Technically Magic

Chapter One: Biscuits

When she first walked into my office, I wasn’t sure if she was there for me, or my biscuits. The look upon her face as she squeezed through the wooden frame of a much-too-small door was desperation of some kind; either for help that she believed only I could provide, if only I had that belief in myself. Or maybe this broad had swept through the blushroot smoke for the momentary satisfaction of the delicious oat-ey discs that sat in a jar on the shelf to her left – perhaps with a good cup of tea. I was attempting to pluck a grey hair out of my beard at the time; I quickly composed myself and attempted to look like I was engrossed in some necessary paperwork. I routinely opened my copy of The Realms of Emotional Magic (Second Printing) which served as the centrepiece for my ‘I’m working hard’ exhibition.

My office wasn’t the type of office you would expect from a department head of the Lysian City Guard, but I'm not exactly the typical team leader here; my team consisted of myself and Philippa, for one. The room was just over a metre wide, but the shelves lining each wall jutted out and made the room feel even more cramped and tight. Moving through you would need to be careful not to knock over the various jars of sundries and packets of dried meat. In front of a makeshift bookshelf, at the back of my office, my desk was wedged. A map of the port city of Lysa and its three estuaries hung on the inner wall. There wasn’t enough room for me to move around said desk, so each day I scrambled over it to my seat, usually knocking something over. Today had been my third favourite mug.

The woman strode past the biscuits; I immediately regretted not asking her to grab me one, as it was such a hassle to get to the other side of the room. But I did not; after all, I'd placed the biscuits out of arm's reach on purpose for I had a habit of snacking to add fleeting moments of pleasure to an otherwise empty day. The mysterious woman had legs in all the right places (they went up the appropriate amount to support her body.) Her moderate olive skin, which boasted a Vaceri descent, was bathed in the weak light of the precariously placed candle on my desk; the dancing shadows made her long dark hair seem like a living shadow framing her face. It took a moment for her to adjust to the dimness and solitude. The light was a stark contrast to the Everburning Lamps elsewhere. Her weathered eyes took in the room and were drawn to Philippa, who sat on an empty shelf in the upper left corner of the room. She cooed softly to herself, not paying attention to the newcomer.
“Is it hygienic to have a pigeon in a pantry?” the strange lady asked hesitantly, the presence of my familiar seeming to throw her off somewhat.
“She’s a very clean bird, and mostly keeps herself to herself anyway.” I looked up from my chair as I replied and attempted to meet the woman’s gaze, but her eyes were locked upon the small grey form of Philippa, still happily resting in her corner. “How can I help you... Miss?” My question broke her concentration and she finally took me in. Her eyes flickered to my muddish brown hair, taking in the intermittent strands of purple. Individuals who used magic often had odd and vibrant colours in their hair. Probably the only thing about me that looked out of the ordinary.
“You’re a lot younger than I expected from a captain of the city guard.” She ignored my question. Rude. “You can’t be much older than 20!” Still rude.
"22 actually..." I murmured solemnly. She berated my appearance and standing for the next three and a half minutes, everything from my scraggly beard to my obvious Old Haefan heritage (slightly pale skin and gaunt visage.) My eyes bore bags from lack of a decent amount of sleep. I listened politely and nodded - not wanting to be rude. This incredibly arrogant lady finally began to wind down around the same time I realised I hadn’t had lunch yet, or breakfast. I’d forgotten to eat properly again. “It’s just I anticipated a lot more from the famous scholar and Wizard, the magical investigator of The Lysa City Guard. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful Mr Frostbeard, but you’re…. wrong.  I was expecting someone grander, more refined, more -“
“I’m not Oskar Frostbeard!” I cut her off mid-gesticulating complaint. “My name is Alwynn Blaise, He/Him. Mr Frostbeard is... uh..." I gulped hard as I attempted to find a reasonable way to explain the absence of my old master. "On holiday! Yes, he's taking a much-deserved break in the Eyeberian Isles. I’m the acting head of the Magical Investigations Department while he’s indisposed.” Good lie. I told myself. Don’t mention that it’s been roughly six weeks since he disappeared and that you have no idea what you’re doing.

She sat silently as she took in the dissatisfactory news that I wasn't, in fact, the man she was looking for. This gave me ample time to squint through the darkness and look at her properly. She was rather tall, with deep dusky skin, long straight black hair with a few grey - no, silver - streaks hidden amongst it. She must've been in her late thirties and she had deep frown lines that curved away from her lips. Her eyes were a piercing green that seemed to shatter those under her gaze. She was richly dressed in  emerald green, loose-fitting silks, and a deep golden scarf. The vibrant colours subtly demonstrated wealth and standing in the Vaceri merchant empire. She had an odd object holstered at her hip, a Storm-Cannon. It looked like a metal hand length tube with a curved sword handle, with a lever attached. A weapon and a statement.The outfit clashed immensely with my dingy brown pantry-come-office. I felt quite self-conscious of my grey tunic and trousers. The only colour to my outfit was the insignia of the Lysian city guard: an upside down triangle with three lines segmenting it,representing the estuaries that flowed through the city. Mine was a deep maroon which showed that I was a member of the M.I.D.
"Well, Mr. Blaise," she said eventually, fixing me with that piercing look. "I hope you're competent in the magical arts. I'm Dima Tajir. I’m the wife of Ambassador Tajir. My son has vanished.”

An extract from Tot Harris' Encyclopaedia of Necessary Knowledge: The city of Lysa

The port city of Lysa lies at the mouth of River Twine. Three of its estuaries flow through the city proper, and the river flows into Western Great Sea. Lysa is North of the Iron-Wood forest and sits atop rich silver mine. The jewel of the west is the primary trade hub for the country of Matera. Lysa has been the centre of commerce on this side of the flowing sea for well over a thousand years. It was founded by formerly nomadic river tribes who settled in the great rains during the first age when it became too hazardous to continually move up and down the twine year round. It quickly grew into a trading city-state after a couple hundred years due to its location and abundant resources at its disposal. It lasted as an independent city-state until Queen Charlotte annexed it in the second age. It retains a lot of autonomy with the Governess, answering only to the Materan Monarchy. The harbour rests where the river meets the sea and leads to the trade district where businesses reside. There are two residential sections: The Hill District is more affluent and wealthy, whereas the River District is home to the working men and women. Outside the city walls, slums have developed, colloquially referred to as the Mud District.   
…Notes: The rest of the entry concerns the primary imports and exports of Lysa, as well as the prominent brothels in the river district