The Song of the Muse

[Pelasgia]

THE SONG OF THE MUSE
~
PART I: MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
~
CHAPTER I: O CAPTAIN, MY CAPTAIN​

☙​

Sing to me, o Goddess, of that Achilles, son of Peleus, whose horrid rage brought ten thousand gashing wounds to the Achaeans.​

Tigani, Melingia
7/11/2017

Captain Athanasios Zakrianos, known to most simply as "Kapetan Thanos", was a strongly built, olive-skinned man who was approaching his mid fifties. He had spent most of his life aboard his small fishing boat, the white and red caïque Ariadne (named so after his sister), catching what bountiful gifts the Long Sea gave him. He had raised his son on that boat, and he had seen his hair go from black to grey while steering it, having earned the title of Captain among his fellow townsfolk and sea-goers, though he wasn't sure whether one could properly be called the Captain of a caïque.

Cutting slowly through the crystal-blue waters between the Archipelago and Melingia, the northeastern part of the Pelasgian peninsula in northern Tiburia, he was certain that he'd find some herring, anchovy or mackerel to fill his stomach on that of his wife for that day, with some to spare for sale at the local fish market. The aged sailor had taken advantage of one the few remaining good-weathered days of the year to sail out, listening to traditional sailors' songs on a little radio he had inside his boat.

As the boat neared the midway mark between the islet of Hagios Stratis, east of the island of Makre, and the mainland whence he had come, he threw his net out, him and his son each holding one end of the net. A few moments later, they tightened their grip, withdrew the net and let two dozen fish to struggle on the deck of the boat, having been taken out of the water. It was part of a school of mackerel, its red scales reflecting the sun's rich light in all directions. A smile was drawn on the face of the experienced sailor and his younger son, a smile which was to be redrawn twice more that day with two large catches of achovy.

As the boat turned back, the radio playing the Sardunan traditional Mia psaropoula to deilino ("A fisher girl in the evening"), Kapetan Thanos laid back and silently pondered at the endless azure expanse, which got closer to aquamarine as one approached the coast, a colour which the Memphites had dubbed "Wadjet". The rocky coast of the familiar home, with its small white houses and their red tile roofs got ever closer as the boat approached the coast and the sun noon.

From there, the town of Tigani could be seen clearly, its form covering the slope of a lush hill which ended where the land met the great azure. Tigani itself, whose name came from an ancient word for 'pancake' but meant 'frying pan', was but a small town barely populated by twenty thousand souls, located at the corner between two peninsulae west of Amyntaion, Melingia. Its humble provincial houses, typical of that part of the Ebony Continent, were interrupted by small stony streets, with a few squares built around ages-old trees here and there, and climbing plants hanging off of the walls of the houses. Modernity seemed to have changed this town far too little, save for the occasional satellite antenna which made its way to the roof a few houses and all cafés in the town save for one, the last bastion of Melingia against the advancing times.

The town had held well enough, remarkably not having even a single concrete building disturbing its anachronistic and almost eerie visage. Around the town, on the other hand, one could easily find plenty of sighs of modernity: a large cement road, the "Paraktia Odos" or "Coastal Highway", also known as Imperial Highway 1 for anybody studying a tourist map, cut through the serene landscape of the Melingian countryside like a knife through the fair arm of a young maiden. A few kilometers further inland, on top of a hill, one could clearly see a large antenna, painted red and white and with a flashing light to make it visible to airplanes day and night, its steel frame clearly contrasting with the bushes and batches of lavender below.

Docking at the lowest part of the hill, the northernmost edge of the town, right at the centre of Tigani's small port, Stavros threw a rope over the boat's edge to a man who was on land, to tie the boat to a cape on the land. No sooner had the rope been tied around the bulging, yellow-coated mass of concrete on the dock, than Stavros had jumped out and ran over to greet his wife. After so many years, it had practically become an everyday occurrence for the aged fisherman, and yet he could not help but relive that feeling of simultaneous warmth and desertion as a father saw his grown son embrace his wife.

"Stavro!" he shouted, using the accusative case of his son's name; "Grab the fish and go to the market! I'll go get some more!"

The young man turned around and responded with epineusis, as the Pelasgians called the movement of the head down and back up again, which implied agreement. Turning back, the seasoned boatman headed out to sea once more to do his life's work, humming along with the young feminine voice on the radio.

