of Dylan's head answered the question for her. She expected no help from Sergeant Crowne. "Very well." Resignedly, she sighed and gingerly clambered on to the ladder.

Part way down, she recalled that Dylan was a smoker and could have at least lent her his lighter. It was hardly as if he were going to light up a cigarette inside the Ministry, and surely not at the expense of one of his employees. That being said, he was not the most social person. Perhaps it simply would not have occurred. Mira made a mental note to carry some sort of lighting implement with her in the future. Considering how what should have been a routine day in the office turned into a dive into the secret tunnels of the Ministry, she no longer trusted the profession to remain even relatively sane.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the stone underfoot. Mira estimated that it was perhaps a ten meter climb from top till bottom. The tunnel did not seem as dark, and it was clear that her eyes had adjusted during the descent into this tunnel. She turned around, and stepped back instinctively out of shock. The skull of a bird loomed out of the shadow at her, lit softly from underneath by a gently glowing ritual circle of red in the middle of the tunnel. She sucked in a deep breath and overcame the surprise, before stepping boldly forward into the tunnel. As she got closer, she could see that it was not only the skull, but the entire skeleton of a bird, propped up on sticks with strings hanging from its limbs as if it were some kind of sick puppet. She could see the runes around the circle quite clearly, between her well adjusted eyes and the red glow before her. An analysis of these runes revealed them to be, as far as she could make out, of Hirokiri origin based on the magical studies she had conducted and the few Hirokiri documents that she had seen in her life. Not that she could read them of course.
"We have a ritual circle it would seem." Mira spoke, turning her head to the entrance of the tunnel so that they could hear her. "The skeleton of a bird has strings attached to its wings and legs. It seems that this might be the origin of control..." Mirabelle Autumnfield was no expert on magic, although she knew people who were. However, some things were instinctively obvious. This must be the means by which Lilian was controlled, the poor woman. She glanced suspiciously down to the opposite end of the tunnel. It went on into nothing but blackness as far as she could see. Her eyes fell to the setup before her again. It was clear why it was Forbidden Magic. This was hardly the most grisly that she had heard Hirokiri rituals could be and it was still almost unsettling, and certainly surprising to see - Not to mention the terrifying power of the ritual itself. All it took was a dead bird, a few sticks, strings and a bit of magic to force anyone's body to serve you. Regardless of how you felt about it. The prospect of losing her autonomy in that way was disturbing. It was little wonder that Lilian seemed so horrified.





The clockwork golem had made quite intense study of the statue, cross-referencing each character with the legends he knew were associated with them. These humans must have been exceptional in their own way. It would have pleased him greatly to meet such famous individuals. These were paragons of humanity, and he supposed that through them he might find some hint of purpose. His core ticked along, processing these ideas. Humans took inspiration from notable figures from their pasts, so it seemed only logical that Aspire take note of what humanity had to offer.

But this seemed wrong somehow. He was not human. Why should he look to humanity alone for inspiration. He was considerably less aware than he should be about his own species. Perhaps he should educate himself. A famous clockwork golem could perhaps inspire him to greater heights. But surely they would also be modelled off humans? Aspire considered this problem. Was it possible for a clockwork golem to forge its own identity, untouched and uninfluenced by humans in this world? By their very nature as humanity's creations, could they separate themselves from their society and history? Was it simply inevitable, as there were no other frames of reference. There were the dragons of course... This seemed like a difficult prospect. Perhaps he would seek the advice of a being that transcended such concerns.

This philosophising was interrupted by a voice. He had filtered most of them out. They were distracting. But this one seemed directed at him. The lumbering machine turned its head to look at the one interrupting his thoughts, blank, glowing blue eyes staring at the figure.
"No. I am outside Saviour's Spire in Eredan, examining the statue of the Saviours for which the Spire is named." Aspire replied flatly. The man was armed with a longsword. He made no move to use it. No hostile intent seemed present. "Is there a purpose for asking whether I am lost? Do you frequently ask other humans this question?" The golem was not clear on whether it was appropriate for humans to ask each other whether they were lost when they were simply looking at a statue. Was that uncommon? Did humans not look at statues? If they did not, what was the purpose of statues if not to be looked at? The more logical conclusion is that this human was an outlier. Perhaps he expected clockwork golems to be less intelligent than humans, thus easily confused? This was an illogical assumption. Machines made only human error. This in turn would involve this human casting aspersions on Vincent, and it seemed unlikely that he was doing so. The chances that his creator had met this particular human were slim. Therefore, this human must be one of those who were considered 'weird'. Vincent was considered 'weird' by many humans, according to him. Perhaps this human would prove similarly stimulating company. He had to be careful though - If he were interesting company then he must be wary of the time so that he did not miss Lynda at her office later.


