Chapter Text
The City of Ishgard, Capital of the Coerthan Province. April 15th. Wednesday.
Aymeric is already having the longest day of his life when he gets the call.
He’s fresh off a meeting with his father (though of course it’s only ever “General” in those moments) into a stack of paperwork so high it nearly towers over him, no small feat at his height. He’s already seen a few of the higher ranked intelligence officials to turn over some details on the Iceheart case, been grilled for answers on the Nidhogg Brood movements, and the one functional coffee pot in the office has finally kicked the bucket.
So there’s a moment when he hears “shooting in the Pillars,” he wants to put his head down and scream.
But Aymeric is nothing if not a professional, so he just bottles up that urge, throws it onto the growing pile of stressors that he’ll definitely deal with when he’s less busy (read: never), and rallies his team to head off to the scene.
The cold Coerthan air stings his cheeks as he exits the SUV and crosses under the police tape, Lucia and Estinien just steps behind him. Lucia’s already snapping on a pair of latex gloves and splits off to where the body is, asking precise questions of the ME nearby. Estinien sticks with Aymeric as he identifies the lead officer on the scene and heads over.
He’s lucky today, as Firmalbert is the lead, and they’ve worked together often enough that Aymeric can simply nod and wait for the rundown.
“Victim is a male, early 30s,” Firmalbert starts. “Single GSW to the chest. Two primary witnesses, the victim’s husband and his bodyguard.” he motions to where two figures are huddled, speaking with one of the officers. There’s a brief pause as they both place the man.
“Shit,” Estinien curses lowly. “That’s Pike fucking L’oatel. And that would make the victim…”
Firmalbert nods. “Commander Haurchefant Greystone, leader of the Dragonhead encampment, and son of Count Edmont de Fortemps.”
“Damn,” Aymeric says. “I didn’t know Commander Greystone very well, but we’ve met. He’s...he was a nice man. What’s the story from the witnesses?”
“Patrounade’s still taking their statements now, but from what I’ve heard, the Commander and his husband were taking a walk near the Vault, and someone shot at them.” Firmalbert gestures to Pike and his bodyguard. “If you want to talk to them yourself, Detective de Borel, be my guest. I can send Patrounade to speak with some of the minor witnesses.”
Aymeric hums for a second. “Yes, I think that’ll be best. Estinien, go with Patrounade, and grab Lucia when she’s done. I don’t want a stone unturned.”
Estinien nods. “On it.”
They walk over to Patrounade and his charges, and Patrounade shoots a well-disguised look of discomfort towards Firmalbert as they approach. It’s easy to tell why; Pike is sobbing, loudly, into a handkerchief, while his bodyguard brushes the bright-dyed blue hair from his face tenderly.
Aymeric sighs internally. He’s heard stories about Pike L’oatel. Biggest pop star of the time, easily, and with the dramatics to match. Cancelled shows over candy choices in the green room, blow ups with background dancers that got them blacklisted in the industry, and apparently more than a few ruined hotel rooms. To put it simply: Pike L’oatel was a diva of the highest order.
And Aymeric was stuck dealing with him. Great.
Aymeric schools his features, laying on the thick charm he’d been tutored in from birth. “Mister L’oatel?” he says in a gentle voice. The loud sobbing chokes off as Pike raises his head to look up at him. “I’m Detective de Borel, I’ll be the lead investigator on your husband’s case. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”
“Is this necessary?” The bodyguard snaps. “He’s already been over it once with the other officer.” She shifts, and Aymeric notices the gun strapped to her hip.
“I’m afraid so, Miss…?”
“Skye, Valliant Skye.” Valliant’s voice doesn’t lose the aggressive tone. “It can’t wait? Look at him, he’s clearly—”
Pike waves a hand, tipped in painted blue nails, and cuts her off. “It’s fine, darling,” he says, voice raspy from the tears. “He’s just trying to do his job, and I could never forgive myself if I missed something and the bastards who did this got away with it.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to ensure that doesn’t happen, Mister L’oatel,” Aymeric says. “Now, do you mind walking me through what led up to this?” He pulls a notepad out of his back pocket, and flips it open to an empty page.
Pike nods, sniffing a little as he starts. “I’ve been having a bit of medical trouble since I got married. The doctors think it’s related to stress from that nasty business in Ul’dah, so I’ve been ordered to cancel all my upcoming events and rest. Haurchefant noticed the weather had been clearing up, and he thought a walk might do us both some good.”
