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THE ADVENTURE OF AN ACTRESS' AFFAIRS
To the charming and decorated Lady Caspar,
I seem to have found myself in a kettle’s grip! Hot water claims every inch of my skin, sullying the visage of Fontaine’s premier talent! I cannot discuss the details here – they are sure to be discovered!
Please come meet me at the Vasari Apartments, number 301. I will be available until noon.
Sincerely,
Lady Furina de Fontaine
Deep teal beams and windows accompanied the apartment building’s cream brick, a common design choice in the Court. The sun bounced off of blonde curls, your business partner and co-detective setting aside her umbrella. An attendant opened the grand double doors to the lobby, ornate moulding and rich colors adorning each wall.
Conversation was quiet, kept to corners and shadowed tables. Navia marched forward unfazed, notifying the receptionist of your arrival. She wrote down your information, handing over a slip for the elevator guard.
You continued observing while Navia approached the guard, passing off your paper and entering the elevator. You followed, sighing when the doors finally closed.
The blonde chuckled, pressing the third floor’s button. The warmth of her palm greeted your shoulder, thumb stroking across fabric in comfort. Formalities have always been her strong suit, her bubbly demeanor disarming to most. It allowed you to lurk and watch, like clouds passing through a sunny sky.
You massaged your brow when the elevator dinged, doors sliding open. The first to your left bore an elaborate cerulean and gold plate, the number 301 resting alongside bubbles and seashells. You knocked on the door, pausing at the loud scrambling behind it.
“The Spina is here, Lady Furina. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, just– just a moment, please!”
Clinking and a sigh came before nearing footsteps, the doors opening to reveal short white and blue waves. The actress’ eyes mimicked the deep sea, niceties swimming within. Her billowy sleeves shifted as she reached out, shaking your hands before beckoning you inside.
Navia went first, making small talk about the Court’s latest trends while you noted the messy state of Lady Furina’s home. Sunlight burst past her drawn curtains, coating every used teacup sitting by the sink. Various pots lay on her stove, their rims lined with something akin to cheese. Blankets and books were strewn about, papers and splattered ink on the dining table.
You pulled out Navia’s chair, helping her bring it back in before sitting down yourself. Furina merely smiled across from you, already pouring tea and plating treats. The moment lingered, your co-detective commenting on the frosting’s citrusy sweetness as your legs brushed.
She took a long sip of tea, throat cleared of any lingering cake, “Why do you require our services, Lady Furina?”
“Oh, it is most dreadful, Lady Caspar! I am being extorted!”
“No!” Navia exclaimed, readying her notepad, “Tell us everything you can.”
“When I arrived home last night after my performance, there was a photograph on my vanity. In it was me and a certain… patron of the theater, whispering on a secluded bench. The back of the photograph held a message, Three million mora, or this photo will be sent to the Steambird. Have the money by the week’s end or the entire nation will know you are a cheater! My public relationship is only for the play, darling, I am no cheater! But still the masses believe we are truly in love when my heart belongs to another. Oh, this will not do, Lady Caspar, it simply will not do!”
“Not to worry, Lady Furina. The Spina is on the case!”
—
“You were here to visit Lady Furina, correct?”
A woman with soft pink hair sat on a sofa by the lobby’s entrance, a pursuant gleam in her blue eyes.
“Do her affairs concern you?”
She smiled at your retort, bouncing onto her feet before you and Navia, sticking out her hand.
“Charlotte, an investigative journalist with the Steambird. Pleasure to meet you, honored detectives!”
The Steambird…
You shook her hand, only deepening her satisfaction. Navia did the same before Charlotte spoke up again.
“Based on the looks in your eyes, I take it you know of her current… predicament.”
“How do you?”
She fetched a photograph from her journal, strikingly similar to the one Furina possessed.
Navia took it carefully, analyzing its appearance and the inky letter folded behind it. The angle of the photo was clear, the letter painting the scene “blasphemous” with its narrative.