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Dylan, seeing the stuck trapdoor, looked around the room for some kind of heavy object. There were a couple of options, or maybe he could use the sergeant's sword to lever it open. The sword was enchanted, it was hardly likely to break- Dylan suddenly heard a crash from behind him. Turning slowly, he witnessed the hatch broken in, and Jebediah grimacing. He acknowledged this with a raised eyebrow, and joined the others at the edge of the trap door. As Mira asked him a for a light, he shrugged and shook his head. He wasn't expecting to have to bring along a freaking lantern, and he could hardly afford an electric torch. A few moments after Mira had begun to climb down, he realised that he had a lighter. Oh well. Dylan looked at the sergeant with a hint of suspicion, then began to climb down wordlessly. As he climbed down, Mirabelle informed them of what she'd found. It was quite disturbing, and he found himself seeing strange glimpses of red energy, a sign of forbidden magic, to Dylan's eyes only. As he reached the bottom and turned around, he found his mind assaulted with waves of red energy, and stumbled "Sh*t!" he exclaimed, clutching his head. Why was this happening to him? He'd never experienced this kind of reaction to magic before. He grumbled and risked a glance to the ritual. It truly was quite gruesome, but it wasn't as bad as the nauseating swirls of red energy that seemed to make Dylan want to vomit. "Ok. I think we can finally definitely say for sure... this is magical. It's also evil as a demon setting a kitten orphanage on fire" Dylan walked past the ritual circle, trying not to look at it. "And I assume this tunnel goes somewhere, which is probably the same way the mage came in. We must be on a level with the canals... if someone knew about this tunnel, it can't be difficult to get from a canal boat to here"

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Lynda nodded, the mansion sounded like a good idea, although she suspected that Ulrich didn't wish to dig through medical records. "Right, I'll get on that. We should be able to get there later tonight" she explained "Until then, you have some paperwork to catch up on" Lynda smiled and walked out, almost having forgotten her bad meeting with the Lord-Marshall. Right, time to find where miss Harbrook lived...

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There were some times when the man wanted to be noticed. At socialite parties, where whisky flowed like water, and he could catch the eye of a wealthy businesswoman. The following morning he'd usually end up stealing all the things he needed, and then disappear without even saying his name. However, this was not one of those times. Although it could be, he noticed a few very attractive women in the crowd. But the kind of person he didn't want noticing him was that kid who worked for Dylan Haytham. With a sigh, the man turned and walked towards the younger man, though he can't have been that much younger. The man himself was only 21, yet he had the look of a person who had a lot of experiences for his age, and his muscled physique made him look slightly older.
"Hey kiddo" he greeted, removing his sunglasses and producing a charming smile "I'm looking for your boss. Have you got any idea where he is?"

 

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After everyone looked to examine the ritual circle Jebediah had heard enough and found his feet, he stood at the top of the trap door and knelt down as he listened to their theories, he found it pretty easy to believe Dylans theory as it reminded him of things he'd experianced before with gangs, the rivers that run through Eredan had plenty of hidden outlooks and passageways between them making it not a completely uncommon method of moving through the city undetected after fleeing a scene, afterall the constabulary doesn't have officers cruising around the canals. "If they had the luxery of time and we assume they left the way they came in they could be anywhere by now without even arousing suspition" Jebediah said paitently as he planned where to go from here in his head "Okay, we'll need to pay our Noble friend a visit later this evening" Jebediah thought back to how his two acquaintences have behaved since he stumbled out the carriage, Mira was clearly somone who wanted to help anyway she could and Dylan was a independent who was clearly very intelligent however he seemed off, him leaning down the side of the carriage at the start; This headache he got when he reached the bottom of the shaft... Jebediah leant down and held out his hand for both Mira and Dylan as he began to speak with a calm voice "I know your sort, you don't need anyone's help because you never have before, that philosphy is an easy one when no one offers; we should plan a time to meet tonight?" He waited eagerly to see if the two most competent people he'd met today would accept his help.