He dabs at his eyes with the handkerchief, smearing the dark mascara around his purple eyes even further. Pike looks the perfect picture of a grieving widow, Aymeric notes, down to the crying that somehow manages to avoid making him look splotchy and red.
After a deep breath, he continues. “Anyway, as we were walking, Haurchefant mentioned that it might be nice to stop into the cathedral. He is—” Pike stops, for a moment, and breathes again, heavily. “He was such a devout man, and I think he wished to pray for my recovery. But just as we entered the doorway, he suddenly turned, and pushed me out of the way. That’s when-when-wh-” Pike suddenly dissolves into sobs again, and Valliant shoots Aymeric a nasty glare as she tries to calm him down.
Aymeric waits patiently, though, and after a few moments Pike manages to collect himself and continue, though choking back tears the entire time. “I-I heard the gunshot, then, a-and Haurchefant fell back. He sl-slid down the steps, and I r-ran after him. Valliant went to go check out the cathedral, and I tried-tried to apply pressure to wound, but there was so much blood , too much, and he was only able to say a few words to me before-before he d-d-died.” The tears fall in earnest then.
“And those were?”
Pike pauses for a brief moment, then replies in a tense voice. “Irrelevant, Detective. And private. He told me he loved me, to sum it up for you. Forgive me if I’m not eager to hand over the last moment we had together.”
“I meant no offense, Mister L’oatel,” Aymeric says, holding his writing hand up in surrender. “I only meant to ascertain if he had seen his attacker or not.”
“No, of course you didn’t,” Pike says with a sigh, the anger sliding out of his features. He twists perfectly manicured fingers around the damp handkerchief, seemingly embarrassed by his reaction. “He didn’t mention anything of the sort, of course. I held his hand as he passed on, and then the police arrived. That’s all that I can tell you, Detective.”
Aymeric nods to him. “And you, Miss Skye? Do you have anything to add?”
“Not much,” she says tersely. “I followed Pi-Mister L’oatel and his husband at a distance. Once I heard the gunshot, I ran over, but my sweep of the main room of the cathedral turned up nothing. Whoever shot him did so with either enough distance or with a clear enough exit that by the time I got there, they were gone. After that, I returned to Mister L’oatel’s side to protect him, but there were no subsequent gunshots or attacks.”
Aymeric nods again. “Thank you, Miss Skye. I’m very sorry about your loss, Mister L’oatel. I didn’t know your husband very well, but from what I did know, he was a good man.”
Pike gives him a watery smile. “I’m sure he would have been very glad to hear that, Detective.” He pauses for a moment, then shakes himself. “Are we finished, then? I still need to inform Count Edmont and the rest of my family, and I don’t like the idea of keeping them waiting.”
“Just a few more questions, I apologize.” Aymeric gives a remorseful smile to Pike, and judging by the resigned set of his shoulders, it has the intended effect. “Did you or your husband have any enemies?”
“Haurchefant? No, never.” Pike sighs wistfully. “Everybody loves- loved him.” He pauses again, briefly, and his cheeks color slightly. “I, on the other hand, have quite the list. I assume you’ve heard of my rather... extreme reactions. I’ve made quite a few people angry, over the years. None enough to try to kill me or my husband, I don’t think, but…”
Valliant nudges him. “What about the thing? In Ul’dah.”
“Ul’dah?” Aymeric questions. “I heard there had been a terrorist attack at the Sultana’s gala, but not that you were directly involved.”
“It’s not related to that, I don’t think,” Pike says sheepishly. “I announced my engagement just before my show at the gala, and it came as a shock to many of my fans. I got a few angry letters from some of the more...devoted type, but I dismissed them as just teenage angst. But…” Pike sighs. “There was a young man, who was caught sneaking into the hotel room I was staying in, and he was carrying a gun.”
Aymeric pauses for a moment. “I see how that might be relevant, yes.”
“I had thought Pipin was dealing with the man, though,” Pike says, looking over at Valliant. “Sorry, Detective, Pipin Tarupin, he’s the Marshall for Ul’dah right now. If you contact him, I’m sure he’d be more than willing to give you the details. I don’t actually know the name of the man. It was harder to care about, after the attack.”
Aymeric jots the name and relevant information down on his notes. “I’ll need you to bring us any other letters you received around that time or since.”
