The House of Marcellinus

Arc 1: Trickster

Maxwell sat across from his mentor, Jeorge, in the servant's common room, the young man animatedly speaking to the older.

"It's the audacity that I can't stand!", said Maxwell, his pointy elf ears shaking with agitation as they protruded from his layers of blonde hair.

"I mean, If someone's going to steal my paycheck, I'd rather they take the whole thing and not return the unused portion with a thank-you note!"

Jeorge laughed, causing the paunch he had been accumulating since he had entered his sixties to jiggle. "Sounds like one of your friends is playing a joke on you, eh?"

"None of my friends are stupid enough to commit an actual crime for a prank. I had the bank give me a copy of the check, and the signature was a perfect forgery. The bank teller even asked if my cold was better, because she remembered me cashing it! But of course it wasn't me. Someone wearing one of our butler's uniforms and a face mask signed it right there in front of her! They were pretending to be sick, probably to disguise their voice."

Jeorge frowned in thought. He was certain no one among the butlers could forge documents and, as the one doing the hiring, he ought to know. Jeorge offered, "So someone who could pass for you, except for the face and voice?" Among the butlers Maxwell was quite tall and lanky, as well as one of the youngest.

"And then there's the amount. Precisely $65.95 was stolen, which happens to be the exact cost of a new SP5 game, after tax."

Jeorge blinked, not understanding the point.

"Why does it have to be a game?"

"Put all the pieces together. Someone in the household who had access to the butler uniforms, who could pass for me with a mask and a blond wig and maybe even platform shoes to make up the height difference. Someone who could access my check and knew when I would be occupied elsewhere. And most importantly, with the untouchable arrogance to leave a thank you note afterwards."

Jeorge waited for Maxwell to continue, since he had clearly already made up his mind who the culprit was. But the younger man hesitated.

"Well... the young master has a taste for video games."

"Stop right there." Jeorge cut in. "You are a vassal of this family. No matter how much 'free range parenting' the lord may practice, that young man will one day be head of the family."

"But sir, who else-"

"I won't hear it, Maxwell. Think what you like, but keep it to yourself."

But it was just his scruples as a senior butler speaking. He had served the family for many years and came to their defense as a reflex, evidence be damned. He knew better than anyone that the lord would only laugh and tell Maxwell to resolve the matter as he saw fit. The weight of the family name wouldn't be used to protect the young master, even if the police got involved. "The evidence is only circumstantial anyways...." said Jeorge, though he had to admit (to himself only) that he did not have trouble picturing the young master pulling off such a ridiculous stunt.

♦ ♦ ♦

The young master Markus Marcellinus strolled through the enormous grand foyer of the mansion, contemplating which TV to play his new game on. His black school uniform jacket was slung over his arm, and his pointy ears pierced through his messy dark hair. He had the striking crystal-blue eyes that were typical of the Marcellinus family and walked with the casual lazy swagger of a teenager. He looked like a normal high-schooler returning home after a day of classes, if you did not bother to look at the clock and see how early it was.

The TV in his own room was the obvious choice, but it was too close to the group of police in the grand foyer, who were now raising a clamor with the head financial planner, Juris. Juris was the loudest, shouting into a phone while the police inspectors leered at him.