 

Mirabelle glanced away from the awful construction in front of her when she heard Dylan cry out. It was clear to her now that her new employer had some kind of magical sensitivity. She would inquire after they had parted from Sergeant Crowne. Since he had not mentioned it earlier, it may not have been a subject he was comfortable with broaching - Having a police officer here would do little to assuage that. His analogy did bring a light chuckle out of her.
"An apt description." She noted lightly. His later deduction about the canals was more than likely correct - And clearly explained how this came about in her mind. There was little else to be done then. For now, they would have to go their separate ways and pursue a lead on this Mortimer Gallahowe who likely had connections to the Hirokiri responsible for this, and a possible motive surrounding the recent immigration legislation being debated in the Ministry. Something that would almost certain fall through now that the bill's main proponent had been effectively discredited and likely imprisoned. It felt like the time to leave, but Sergeant Crowne had one last surprise for them. Well, for Dylan perhaps. This was entirely expected for her. "I think that would be an excellent idea, Sergeant." She felt a little unsure about making the move tonight, but they had an entire day until then to come up with a plan of attack - So to speak. She shook the proffered hand firmly, but not uncomfortably. Upon hindsight, it may have been unwise to agree to such a thing without Dylan's approval, but this felt right for getting results. Should the worst come to the worst, she was willing to operate with the Sergeant without her boss and get results while he attacked an alternative angle with Kara and Zephyr.
"I expect that will be all then? It seems that there is little else to do here, and we have reports to write." Mira kept up the act a little longer. The Sergeant showed little sign of being actively certain that she was not a Tower agent, and given that he had worked with her directly she suspected that her insistence had convinced him. Perhaps she would reveal the truth later tonight. For now, it seemed useful to have a slight veil over the truth.​

 

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Unable to stand the negative energy in the tunnel, Dylan climbed the ladder, making his way out. He nodded as Mira and Jebediah made their comments, but was concentrating on working out information in the back of his mind. Forbidden mage, Hirokiri, related to Lord Mortimer Gallahowe possibly. He zoned back into the conversation as he heard Jebediah making an offering. Ignoring the proffered hand, Dylan scrambled out and gave the sergeant a distrustful look. He paused, then turned to Mira. And back to Jebediah. "...Fffffine" he spat as if the words were repulsive to say. "7 PM, Gallahowe Manor. I won't be there, I have other sources I need to consult" Dylan said, striding past them both and pulling out a cigarette. "Come on Mira, let's get back to the Tower" he said this last part mostly for the benefit of the Royal Guards, he was certain the sergeant wasn't convinced about their disguise.

 

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Kara waited until they were a decent distance away from the tavern before turning back. Sure enough Lucian had followed, staggering around the street and poking at his bruised and bloodied face. She outright laughed and grabbed his hand, pulling it away from the injuries. "The more you poke, the more it'll bleed. That's what she said. Come on, I know where we can get you some ice, at least. We can always tear up Zephyr's sheet for bandages, though I can't promise how clean it'll be." Yanking on Lucian's hand, she pulled him down the street and towards her current place of residence. "Though you have to swear on your honor as a Constable and as a fantastic drunk, that you won't bring anyone else here, it'll be our little secret, yada yada yada." If he said anything other than yes, she would disappear in a heartbeat, no matter how drunk she was (or wasn't, really). And if he was lying, then she would cut off some important parts and make him a necklace. Or maybe that was too much. Maybe shaving his hair was a better start. I really shouldn't try to scheme while sipping the liquor. She thought to herself with a grin.

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Rigel watched the robot curiously as it responded, half tempted to poke at it. Personal experience however, told him this would not be a wise decision. Just as human beings didn't particularly care for the experience, most mechanisms didn't either. "Some humans like to ask others in order to prove like they're better, or to be helpful. I am trying the latter, in this case. I do not know if you are a robot that has lived in this city before, or is only trained to memorize statues. Or maybe you are taking photographs somehow. Studying anatomy? There could be also treasure, or secret information inside that statue, although I somehow doubt that." Rigel turned to look at the Saviours, half expecting it to burst into an unearthly glow and reveal and wonderous treasure. Of course, no such thing happened. But it was nice to imagine. Turning back to the robot, Rigel bowed awkwardly. "My name is Rigel Northam. It is interesting to meet you."

 

When Zephyr had decided to keep an eye on the man, he had thought he had made that decision to do so without attracting any attention towards himself. Still there was this feeling that it wouldn't go the way that Zephyr thought it would be. When the man had started to walk over towards him, that feeling was confirmed. Perhaps he was just walking in this general direction and nothing more. He was tipped off to something being...unique about this guy had specifically asked to speak with his boss as the first thing he said to him. By no means did Zephyr think that anyone could guess that he had a job right off the bat. "I don't know what you're talking about, you must have me mistaken for someone else."