And yet, when he was less than five minutes away from the midpoint where he had fished before, he spotted another caïque, which had stopped dead in its tracks, its deck visible empty just like its nets, which were still stored on board and seemed mostly dry. He shouted a couple of times to see if he could get anybody's attention and approached the boat before trying again thrice.

On the third try a lone man emerged, holding a screwdriver and a leather toolbag. His skin was tad paler than any local Kapetan Thanos had seen, and though he wore the same light blue shirt with the rolled back sleeves, tucked firmly into his pants, and the same fisher's cap as any local, he seemed somewhat out of place. Perhaps it was his face, which looked as if it had been clean-shaven daily without fail and yet rather irritated, or perhaps it was his strange composure and expression, neither one of which fitted a man living the tiresome and yet cheerful life that the Captain had always known.

Regardless of the answer, Kapetan Thanos decided to approach the man. If he's a stranger to these places, it's all the more reason to help, he thought; Can't very well give my compatriots a reputation for heartlessness, now, can I? Reputation was, after all, everything in honour-bound traditional societies such as the microcosm of coastal Melingia and the Archipelago.

"Oi, is everything alright there, my good man?" he shouted, placing his hands next to his mouth as if form a megaphone.

"All's well except me engine's broken down. Care to give me a hand?" the man replied, not neglecting to use the appropriate plural to indicate respect for the older Captain.

"Aye, I'll come right on board."

Kapetan Thanos steered his boat right by the stranded caïque, so that it had just enough room to maneuver, the sign of an experienced hand.

"You all this good at driving them boats around in these parts?" the stranded man asked;

"Some more than others," the Captain replied in a sarcastic tone.

Just before Kapetan Thanos had stepped on the boat of the stranded man, the latter tried starting the engine once more and it seemed to work.

"Look at that!" the Captain exclaimed; "Sounds as if it never broke down in the first place! You all this good engineers in your homeland, Mr...?"

"Stavros Polyphemides, son of Iason. I'm from Sarduna. And your, sir?"

Sarduna, the Captain remarked in his mind, now that's an isle of engineers! Their Colossus has made it into every Tiburian stamp series since stamps were a thing.

"Thanos Zakrianos, son of Petros. A proud townsman of Tigani, if you'd heard of it."

"Matter of fact, I have. Got a good friend of mine from inland staying there for a week or so. Say if it ain't too much trouble, could you give him this from me?"

As Stavros Polyphemides finished he sentence, he passed Kapetan Thanos a small paper package, which one could easily feel had a bottle inside.

"I wanted to give it to him myself, but my boat broke down and I've got to save my fuel to make it back to Acantholemnus on my home island," the Sardunese man explained.

"I see no problem with it," the Captain, ever a kind soul who could find it hard to refuse anyone, replied; "What's the name of your friend?"

"Ask for Giorgos Antoniou from Myzithras at the Inn 'Ho Tzitzikas'," Polyephemines said; "If he asks who it is, tell him I sent you to give him 'gules party per saltire or, two anchors or and two stars argent'. Doubtless he'll get it and give you a shot too."

"Gotcha. 'Gules party per saltire or, two anchors or and two stars argent'. God be with you and good weather too," Kapetan Thanos said waving the man away.

"The same to you, my good man!" the other one exclaimed; "The same to you!"

Thus the two boats headed in opposite directions, like seagulls from different colonies going home after a random encounter.

 

[Pelasgia]

PART I: MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
~
CHAPTER II: A WISH COME TRUE​

Tigani, Melingia
8/11/2017

The centre of the town of Tigani could roughly be placed at about the middle of the slope on which it was built, where a small plateau extending out. Surrounded by stone-built houses on all sides, this little plateau boasted the locality's town hall, main church and police Station. Standing out from its surroundings due to size but not due to style, this triad of edifices formed the core of Tigani's public life. The town hall itself was three storeys high, with a tower like structure at the centre from which two slightly lower sections branched out on either side, and a short staircase leading to its main entrance, which was surmounted by a plate with the inscription «ΔΗΜΑΡΧΕΙΟΝ ΤΗΓΑΝΙΟΥ», "Town Hall of Tēganion*" in red and white, the Empire's national colours. From the point of view of someone entering the square hill-side or northwards (as opposed to port-side or southwards), the town hall stood to the right of the Sacred Temple of Saint Christopher, which was located at the end of the plateau on the side of the coast. At least a storey taller than town hall, its bell tower being even twice higher, the church was built of the same whiteish stone as the rest of the town, the red roof tiles on its circular dome making it appear like pimple on the face of the square.
*Tēganion is the official Koine Pelasgian version of the town's name, as opposed to the Demotic version used elsewhere.

