Alex Lyons was a new mystery writer working for RavenEye Publishing. Her first name was actually short for Alexadria. She was a dwarf, barely twenty years old, and was considered one of the publishing houses most talented authors. The only reason Alex wasn’t as successful as Randy or Samuel was because she had only written a single novel at this point.
Alex’s living accommodations weren’t as good as either Randy or Samuel’s. She lived in South Chrimoria in a shanty one room apartment. The area around it was a hot spot for gang activity. Most of these gangs were juvenile gangs made up of teenagers who lived in the slums.
When Holden and Sable made their way toward the apartment a couple of teenage boys glared at them from the other side of the street. They were both human, and were carrying iron pipes on them. These two kids eventually made a b-line toward Holden and Sable, but stopped all of a sudden when a young woman with curly brown hair came walking out of the apartment building.
“Hey, you two punks,” the woman said, causing the two teenage boys to bolt. “Holden and Sable both turned around, watching the boys flee when the woman shouted again. “Hey, I was talking to you two. The man with the cait-sith standing on his shoulders.”
Holden printed to himself and Sable. “You’re calling us punks? Us? Punks? Did you see those two kids?”
“Yeah. I did. But they aren’t the punks. You’re the punks intruding on their territory.” The woman closed the distance, then stood with arms crossed right in front of Holden and Sable. “Do you dimwits even know where you are? You don’t look like you’re from this side of town.”
“Careful,” Sable whispered into Holden’s ear. “This woman can tell I’m not a cat. She can use magic.”
Holden nodded then turned his attention back to the woman. “We’re here to talk to someone. Do you know an Alex Lyons?”
“Yeah,” the woman said, cracking her knuckles. “You’re talking to her. So, make it quick. Are you Leudox? Mages Union? Gang from across town? Who you with? Because I don’t got whatever money you''re looking for.”
“Wait. You’re Alex Lyons? RavenEye’s newest mystery author?”
“Yeah. Why do you look so surprised?”
“Sorry. I just expected you to look more-.” Holden paused for a moment trying to look for a less offensive word then he had in mind. “I thought you’d look wealthier, or something.”
“I live in south Chrimoria,” Alex huffed. “I grew up here. Was part of one of the gangs. Walked these streets every day picking fights. I might be a girl but my magic allowed me to overpower every boy and man I came across.”
“I guess mystery would kind of make sense for someone who grew up around crime.”
Sable nodded his head. “Defiantly would’ve been more surprised if you said you were a romance author.”
Alex clicked her tongue. “Who would want to write stupid romance? All that true love nonsense. Prince Charming. Love at first sight. Happily ever after. It’s all fake nonsense.”
“Someone’s been single her whole life,” Sable jeered.
“Oh, shut your mouth, stupid cat.”
Holden chuckled at Alex’s retort. “I like this woman. Maybe she could be my new partner.”
“Hey, punks,” Alex yelped. “Would you stop acting like a couple of idiots and tell me what you’re doing here? Who you with?”
“We’re PI?” Holden explained. “We were hired by your fellow author Randy to find his stolen manuscript.”
Alex furrowed her brows at Holden’s statement. “Randy’s manuscript was stolen? That’s an author’s worst nightmare: I bet you the idiot didn’t make any copies either.”
“Yeah it seems so,” Holden said, scratching the back of his head. Randy really did seem stupid at the moment now that Alex had mentioned it. “Anyways, we’re looking at all potential suspects. Plus your publisher turned us away before we could talk to anyone at the office.”
“Well, if you’re wondering if I stole it, then you can stop. I’ve been cooped up in my apartment for the past few days writing my latest novel. This is the first time I’ve left in days. You can verify with the neighbors if you want. Not that they’ll talk to outsiders.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Holden said. He had a pretty good idea what kind of woman Alex was just off their first interaction. She was crude, and straight forward. Deception likely wasn’t in her nature. This woman might be difficult to deal with, but people would always know what to expect from someone like her. “With that said, is there anyone at your publishing house that you think would do such a thing?”
Alex tapped her cheek as she thought about Holden’s question. “The publisher seems suspicious. I don’t trust that man. Samuel’s a narcissist, so I doubt he’d ever think he’d need to steal someone else’s work to succeed. As for everyone else. Nah. I don’t think so. But there is another person in this neighborhood who’s in the business who I wouldn’t put it past. The man’s a two-faced, delinquent. Always has been.”
“What are you willing to tell me about him?”
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“Just where he is. Course it’s be nice if you could smack him around a little for me. The guy’s a creep. Always staring at me like I’m some piece of meat for his viewing pleasure.”
Holden laughed. “If he presents me with a good opportunity, I’ll consider it. So, what’s his story?”
***
Alex gave Holden and Sable directions to an apartment on the other side of the neighborhood. The apartment belonged to another author named Silas Ainsworth, a successful mystery writer for Irene & Eloquence, one of the largest publishing houses in all of Thanador.
Irene and Eloquence was a publishing house founded over one hundred years ago by two women. Irene, who was human, was the inventor of the printing press, while Eloquence, who was an elf, was a world famous poet and writer. The two women worked together to distribute literature to the people of Thanador, opening publishing houses in every nation. Irene has long passed from old age. However, Eloquence still runs the publishing house to this day.
