Cherry Blossom Snow

Investigation

On the day of the planned Coronation of King Lubin IV, the military was on high alert, and primarily concerned themselves with the safety of the King. Meanwhile, Henrietta and Rico monitored the Red Lion, as the significance of the day made it seem a probable occasion for a meeting. Henrietta watched from a distance through a rifle scope, while Rico patrolled the surrounding area on foot. The two of them remained in constant contact.

"Why exactly are we here?" Rico asked.

"I gave the Defence Minister my word that I would do my part," said Henrietta. "I have a duty to uphold."

"What duty? We're private investigators, not police or soldiers."

Henrietta took a deep breath. "What would you say if I told you that I never actually got us licensed as private investigators and we've been conducting business illegally this entire time?"

Rico groaned. "I'd say I should have expected as much."

"I may have signed a legally binding agreement to assist the military in exchange for a suspended sentence," Henrietta continued. "I figured you'd want to help me stay out of prison."

"Fine," Rico sighed. "But can't we switch places?"

"Not a chance," Henrietta replied.

"Why not?"

"Because paper covers rock."

"I already told you there's no way that paper could ever defeat a rock. It doesn't make any sense."

"I don't make the rules."

"But I'm the one doing all the work here," said Rico.

"Perhaps, but how good is your long-distance shooting?"

"It's getting better."

"But not good enough, and your trigger discipline is terrible," said Henrietta. "Tell me, Rico, do you happen to know the extent of the damage an armor-piercing round can deal to a human skull?"

"I can't say that I do."

"Then I suggest you stop complaining," said Henrietta. "Now, you do your job, and I'll do mine."

Rico waited a bit after opening time before he entered the pub. He swung open the door with theatrical flair and he confidently sauntered inside. His eyes, accentuated by black eyeliner, scanned the room with an air of intrigue, as if he were unraveling a captivating mystery.

Behind the counter was a dark-skinned woman with black hair in corkscrew curls. She was wearing an elegant black gothic dress that Rico suspected could probably conceal a plethora of weapons with the assistance of its gratuitous frills, buckles, laces, and ribbons. Furthermore, she was in the process of loading a high capacity magazine for an assault rifle she rested on the counter. She was clearly quite capable of defending herself, so Rico was cautious. The woman turned to face him, and he replied with an exaggerated bow. Her eyes widened, and she smiled.

"How may I help you?" she inquired cheerfully, with a slight Nigerian accent.

"I was hoping you could answer some questions for me," Rico replied, punctuating his sentence with a flourish of his outstretched hand, showing off his black nail polish.

"Perhaps," she responded, her eyes tracking Rico's extravagant gestures.

"What is your name?" Rico asked, twirling his finger in the air for dramatic effect.

"Alice Okoye. I'm the owner of this establishment."

"Splendid. Then you're just the person I'm looking for." Rico's arms spread wide, as if presenting Alice with a grand revelation.