At the right end of the square, one could find the local Department of the Politarchy, the Empire's paramilitary gendarmerie-like aw enforcement agency, which oversaw policing duties outside of urban areas. The Department of the Politarchy was a bulky orthogonal structure of three storeys in height, with smallish windows and three flagpoles, displaying the flags of the Empire, the Despotate of Pelasgia, and the Politarchy, outside its main entrance. Bricks of interchanging colours occasionally interrupted the stones on its surface, while its entrance consisted of marble steps on a checkered floor, with marble pillars of a decorated top connecting arches which alternated between black and white. On the side of the building, right between the first and second floor exterior walls, was mounted a sign in the same colour scheme as the sign of the town hall. It bore the arms of the Politarchy, a white eagle on a red field under a golden crown and holding two golden grenades. The sign read «ΤΜΗΜΑ ΑΥΤΟΚΡΑΤΟΡΙΚΗΣ ΠΟΛΙΤΑΡΧΕΙΑΣ ΤΗΓΑΝΙΟΥ», "Imperial Politarchy Department of Tigani".

Inside the first floor of the building, Enomotarchēs (Chief Sergeant) Petros Nikolaïdēs sat behind his desk, trying to kill time as best as possible. In a town of twenty thousand people, it only took around twenty politarchs to keep the peace. Granted, this was partly owed to the fact that around two thousand of the city's inhabitants were members of the TEPA*, but one could never underestimate the degree to which a closed, religious and small society was able to police itself, morally and otherwise, for better or for worse. After all, the TEPA rarely if ever assisted in policing duties. In any case, Enomotarchēs Nikolaïdēs was far from the most active of Tiburian law enforcement officers. Indeed, the most exciting task a politarch assigned to Tigani and towns like it could hope for was traffic duty; alas, he was not among the lucky few who had been given that blessing on that fateful day.
Instead, he was the "Chief Officer on Duty", meaning he had the unique privilege of waiting behind a desk while his men walked around the town looking for a crime like a starving cat looking for mice. A silent prayer was repeated in his head for something mildly interesting to happen.
*The TEPA (Τμήματα Ἐθελοντικῆς Πολιτοφυλακῆς Ἀμύνης - Tmēmata Ethelontikēs Politophylakēs Amynēs, "Defensive Volunteer Civil Guard Detachments") are volunteer groups of loyalist and right-wing citizens, who are given surplus or decommissioned military equipment and hold regular drills. They are mainly meant to keep prevent secessionist, leftist or otherwise anti-establishment movements from taking hold in rural and remote areas.

Suddenly, as if by a miraculous granting of his wish by a higher power, his phone rung. Though he could expect it to be a minor matter or a report of some minor incident, even that was more exciting than counting the flies going in and out of the open window in front of him.

"Tēganion Politarchy, please," a man said, whose voice the Enomotarchēs recognised as that of Mr. Panagiōtēs Karabiotēs, the owner of the small portside inn "Ho Tzitzikas". The man sounded distressed, though the cause of that distress might as well have been a brawl between two unruly, drunken tourists.

"This is Enomotarchēs Petros Nikolaïdēs speaking. How may I help you?"

The forced seriousness of the politarch's voice, which was accompanied by an expression of seer boredom, soon gave way to shock as the man heard the sort of words he had never expected to hear in Tigani of all places: a man had been found dead inside on of the rooms at the inn. Even more astoundingly, the man in question was none other than Captain Athanasios Zakrianos.

"I'll be right there!" Nikolaïdēs exclaimed as he slummed down the phone, grabbed his hat and run outside, after having notified all other officers of the incident. He took a quick look at his car, thinking of whether it would make it through the tight streets of the town, but remembered that the inn in question was next to a major road, meaning it was accessible. He boarded his

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patrol car, an olive green estate car with a line of red and white sillitoe tartan markings just below the window running around the car, the word ΠΟΛΙΤΑΡΧΕΙΑ (Politarchy) written on the side in white, along with the number 100*, and blue lights on top.
*100 is the three-digit phone number for the Politarchy and Cities Police, depending on jurisdiction, in Tiburia. 199 is the number of the fire department, 191 that of the forest fire service, 108 that of the Coastguard, 171 that of the Imperial Financial Police, and 166 is the number of the Imperial First Aid Centre, which includes ambulances.

