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Unedited for now. This was is just a rough draft too, but I don't think I'll be doing any changes to it. My mind is elsewhere for a different story.

Prologue


"X Rook Falon, you're such a liar!" Odette had grumbled with distaste.
"That's what they gave me on my birth certificate," I explained. "They put the X from the signature line as part of my name. That's why my mother calls me X when she scolds me."
For a pair of twelve year olds we spoke rather eloquently to one another, but it was only natural in our upbringing. Odette was a bit of a southern belle, while I was of Mexican and Cajun decent, my father being from father south while my mother nestled here in New Orleans. Our parents brought us up as tasteful children, to speak proper and to behave as such. We were but children; they had none of that or any other excuses. They continued to teach us in the strict ways of being proper. And so we grew to be gentleman and lady, side by side. My mother was a good friend of the Harpers, who befriended her while she was in distress due to my father leaving us. Some called me the object of her current pain, for I resembled my father through his brown skin, dark eyes and hair. To try and cheer my mother up, I made an attempt to bleach my hair once. Now the result was a long, white streak to the right side of my head, and awful reminder of what great despair the man of the family placed on us. Odette, however, found it spiffy. She often stroked my hair, particularly along the streak, smiling peacefully. She was doing the very same while we sat peacefully in the glass garden house when she said out of the blue, "We ought to get married."
"Married?" I echoed. Obviously this was not the response she was hoping for.
"Yes, married. What's wrong with you? You make it sound like you wouldn't!"
I've often seen first hand the phrase 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned', as Madame Harper often showed me for taking flowers from her lovely garden, only to give to Odette in a bouquet made from the morning paper. If Odette was anything like her wrathful mother, I best keep on my toes with this particular conversation.
"We are only twelve though," I reasoned. She shook her head.
"I know that silly. I meant we should become engaged first."
"Shouldn't we be suitors first?"
"I suppose so. Fine. We are now suitors."
"Shouldn't we see if he have those feelings for each other first?"
"Hmm...I suppose. Okay. Tell me you love me."
"I love you."
"No! Not like that you dunce! Say my full name after you say it, so it's more romantic."
"I love you, Odette Harper."
"You forgot my middle name!"
"You have a middle name?"
"Mariana! Now again, from the top."
"I love you, Odette Marinara Harper."
"You bumbling fool! It's Mariana!"
"Mariana."
"That's it. Now say it, with more feeling this time."
"I love you, Ode–"
"Hold my hand while you say it and look me in the eyes as if you haven't seen me in years."
"What books of your mother's romance shelf have you gotten into?"
"Just do it!"
"Fine. I love you, Odette Mariana Harper."
"And I love you, X Rook Falon."
"Okay. Now what?"
"We kiss and become suitors."
"Okay."
"Well? What are you waiting for? Kiss me!"
I leaned over to her and planted a solid kiss, right on her lips. I've watched plenty of adults do the same.
"Okay. Now ask to marry me."
"Will you marry me?"
"No."
"Okay."
"You idiot! Say it like you mean it! With feelings of love and desire! Passionately from the depths of your soul! And say my full name again, this time before you propose."
"Odette–"
"Get on your knee you oaf."
"Odette Mariana Harper, will you marry me?"
"Oh! X Rook Falon! Yes! Yes I will marry you!"
Suddenly she lunged on me, pushing me down to the floor and kissing me. We were both taken to the soft soil of the garden and landed on a bed of soft flowers. It might have been a lovely picture, but when Madame Harper strolled out to check on us...
"X ROOK FALON YOU UNHAND MY DAUGHTER THIS INSTANT!!!"
I've always been the little trouble maker, but I was innocent of the crimes she had charged me with. Still, no protest came from my lips. To be honest, I loved danger. It was thrilling to me. Mother says I got that from my father and called me her little caballero, something my dad use to call be back then. It was spanish for cowboy. Sometimes gentlemen. Then if that's what she called me, that's would I would become.