“This was delivered to my office. I take it the sender, or culprit rather, wished to tarnish Lady Furina’s reputation and stir up the drama columns. Regardless, I take my profession very seriously, as well as the idea of justice that our nation is known for. Why publish a sloppy and tired affair story, when the case and verdict around this little sneak is so much more interesting?” She handed over her business card, “Contact or visit me if you need any information… or my freelance services.” With that, she winked and exit the building.
—
The scent of tomato and herb wrapped around you, sweet lemon floating underneath. Navia sat to your right, feasting on lunch alongside you. Her foot rest beside yours, her penchant for touch rearing its charming head. You had to admit it was soothing, providing a sense of grounded companionship throughout the day’s stressors.
She dabbed at her lips, taking a sip of lemonade and easing into her seat. The Fleuve Cendre was neutral territory, kept in line by your Spina subordinates. There was nothing that could not be discussed in its gentle light.
“This undoubtedly has to be a fan of Lady Furina’s…” she began.
“Likely driven first by obsession, then jealousy, and now greed. They loved her and wanted to be with her, probably stalking and getting shots of her before this one. After seeing her with someone else, the fantasy broke. They likely understand that the stage is fake, but this is real,” you continued.
“It is not about cheating at all. That is a guise for their own ego. Now that it is bruised, they want compensation,” she finished.
Your fingertips danced on the table, “We have a vague estimate of their profile. I suppose we should check the records at the opera house… as well as Livre and Caron’s shops. Possibly even Mequignon’s while we are nearby…”
Navia leaned into your side, a cheeky grin on her face, “Or we can take the more adventurous route. Enlist Charlotte to capture photos of the culprit after we lure them in with Lady Furina. The Gardes will be ready to capture them and take them in. What do you think?”
You leaned toward her in kind, her playful eyes faltering, “Another brilliant idea from the mind I adore.”
—
Lady Furina had been far too excited to play along with your scheme, her caricature perfectly charming and spirited. Experienced and disguised members of the Spina pretended to be customers at nearby shops, ready to interfere should she need immediate protection.
Lady Furina chatted away with Mequignon, asking after various old masks and novels. Charlotte wait ready in the bushes, camera poised discreetly. You had hypothesized that the culprit would seek out Lady Furina in person, but the journalist was armed in case your theory was incorrect.
Everyone knew, though, that you would be right on the money.
And in fact, you were.
A man wearing purple, with greying hair and an anxious posture, came to stand behind her at the House of Curiosities. He perused the items laid out, sneaking glances between Lady Furina and his surroundings. He feigned interest in different oddities, picking them up and investigating their condition. Only after Mequignon glared at him did he swallow, coming to greet Lady Furina. His clean, fancy satchel was visible now, something metal gleaming from beneath its shifted flap.
You signalled the Spina agents, who then tipped off the Gardes. One of your subordinates approached the man, talking casually and patting his shoulder. Another came up on his other side, blocking him from Lady Furina as the Gardes came in. They handcuffed him, confiscating his satchel and searching it. Inside was a camera and notes, a single look from an agent telling you he was done.
You took one of Lady Furina’s hands, Navia at the other as you ferried her away, hiding out in the Duelist’s headquarters. She wrapped both of you into a hug, tears of relief blossoming in her eyes.
“Thank you, truly. I could not be more grateful for your help.”
“Anytime, Lady Furina,” Navis curtsied.
“Nonsense! Just call me Furina.”
“You are welcome, Furina,” you supplied, “We will have an agent assigned to you for the next month to ensure your safety.”
Navia moved beside you, elbow resting sideways on your shoulder as she winked, “Not to worry, though, they’ll gladly give you alone time with your lover.”
THE ADVENTURE OF A DUELIST’S REVENGE
To the kindly Lady Caspar,
I require your assistance with a most troublesome matter. My office was vandalized on Sunday night. All of my records were scattered and quite hateful messages left on my walls. They tore up valuable books, and even etched “murderer” into my desk.
When I left my home for work this morning, I discovered the very same accusation in my front door.
Please, let us set aside the past and pursue this case properly. My door is always open for you.
