The door folded outward as it opened and yet Whiskey did not enter despite the cold that bit at him. The reason was fairly simple, the doorway was occupied by a lady of stunning beauty. Her short brunette hair, a darkish brown the likes of leather, had a shimmer of sparks and framed her strikingly beautiful face as the strands gathered at her neck. She wore a snow-white blouse with bishop sleeves and brown culottes to match. Her astonishing figure gave shape to the cloth around her body and a set of star-shaped earrings hung from her pierced ears.
"You stink of cheap beer" she said. The tone of her voice not hostile, but neither was it sweet or welcoming.
"Well then you're smelling wrong, I didn't even have beer" Whiskey swiftly replied with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face tugging at his lips.
"..."
"I'm serious! All I had was a single glass of dry rum" he argued in protest, holding up his hands as if for emphasis.
The lady sighed, and even that mundane action she executed with beauty. "The only reason you and I are still acquainted is because you're useful, unlike that addiction of yours"
"That's just cruel, Fawn. We're married.."
"Get inside, Whiskey!". She moved by twisting her body to the side, shifting her hips alongside her torso to give way of passage to Whiskey.
He stepped foot into the house, passing through the doorframe with a faint gust of cold wind blowing in as if unwelcome company. The inner most walls were wooden planks sealed in a gleaming coat of varnish. A doormat made from the hide of a black bear was sprawled at the entrance door. The reaching strands of its dense fur desperately caught sparkling flakes of snow that shimmered like frost-tipped stars, each intertwined with its hairs. He heard the gentle thud of the closed door as his steps brought him further indoors .
"I've made you dinner" the feminine voice behind him spoke out, her arms crossed over one another as she leaned with her shoulders against the wall to her right. "I ain't a helluva good cook but I can fix you up something decent. T'is barely warm now though". She had an old western accent that Whiskey recalled from television shows and popular western media when he was still in Korea — when he was still Ju Min-Jung.The thought made him smile faintly as he shrugged off his coat.
"Guess I'll take my chances."
Footsteps loudened, striking the floor with a dull and heavy sound as they neared the living room were the raging fire devoured wooden logs and pushed clouds of black smoke up the chimney.
"Have you read the paper?"
"No, what'd it say?"
"Another kid got killed..."
"Oh that.., I heard about it at Silver Viper. Something about a kid from the library?"
"He was an art student actually, worked part-time at the library to make ends meet"
The fire box down the very barrel of the chimney burned with the crackling sound of wood. Ash piled and cinders took flight up the passage of the chimney. Fawn's eyes sharpened as they lingered on Whiskey with a silent intensity. He hung his coat on the backrest of a one-seater couch. Its plush, pillow-like inlay was sealed in polished leather casing and a varnish-coated wooden frame.
"...he was killed by a celestine worthy, is what I read"
"Hmm...." Whiskey hummed a simple tune in a tone in which his uninterest was clear as day. He then walked to the dining room and Fawn would follow closely in his steps, pacing through the hall toward the wooden dinner-table. Its surface was sanded evenly but not nearly half as polished as the tables in the library. The kitchen was a separate section, build as a small stone shed in the backyard of the complex. In there was a hollowed stone, shaped like a box. Beside it was prepared a stacking tower of wooden logs, used to light a fire within the structure, allowing is a dual use as an oven or a perpetually heating cooking-top. Pots and pans blackened by open fire lay scattered about as if abandoned mid-thought, dried herbs and spices along the skinned carcasses of dried animals hung by either the stem of the leg from above a broad open furnace. That is the modern kitchenspace in Einar.
Whiskey walked toward a polished pot on the dinner table, gleaming with streaks of candlelight and stretched reflections, and he opened the metal lid. He took a brief glance at its contents before he nodded and closed the lid, placing his hand on the pot and making a turning motion with his wrist as if twisting a knowb. The pot was at room temperature and the cuisine that Fawn had prepared had lost considerable warmth as well.
"Take a seat" he heard Fawn's voice call out to him. "I'll pour you a portion"
Fawn stood with her back turned toward him, gripping the silver-like metal pot with a folded cloth as she stirred the steaming soup inside. In two swift scoops she poured a reasonable amount in a bowl and placed it down before Whiskey. The stew's aroma wafted up in a warm cloud, rich with the scent of herbs and tender venison. Its steam was barely noticable but smelled heavenly. Whiskey blew gently over the stew. The steaming cloud evaporated but the aroma lingered unlike the dissipated steam.
"That smells pretty good" he said with his appetite sharpening.
Chunks of meat danced in the bowl alongside floating pieces of softboiled potatoes in a seasoned broth. Poorly minced slices of garlic, onion and tomatoes conjoined several parsley leafs.
