1 A Cold Death

'I'm cold,' thought Emyr.

His next thought was, 'can the dead actually feel anything?'

Those mad priests, who tested the limits of their faith by how long they could remain naked to the elements in the very worst of conditions, often preached of a cold afterlife. The Shivering Order believed that the very worst of sinners were sentenced to an icy hell for all eternity. To freeze and feel the bite of the cold without even the release of death.

Emyr didn't really feel any bite though and had never actually bought into any of that Shivering mumbo jumbo, let alone some of the more popular and less exposure heavy theologies.

This cold wasn't painful. In fact, it was quite comfortable, like a soft, refreshing bed.

'All in all, I'd rather not be dead, but if this is what comes after it isn't so bad. Beats a bed of flames or spikes at least. I just regret...' but before Emyr could dwell any further he heard something. A crunching sound steadily coming closer.

'So I can hear and feel, but what could that be?'

Emyr tensed up but then relaxed again.

'I'm already passed so it's no use worrying over whoever or whatever is approaching. Better to just take things as they come and play dead for a while longer,' thought Emyr. He couldn't help cracking a grin at his own black humor.

The crunching continued to approach until it came to a stop somewhere by his feet. Assuming he still had feet. Emyr resisted the temptation to open his eyes, assuming he still had eyes.

"Boss." said a cool crisp voice from somewhere higher than his feet.

'I'm no one's boss. Could this voice be contacting another unknown entity? Perhaps to report me?'

"Detective!" snarled the voice which was now decidedly not cool, but undeniably the same.

'What in all the Realms is a detective!?' Emyr had never heard the term in his life and was now getting nervous.

The crunching started up again shortly to stop at his side.

"I know you aren't asleep. I saw that smirk as I was walking over here." The cold tone returned.

Emyr froze. He had been found out but by (he was now fairly certain the voice did not come from an it) whom? Just as he was coming around to checking if he could still move and see so he could answer this question, the process was sped along rapidly because his eyes flew wide open after the first sharp pain to his side. It was not the last.

"DETECTIVE. LAZY. SELFISH. INCONSIDERATE. PRICK!!!" shouted the voice as each pause was punctuated with another stinging blow to his torso.

Emyr was too shocked to even think of defending himself before this rain of blows was over, but he could now see his assailant clearly. While her auburn hair was cut short she was obviously a she. She was not too tall, but also not too short. Her dress was made up of dark thin pants and an equally thin dark colored jacket that mostly covered a blue shirt. It was like no clothing Emyr had ever seen before, but he could tell at a glance that it was of high quality. The material seemed seamless without a stitch in sight. The strange outfit was not so surprising, there were many warriors with eccentric tastes as well as gear with unique uses. This woman could certainly pass for a fighter; she was obviously a brute.

As if to reinforce this point, she grabbed Emyr by his collar and dragged him to his feet, bringing his face right up to hers. Her eyes were a piercing icy blue and it seemed like the look in those eyes could physically hurt him.

"I've long since stopped being surprised at how far you will go to avoid work, but getting in the way of my work is something I will not stand. You left me and ten other people at an active crime scene because you said you weren't feeling well, and now, fifteen minutes later I find you taking a nap in the snow without a care in the world. As the lead detective here, none of us can start doing the jobs that we actually happen to give a shit about without you giving the go-ahead, or at the very least, telling everyone that I'm in charge. Usually, you can accomplish the bare minimum by pushing your responsibilities onto someone else before going to get some beauty sleep, but not today, huh? Boss..." this last word was dripping with condescension.

After saying her piece she finally released him and took a deep breath. The anger faded from her features and was quickly replaced with a calm professional demeanor.

"Follow me," she ordered while starting to walk back the way she came. Without stopping she added, "and don't even think about telling anyone that I kicked you. No one would buy it and I have enough dirt on you to bury you alive. Not that I need to remind you."

Emyr gulped, "I... uh... wait..."

The mystery woman continued without turning back. Emyr shook his head and then his whole body.

'This is just too much,' he thought. 'I have no idea what in the shadowy abyss is going on, but I know trouble when I see it and I don't think I want this woman more pissed off. How did I offend her in the first place! It seems like she's calmed down a little at least so I should be safe if I follow her right? Right!?'

Emyr reluctantly stepped forward and steeled himself to go with this angry warrior.

The land they traversed was covered in a few inches of snow. It was this snow that he had confused with a cold soft bed. Emyr felt rather foolish, snow was nothing new to him and the leafless trees surrounding the two of them didn't look out of the ordinary either. It was a young forest though, especially compared to the ancient woods near Emyr's home. Where by just walking a few feet off the path one could feel like they were swallowed alive in the dark shade of those massive trees.

After a minute a group of people came into view and Emyr recalled what his mad guide had said about him keeping some others waiting. Some of these people were covered in a white wrapping that covered their whole bodies and the rest were wearing identical blue and grey uniforms. They looked different from the woman's but were all made of the same seamless material. This group was spread throughout an area enclosed by a thin bright yellow barrier raised a few feet off the ground. After getting closer, Emyr could make out some words on this barrier clearly.

"POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS"

"Police?" said Emyr without thinking

"You forget what your job is called?" snapped the woman.

"No! I-"

"He's not dead after all!" A shrill childlike shout from one of the people in white cut Emyr off.

With a voice that could cut glass, the speaker continued, "Many thanks for gracing these humble servants with your miraculous presence, my lord!" This sentence was followed by a deeply exaggerated bow and several snickers from the others around.

Emyr frowned and thought, 'I know sarcasm when I hear it. Seems like I'm no lord in this land either.'

"I'm sure that you've spent your time away coming up with a genius solution to this case. The great Detective Jones would nevvvveeerrrrr keep us waiting here for 20 minutes with no reason!" The sarcastic fellow looked around at his companions in mock seriousness. On closer inspection, the speaker was a man despite his high pitched voice, if his great red beard was anything to go by.

'Am I supposed to be Detective Jones? Is a detective some kind of party leader? I don't seem to be a particularly popular one.' thought Emyr as he looked around. 'What is this case he's referring to?'

Emyr had now walked up to the yellow barrier, and by following the lead of the woman, found it offered no resistance at all as he pushed it up to pass underneath. On the other side, something immediately drew his attention.

A woman was lying at an unnatural angle in the center of the area restricted by the "police line". Her face was pale and lifeless. She wore what was probably once a striking red dress that now had many rips and tears. These rips and tears and the entire dress itself were covered up by another more vivid red. Blood. It flowed off the dress and onto the surrounding snow creating the illusion of a long flowing gown that was steadily losing its shape. It was both stunning and terrible.

A reckless splash of red paint on an empty canvass.