Part of First Chapter


Time can pass in a turn of a page if one doesn't live their days memorably. That's how my life went by. Much had happened in the past, all of it terrible. My mother had passed away through grief when I left to study abroad, I managed to lose contact with the few friends I had, and now I was alone, stranded at Jade Isle; a harbor city at the bottom of the county. The year was now 3021 Recorded Time, in the solemn month of October. Halloween was creeping around the corner and the rich city was putting a hard effort into decorations and events. In the forest territories the wealthy would be hosting their own parties and balls, no doubt, while in the red light districts the harems and brothels would be dressed to invite those with weak will. The more family friendly districts would have games and treats for the children, but for the religious, the upcoming holiday was no more than a reason to go to church and pray the devil would not rise.
I rode silently on the two-horse coach alone, with nothing but my briefcase and the clothes on my back. There was need of my services down in the court; a strange murder had occurred within the last hours of night. Several thought of it a hoax in the spirit of Halloween, but when they checked, it was a genuine corpse. They reported to the detective agency in the university I attended, and the professors chose me as the top of my class to go once again. There was another murder, but this one was more difficult to understand I heard. There were no signs of what could have caused the poor man's death, while my case was slit at the throat and bled out dry. For the more difficult case they sent the veteran student, Seth Ducard. The teachers jokingly call him Ace for his accuracy in all the cases he was designed. He was also very tough in combat and self-defense from what I hear. I was the third, if not fourth top student overall. I received praise, but even I knew my work was sloppy. I wasn't stealthy at all. Every single suspect I accused was indeed the culprit, but they knew I was coming for them more than three quarters of the time and came to attack me head on. I ended up having to kill the culprit by my own hand in self-defense. In the end, no one really cared. As long as the evil doer was brought to justice and was out of public. Some even thought of me as a hero and a liberator. The very few that did surrender were put to prison, only to be hanged latter. Either way, all of my cases involved more death.
"Monsieur Falon!" Duke Tybalt greeted me enthusiastically. He was the picture of old world fashions, with a white wig with curls past his shoulders. He wore clothes of nobility and the colors of his family with the ring of his signet snuggled down to his fat thumb. It wasn't Halloween just yet, so I knew he was one of the many that decided to live in centuries past. Even non-natives to the old cultures wore their ensembles. White men dressed in the garments of old warriors called samurai, black men the armor of the Nordics, and I wore the clothing of my current place of stay: long coat, slacks, a dress shirt with a red tie and suspenders, and a fedora. All but the tie were black, for my job called for it. The tie was my insignia that I was a detective for the school's agency. All around I received glances of appreciation and wonderment. No doubt I was as popular as Seth, but chiefly due to my off-colored complexion. While everyone was white and black, I was somewhere in between. Most found my color exotic, but many others found me mud.
I have heard this duke was one of them.
"You may call me Rook," I said as I walked past him and into the open doors of his great estate. As suspected, it contained ivory pillars, marble statues, glimmering chandeliers, pictures of art, and so on. The staircase was grand and made no attempt to spare anyone's idea they were allowed up the second floor. It was a long walk straight from the door, down the foyer. If anyone decided to escape through the front door, the evidence would most likely turn up from here to the top of the stair. "You said your bedroom, correct?"
"Yes. Up the stairs, the first door you see."
As if I couldn't have guessed.
"Stay at the base of the stairs if you will. I need no interruptions."
His smelled like his body secreted cologne. It was enough to make my squint through the air around him.
I didn't look for any signs the culprit might have left going up the stairs just yet. I needed to see the scene of the crime, or else I'd be picking up every piece of hair and dust I see. As I reached the room, the smell of iron and rot hit my nose hard. By now I was use to what would make even the strong hurl. A body was hung from the wall with nails driven through his wrists. A ghastly sight indeed, but it was obvious the large gash across his neck was the purpose of his demise. As I closed the door behind me, it was apparent the head was attached by the last strand of skin, for the head rolled right off and under the bed. Before I did anymore, I laid my case down on the bed and opened it. Once I slipped on my leather gloves, it was time to work. Most people prefer latex, but to me I see no purpose for it. I had done well with leather all this time. Plus it seemed more professional.
Another sign that this case had truly begun was when I opened my long coat to attach my long barreled silver revolver to my suspender. Once it was nestled securely in it's holster, I buttoned my coat back up and began to look for the head.

Yeah. It's unedited, and I don't think I'll continue it. It's not my best piece of work and it's not really interesting to me anymore. One of my problems is that I can't really find anything interesting to write about. Oh well. Glad you like it.