"They'll most likely brief me on the case of the murder in the morning" Whiskey suddenly spoke out, breaking the growing silence. The silverware spoon in his hand rang with a metallic clang against the porcelain plate.
"So you got the job?" Fawn queried.
"Yep, ol' Whiskey is a detective"
Fawn laughed softly, curling her pink lips in a smile as she said jokingly "Look at you, Mr. law enforcement"
Whiskey scoffed as he laughed softly, matching Fawn's humor.
"I'm still surprised you were able to afford this place with the advance payment" Fawn added to her previous comment. "It would take an officer of the law a whole year of saving before he could afford this house. The yard is spacious and we got our own kitchenspace as well"
"That's cuz I'm not a normal officer, the agency I work for is for celestine worthy related crimes only"
"You're kidding!? An agency like that exists!?"
"It does...~and I wasn't allowed to tell you about it, but I'd figure this conversation would save me a lot of complications if you one day found a bolt army model of 1645, six round cylinder, single-action revolver thingamajig something-something .46 caliber"
Fawn failed to contain her laughter. Her hazel brown eyes glinted like a copper coin basking in a golden ray of sunlight as she giggled.
"What're you laughing about? That gun enthusiast said so much in a span of eight seconds. I simply repeated what I remembered he said"
"Hahaa~but wait, what good is a gun against a celestine worthy?" Fawn cautioned.
"Any celestine up to the twelfth rank is still as vulnerable to gunfire as a normal human would, t'is what I heard. At the eleventh rank is when they gain a mild immunity to it, but apparently it would still leave mild scarring or bruising on their bodies, but no penetration"
"I see..."
"The main requirement for joining the agency, is being a celestine worthy yourself" Whiskey confessed. He then added to his confession "So guns are really just a precaution. Cases are separated based on the threat of the main suspect. That way low rank celestines aren't send marching to their deaths trying to catch a homicidal maniac of the sixth rank"
"Don't try to act tough, impressing your colleagues and everything" Fawn barked, responding the Whiskey's previous statement. She then proposed "Get a partner and don't try to lead investigations on your own".
"Ye'r kidding...?"
"I can assure you, Lychipher 'Whiskey' Klein, that I am indeed not" she hissed angrily. "We've only recently gotten engaged and I don't plan on being a widow anytime soon"
"Your father warned me about you" Whiskey sighed wearily, dropping his gaze into the half empty plate. "I should've listened"
Fawn playfully blew Whiskey a kiss as a tease after she concluded "T'is too late for that, darling~"
______________________________
The dawn broke over Ridgemond with a pale and golden morning light, casting long and sharp shadows across the cobblestone streets. The air was still crisp with winter's unapologetic bite, but it carried a faint promise of warmth that subtlety teased the arrival of the coming spring. Whiskey stepped out of the house and his leather boots crunched against the frost-dusted ground, leaving faint imprints behind him in the snow. A faint mist clung to the town like a moth to a flame and it rose in ghostly tendrils from the rooftops and chimneys. The smell of woodsmoke mingled with the sharp scent of cold metal and created an aroma he now associated with Ridgemond. From somewhere further down the street, the rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer punctuated the stillness in intervals, accompanied by the soft murmur of townsfolk stirring into abundant life. Ridgemond by day was a completely different creature than it had been at night. Gone were the flickering shadows and muffled laughter spilling from taverns like the Silver Viper that clouded Ridgemond in abundant noise. In their place was warm sunlight that gleamed on the frost, turning the world into a patchwork of glittering silver and muted browns. Horses whickered in their stalls with their breath rising in plumes while the occasional clatter of wagon wheels echoed through the narrow cobbled streets of Ridgemond. It were perfection.
Whiskey adjusted the brim of his brown-colored non-collapsible tophat and tightened his scarf against the chill. The cold stung his cheeks as the wind blew strongly in his face. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, making his stomach rumble in protest despite the breakfast he'd just had. As he walked he held a badge in his hand. It was a thin sheet of metal encased in a ironed leather casing and seemed almost like a card. His name, date of birth and affiliation were each printed on the leather with a press and the sunlight caught on the polished leather of his badge. It's dark brown was a perfect glint of contrast against the light tan fabric of his coat. He still wasn't sure how he felt about wearing it. Back in Korea, the idea of being an officer, or any kind of authority figure for that matter, would have been laughable. But here, in this strange world of Einar, it felt more like both an opportunity.
A group of children ran past him as he walked steadily. Their playful laughter rang out like church bells in the early morning stillness. One of them, a boy no older than ten, paused to stare at Whiskey with large curious eyes. The boy's eyes darted to the badge which Whiskey swiftly concealed in his coat and then to Whiskey's face, before he quickly scurried away to join his friends.
