Sir Thorne, the Captain of the Royal Guards, stood tall and imposing, his scarlet uniform a stark slash of color against the manor's muted elegance. His duty, however, was nearly done.
As he gave a crisp nod, two other men in more modest, dark blue uniforms entered the house. They were constables of the city's Criminal and Justice Division, the men who dealt with the city's dark underbelly of crime.
"Constable Davies and Constable Miller," Sir Thorne said, his voice a formal baritone, acknowledging their arrival.
The older of the two men, Davies, a man with a weary face and the patient eyes of someone who had seen every kind of human failing, answered, "We are here, Sir Thorne."
Sir Thorne's gaze was sharp. "Where is the head of your division, Inspector Thaddeus Wimbly? I specifically sent him a letter requesting his personal attendance."