Your former “partner”,
Clorinde
The Court of Fontaine’s outskirts were tame, cottages lining the streets with plenty of flowers and benches. Gardemeks still patrolled, careful to avoid playing children and busy citizens. Despite the activity it was quite mellow, lapping waves and birdsong resting beneath shouts and conversation.
Navia’s arm was hooked with yours, her warm voice greeting other passersby. Cobblestone echoed under her heels, umbrella poised open and high. She had insisted you wear her sunglasses today, though she never specified how. They hung from your collar, a simple declaration of your connection.
A figure with tied hair came into view, its shade of deep twilight. Her violet eyes fixated on you, book closing as her lips quirked up. She stood, placing it on a walnut bench beside her coffee mug. Navia’s arm parted from yours, gloved hand reaching out to shake Clorinde’s. You exchanged pleasantries, the duelist lifting a paper on her front door.
Just as she wrote, the word “murderer” was carved into the wood. It’s etch was precise, clearly done by someone with skill.
“Who has access to your office in the duelist’s building?” you asked.
“Only my colleagues.”
“There were no signs of a break-in, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Then we have our first clue. They likely found your address amongst your records.”
“Shall we visit the duelist’s headquarters?” Navia questioned, chin on her fist.
“Actually, we may be able to resolve this sooner. Charlotte sent me a letter with other investigators and forensic aids in the Court. There is one I should be able to fetch within the hour. Will the two of you be alright here?”
“Why can I not come with you?”
“While I have no doubt in Ms. Clorinde’s capabilities, I would rather the two of you look after each other. I cannot have my partner or my client getting into trouble or worse.”
Navia’s eyes bore into yours, her arms crossed with indignance.
You smiled half-heartedly, and she turned to Clorinde with a huff.
“Fine.”
—
While Lady Furina’s home was bright and messy, Clorinde’s appeared dark and organized. Jewel tones were abundant across her walls and furniture, deep woods and golden moulding accompanying them. Her space was clean, no dust or grime revealed by her various accent lights. Her parlor room walls held art and specimens of the forest. Swords gleamed by old photos and certificates, her past achievements hung for clients to see.
It seems her adventures with me were not worth such an honor…
Navia settled in the loveseat’s center, Clorinde taking a rigid seat in the chair opposite.
“It is good to see you again.”
Years ago her voice would have fallen over the detective like cool water on a summer’s day. Now it only brought ice to her flaming heart.
“You as well.”
“I can tell that is not true, Navia.”
“What would you have me say, Clorinde? Thank you for breaking my heart? Thank you for killing my father? You have no right to expect anything from me.”
Her violet eyes bore into the detective’s, searching for something long gone, “You are right.”
“Yes, I am.”
“How would you like me to express my remorse, Navia? I have sent you letters and flowers. Given you space and clung to your side. How can I make things right between us?”
“I do not think you ever can, Clorinde.”
The room faded into silence, only filled by the ticking clock and echoing laughter from beyond the walls.
“Would you like a drink? I have coffee, tea–”
“Tea please, any blend will do.”
Clorinde nodded, rising and walking quietly to the kitchen.
Navia slumped into her seat, thoughts simmering.
—
A knock at the door twenty minutes later interrupted nothing but pervasive silence. The duelist tried to hide the eagerness in her steps, approaching the door with her usual stoic temperament.
Navia continued to sip on her tea, catching glances of you and a lady in an emerald dress behind Clorinde’s tall figure. Porcelain met wood as she set the cup and saucer down, curiosity masking the pit in her chest. Black gloves felt every ridge and divot along the wood. Glasses held cherry blossom eyes, their gradient nearly as poignant as the dawn-laced shades of her hair.
“This is Emilie,” you introduced, “She makes your favorite perfume, partner.” Navia smirked at your nudging elbow, “She is also a forensic specialist. She will track the culprit’s every step at this scene, and we will have the Gardes handle them.”
The blonde came closer to you, her hand brushing yours, “Excellent.” She leaned into your ear to whisper, “How about dinner at Hotel Debord when we’re finished?”
You smiled, murmuring toward her ear, “Like I could ever refuse you.”
