Issue #1: From The Ashes

New idea! I am writing some of our tabletop campaign arcs into little pulp fiction booklets. This is just the first chapter of the first one, but I really want to continue it. No idea how to market it, but… yeah.

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I. Binoculars & A Camera

Brie de Meaux waited at the end of an alleyway with a small pair of binoculars.  Her eyesight wasn’t what it used to be.  On the other side of the cobblestone street, a beautiful artisanal mansion loomed.  It was flanked by equally beautiful and equally artisanal mansions, which really took away the grandiosity.  She had been watching this mansion in particular for nearly two hours.

“Any news?” Brie asked as someone approached, not even removing the binoculars from her eyes.  In contrast to her eyesight, Brie’s hearing was as good as ever.  That was one of the perks of being a mouse: big, round ears.  All the better to hear the sounds of familiar footsteps, my dear.

“There hasn't been anybody in or out all day,” Perch said, rummaging through his notebook.  His rounded fingertips were hardly any use with the little journal Brie had given him when he made the rank of junior detective.  He thought about buying one more appropriately sized, but he didn’t want to be rude.

“And you’re sure this is the right place?” Brie asked.

“I swear, Miss De Meaux!  I tracked them back to this exact building!”

“Yes, yes, quiet down,” Brie sighed.  She wasn’t questioning Perch’s skills, but facts were very important to her.

Brie and Perch had been working this case all week.  A missing woman.  An eccentric baron.  A trail of breadcrumbs.  It had all the trappings of a traditional mystery in Baniera.  It was exactly the kind of mystery Brie and Perch liked to solve.

Suddenly, Brie became very still.  She squinted through the binoculars at the upper window.  The veil of a curtain had been pulled back, and she could have sworn she saw… but then the curtain was drawn.  Had she imagined it?  Was it another lapse in vision?  The Old Dog would have never mistaken something like this; they had an eye for detail and a nose for the truth.

“Did you see that?” Brie asked, removing the binoculars and squinting at the blurry house.

“See what?” Perch asked.

“In the upper window.”

Perch looked at the window.  He squinted as well, though his eyesight was remarkably good.  Then he shook his head.

“Sorry, Miss de Meaux.  I don’t see anything.”

“Hm…” Brie put the binoculars to her face once again and changed the glanced around the perimeter of the mansion.  The manicured rose garden out front.  The high fence, with iron tips.  The cobblestone street just outside.  And standing in front of the mansion was a small woman with pink skin.

A gnome? Brie thought.  On Baniera?  How strange.

Then Brie noticed something else about the woman: she was carrying a camera.  She had it pointed at the mansion.

    “Another detective?” Brie thought out loud.  But she knew every detective on the island, all 77 of them.  None of them were pink skinned gnomes, and cameras were hard to come by.  Especially this particular camera, which seemed to capture light much faster than the obscura cameras she was used to.

“I don’t recognize her,” Perch said, examining the woman.  Her clothes were rich colors, blues and golds.  A lot of what she wore was decorative. “I don’t think she’s a detective though.  She stands out too much.”

“Very astute,” Brie said, eyeing the woman through her binoculars.  Her actions were as conspicuous as her clothes, standing in broad daylight like that and photographing a baron’s manor.  She was no detective.

“Should I tail her?” Perch asked nervously.  Following people always made him nervous.  If they were to spot him, he wouldn’t know how to explain himself.

“No,” Brie said with a smile. “In fact, I think we should make ourselves known.  Once she’s off the street, of course.”

Perch didn’t understand Brie’s logic as they followed the alley away from the mansion.  They took a turn and wound up emerging onto a street almost exactly as the gnome rounded the corner.  Brie approached her first.

“Hello, Miss.  I’m Brie de Meaux, seventy-first best investigator on Baniera.”

“Seventy-first?” the gnome said.  She had an accent that was common for gnomes, with stress on long vowels and hard S sounds.  So when she said that doesn’t sound like something to brag about it came out more like “Sat does in sound like somesing to brag about”.

“Baniera is a meritocracy,” Brie explained swiftly. “We are assigned professions that best suit our skills, and we are ranked accordingly.  My standing as a detective is merely fact.”

“Can you repeat sat?” the gnome pressed.

Brie steadied herself and focused on her pronunciations.  Ever since her accident, her words had a gooey lisp to them.  It was easier to understand after spending a few hours with Brie, but it often put strangers at a disadvantage.

“It’s not relevant,” Brie said steadily. “I was wondering if I could see the picture you just took of that mansion.”

“Oh, sure.” The woman reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of pictures.  She found the newest one and handed it to Brie.

The picture was black and white and nicely framed.  It captured the entire mansion, from the front gate to the gabled roof.  The daylight cast shadows on the stonework, accentuating the architectural style.  To anyone with a trained eye, it was a good picture.  To Brie, it was a great one.

“See there?” she said, pointing to the upper window with a gloved hand.  Perch leaned in to take a look.  Sure enough, there was a figure of a woman behind the lace curtains.  It wasn’t clear enough to make out exactly who it was, but Perch knew that the baron hadn’t had visitors all day.  He was unmarried, and no women lived in the house.

“Our missing lady?” Perch guessed.

“Indeed.”

“I’m sorry, what is this all about?” the gnome asked.

“Nothing that concerns you, miss,” Brie responded.

“Well it’s my picture,” the gnome said, snatching the photograph out of Brie’s gloved hands. “So I’d say it concerns me quite a bit.”

Brie and Perch looked at each other.  Neither of them wanted to state the obvious—that gnomes were often seeking adventure where there was none to find—because it was a bit discriminatory.  But they both thought it.

“Tell her,” Brie sighed.  It was easier to work with a gnome than to keep one away.

So Perch told the tale of the missing woman.  It was a story so old and predictable that telling it again was a waste of his time.  It was a waste of everyone's time.  And yet, the gnome’s eyes lit up with a sense of adventure.

“Then we should go to the authorities!” the small woman exclaimed at the end of the retelling.

“That’s for us to decide, Miss…” Brie’s thought trailed off.

“Pepperpuff,” the gnome said. “Primrose Pepperpuff.”

“Well, Miss Pepperpuff,” Brie went on. “This isn’t enough evidence for the authorities.  No sane creature in Baniera would risk accusing a baron without just cause.”

“Then we need more evidence, I suppose,” Primrose offered.

Brie looked at Perch.  Perch vehemently shook his head.  Brie ignored him.

“Would you like to be of service to us, Miss Pepperpuff?” Brie asked.  Predictably, Primrose’s eyes lit up once again.