Whiskey shook his head with a faint smile. He laughed underneath his breath, forming wispy clouds in the air. The town square loomed ahead of him, its cobblestones glistening with frost. The towering clock stood as the pride of Ridgemond along the library and the Vadimatican cathedral. Its hands ticked steadily toward the coming hour. The courthouse was just beyond it, an imposing structure of stone and timber that seemed to absorb the sunlight rather than reflect it.
Whiskey entered with a deep sigh. His tall frame loomed with a casted shadow inward and numerous glares turned his way. He couldn't help but feel like an off-branded version Van Helsing, working for a secretive agency against supernatural threats.
"Mister, mister!!" A voice enthusiastically called out to Whiskey from the din and a young androgynous person ran toward him. They wore a navy blue ascot and looked to be a child, no older than thirteen and had a slender figure. They were short, barely reaching Whiskey's waist as they embraced him. Their tanned, caramel-tinted skin smooth as that of a newborn child. Curling short snow-white hair puffed with a marshmallow's volume from under the ascot like sheep's wool and they smiled energetically.
"....."
"I like your bedtime stories" she smiled. The smile was wide and genuine, truly the playful innocence of a child.
Whiskey froze.
"By the way mister, Whiskey is funny name" she giggled.
".....!!?"
"At ease, officer Klein" a voice cut through. "Finley, would you be so kind as to let go of mister Lychipher?" suggested a manly voice.
"Okay mister coffee~" the child reluctantly agreed, releasing Whiskey from her embrace and she stepped back with a slight frown.
"Officer Gisil" Whiskey called to the man. "May I ask who this child is?"
The man, Gisil Heinrich, laughed wryly as his gaze shifted from Whiskey to the child he referenced as Finley. "This is Finley Addams" he confirmed with a gesture of his hand. "She's here at the station with her parents, miss Fern and mister Sawyer Addams". He smiled at the child and playfully tooted their small nose. "Heeyyy~ didn't I tell you not to call me Mr Coffee?"
The child giggled as they held their nose with both arms.
"They're civilians?" Whiskey question cut through the playful laughter.
"Not entirely, we've taken both the Addams in our ranks as a forensic specialist and field agent like yourself. That way the confidentiality of the R.M.S.R.D remains a public secret. They ought to be quick to learn given they were both officers"
(R.M.S.R.D stands for Ridgemond supernatural research department)
"I see..."
"You'll have to forgive our son, agent Klein" a feminine voice interjected. "She's familiar with those she has yet to meet before ever meeting them, although you are the first she seems so close with". The voice came from a woman in a white blouse with puffed bishop sleeves and a tight raven black pencil skirt. Her skin was the dim color of dark chocolate and her shoulder-length locked hair had golden rings complementary to its deep black color. She reached out with an open palm, hoping to shake Whiskey's hand. "Looks like you'll be telling Finley some interesting bedtime stories in the future, mister Klein" she said smiling.
"Dat so?" Whiskey was unsure what to think of that statement. "Well then, its nice to meet you little Finley..and if course you too miss...Fern Addams, I'd wager"
The two of them shook hands as the woman confirmed her identity as Fern Addams and the mother of the bright child. In turn the child smiled brightly at Whiskey. "It's nice to meet you too mister Whiskey!"
Yet, as she shook his hand, Fern was astonished at the warmth of Whiskey's hand, whom had only recently walked in from the cold winter that raged outside. The warmth was like that of a freshly made cup of green citrus tea, not the likes the body could produce.
"So.." Gisil interrupted. "Mister Klein, I've come to learn from our little truthseer here, young Finley, that you're gift is an authority type. Would I be correct to assume?"
"She can see that?" He blurted with widened eyes. He then stammered, "Ugh..yes, let's see..I have the ability to add a dial onto any object to change its properties. The dial is a very simple shape. A flat plate with a scale and pointer that can be turned only by me to select a setting altering measurements of weight, volume, density or pressure"
"That's incredible..." Gisil voiced with a whisper. "And very versatile if used correctly"
"He's rank seven, but doesn't like it if people know so don't tell anyone!" The young Finley then instructed and shushed with a finger in front of his lips at everyone in the room. He then whispered with an erect index finger as he pointed, "...and don't mention it too often either"
Everyone watched with affixed glares of awe and wonder at Whiskey, drowning the room in a strange atmosphere of deafening silence. Whiskey smiled awkwardly through the pain if an exposed secret, reminding himself that Finley was just a child. He knelt down in one knee, smiling awkwardly at Finley while the others started to whisper among themselves in gossip, forming an audible cloud of indistinguishable murmurs in the office space.