“Valliant, can you make a note of that?” Pike asks, and Valliant nods to him. “Great. I won’t be in much state to remember anything tonight, I think. Anything else, Detective?”
“Not at the current moment, no,” Aymeric says. He shuts the notepad with a snap, and reaches into his jacket, pulling out a business card. “Here. My direct desk number. If you remember anything else of importance, no matter how little, feel free to call me any time. I’ll have Lucia—sorry, Detective Junius, reach out if we need more from you. And if you don’t mind, Mister L’oatel, will you send my condolences to Count Edmont? It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen him, but he was friends with my father, and I remember him quite fondly.”
“Of course, Detective.” Pike takes the business card distractedly, handing it off to Valliant. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. If you’ll excuse me.”
He rushes off before Aymeric can say anything further, his bodyguard close at his heels. Aymeric stands for a moment, watching him go, before turning as Estinien approaches.
“Witnesses are a bust,” Estinien says. “Nobody close enough to see anything useful, nobody in the church. All the deacons and officials are out on business today, apparently.”
“Hm,” Aymeric hums to himself. “Coincidence, or planning?”
“Damned if I know. Anything useful from the husband, or the bodyguard?”
“He had a pretty clear memory of the event, all things told, but didn’t see any shooters or the like. Bodyguard was too far away, ran in after the shooting, but you know how the Vault is, it’d be easy to disappear in there. Got a lead on a potential, seems L’oatel’s been threatened before, and with a gun too.”
Estinien whistles lowly. “Imagine that’s why he has the bodyguard, then. What was with her, anyway? She looked ready to rip your head off at the beginning, there.’
Aymeric shrugs absently. “Overprotective, probably overpaid, too.”
“Better be, she was packing some serious heat, and that doesn’t come cheap,” Estinien points out. “You know how the permit office is about civilian weapons here, so I’m betting some sort of private military write-offs.”
“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
Estinien casts a long look over at the dead body of Haurchefant Greystone, now being zipped up into a bodybag for transport. “Considering the circumstances? I don’t think I’d feel like it was enough.”
The City of Ishgard, Capital of the Coerthan Province. April 16th. Thursday.
With the Iceheart case officially on hold, pending confirmation of her death, and the Nidhogg Brood quiet for the first time in months, Aymeric’s able to turn his and his team’s full attention to the Greystone case.
Unfortunately for them, it’s slow going. Lucia’s spent nearly an hour on hold already with the police department in Ul’dah. Understandably, they’re still busy with the fall out of the recent terrorist attack, trying to keep peace with their terrified citizens while the perpetrators remain at large, but it means that their case has to stall on it’s only lead for the time.
Lucia’s got the easy work, though, because Estinien’s spent the whole day fielding calls from frightened nobles. She watches as he slams the phone down after what sounded like an exhausting back and forth with one of the Haillenharte scions, and then slams the receiver a few more times for good measure.
“Fucking nobles,” Estinien spits, leaning back dramatically in his chair. “One of them gets shot and the rest run around acting like it’s open season on their overstuffed heads.”
Lucia shrugs. “When was the last time anyone was killed in the Pillars, though? It’s understandable.”
“Yes, but it shouldn’t be my bloody problem.” He huffs and crosses his arms. “Any luck on your end?”
She gestures to the phone still held to her ear. Estinien sighs loudly.
“Excuse me? Are you the ones working on Haurchefant’s case?”
They both turn to look behind them, at a short woman, maybe late 20s, with light purple hair pulled back in a neat bun. She’s wearing an expensive looking, well cut pink suit, and carrying a large, wrapped bundle in her arms. She also looks incredibly nervous, her eyes darting around the room at light speed.
Lucia thinks for exactly one moment, and motions for Estinien to take over her phone. He can yell at the police officers, they’ll just yell right back, but this woman looks like she’s fit to burst into tears if anyone looks at her the wrong way. “Yes ma’am,” Lucia says as she hands the phone off. “I’m Detective Junius, and that’s Detective Wyrmblood. How can I help you?”
The woman smiles, though it shakes at the corners. “My name is Tataru Taru, I’m Mister L’oatel’s personal assistant. Valliant asked me to bring these over for you?”
Lucia takes the package from her. “Ah. The letters Mister L’oatel’s received?”
“Yes, Detective,” Tataru says. “Every one. I went back a bit further than before Ul’dah because—” and here she flushes, looking away from Lucia.