“I know what he did now,” Emilie exclaimed.
“He?”
The specialist turned to Clorinde, “Are you familiar with Savinien?”
“He is a fellow Champion Duelist, we crossed paths once or twice.”
“I have seen his handwriting many times in the letters and reports he sends me. I can confidently say this is his. Based on the carving’s depth, he was incredibly upset with you, likely over something personal. My guess is that you dueled a family member of his and they, unfortunately, lost.”
“Yes… I believe I heard word throughout the duelists that his nephew passed. I was not aware that he faced me.”
“We will notify the Gardes. Can you write us a report of your findings for them, Emilie? They will want to verify your claims.”
Emilie nodded to you, “Of course.”
“Then that settles it. Enjoy your evening, Clorinde,” Navia took your hand in hers, dragging you down the street. You tried to stop her, to see why she was so upset. Only when you planted your feet firmly on the cobblestone did you finally tug her back, wrapping her in your warm arms. Her head buried into your chest, breath shaky as she tried to hold herself together.
“I apologize, Navia. I do not know what happened while I was gone, but I will never leave you alone again, if that is what you wish.”
She sniffed, brushing away her tears before joining one of her hands with yours.
“I could never be that selfish. I just want to be close to you tonight.”
“Then let us get dinner,” you smiled.
—
The next morning Savinien was brought in for questioning and subsequently charged. Clorinde wrote him an official apology, yet still condemned the way he channeled his grief. Her door was replaced, and the case closed.
THE ADVENTURE OF MEROPIDE’S ESCAPEE
To the dutiful Lady Caspar,
Trouble’s stirred up in the Fortress again. Normally I can handle it myself, but this situation is proving more difficult than any of us thought.
There was a Pankration match between Enri and Gascon three nights ago. Enri won, and after lights out, Gascon found him with one of our fiberglass mops. He used the pole to beat the poor guy within an inch of his life. Thankfully, Sigewinne is tending to him and his condition has stabilized.
The only issue now is that Gascon escaped the Fortress afterward. I suspect that he bribed a guard or two to sneak him through a shipment, or ignore his cell come nightfall. We need your help to track him down and return him to the prison.
Sincerely,
Wriothesley, Duke of Meropide
The Fortress of Meropide boasted concrete of midnight shades, brass details dressing up its appearance. The Duke himself waited for you on the steps, eyes brightening as you got closer.
After exchanging greetings he guided you through the prison’s doors, going over Gascon’s appearance and notable incidents as you navigated the winding halls to the infirmary.
Sigewinne sat at a prisoner’s beside when you entered, their body bandaged in various places, face obscured by white cloth.
“Do you think you will be able to answer some questions, Mr. Enri?” she asked.
His thumb inched up, voice scratchy, “Yes.”
You let Navia take the lead, her demeanor far more comforting than yours.
“No need to worry, we already have most of the details. I am not going to ask you to relive the moment itself, only anything you remember from before. So, Mr. Enri, do you recall how he greeted you that evening before the match?”
—
“You want my help tracking him down?”
Chevreuse’s long purple hair blew in the seaside breeze, the captain herself quick to arrive at the Duke’s request.
“Yes,” Navia replied.
“Well, given that the attack took place three days ago, he could be hiding out or on a boat out of Lumidouce Harbor.”
“Very helpful, Chev,” you quipped.
“I wasn’t finished. Based on Enri and the Duke’s descriptions, he was unstable at the time of the attack. Gascon has been in the Fortress for nearly a decade – a lot has changed in Fontaine during that time. So, I believe my former theory is closer to the truth.”
“He is going to stick to what he knows,” Navia murmured.
“Exactly. Now, I have members of the Special Patrol nearby if we need them. Let’s start investigating the area.”
Immediately your gaze was drawn to a cottage in the meadow, Navia sticking to the shore’s cliffs, yet Chevreuse following close behind. Dirt broke from the grass near the fenceline, revealing footsteps among its weeds. You shared a glance with the captain, who readied her musket quietly and signalled to the patrol members.