Speeding through the streets of the town, the Enomotarchēs soon found himself outside the inn "Ho Tzitzikas". He exited the parked car, wearing the olive green summer uniform of the Politarchy, with his sleeves rolled up, and a garrison cap, since he was not yet a NCO. He rushed into the inn, whose architecture was rather unremarkable, save for the tables outside it for the tavern on its first floor. He entered the building and found Mr. Karabiotēs, along with a couple of politarchs of lower rank who had also arrived to the scene. The innkeeper led the three officers up the stairs of his humble establishment, to one of the four small rooms on its second floor.

Consisting of a single bedroom and a small washroom, the room was rather unremarkable, being decorated in the local laconic fashion. A small washroom was to the right of the door, with a bed behind it. Further inside the room was a french window leading to a small balcony with a view to the waterfront. The left side of the room was covered by a small, dated TV set, and a small desk and fridge. On top of the room was an air-conditioning device, which was located above the window. The owner led the three men inside, behind the bed and next to a small table. There, the body of 'Captain' Athanasios Zakrianos, known to most in town as Kapetan Thanos, laid. The Enomotarchēs approached the cadaver, lifting the dead man's head to discover a wound in the back of his neck and a pool of blood under it. He looked around the room and noticed that one of the chairs seemed to have been moved awkwardly away from the table, as if in the opposite direction of the other one and facing the way the body seemed to have fallen down. On the table one could see yesterday's issue of the Apogevmatini, while on the floor next to the table were the pieces of a broken shot glass.

"He was stabbed through the back of the neck while sitting down, and he dropped his glass to the floor, with him," Nikolaïdēs said; "Death was instantaneous; only someone familiar with human anatomy could have inflicted such a wound. Who was staying in this room?"

"One Giōrgos Antōniou, son of Michaēl, citizen of Mizythras," the inkeeper replied.

"Did he leave a phone number and an address?"

"Well, he didn't. You see, we mostly just use email for communication these days."

The bumpkins of Tiburia seemed to be the most tech-savvy provincials in the world, at least when it came to social media, which they would flood with repulsively boring and pathetically low-quality content.

"Let me guess... giorgios.antoniou@papyrusmail.com?"

"There's a 547 before the @ sign, but yes. I did try contacting him, but the address is nonexistent, as expected. He came here without a reservation and was supposedly planning to stay in town for a week, but said he had urgent business and needed to leave yesterday night. You see, he was a doctor, or so he claimed. Anyway, he claimed he had left a lady friend upstairs and didn't want to servants to disturb her, so we didn't clean the room until ten in the morning, when we found the corpse of poor old Kapetan Thanos."

"And why did you not check his email? If he had broken anything or forgotten something, wouldn't you want a phone or a functioning email or something to contact him by? Did you ask for an ID of some sort, Mr. Karabiotēs?"

The innkeeper seemed taken aback and mildly more reddish following this sort series of questions.

"Well I... We don't ask people for their ID over here, you see... it's considered rude. They aren't criminals, just tourists. Besides he was a Pelasgian, not some guy from abroad or the other end of the Empire. He couldn't go too far if he caused a ruckus. As for the contact information..."

"He paid you a hefty bonus in the shape of a rather massive tip in the bar in exchange for your discretion, I assumed."

"Well I thought he just wanted to get away from his practice... or maybe from his wife. It's not that bad you know?"

"I could report you to the His Majesty's Oikonomikē Astynomia*," the Enomotarchēs said, causing the man to gulp, "but there's no time for that. Let's just say you'll owe me and the Department one. Now, as to this Mr. Antōniou, did you get a look at his face?"
*The [Imperial] Financial Police, a militarised force under the Sakellareia, the Empire's treasury and economics ministry equivalent. It is charged with a variety of duties, such as policing immigration, narcotics, tax evasion, and organised crime, to name a few.

"Oh, I've got something much better than a look. I've got a picture!" the man said proudly, rushing to explain immediately afterwards; "In case he broke anything or forgot something, as you said."

"Or in case you could find something to blackmail him with," one of other politarchs said, whipping the vain smirk off of the innkeeper's face.