“Yes?” Lucia pauses from where she’s been untying the strings holding the bundle together. It’s huge, and she can feel a late night weighing on her shoulders just looking at it.
Tataru flushes even deeper, and then squeaks out a terrified, “Promise you won’t tell Mister L’oatel!”
By the Fury, Lucia thinks. Pike’s staff is just as dramatic as he is, it seems. Maybe he chooses them that way. She sighs and sets the bundle on Estinien’s desk, ignoring the glare he sends her. “Come with me, Miss Taru.”
Tataru follows her cautiously, as Lucia leads her to one of the informal interview spaces. It’s little more than a table and a few chairs, set next to one of their vending machines, but the lack of the two way mirror and isolated box tends to put people at ease. Tataru relaxes considerably as Lucia pulls out a chair for her, sitting across from her.
“Bit more private here, Miss Taru—”
“Please, just call me Tataru,” she interrupts in a shaky voice. “Everyone else does.”
Lucia nods. “Tataru, then. As I was saying, this is a bit more private. So you can rest assured nothing will get back to Mister L’oatel, okay? Feel free to tell me what’s on your mind.”
Tataru sighs out a nervous breath. “You have to understand, Detective, I really did think I was doing the right thing for Pike—Mister L’oatel. He’s a very good boss, you see—treats me right, pays me well, and never asks for too much. But he’s...:” she frowns as she searches for the right words. “He’s a bit sensitive, sometimes, is all. Everyone’s heard the stories—people call him a diva, an attention whore—” she stumbles over that word with a cut-off giggle, like she’s telling some private joke. “And that’s not quite right, but I know it seems that way from the outside. And he’d come under a lot of attention recently for a string of messed up hotel rooms, and he was really stressed about it all—”
Lucia sighs, cutting her off. “The point, Tataru?”
“Right, sorry, I ramble when I’m nervous.” Tataru gives herself a little shake, and her voice is stronger when she speaks again. “The point is, when the first letter came in, I—I hid it from him. It was so over the top with the declarations of love and-and obsessive , though I didn’t really get that at the time. Anyway, I knew Pike would be so distracted, he wouldn’t be able to do the mi-the show he had scheduled. So I hid it. And then I hid the next one, and the one after that, and on and on until—oh, it must have been January. Right before he announced the engagement, that’s when the last letter came in.”
“This is the one you showed him?”
“Oh, no—second to last, then.” Tataru twists her fingers together tightly. “I-I had just thought that if he didn’t get a response, the letter writer would just give up, but he kept going and going. And then the announcement happened, and the letter got very violent. It’s hard to read, actually, and it scared Pike enough that he got Valliant special weapons permits, which are even harder to get in Ul’dah than they are here. And then he woke up with a man pointing a gun at his face the next day. He was really rather lucky, the gun jammed and Pike was able to wake Valliant up and she dealt with him.”
“I see. And then the terrorist attack, and…” Lucia trails off, waving her hand in a continuing motion.
“Yes, but we all thought that there would be no way for Zenos to get here.” Tataru settles her hands on her lap. “Ishgard is very hard to get into, as I’m sure you know. The only reason we are here is because of Pike’s marriage, and Count Edmont’s generosity. And though people know Pike is here because of the wedding, he lives in one of the less descript manor houses in the Pillars. He actually wanted to move into the Brume, said he liked the people there better, but he would stand out too much, I’m afraid. He’s rather like a peacock, in some ways.” Tataru titters out a laugh, and Lucia smiles in response.
“I got the sense, yes. Is there anything else you can tell me about this man—you said his name was Zenos?”
Tataru nods. “Yes. I’m afraid I don’t know his last name, he never put it in the letters. I don’t know much more beyond what I told you, either. I wasn’t there when Pike was attacked, and with all the stress of the attack in Ul’dah, I’m afraid we haven’t heard much.” She stands, then, and Lucia follows. “All I could tell you would be the content of the letters, and you have those. I think it would be better read than re-told.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Lucia says. “Thank you for your time, Tataru. I’ll contact you if I need any more information.” She extends her hand to Tataru to shake.
Tataru takes it with a firm shake, her earlier nervousness clearly soothed by talking with Lucia. “Thank you, Detective. I hope the letters help you catch whoever did this, and quickly. I’d hate to think they’d hurt anyone else.”
“You and me both, Tataru.”