 

Ulrich smiled slightly at Lynda's comment regarding the paperwork, he looked at several stacks of it. "Alright thank you, ma'am, I'll get to it..." he said, the last part not too enthousiasticly.
Over the course of his carreer he had grown less and less fond of paper work, finding it hard to maintain his attention on the work at hand while sitting in his office on his own while outside of his office, personnel was going about their jobs. It made him easily lose focus during the boring work of filling out papers about much more interesting events, the mysteries that they were confronted with in the field, the excitement of piece by piece completing the puzzle that they were provided and of course the adrenaline rush of special operations deployments. Compared to those things it was hard to do such dull uninteresting work as filling out paperwork, no matter how important it was. It had been proven just a moment ago when he had spent his time sifting through the old case files. Lynda had left his office in a visibly better mood than when she had arrived, she probably just had to blow of some steam, get the frustration of dealing with the Lord-Marshall out. He was glad her mood had improved, made it easier for everyone while working.

He looked at the stacks of paper again, staring them down waiting for someone to blink first and he did, he checked the contents of his coffee cup, the slightly creamy contents having gone cold. It was the last bit left in the cup, but Ulrich disliked cold coffee more than he did paperwork. It helped him maintain his focus and drown out the noise of the headquarters. While he already had several cups that day, he figured atleast another one or two couldn't hurt. After all Lynda had implied some evening work and there was no way of knowing what time he was going to get home. He picked up the cup and left his office yet another time for a fresh cup of coffee. On his way to the glorious invention that helped him so much, he noticed Andrew, an older constable who lived a little ways down the street from him. Ulrich waved to him which resulted in a joking remark about Ulrich's coffee consumption making a dent in the budget and they each went on their way. Coming back in his office the light reflected of the glass pane in the picture frame on the wall behind his chair, the frame contained his certificate of passing the special operations training and being accepted into the ranks of the special operations team. It was the one thing he was most proud of achieving, even after the job cost him his lower right arm to be replaced by the clockwork rifle. He sat down behind his desk, taking a file from the stack and read the first line and started remembering the details of the case of the Clock Tower stabbings to fill out his report. While it was a paperwork day, at the end of it was the promise of fieldwork, which made him more inclined to get paperwork done, bargaining with himself to get as much done as he could now and be rewarded with the fieldwork he so desired.​

 

​

The mystery man smiled and raised an eyebrow "Oh of course. I must be looking for the other Zephyr Siegend. The one who looks exactly like you, and works for a completely different freelance detective agency" He chuckled slightly, before looking towards the ministry building. So many guards. Although he had the authority to stride in there, he didn't want to tip off to anyone that his group were looking into this "It's fine. I might visit your office later. If you can call that deathtrap an office" he said to Zephyr nonchalantly. He didn't blame the boy for being on guard, he was loyal. That was good, but not particularly helpful right now. It didn't matter anyway, he'd just have to find another way to approach the elusive detective. With a simple nod of the head, the man disappeared back into the crowd and made his way away from the plaza. He moved with such natural stealth that trailing him would be almost impossible. Eventually he reached a black carriage, and hopped inside it. He didn't have to tell the driver where to go.
Along the journey, he pulled out his handheld radio. A static noise was emitted from the machine for a few seconds as the man pushed various buttons, until suddenly it played back something. The radio was no simple communication device, it was a very advanced piece of technology, when configured the right way, it could record noises that were picked up by a different radio within range. The man smiled smugly as he played back the recording from the Royal Guard radios inside the Ministry, which had picked up on the whole conversation between Dylan Haytham, Mirabelle Autumnfield and Jebediah Crowne. The man's face fell, as he dicovered that much of their coversing had been done via note-passing. "Well now, that's just rude" he muttered to himself. Nevertheless, they said enough to give the man a decent overview of the situation, which made him frown even further.
When the recording was over, he fiddled once more with the buttons, and found the frequency he needed. A voice answered on the other side.
"Valerie here"
"Mum, it's Keeran. We've got a problem..."

 

It was hard for Zephyr to contain his surprised at the next thing that the man had said to him. He wasn't sure how, but the guy knew he name, his full name at that. That feeling he had gotten earlier was strengthen by that simple thing. "Just who are you?" There wasn't an answer to his question for by the time that he had ask, the guy had already vanished into the crowd. With a hand to his head, Zephyr sighed. Somehow that guy already knew a lot on him and the opposite could not be said about him. How did he get hat information? Occupation was one thing, but his full name was a different matter entirely. The man claimed to be stopping by later, so that would be a better chance to get answers.