The Detective Thirteen

Two days after the dungeon failed.

“This is a clusterfuck.”

Mallory looked up to the chief of police. The man was openly smoking in his office. The ashtray on his desk, sitting precariously atop a mountain of reports, was full of butts and ashes. “Things aren’t great, no,” he agreed. “I’m afraid that I’m going to need some help for the next stage of my investigation.”

The police chief stared at him, then took a pull from his cigarette. “You know, Detective, I admire how dogged you are. It’s impressive.”

“Thank you,” Mallory replied. Then he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“It’s also rather stupid, at this point. I don’t think your investigation is going to go anywhere.”

“I disagree. I think I’m close. I can sense it,” Mallory said.

The chief snorted, then stood. He walked over to the window at the back of his office and spread the curtains over. The city sprawled out beyond. The office was on the topmost floor of the police headquarters, which afforded them a nice view.

He could easily pick out the faint, distant trails of smoke coming from several parts of the city. The chief saw them too. “The firemen have done a good job so far. Last time, when Ditz collapsed we had one fire that raged through the far southern slums for three days. We lost a lot of people to that one.”

“I don’t think any of the fires were in the slums last night,” Mallory said.

“No. They were near the factories, and downtown. They were targeted. Not accidents. We lost three firemen. Two injured, one dead.” He turned, plucking his cigarette from his lips. “It’s going to get worse.”

“The city...”

“Is fucked. It’s not just the production. I talked to some of those fancy industrialists. Dungeons and their goods are wonderful, but the two we had barely accounted for a tenth of the materials the city needed to work. Still, a tenth is a lot.”

“The issue is psychological,” Mallory deduced.

“Hm.” The police chief nodded. He smothered his cigarette, then opened a drawer on his desk. He pulled out a small wooden box from within, opened it next to his now-empty pack of cigarettes, and pulled out a long, narrow cigar from within.

Mallory caught the faint scent of warm wood and strong tobacco in the air before the chief went through the motions of cutting the tip and lighting it. “The people think that work is going to be scarce. They’re right. If one man in ten needs to find work to feed his lot, then that means that normal work will get scarce as well. People will jostle for anything that’ll let them earn enough. And now it’s worse. Two factories went up last night. A post office, a pair of other offices. That’s... what, a hundred-odd more people without work?”

“You could do hand-outs, while things blow over.”

“Hm. We did that. Not enough to hand out. Everyone is tightening their belts all at once. The nobility are scampering, and bringing some of their lot with them. It’s going to get bad detective. And it will all start with people realizing that there’s no way that it will get better first. The slums are full to bursting. The Union has been stockpiling weapons. Not just bats and knives, but guns. Nothing proper, but a pipe pistol will kill one of my men just as dead as anything else. So, it’s like you said, psychological.”

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The chief returned to his seat and slumped into it.

“I’m expecting it to be bad tonight. I have a few birdies that tweet away at me. They’ve told me that there’s going to be a push into the noble quarter. They want to rape and pillage while there’s still stuff to take and nobles to hang.” The chief locked eyes with Mallory. “I’m going to lose men tonight. The army is away. The nobles and their own guards won’t lift a finger. And while we’re keeping a tenth of the city safe, the rest will go unprotected and ungoverned.”

“That... crime will be rampant.”

“Yeah. The slum dwelling bastards will get a taste of the good stuff tonight. Which means that tomorrow will be worse still. I’m having to make hard choices, detective.”

“I see.”

“You came here to ask me something,” the chief prompted. Mallory knew what a man who needed to rant looked like, and so he had given the chief the space he needed. Now, finally, it seemed like it was his turn to speak.

“I have a good set of clues as to who my murderer is. But I need a few last things. I need to talk to the Union, maybe--”

“No,” the chief said. There was finality there. “That’s not possible.”

“Are you certain?”

“Entirely, yes. If you go poke at the Union, then you’re a dead man. I’m not sending any of mine there with you either.”

“I see. But in order to finish my investigation--”

The chief’s fist cracked onto the surface of his desk with a hard bang that had the windows of his office rattling. Mallory noticed the people outside glance their way for a moment before returning to their work.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Detective. Tomorrow, at noon, there is a train leaving the city. It’s heading to City Seventeen. It’s a decent ride over, and it’s not in the direction of the capital. But it is one of the last trains out of here, and it’s definitely the last one where I can afford to station men at the station for. You are going to take that train, and you’re going to leave.”

“I see.” Mallory did, and he understood. And yet. “I was sent by the capital to fulfil a mission.”

“You failed it,” the chief said. “Just like I failed to keep this city safe. Hell, I’ll be even more generous. Toss the blame onto my shoulders. Won’t matter, soon.”

“Do you think the city will truly fall?” Mallory asked.

The chief took a deep breath, then rubbed at his face. “Yes,” he said simply. “There are a hundred poor idiots for every one of my good men. Those poor idiots aren’t evil. But give them a few days without food, without prospects. Show them their city on fire? They’ll be animals by the end of the week.”

“The capital...” Mallory started.

They both paused.

The capital would maybe intervene. They’d send in some soldiers, a few mages, some clergy. But if the local nobility was weak enough to lose control of the city, then the greater nobles would see this place as a lost cause.

Maybe, if there was something particularly valuable, then it would be salvageable, but other than the unique materials of the dungeons here, there was nothing special about City Nineteen.

In all likelihood, some clergy would show up with anemic relief, then more trains would come in, because the networks and infrastructure was still here. Then, those that had jobs and skills and classes that were deemed useful would be migrated to other cities. There was no point in wasting talent, after all. Though that same talent would be losing a lot in the process. A lot of them would have to start entire careers over from nothing.

The smart ones were likely already packing up whatever they could.

“I hate it when an investigation fails,” Mallory admitted. It was a little crude, to be so blunt, but this didn’t feel like a time to be playing cards so close to the chest.

“Yeah. Plenty of failure all around these days.”

He couldn’t do anything but agree with that sentiment.

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