"In any case, I'll need that picture, along with any other record of the man you have; handwriting, a hair, even a skin flake for that matter," the Enomotarch stated.

"Right away, sir. Anything you need," the inkeeper replied with a small but detectable pinch of anxiety.

The Enomotarch then turned to his to subordinates.

"Stay here and wait until the forensics team arrives from regional HQ. I don't want this crime scene meddled with by anyone or anything."

The two men saluted, while Nikolaïdēs spoke to the innkeeper.

"Do you know who saw Mr. Zakrianos last? Also do you know what he was doing here?"

"The answer to both of those questions would have to be provided by my cousin, Ms. Stavropoulou."

"Alright then. I would like to speak to her as soon as possible."

The man nodded and showed the Enomotarch downstairs, to the lobby, were the woman was sitting behind the reception desk. Upon seeing the two men, she greeted the officer.

"Good morning, Enomotarch sir. How could I help you?"

"I take it you were the first and last woman to see Mr. Zakrianos in this inn?"

"Yes, sir, certainly. He came in yesterday afternoon, around seven, said he'd met some man from Sarduna out at sea who'd given him a paper package with what he thought was a bottle to deliver to a friend who was staying here, along with a queer message."

"What message would that be, Ms. Stavropoulou?"

"Something like 'crimson split by saltire' and 'two golden anchors and two white stars' but fancier. I even wrote it down to remember it after he left for the room where you found him. Said he didn't know what it meant but that the other feller would know and treat him to a drink or something, sir."

"I see. Were you also on duty when the occupant of the room checked out?"

"Sadly, I wasn't, sir. That would be Mrs. Karabiotou, the wife of the innkeeper. She's out back if you want to talk to her."

"I very much would like to, Ms. Stavropoulou."

The young woman nodded and went behind the reception to get the wife of the establishment's owner and then came back with her.

"Thank you for all your help Ms. Stavropoulou. Good morning, Mrs. Karabiotou."

"Good morning, Enomotarch sir. I take it this has to do with the poor Kapetan Thanos?"

"Indeed. More specifically with the checking-out of the man whom he had come here to visit."

"Ah yes. He came down at around eleven and told me that the Captain had left and that he had a lady friend sleeping up there, whom he didn't want to be disturbed, as they'd had a long night. What a pig that man I tell you! And how immoral! He thought that by taking off his wedding ring I wouldn't see the mark it'd left underneath? I say-"

"Thank you, Mrs. Karabiotou. We'll get him if he's the man, you can be sure of that much."

"Oh I pray that you do. I want to see him hung! I tell you, Enomotarch sir-"

"I do beg your most sincere pardon, ma'am, but I need to go to fill out a report as soon as possible, before the forensics team get here and hold me up forever."

When Mrs. Karabiotou started talking, she never stopped, a fact which was made even more unbearable by her incessant moralising, the likes of which would make Christoupolitan Hierarchs blush. The Enomotarch did recall having to deal with her in one of his first assignments after getting his stripes, when he had had to explain to her at least eight times, in front of a full tavern, that homosexuality was not a crime under Imperial Law. It was even more awkward because the man she was calling a 'gosh-darn sodomite' was wearing a wedding ring and had a picture of his wife and children clearly visible in his wallet, though all that was merely a masquerade to the adept sleuth that Mrs. Karabiotou was, seeing that the man was wearing lavender-scented perfume (what a grievous offence!).

 

[Pelasgia]

PART I: MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
~
CHAPTER III: THE HIGHLANDS OF MELINGIA​

Mizythras, Melingia
12/12/2017

The olive green patrol car of the Imperial Politarchy with the service number 262-3 made its way up the mountainous hilltops leading to the fortress town of Mizythras in southern Melignia. Built on a peak of the mountainous inland of mainland Pelasgia's northeast, Mizythras had served as a fortress since medieval times, being located near and founded by the residents of the far more ancient city of Leuktron. Owing to the militaristic nature of the Melingians and the sturdy terrain of the region, as well as the general resource poverty of the region, Mizythras had not once fallen to any foreign invader who had set foot in Tiburia. Internal traitors, besiegers and usurpers on the other hand... of those it had seen many.

