Wizard Cops (In Colour)

WRITING:

My name is Les Woodrow, I'm a detective working for the Arcane Investigations Special Police Squad. Recently, there had been an outbreak of mages summoning powerful succubi, and setting them loose on officials and investigators alike. Unfortunately, I'd been assigned to tracking down affiliates of the Mage's Academy who've been practicing unlawful magics.

"Good morning, Detective Woodrow. I'd like to see you in my office." Les looked up at his boss, a broad shouldered man with a powerful collection of bone structures. Chief Rindfleisch had many notable qualities, but among the most referenced was the magnificence of his beard. It was as bushy as it was made of fire, and the crackling orange flames dancing off of his chin made sure you knew that it was certainly not made of anything other than fire. Les stood up carefully, putting down his mug of internal monologues, and followed his boss into the square room.

"Now, Woodrow," the Chief of magical police began. "There's been a murder. I'll need you to take your sorry rear end down to the Freising University immediately."

Les rolled his eyes. He'd miss lunch. His gluteus maximus, cursed the other week to be vocal, apologised for Les' rudeness. "I don't suppose I'd be able to take this assignment on my own?"

"I'm afraid not Les, you've been assigned a partner. You'll be taking a new recruit from the Foundation with you."

"What was wrong with my old partner?"

"Ulthrike the Almighty, dread behemoth of the deep, quit the force. Getting too old for this, apparently." The chief shrugged his shoulders, and then shrugged Les' shoulders just for good measure.

"I swear he's immortal."

"Be that as it may, Detective Robertson will meet you in your car."


True to the chief's words, the fresh faced and overly serious man manifested inside of my vehicle just as I was turning onto the Bundesautobahn 92. Naturally, I offered him a cigarette on arrival.

"I don't smoke." Robertson said after a moment. Les glanced at the man, and sure enough he was not currently emitting soot.

"Ah, I apologise. Would you like a cigarette?"

"Thank you."

Les tried to keep his focus on the road ahead of him. "So, what's your name? If we're going to be working together we may as well get to know each other."

"Riley Robertson, thaumatology specialist."

"Ah yes, I'd heard of the Foundation trying to bring science to magic." Les glanced over his shoulder as he changed lanes, choosing instead a nice carpet over the harsh asphalt that had been there before. "I'm afraid that you're going to be quite out of your depth if you keep clinging to such notions."

"I shall do my best, Detective Woodrow."

A few more minutes of driving took them into the trees, and once they'd recovered from the crash they were well on the way to the academy. The building was coated in a nest of turrets and towers of many different shapes and qualities. One tower in particular was in the process of falling over as they arrived; the destination of their venture. From the report given to them by the local dean, the tower had been locked with all people inside. This should make it easier to find the culprit.


The case as it had been handed to me was rather unusual. Not a simple magical murder, which some colleges actually encourage as a method of encouraging students to take up abjuration classes, rather the victim had been murdered in secret, and then had their corpse raised as a thrall. The only people who could've done such a thing would be the two other people currently residing in the decades decommissioned necromancy wing. Before any of this however, we visited the scene of the crime.

Les beat down the smoldering flames from his left arm as his partner took to the new corpse to smother the fire before it spread too much. It was a little surprising to see the thrall still moving when they arrived. It was even more surprising when it kept talking afterwards.

"Alright keep your hair on, I get the message. No funny business." Robertson replaced the toupee that he had been using to to damp the fire upon his head. Woodrow put away the comedy props.

"Good evening sir. Would you be able to inform me of the identity of your murderer?" Riley asked after a moment. The thrall turned the remains of its head towards the question, and even without a face remaining Les could tell it was vastly unimpressed.

"First day on the job, is it?"

"How could you possibly tell?"

"For starters, it's written all over your face." Riley looked in the nearest pane of glass, and sure enough there were sharpie marks plastered covering his nose and brow. He turned to his partner incredulously, and saw Les holding a distinct crystalline object in the rough shape of a pen.

"Magic marker." He responded.

"But also, it's pretty basic stuff to know that a thrall ain't the same guy as the body he lives in."