Lucia walks her to the exit, and then she settles herself into her desk chair with a sigh. Estinien makes a commiserating noise from his own desk, where he’s already opened the package containing the letters and is going through them.
Lucia slides her chair over and grabs a stack of the letters. “Judging by the fact that you are no longer on the phone, I assume that it didn’t go anywhere?”
“Of course not,” Estinien says with a snort, eyes scanning the letter in his hands. “That would be too easy. Marshall Tarupin is busy, apparently, and he handled the case personally, so no one else has any information on it.”
“None? Not even a case file?” Lucia looks up at Estinien.
He shrugs unhelpfully. “Sultana’s request, apparently. None of them wanted to make a big deal of it right before the gala, so it was kept
severely
under wraps. Rich people, Lucia, they can do whatever they want.”
Lucia frowns to herself. There’s something about the whole deal that hasn’t sat well with her. From what Aymeric had said, Pike hadn’t even seemed concerned about Zenos in the first place, very blasè for someone who had a gun pointed at their face. Shock, maybe, because he had just seen someone shoot his husband in front of him, but...she has a hunch.
She looks back down at the letters in her hands, and with a determined set to her shoulders, gets to work.
The City of Ishgard, Capital of the Coerthan Province. April 17th. Thursday.
With the coffee machine in their office still broken, Aymeric finds himself making a coffee run for his team.
The Forgotten Knight makes a convenient stop due to its proximity to the Convocation. The fact that Gibrillont has the whole team’s orders memorized by this point helps, too. And the fact that he makes a damn fine cup of coffee.
Aymeric makes eye contact with the man in question as soon as he enters, and gets a nod in return. Gibrillont barks the order to his employee before Aymeric’s even neared the counter.
“Better double that, actually,” Aymeric says. “The coffee machine finally died at the office.”
“Bad luck, then,” Gibrillont replies as he swipes Aymeric’s card. “Heard there was a shooting in the Pillars. Your team on it, then?”
“Who else?” Aymeric shrugs wearily. “Only Major Crimes department in the whole city, after all.”
Gibrillont hums commiseratingly. “It was Commander Greystone that got shot, right? Too bad. Good man.”
Aymeric slips off to the side, so he’s not blocking the only register. Not that there’s many, right now, at that odd space in the workday where most people are too busy or too close to going home to dip out for a coffee break. “You knew him?”
“Sort of. Know his husband better. He’s in all the time, always wants to talk to Hilda. She actually likes him, believe it or not.”
“Really,” Aymeric replies with no small interest. Gibrillont’s daughter was
notoriously
antisocial. A pop star, especially one like Pike, was hardly the person he could imagine her getting along with. “...why?”
“Dunno.” Gibrillont nods to his employee as she sets the last of the drinks down on the counter. “Might be the music, though, she keeps mentioning a ‘project’ they’re working on. He’s a nice man, any rate. Tips well. Endlessly devoted to his husband, too. I saw one of my regulars try to flirt with him, one of the more attractive soldiers, and it was like Pike didn’t even notice him.”
Aymeric tries not to get too personal with his cases, but he can’t help but feel a bit sad at hearing that. He knows tragedy doesn’t discriminate, of course, that unfair things happen to even the best people, but when it’s love like that it always hits just a little more bitterly. “I see,” is all he replies, before grabbing the carrying trays for the coffee. “See you tomorrow, Gibrillont, and probably the next few days. Fury knows we won’t see that coffee machine fixed any time soon.”
Gibrillont laughs a little at that. “Tell you what, I’ll have Hilda bring you folks one of the travelers tomorrow morning. No sense in having you come all this way every day, not when you’ve got important work to do.”
“Thanks, Gibrillont.” Aymeric flashes him a bright smile. He looks down at the coffee in his hands, and then frowns. “You might want to have a talk with your barista, too.”
“Alicia? What’d she do?”
Aymeric pulls his cup out of the caddy, showing Gibrillont the phone number written on the side. “I’m flattered, but she’s...not quite my type.”
Gibrillont sighs. “Foolish girl. Get back to work, Aymeric, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
Aymeric replaces the coffee and departs with a wave, laughing a little to himself as he hears Gibrillont shouting for his barista.
Outside the doors of the Forgotten Knight, though, he sighs wearily to himself. Back to work, and if the sense of foreboding has anything to say about it, it’s going to be another long day for him.