As the patrol car made its way up the steep slopes and the narrow roads cutting between forests of pine, mulberry and maple, all of which now lay covered in December snow, Enomotarchēs Petros Nikolaïdēs could not help but think back to the sight of the murdered captain in Tigani; his wish to finally get some duty other than checking traffic and killing mosquitoes had finally been granted, though not in the manner he would have liked. He could understand how the murdered was committed and by whom well enough, but he still did not understand the why. What did a random vacationer from Mizythras have to gain by killing an old fisherman? And then there was that weird talk about the bottle, about some crossed lines and a star and whatnot. None of it made sense.

In any case, Nikolaïdēs would get some explanations soon enough; the photo he'd been given by the innkeeper, along with the DNA and fingerprints that sloppy inlander had left behind, had proven that he was from Mizythras well enough. In fact, even his first name was the same as the name he'd given at the inn: Georgios. The Mr. Georgios Papakonstantinou who had been identified by the Provincial HQ of the Politarchy for Melingia seemed to have done such a sloppy job that it appeared he almost wanted to be found. Murderers really are quite stupid, the Enomotarch remarked to himself. As he finished this thought, he realised that he had finally neared the entrance of the fortress town, its large stone walls being adorned with an Imperial eagle from the 1400s. Mizythras was built on a smaller peak which was connected to the rest of the mountain range at a single point, overlooking the fertile valleys and vineyards of Melingia; it was only from this entrance that the politarch could enter the town.

Rolling into the main street and through it to the main square, passing between the tightly built scenic stone houses of the medieval period, the patrol car finally stopped by the the local Department of the Politarchy. Admittedly it was much more impressive than the one in Tigani, being housed in an old armoury. The Enomotarch walked out of the car and into the station, inquiring as to the whereabouts of the suspect, who, to his knowledge, had been detained by local law enforcement the day before as he was trying to trek across the mountain to Hagios Ioannes.

"What do you mean he escaped?!" he heard himself shout, realising that this had been directed to a superior officer, as indicated by the man's wearing a kepi instead of a garrison cap.

"Well, we were going to transport him to Leuktron, so the regional HQ could hold him, but there was a road accident and he, uh... run away."

The officer was far too ashamed of this failure, and somewhat biter and resentful, to notice that Nikolaïdēs was his subordinate. Rather enraged, Nikolaïdēs stormed out of the building. As he walked out, he noticed the rather spiteful look on the faces of the officers who had been watching the dialogue; their faces spoke of the same feeling as his, which would not make sense if it were their comrades who had 'lost' the suspect. Then there was the shame of the officer, as if the crash and escape had been his fault. Once more, something did not add up.

Seeing that he was going to get nowhere by cooperating with the local politarchs, he decided to head to the house of the suspect. He isn't the smartest tool in the box, so he might have gone there to recover some of his things, Nikolaïdēs thought. The house of Georgios Papakonstantinou was an old stone-built cottage, located just outside of Mizythras proper, being accessible through a narrow sideroad. Parking outside the building, the Enomotarch climbed up through a first floor window to avoid breaking the police tape on the front door of the rather expensive and luxurious edifice. He entered the first floor library, treading lightly on the carpet that covered the fine oaken floor. From what he could see, the whole of the house seemed unoccupied, save for the obvious police search, and there was nothing note. He cycled through bedrooms, dining rooms, and even restrooms, before finally deciding to give and leave.

As he was about to go back out the window, he noticed something on a finely carved wooden table near the window: an empty bottle of some alcoholic beverage or another, and two empty glasses on a tray. On the bottle's label was a coat of arms fitting the exact description given by the inn's receptionist: "Something like 'crimson split by saltire' and 'two golden anchors and two white stars' but fancier." He grabbed the bottle and climbed back out, ready to run to his car, but, just as his feet touched the floor, he felt a sudden pain at the back of his head, and collapsed. The bottle was grabbed from his hand as he fell, and he heard footsteps as he lost consciousness.

 

[Pelasgia]

PART I: MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE
~
CHAPTER IV: THE GRIFFON'S NEST​

Propontis, Thrakesia
22/12/2017

Early Propontine winter, like the winter of most of northern Tiburia's coastal areas, was more akin to what more temperate countries would call an autumn. Indeed, it would not be until January or even February that the streets of the new metropolis would see their streets covered with snow. Though various local police jurisdictions had switched around and seen their headquarters moved due to the merger of the former cities of Christoupolis, Hagios Simeon, and Pyrgos into Propontis, the Imperial Financial Police (Αὐτοκρατορικὴ Οἰκονομικὴ Ἀστυνομία - Autokratorikē Oikonomikē Astynomia) remained headquartered in its original location: the Meiones (or Lesser) Angeloi Mansion in Augoustaion, the government quarter of the Imperial capital.