Detective Woodrow stepped forwards to the thrall for his own questions.

"Could you tell us the identity of your summoner then?"

"How am I supposed to know one idiot mage from the next?" The thrall attempted to spit on the ground, but he lacked the glands to do so. "Some kinda blue robed man."

Les nodded, and scribbled something onto his notepad. "Were you conjured in this building?"

"Downstairs, some kind of dungeon going on."

"Interesting." The sound of Les' pen again filled the room. "Do you mind if I examine the body?"

The thrall indicated that it was happy to accommodate the investigation, and Les passed his notebook to Riley. Riley examined the book, and found a rather fabulous sketch of a sandwich robbing graves.

Les cast his eyes about the body quickly and carefully. He plucked and examined a thread from the un-corpse's fingernails. It was a light blue hue. He pocketed it with a smile. "Right, I think we're done here. I'll go talk to the witnesses, you perform the exorcism."


Our two witnesses in question were both students of the School of Evocation, taking up residence in the now abandoned necromancy wing while they worked on their final project together with the deceased. Since they knew each other personally, I decided to interview them together.

"So, for the sake of the recording charm, please state your names." Les watched the two men carefully as he prepared to ask them questions. They were almost identical in ways that would imply either a close familial or magical connection between them, or a really lazy writer. They both had roughly rectangular faces, with tight upper lips and even tighter brows. The pair did have distinctions however, one was short and one was tall. One was fat and one was thin. One was currently glowing bright purple, and the other was not.

"I am Alexys Todbringer," the taller man said.

"My name is Dietrich Achtung," the luminous man said.

Les nodded once to both of the men. "Alright. Can you please tell me what you were working on with our victim?"

"We were attempting to marry the powers of Evocation and Conjuration, so that we might make it possible to summon non-physical entities and familiars." Alexys responded after a moments consideration.

"Very difficult," Les nodded understandingly. "Had you prepared a vicar in advance?"

Both men looked quizzically at the detective.

"I think you misunderstand my associate," it was Dietrich's turn to speak, taking time with his words to ensure he was understood. "There was no vicar involved in this process."

"Oh of course, a christian wedding would be completely unworkable."

"Naturally."

"Jewish then? Associations with Kabbalah would make it ideal."

Both interviewees nodded in unison. Dietrich's glowing hue shifted towards the orange spectrum.

"Back to the matter at hand. What would you gentlemen say your relationships were to the deceased?"

Once again, Alexys was the first to speak, leaning in towards his interviewer.

"To be quite honest, Iskandar was unpleasant as conjurers can be. A very rude man who I wouldn't hesitate to eliminate from the equation if not for his relevant expertise."

Les then leant towards Dietrich to hear his opinion.

"Iskander was a liar and a thief. He stole the heart of my former lover and told me she had run away. I only found out that he had taken her internal organs a week later."

Individually, this information might've been more use. When Les considered both however, it was almost as useful as if they'd said nothing at all. The detective stood up from his seat and ended the recording his attractive attitude had been taking.

"I shall have detective Robertson take your alibis in the morning, for now I suggest we all hit the sack. I'll have to ask that neither of you leave the academy grounds until this is all over."

A levitation ban was perhaps more strict than necessary, but frankly Les had had enough of suspects floating out of his reach as he was about to convict them.


One exhausting night of hessian pugilism later, Robertson was gathering information in the university. I decided the best thing to do was to pay a visit to the on-campus bagel shop. I had ordered ham and stilton on poppyseed, and was waiting for it when I spotted an all too familiar face in the line behind me.

"Delightful replication charm, Alexys." Les chuckled politely at his reflection.

“If you really do live up to your title of detective don’t you.” Alexy had dropped the charm.

Les gave the mage a short nod. “I guess you could say it’s in my blood, did detective Robertson take your alibi?”

“yeah , yeah he did. Although, going through the same questions twice was rather rough.”

With a raised eyebrow Les took his order and turned glancing at Alexy. “Robertson asked you same questions again?”

“Uh no. It was before detective Robertson came to ask his questions, this was with a much older detective.”

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