The curtain in the window shifted, the front door bursting open as a shot burst past it. Another echoed shortly after, but your heart raced far too loudly in your ears. Sharp, burning pain registered in your thigh, something warm coating your leg as a figure ran to you through the grass.
“Partner!”
Navia knelt before you as patrol members flooded the scene. Chevreuse distantly apologized, but all you could focus on was your partner’s warmth, tears of worry running down her cheeks as she gripped your cheeks.
“You will be alright, I promise. Can someone get a medic?! There’s so much blood…”
“It will take more than this to kill me, Nav.”
“You– you don’t know that! I cannot lose you too.” Her forehead bumped against yours, “I love you. More than anything in this entire world. You have to live for me, okay?”
You laughed, body shocked and overwhelmed, hardly registering the pain after the euphoria of her confession, “I’m not going anywhere, Nav. I love you too much to even think about leaving you behind.”
She wrapped her arms around you, kiss desperate and longing. Her weight leaned into you and you winced, causing her to panic for a medic again as your vision grew blurry.
THE ADVENTURE OF A LIFETIME
Your stay at the Court’s hospital had been arduous. The bullet needed to be removed from its home in your thigh, the wound flushed and treated for any infections. You had minimal movement allowed after they stitched it up, covering it with bandages much to Navia’s relief.
She stayed at your bedside for weeks, a tether to the outside world and a comfort for your heart. You had not yet gotten the opportunity to discuss your heat of the moment confession, but she never seemed to mind. She fussed over your pillows and sheets, brought you drinks and treats from the Court, much to your doctor’s dismay. She always had a new novel as well, reading to you in various different voices that left your sides hurting.
Come nightfall she would brush back your hair, leaving a kiss on your forehead and lips. She would rub your forearm until you fell asleep, leaving shortly after. Her heart sank every time she had to shut your door, walking alone to her city apartment. Taking care of herself was a challenge, but she would try for you. She would bathe and eat, frantically writing down her thoughts from the day after. Some nights it was a journal entry, others a letter for you.
The release of her emotions proved cathartic and exhausting. Sleep always came easy, especially when she held one of her pillows, imagining it was you.
Physical therapy was the most challenging part of your recovery. Navia stuck by your side, taking notes on all of your stretches and exercises. She walked the hospital halls with you, for as many steps as you could manage. She helped you lift and extend your leg, practicing while the therapist was away.
She couldn’t help but cry, when you were moving on your own weeks later. You approached her at the entrance to your room, finally able to place a kiss on her lips yourself.
—
Weeks had passed since your discharge, and many of your belongings slowly found their way into Navia’s apartment. Clothes beside each other, favorite mugs and teacups in the sink. Her perfume mingled with yours on your pillows. Even her office bore signs of you. An additional chair rest next to hers, your stationery scattered about the desk. A copy of one of your favorite books lay before her seat, notes in the margins accompanying yours. There was much to enjoy during your break from investigations, your days light and airy.
A letter that fell from the bookshelf changed that however.
To my lovely partner,
I suppose that nickname has taken on a new meaning now. I still cannot believe you reciprocate my feelings… For so long they only led me to feel more lonely, yet I still could never consider straying from your side.
I have never said this, but I am grateful you moved to Fontaine all those years ago. I could not imagine anyone else investigating by my side, or filling my days with the love and joy you so effortlessly bring me. You have stolen my heart, and in turn my mind. My thoughts always lead back to you, whether it is a memory or something that reminds me of you.
Considering how much time we have spent together, I see you in nearly everything. Your face is in the clouds, your voice in the waves. The wind wraps me in your fragrance and the sun warms me with your touch. We are so entwined, dearest partner, that my life could never be the same without you.
I love you with everything I am, and everything I ever will be.
Your partner,
Navia
You set the letter down gently, eyes bleary as you left the office. Your shared bedroom was just down the hall, Navia exiting in a black robe. She had a towel in hand, drying her hair as she smiled, gaze concerned after noticing your tears.
