Puzzling Mysteries: A Gemme Anthology

Spectre

Written by  BellaArtz

It was pouring.

Fast, hard drops rained from the sky all over the kingdom of Barcington, turning the sandy roads to mud and leaving only those made of concrete in the capital, Yaslen, safe to thread.

Not that anyone would be out by this time. Yet, there was a lone, nondescript carriage trudging its way through the capital's streets. With a single red lantern to light the way, they pulled up to a large gated estate.

"We're here, miss. A servant should be out any minute," The driver at the saddle announces.

"About time, freezing my bleedin' arse off in here." An irritated feminine voice called.

"We would have sent a more comfortable carriage but the Duke wanted to attract as little attention as possible." The driver replied.

"Of course he did," the eye roll was obvious in her words. The pitter-patter of footsteps was soon heard, followed by the groaning of metal against metal.

More footsteps.

And then finally a rap on the carriage door. The passenger steps out and takes the offered second umbrella.

She turns to the driver, gray steel eyes flashing, "When the next carriage comes, tell them that I said he must want outside."

"Yes, Miss," the driver nods.

The passenger then follows the maid through the gates. It takes a while but soon they are at the manor's entrance where she's shrugging off the heavy coat to reveal a rumpled white blouse beneath a leather vest.

A sword is strapped to the left side of her waist and a gun on the other. She takes off her gloves to reveal dark-skinned hands littered with scars and callouses.

Once the wet clothes are off, she's led further into the manor, letting its warmth wash over her while studying her surroundings. No flashy chandeliers are on and only dim wall lights guide their way to a quaint but well-furnished drawing room.

The room is empty save for a lone figure standing in front of the window that overlooked the moonlight garden being stormed upon. The figure turns to face her, revealing a man in his mid-forties probably. Given the dim lights, she wouldn't be able to tell, but she could make out hints of graying hair on his head and well-kept beard.

"Duke Everey, I presume," she gave a quick bow.

"And you're Analia Raycroft, the best detective in all of Barcington?"

A smile quirked her lips a tad bit, "Yours truly."

***

Being born without magic in a world governed by spells and noble supremacy could easily be seen as a death sentence. You probably offended the gods so much in your past life that they decided to make you the butt of the joke in the next one.

Analia was one of the few commoners born into that stratum, but luckily for her, she had the natural born ability to acquire skills at a rapid pace. She had an eye for detail and barely anything could escape her attention without drawing her suspicions.

And she was suspicious of everything.

She took a seat on a plush sofa without waiting to be offered one, "Tell the girl to put on the brighter lights."

"I'm afraid, I can't do that, it'll draw the attention-"

"You've got servants Dukey boy, so if you're afraid of the neighbors noticing, trust me they already know."