Built in a rich baroque style, the Meiones Angeloi Mansion was the former family seat of the now defunct Lesser branch of the Angeloi, an important family of nobles who had at one point ruled the Empire. As was typical with Propontine Baroque, the massive edifice, which rose to eight floors and took up an entire block on its own, combined elements of Tiburian architecture, such as bricks of alternating colours, arches, and Pelasgian pillars of mixed styles, with the architectural practices of Gallo-Germania, in this case Bourgogne in particular. Colloquially, the former residence of the Lesser Angeloi was known as the "Griffon's Nest" (Ἡ Φωλιὰ τοῦ Γρυπαετοῦ - Hē Phōlia tou Grypaetou), a name given to it by the large Griffon carved over its entrance, the Griffon in question being the emblem of the Imperial Financial Police.

Inside the building, whose marble exterior seemed a shade grey due to the pouring rain and clouded sky, the legions of men and women of the Imperial Financial Police, clad in their light gray uniforms, made their way around or sat at their desks to fulfill their duties. Entering the building through the large green metal main gate, one could climb up the stairs of the main hall and make their way to the corridors on either side of the first floor internal balcony or continue upstairs, treading through the elaborate interior of the mansion. At the top of the building, at the end of the eight floor hallway leading to the area above the entrance, one could find the office of the Imperial Financial Police's General Commander, Lieutenant General (Antistratēgos) Emmanouēl Papaphrangos. The Antistratēgos in question was in charge of all of the militarised police force's operations and tasks, ranging from the War on Drugs and other anti-smuggling operations to dissolving organised crime groups and enforcing Imperial tax policy on the Empire's inhabitants, many of whom, especially the Archipelagots and Philistaeans, were rather infamous tax-evaders. These operations were conducted ruthlessly, as the General Commander and the force in general reported only to the Sakellareia, the Empire's ministerial authority for all financial, economic and treasury affairs.

On this rainy day of December 22, Lt. General Papaphrangos was visited by an old friend of his, who was wearing the olive green uniform of the Imperial Politarchy. The name of the man in question was Lt. General Phōtēs Melissiotēs, the General Commander of the Imperial Politarchy, the paramilitary police agency that policed Imperial areas outside of urban centres (which were policed by the Imperial Cities Police) for offences not under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Financial Police. Ostensibly, the meeting between the two old friends, both of whom hailed from the city of Nikopolis, in the Despotate of Lycaonia, a constituent realm covering the Empire's northeastern coast, was aimed at exchanging intelligence in preparation for the joint police summit which was to take place between Tiburia, @Gunnland , and @Eiffelland , at the initiative of the Gunnish AR15. In truth, that was what most of the meeting was to be taken up by, a similar meeting having been organised with the attendance of the Imperial Cities Police later that day. However, apart from exchanging old stories from their military service and informing each other on their families' lives, the two men had an important issue to discuss, at the request of the visitor.

Though the host, Lt. General Papaphrangos, was oblivious of the nature of the request, as to its importance he was certain, due to the secrecy with which Lt. General Melissiōtēs seemed to deal with it. After his old friend had finally arrived, Papaphrangos offered him tea and decided to get the conversation started, sitting behind his oaken desk, with large windows and crimson drapes behind him, bookshelves to his right, a wall with paintings and cabinets to his left, and his visitor in across from him, on the side of the room's sole entrance.

"I hope Magdalēnē and the kids are doing all right," Papaphrangos said.

"Oh yes, they certainly are," Melissiōtēs replied. "The youngest one, Petros, just passed his entrance exam for the Grammatikopoulos Exemplary Lycaeum for Boys. As for his older sisters, Maria is still in Medicine at the Patriarchal Academy and Helena is got engaged to a naval officer. I never liked seamen, as you know, but one can only get in the way of love so much. Besides, it's not like she'll starve on an officers' commission. How about your family?"