“Are you alright, part–”
Navia exclaimed as your lips met hers, hands cradling her cheeks when she sighed, towel dropping. Her palms wrapped around your wrists, her body pressing into yours. They traveled down to your elbows as you backed her into the wall, her nails digging into your skin. Her lips met yours harder and harder, desperation in each heave of her chest.
She made quick work of your shirt, tugging you impossibly closer by your belt. She smiled into your kiss, jumping into your arms. Her legs wrapped around your waist as she giggled with satisfaction. Your kisses were slow and measured, traversing down her neck as you held her up, thumbs stroking the exposed skin of her ass. You nipped at her earlobe and her hips jutted forward, a moan escaping her lips as her clit nudged against the buckle of your belt. Its cool metal eased the fire between her legs, her hips continuing their desperate grinding. You licked along her bare clavicle, flicking at the dip of her throat before dragging your tongue down between her breasts.
Navia clenched around nothing, a short whine accompanying the dull strike of her nails along the back of her neck.
“Please,” she whispered, lips sloppily kissing your neck.
“Please what?”
“Touch me, chérie. I need you.”
“Not yet. I want to watch you come first.”
A shaky sigh exit her lips, your own coming to cover them. She moaned into your kiss, hips shifting back and forth over your belt buckle. Your palms gripped her ass harder, making her every stroke deeper. Her robe slipped off her shoulders, her breasts rocking with each swipe against you. There was nothing but her in this moment, nothing but her trust in you as she began falling apart. Her voice was raspy and high, moans hanging on every fragmented breath crossing her parted lips. Only when her hand gripped your hair, tugging you into a kiss while she cried out, did your weight shift.
You pressed her harder into the wall, fingers sinking into her spasming hole. Your forearm aided in her support as you slowly pumped your fingers along her sensitive walls. Her tongue flicked over your lips, laving over yours once they parted. The warmth of her cunt encased your fingers whole, her wetness dripping onto your knuckles from their crevice. She relaxed into your touch and you thrust harder, fingertips brushing over the spot that made her tense and melt.
The tip of your thumb swiped lazily over her clit with each push of your fingers. Navia sucked on your bottom lip as your kiss broke apart, a soft giggle of bliss falling over your shoulder. She nestled toward your neck, licking and biting idly, her hands gripping you anywhere they could reach. Your thumb moved faster, falling out of sync with your fingers as your only priority became making her come.
Her thighs began shaking around you, exertion finally catching up to her as she continued grinding against you. Her lips quivered under yours, a loud, pleasured moan falling from them. Her cunt tightened around your fingers, driving your fingers up to gently massage that spongy spot.
She whined, palms drifting down to your shoulders, “More…”
—
Navia’s scent of citrus and rose danced with sweat, filling your nose as she cuddled closer, mumbling in her sleep. You continued scratching her scalp, leaving a kiss on her head. Your thoughts were far too busy for sleep, the aftermath of the last few months still racing through your system. There was so much you wished to tell your darling partner, so much that it would be overwhelming to try and share them from your lips.
Instead you felt drawn to parchment and pen, Navia stirring in your shared bed as you left for the office once more.
To my precious partner, the Lady Caspar,
Silver light is breaking from behind the office curtains, mixing with the gold of a candle I have lit. I cannot help but feel that we were meant to be – the sun and moon fated to illuminate the other.
I could never say this to your face, but I can be as open as I wish here on paper. I will one day be able to proclaim my feelings for you on the opera’s stage, yet for now I hope this suffices.
Who am I kidding? You have always supported me, you are sure to do the same now. You are gracious and kind and everything good in this world. To think I ever once lived without you…
I want to give you my thanks, for loving me and taking care of me, especially at my lowest. I know that the fallout from the Meropide case was just as hard for you, but you put on a brave face and helped me see my recovery through. I am so, so grateful for you. Everyday I thank the stars that we found each other, that we understand each other.
There is no other partner I would prefer. You are my sunlight, the very thing that helps me shine and grow. Your love is worth more than any solved case, and any finery from the boutiques you love so. It is more than any contract or money.
You are my entire world, the being I revolve around and worship. There is no other way I would have it.
With all the love in my soul,
Your partner