The sun kissed the ocean and lit it on fire. The sky flared in red and orange, and the sea beneath it flared back. It was beautiful and strangely haunting, staring at the sunset. Something stirred briefly, and he wondered if it was the same stirring that drove the bards to their songs and stories, the artists to their painting. But the stirring died quickly, replaced with stony determination. He was here for a reason, standing on the Spoke. Well, the third spoke of the day, really. What was he doing? What did he expect to find here? A pictogram of what happened? A diary from the assailant? He chuckled to himself at the ridiculousness of the idea.

But the fact remained that he hadn't seen a sign of a scuffle yet, therefore he hadn't found the right spoke. There was a much easier way to do this. So why was he dallying? With a reluctant groan, he turned his eyes skyward. High above, Aven with massive wing spans circled as black silhouettes against the darkening blue. They soared effortlessly, gliding on the currents of warm air from the sea and the Dragon Isles below. Not once did he see one need to flap their wings. Vultureclan, no doubt. They were popular candidates for the Skyguard Overwatch, by nature of their endurance. As he watched, one spotted him, and slowly turned in his direction. It seemed almost lazy, the way it drifted closer, but as the Aven drew himself in to land, Elias could feel the force of the wind caught beneath the Vulture's wings. A bar above was grasped in strong hands to stop his forward momentum, and the guard folded his massive wings behind him. The white tips of the black feathers brushed the ground.

"Lieutenant!" The guard said, dropping to one knee, "I thought it might be you. To what do I owe the honor?"

Elias took a step back to give the Aven room, "No need for all that, Velius, I'm long retired. Are you off duty?"

Velius straightened up. He stood a full head taller than the High Justice, heavily muscled with skin deeply tanned. His head had been shaved, and the tattoos that decorated his scalp only seemed to accent the scars from battle. His huge hand rested lazily on the pommel of his sword. A blunted pyramid. "I am, my Lord. Is there a reason you are lingering so close to the edge this evening?"

"Perhaps. I trust you heard about today's earlier... unpleasantness?"

"The assault? Indeed, my Lord. It happened just over--"

"Assault? I heard it was a fair fight."

Velius gave the Eagle a confused look, his dark eyes studying the man for a long moment. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Of course."

"What in all of Taralensia could that boy go up against that would be considered a fair fight? A cloudmouse with a cold?"

Elias gave an annoyed sigh through his nose. "You saw differently then?"

"I saw an argument. I saw it escalate. And I saw your son go down. It was rather quick, the Falcons weren't able to intercept in time." Velius paused. "...did he survive?"

"It would seem so. Where did you say this happened?"

"I'll show you, come." Velius said, and stepped off of the Spoke. Elias felt his stomach drop, but the Vulture reappeared shortly after, gliding towards a different spoke off to the east. With a hard pump of his wings, he flew to catch up.

When they landed, Elias gently and Velius again with use of the bar, it was clear that this was the right spoke. The long point of white marble jutted out into oblivion, but the area before it became too narrow afforded a gorgeous view of the sea and the Isles below. He paused a moment to appreciate the appeal. "This is where you saw it then?"

"Yes, m'lord. Roy comes out here frequently to write. I believe he had his cat with him."

Elias looked around, spotting a broken quill with a metal nib nearby. Iridescent blue. It didn't take much guesswork to determine whose wing it had come from. There was also a small dried fish with bits torn off of it, identical to the treats he bought for Rune, and a stack of bound papers with a simple blue cover. Velius spotted the journal and let out an excited cry, rushing to scoop it up. Before Elias could protest, the Guard had the book open and was skimming through it, his face practically glowing with elation.

"I was hoping he'd continue this one next! Clockwork Dawn..." and then he fell silent for a long moment while he read.

"...Have you completely lost your mind."

Velius snapped back into reality. "I-I'm sorry sir?"

"What are you doing?"

"My apologies, sir. His stories bring quite a break to the tedium, I just thought--"

"His stories?? I work day and night to get the truth out of the boy without wheedling and you encourage this?"

"Begging your forgiveness, Lieutenant, but have you read these? They're inspired! This one is about a dark elf who makes clockwork weapons, but he dreams of becoming a toy maker. So he comes to the surface--"

"Velius..."

"-- to apprentice under a toymaker. But he has trouble adapting his designs --"

"Velius."

"-- from weapons to toys. So instead he comes up with terrifying chimaeras, like dollies with knives for hands, or explosive-filled snuggle-scorpions. In the last tale, it was hinted that his career might come to a tragic end sooner rather than later. ...Are you okay, Lord Engelbrecht?"

Elias was rubbing his temples slowly, his eyes closed. "...a migraine, Velius. You've given me a migraine."

"Apologies, my lord. It was not my intention."

"It never is. You said you saw the altercation?"

"Yes, M'lord. Your son was here since early morning, sitting approximately here," the Vulture said as he crossed over to one of the sleek pillars. Elias followed, his keen eyes hunting for every detail. Specs of ink here, a fingerprint there. Nestled between the pillar and the wall that separated this area from the rest of the breezeway he could see an inkpot stashed, along with something else. He moved closer to get a better look.

"How long was he here?"

"He comes here frequently, M'lord. He arrived some time before tenth-call and was here for at least five laps."

"How long is a lap?"

"About ten minutes if the winds are good, M'lord." Elias stooped, pulling the inkwell out carefully. It was still uncapped. Behind it was something cloth and white. Reaching in, he carefully pulled out the length of cloth. No, not cloth. A cloak, in marble white with unobtrusive gold embroidery. How many times had he told him to get a more respectable color, one that was less blatant, less showy. Something darker perhaps.

"When did you notice anything unusual?"

"Before eleventh-bell. I did not see the other individual arrive, but they seemed to be in the middle of a heated discussion. The escalation occurred when the second individual appeared to make a motion towards Roy's cat. Your son took... exception... to that."

"Did you see who made the first blow?"

Velius hesitated. "Your son struck first, my lord."

Elias had to bite his inner cheek to keep the ghost of a proud smile from his lips. "I see." He said instead. "And then what happened?"

"There was an altercation. The second individual moved to draw his weapon and Roy's cat leapt on him. I didn't see what happened after, but it appeared that your son took a blow to the head, because he was staggering. It was then that he fell. I sounded the alarm, but Falconwatch were too far, even at full dive."

"And were you able to identify this second party?"

Again Velius hesitated. "...I was, M'lord."

Elias turned, draping the white cloak over his arm and raising his bow expectantly.

"...My lord... You know who it was."

"Indulge me."

With a defeated sigh, Velius Shadowcaster replied. "Jacob, m'lord. Jacob Redquill."