"Well, Giōrgos made his way into the Diplomatic Academy. Katerina is glad those French and German lessons paid off and she already imagines him in the uniform of an ambassador, but he'll probably spend a couple of decades as consul in some God-forsaken city in the Peninsular Republic or wherever long before he ends up behind a comfy desk in Amstov and the like. Athanasia is still into art, which caught the eye of a rather handsome industrialist from Euxenia, and Nikos is going into finance at Therme."

Papaphrangos took a sip of tea from one of the traditional short crystal blue glasses which he had brought from Lycaonia before finally deciding to ask his friend the question he'd been postponing for almost half an hour.

"So, what is this favour you wanted? Don't worry, this room's clean and safe, I wouldn't broadcast our discussion to the world, seeing how cryptic you were about the whole thing."

"I take it you read the Apogevmatinē?" Melissiōtēs asked, receiving a positive reply in the form of a head gesture from his friend. "One of the recent issues mentioned the disappearance of a Politarch chasing after an escaped murder suspect in Melignia, if that rings a bell."

"Yes, Papanikolaou or whatever his name was. An Enomotarch, I believe."

"Indeed. Well, the disappearance of the Enomotarch is question was weird to say the least. The murder itself is weird as is... no motive, plenty of evidence, and a strange way for the victim and the culprit to meet, involving the victim meeting a friend of the culprit's while out at sea. What's more, the suspect, who was apprehended rather quickly supposedly 'escaped' after a car crash, but from what I could find out that crash was more of a case of a vehicle crashing into the transport rather than the other way around, as was originally reported. The local Politarchs were cryptic about the whole affair, and the Enomotarch's patrol car was gone but its tracker had been disabled, something only a professional would do. I tried looking into it, but my own men seemed to not be too keen on it and the Secretary for Public Order told me to 'focus on more important things'."

"So you came to me... Smart move, we belong to separate ministries and my force has much more autonomy and little external oversight. I could look into it and nobody would even notice, at least not too soon."

"It might be nothing," Melissiōtēs affirmed anxiously, " but it just feels wrong. So I was wondering whether you could get someone to discreetly look into it, seeing that barely anybody at all asks questions about how your force operates, as long as the tax revenue keeps coming in. Consider it a favour if you like."

"If I get found out they'll hang my ass out like an octopus to dry," Papaphrangos thought out loud, "but I still owe you for getting my boys out of the fire in Memphis. Alright, I'll get one of my best men on it. He's discreet alright, though somewhat too keen on poking his nose into other people's affairs."

"Thank you."

"No need for thanks, I owe you. Anyway, let's get back to business. If we finish in time, maybe you can tell me about that idiot who tried to bribe your men in Karamaria."

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IMPERIAL SAKELLAREIA​

IMPERIAL FINANCIAL POLICE​

GENERAL COMMAND​

​

Propontis, 22 December 2017
Classified - Highly Confidential - Urgent (Δ/ΑΕ.4-E)
ΑΠ 34768 - ΑΣ 9673

To: Anastasios Grivas of Stavros
Chief Warrant Officer III
Inspector Chief Marshal
Propontis Police Prefecture​

​

You are hereby relieved of your duties with pertinence to all investigations in your charge or in which you are involved with the exception of cases Ν132/2017, Λ567/2016 and Ο12/2017. You are temporarily relieved of your duties in the three aforementioned investigations except for advisory and informative roles as and when needed. You are hereby charged with investigating the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of Enomotarchēs Petros Nikolaïdēs of the Imperial Politarchy, this charge taking priority over all other assignment until and unless otherwise ordered by General Command.

You will find attached to this order a package containing all the known and relevant information regarding this investigation. As this case is, strictly speaking, outside the purview of the Imperial Financial Police's normal duties, but is treated as an internal corruption case of the Imperial law enforcement system, it is to be dealt with with utmost secrecy and any and all public knowledge of it or of your activities will be strictly denied by the force. As such, you are to follow relevant secrecy protocols for documents and details of a Δ/ΑΕ.4-E classification and higher. You will only report your findings and activities as well as any other relevant details to General Command directly, unless otherwise ordered. You may not expect the cooperation of the Imperial Politarchy.

Your cover story for this investigation is outlined in the second package attached to this message, carrying the ΑΣ 9673.3. Any further queries are to be on a strictly need to know basis and to be directed straight to General Command's Γ3 office.

Lt. Inspector Aurēlios Dionēkēs
Chief Warrant Officer V
Propontis Police Prefecture
Imperial Financial Police