(Pure Light) Ironhorns

Chapter IV: Fiction

 There was so many things to see in the 1st Class Citizen's Zone. So many beautiful things, so many stories to hear, the tragedy behind a statue, the love story in front of a simple door, the murder into a random house.

Unfortunately, we won't focus on that. Qualt Ironhorns neither. But his job was to discover those stories. Especially the "murder" one. And, for that, it's a meticulous work where truth and lie cannot be separated, where those two are together like two great lovers in a bed, copulating and doing the helicopter to make children.

And one of those children is what we call "novel" or, her nickname, "fiction". Yeah, a perfect hybrid of the two and the favourite of the people.

And that thinking's way was very similar to what was in the mind of Dilt Orlath, the writer rival to Pold. And Qualt, after doing some researches and buying a book written by this guy (that he just read some extracts, "just to see if it's interesting"), was in front of that door where there probably was a love story (we don't know). But he was most of all in front of that door which was leading to the writer.

So he knocked at the door and waited.

Nobody came.

He knocked again.

Do I need to repeat myself?

And he hit the door with his fist, saying loudly:

"Mister Orlath! I want you to open me as I, Qualt Ironhorns, detective, have to ask you some questions... and it's not about your books!"

Then the door made a noise that indicated she was being open. And, once it was made, an orange dragon stood up with a proud allure and a little smile on his face. And he had some sort of aura around him...

"So why did you came with a book of mine so?" he answered with a chuckle.

"Sorry but I'm not here to laugh. I'm here for a murder."

"The Gald's children?"

"Yeah. How do you..."

"You're in the 1st Class Citizen's Zone, here, my dear. The news travel fast. But, yes, enter. I prepared some coffee. I knew they would send someone to interrogate me."

"And how did you know?" he said while entering.

"I'm the rival of the father. And everybody knows that rivals are the worst kind of person, isn't it? But they can't understand that a rival in literature isn't the same as a rival in real life and that we actually are friendly when we met each other with Pold. Oh! And, before you try to ask me questions, I promise you that I didn't kill the children. I was in my bed when it happened."

"Yeah, no doubt about it. I've heard that you are a great pacifist."

"Yes I am, indeed."

"But, in your books..."

"Yes, I know, you have very visceral and bloody descriptions of violent actions, very precise ways to kill somebody and I try to see why they do that and try to show that a murderer can be everybody, even the helpers for the elders and the youngest ones. And that's why I'm a pacifist: I write on violence to prevent the others of what might happens. Unfortunately, some don't understand this and try to make me say what I didn't say, try to mock me and, worst of all, reproduce like a flock of sheep and bastards what I wrote."

"Yeah, I can understand..."

Finally, the coffee was on the table. The book of the writer too. And the notebook was right next to Qualt, where he could wrote easily.

"So, because you probably have questions, what are those?"

"First of all, Mister Orlath, can you tell me what you know about the victims."

"Everything. I have ears and I know how to use them. And that is important in Warfang. I know the relation between Frey and Henry, the story told by Pold, which I don't know if everything in there is true or not, you should check, and I know for Merth. But, for the murder's case, I probably don't know much more than you. You're making a good job by interrogating me but I think that you're wasting your time by doing it."

"And why do you say that? You have something to hide?"

"I have tons of things to hide, just like everybody. You have too. And sometime, we hide it to ourselves."

"Yeah, no shit. But you understood me. So tell me what I want to know."

"What? I'm just helping you?"

"I'm talking about the case! Tell me everything you know about it. Oh, and don't try to fool me on what you'll say. Because I have the Warfang Police behind me here and, if you lie to me and I discover it, you can have some serious problems."

Dilt Orlath got up with a confident smile on his face after drinking his coffee one shot. Then, he took a feather, put the pick in black ink and said:

"I don't know everything. I didn't hear so many rumours and gossips to tell you. It's not my job to collect them, after all. It's yours. So I helped you the most that I could. Now, don't waste more time with me. It's been fun to discuss with you but, unfortunately, you have a job to do. And you have a criminal to stop."

He took the book, opened the first page, grabbed the feather and then wrote something before finishing:

"So go interrogate the others. You will maybe find interesting informations about what you're searching. Oh! And, free autograph for you. I just signed your book."

Vain asshole, though Qualt right at this moment.

"Anyway", added the writer, "I've read your story."

"Oh, you received one copy of my story too."

"Indeed."

Then, Ironhorns took the book and opened the first page to see this:

From Dilt Orlath

to a great storyteller

Mister Qualt Ironhorns

D.O. what you like

He looked up to the writer, who was at this moment leaving the room slowly, a visible smile on his face.

"You know, I think that literature has a great power, that it can change the way people act... It's literature that changes us, that makes us act how we act. By describing some unreal things about the characters' logic, those illogical things become more and more logical in the way that some people think. If the entire literature describes an asshole as a hero, then the good ways to act in the civilization will be to act like an asshole, even if, the first time, those books will make great scandals. Anyway, I still have things to do. So farewell, Mister Ironhorns. May your case be solved as quick as possible and our next encounter in better auspices."

And Qualt was suddenly alone. He got up and got out of the house... because it wasn't his own house. That made him think that he had to return in his house after that. No place like home, he was impatient to say. Thankfully, he wasn't too hasty about it. That could have changed some things about his work skills for the day.

Otherwise, he didn't have so many good informations during this discussion. But it left some marks in him because of the atmosphere there was in the room they talked. He had no regret stopping in front of that house, even if he knew that Dilt wasn't the murderer.

But why did he stop in front of that house?

It was on his way to the 3rd Class Citizen's Zone. And, in that kind of situation, there is no such thing as too much informations, even if they are useless.

So he took a great inspiration and finally went in direction of the Zone where the clues he would maybe find would be very interesting...