As for Silas, he was a half human and half dark elf, in other words, a half elf. Half elves were always a mix of elf and human. Their ears weren’t quite as pointed as their elf ancestors, but all of them had the ability to use magic. Half-elves also had a longer lifespan than their human parents. The typical human lived on average around eighty years, elves usually 400-500 hundred, and half elves usually lived around 160-180. Silas was pushing 120, and was one of the first authors to sign with Irene and Eloquence when it was founded a century ago.
With that in mind, Holden and Sable both wondered why someone who’s been in the writing business for so long was living in South Chrimoria. They began speculating about it as soon as Silas’s apartment complex came into view.
Sable was the one who began the conversation. “You think he fell on hard times? You’d think someone who’s been writing for over a hundred years would’ve made a solid career for themselves by now.”
“Maybe his creativity has been lacking,” Holden suggested. “I mean, 100 years is a long time. Plus, 120 is equivalent to late fifties for a human. People can start experiencing severe mental decline around that age. Mages are especially prone to this because of how much strain magic can put on your mind.”
“But he’s a writer. How often could he have even used magic? It might’ve made sense if he were military, or a healer, or anything else that requires someone to use magic consistently.”
“Point taken,” Holden said as he opened the fore to the apartment complex. “I guess we’ll find out when we meet this guy.”
The duo made their way to Silas’s apartment. When Holden knocked on the door, they heard a man shouting in a hoarse voice from the other side.
“Leave me be! I have nothing for you!”
“Silas Ainsworth,” Holden replied. “My name is Holden. I need to talk to you.”
“Go away! I have nothing to say to you!”
“I’m here investigating the theft of a manuscript.” Holden heard nothing but silence from the other side of the door, so he continued. “Can we ask you a few questions?”
The door creaked open, revealing an elderly half-elf man with a scraggly beard, wrinkles all over his face, a hazy eyes which looked like they had lost most of their life. “You said stolen manuscript? Are you really coming to me to investigate a stolen manuscript?”
Holden noticed a glint of joy in the man’s eye. Just what was he so excited about? If anything, Holden thought this man would’ve been more wary of him. “Yeah. An author named Randy’s manuscript was stolen. We’re interviewing suspects.”
“But what about my stolen manuscript? What of mine? Why are the police investigating his, and not mine?”
Holden and Sable were stunned. If what this man was saying were true, that meant Randy wasn’t the only author who’s manuscript had recently been stolen. Was it just a coincidence? Or was there a serial thief going around stealing manuscripts?
“We aren’t with the police,” Holden explained. “We’re PI’s hired by Randy to find his stolen manuscript.”
Sable pawed at Holden’s leg to get his attention. “Holden, might the thief of this man’s manuscript and Randy’s be one and the same?”
“I was thinking that, too. Silas, maybe we can help each other. What can you tell me about your manuscript’s theft?”
“It waa the other day. Some wretched low-life broke into my house and stole it right from under me. I didn’t get a good look at them, since I had just depleted my magic, and was barely able to move because of the backlash.”
Sable titled his head in confusion. “Why were you out of magic? You’re a writer, so what could you be using magic for?”
Silas reached out with a decrepit hand and pet Sable on the head. “You’re a cait-sith. A real rarity to see one. Your question is fair though. I’m a diviner, who can use magic to see through space and time. I use this ability to write by watching historical events. It often inspires my writing.”
Both Holden and Sable were thinking the same thing. Alex had mentioned she pegged Silas as the kind of person who would steal another writer’s manuscript. Was it possible that Silas used divination to steal other writer’s ideas by spying on them? That being said, divination magic was costly because of the materials needed to cast them. Could a writer like Silas afford all those materials? Maybe that expense is why he was living in such a cheap apartment in the worst part of town. It would also explain why he was so decrepit looking. Those who constantly overused magic would experience severe side-effects, one of which included their bodies deteriorating at a faster rate as if they were aging at a faster rate.
“”Watching historical events,” Holden reiterated. “But you’re a mystery writer. How exactly does that inspire you?”
Silas chuckled. “A good writer can get inspiration from anything. Though looking through the mortuaries on people who were murdered provides me the best inspiration.”
Holden could tell that Silas wasn’t being fully honest with him. It was as if everything that came out of Silas’s mouth was partial truths. Regardless, Holden didn’t know much about divination magic. Could it allow someone to watch historical events as if they were happening right in front of the caster?
“Silas, Holden counties to question the man. “Couldn’t you use your divination magic to identify the culprit? Why would you need the police to investigate this for you?”
Silas growled. “Because whoever did it covered their tracks well. They must’ve had some kind of magic item or spell that conceals them from divination.”
“Then what can you tell me about them? Is there anyone you suspect who would target you? Any enemies? Or at least rivals who might be threatened by your success?”
“RavenEye,” Silas said. “Any one of those authors might target me. Especially that foul woman, Alex Lyons. How someone so young from the ghetto could write such a good first manuscript is beyond me. She must be stealing other people’s work. Gutter trash like that have sticky fingers. If it weren’t for the fact that the thief could block divination, I’d think it was her.”
“But who from RavenEye could possibly-.” Holden paused. The image of RavenEye’s publisher popped into his head. “Oh. I think I know. Though it could be someone else.”
“Are you thinking of that jerk, Mars Rent?”
“Mars Rent? Not sure. Who is he?”
Silas scoffed. “He’s the publisher of RavenEye. The man certainly lives rather luxurious for a man in charge of such a small publishing house. He has to be getting money from somewhere else.”
“Is that so?” Holden said with a smirk. “I guess the next person we’ll be visiting is Mars Rent.”