"Hey~" he said with a honeyed voice. "Don't you think you could've kept that between us?" His voice low as a whisper.
"Nope" the child whispered back with a smile of his own. "Because you missed the briefing mister coffee wasn't going to allow you on this case anymore.... I'm hoping to change his mind"
Whiskey glared at Fern, his eyes were wide with shock similarly to hers. "Just how far can he see?"
"Ugh.... I-I'm not sure myself mister Klein" she stammered. "I'm more appalled by the fact that he's this familiar with you or captain Gisil— he's never been the social kind"
Gisil interrupted with a heavy voice, laughing. "There's no way that's true. The little rascal came at me like he knew me for years while I was still trynna figure out who he was"
"It's strange" Fern suddenly spat out. "These abilities of his manifested without warning and seemed to have only gotten stronger"
"Well, I'm afraid..I have your first official case, officer Klein" Gisil confessed. "Seeing as the child is familiar with you, and all"
"Very well" Whiskey swiftly accepted, smiling at the child.
"Captain Gisil, would it be possible for officer Klein to take charge of the case?"
"I beg your pardon?" Whiskey cut in.
"I am, as you surely know, a rank fifteen because I have only recently consumed an Odom apple after joining the the R.M.S.R.D. Because of such, not only am I therefore weaker than officer Klein but also less experienced in the field of expertise regarding gifts"
"I agree" Gisil vouched. "Officer Klein, you'll be lead detective..but, perhaps further details could wait until after the briefing. Officer Addams has completed the forensic research with his team and I'm afraid we could miss out on vital information if we waste time on idle chatter". Gisil remained calm, his posture straitened over his single-breasted waistcoat and nodded at Fern as he coughed in a fist.
"..." Whiskey had no say in the matter from his perspective as he was suddenly placed in charge of a case he wasn't even briefed on.
They then walked further into the office, through a hallway with padded floors toward a single wooden door at the uttermost end. Blue light shone through the glass square in the door, rippled like a river in the rain, thus warping the light that passed through into a blurred imagery. Beyond the door was a man with skin as pale as Whiskey's and golden blonde hair combed backward. His eyes were the elegant blue color matching the aether canvas and he wore a ring matching that on Fern's ringfinger. Like a raccoon he hurriedly dug through a precarious mountain of filed paper sheets scattered carelessly on the table, scanning their contents hastily with his eyes. He turned as he heard the brass door knob turn, shifting the small mechanical gears in the lock, as he smiled at the group upon entry.
"Mister Sawyer, I believe I've told you of our newest field agent, detective Lychipher Klein" Gisil introduced. "Mister Klein, this is our forensic specialist, mister Sawyer Addams– Finley's father"
Whiskey reached to shake the man's hand with a smile and the man, Sawyer Addams, made one such similar motion.
"Gentlemen please, call me Whiskey"
"Whiskey...? Are you a heavy drinker, mister Klein?"
"Ugh.....well, yes I suppose" Whiskey laughed.
"I see you've embraced the name" Sawyer mused.
"It's okay dad, mister Whiskey lowers the alcoholic contents so he doesn't get drunk" Finley revealed, smiling. Whiskey turned to the child with a baffled look, unsure of what to say in response to her abilities.
"He....ugh...knows quite a lot" he jested with an awkward smile he poorly held on his face. For Whiskey it was somewhat bizarre seeing the child aware of such things.
Sawyer laughed softly in response and agreed with a gentle nod. "We were approached by the R.M.S.R.D because...." he paused and for a brief instant his face showed a sorrowful expression.
"..the victims each have white hair, so it is believed that perhaps the murders are a ritual culling" Fern completed Sawyer's sentence as she turned to look at Whiskey.
"I see...." Whiskey mumbled in a low voice, throwing a brief glance at the child over his shoulder.
"What worsens the situation for the Addams.." Gisil elaborated, "..is that Finley has never consumed an Odom apple or used a relic"
"Ye'r kidding!? Then how come he's —"
"The only access to what we can call 'magic' is through a relic, I'm sure you know of this officer Klein" Sawyer interrupted. "Even an Odom apple is a relic, and in a way...it makes its consumer a relic in order to harness whatever 'magic' powers it grants. Do you know what that means, officer Klein?"
"...the child...is a living relic..?"
"That would be correct, as are every celestine worthy" Fern explained. "But Finley is a living relic, not made by an Odom apple....and it is likely that the one going around murdering these innocent white-haired civilians is the one responsible"
"I see— ah, officer Fern..you explained the crime may be related to a series of ritual cullings?"
"I'll let my husband the bookworm explain that" she replied, after which Sawyer gasped as if awakening from a dream and he hastily volunteered to explain.