Open Zann's Alley/Backyard Open Office Hours, Marlowe Detective Agency

[Marlowe Thistle]

A narrow, unmarked, and weathered door stands recessed into the stone wall of a leaning tenement. Above it, barely visible beneath layers of soot and rain-stain, a faint outline suggests a sign was once posted and later removed. To the casual passerby, it’s just another forgotten entrance in the maze of Zann’s Alley. But if you look closer, there are signs. A fresh scrape on the threshold, recent foot traffic. A faint line of chalk dust near the base of the doorframe, disturbed earth, and recently tracked. And if you pause just outside, you might hear the soft scratch of a pen from within. Inside, the room is sparse but ordered. A narrow cot. A desk built from repurposed shipping crates. A single oil lamp casts a steady glow over stacks of case files, hand-labeled and cross-referenced. Maps of Bully Harbour, marked with red string and pinpoints, cover one wall. On another, a board holds sketches, newspaper clippings, and a single note in bold script:

"The truth is not hidden. It is ignored."

At the desk, Marlowe Thistledown sits with her back straight, reviewing a ledger under the light. Her brass magnifier rests beside her paw, and her satchel lies open, its contents, tools and notebooks, arranged with quiet precision. Her office hours were open, and since concluding her old cases, she needed a fresh batch of new cases. Marlowe disliked having her mind idle and preferred to have something to do to keep herself busy. Cases, as sometimes mundane as they were, would provide that.

 

[Filly the Fingers]

Filly was frustrated, she had always hated Zann's Alley, all narrow streets and overbearing buildings rising up like uneven teeth. The pitch black ferret stopped to look at the doors she had just passed by....what did the door look like again? She thought back to the information The Squid gave her. Unmarked door, leaning tenement, missing sign. "''to Dark Forrest gate's with this!" She muttered to herself. If it wasn't for the fact she was on a job she would have gone back and given the old marten an ear full of how hard it is to find an unmarked building in the maze of Zann's Alley. in fact she might just march herself back to the Bilge and do that anyways. Wait....was that the an extra leaning building? Yes! Did it have a unmarked door? You bet your tail it did. And finally a missing sign? Maybe her luck had finally turned around, and she wouldn't need to chew out the old lady after all.

Filly knocked heavily at the door, then tried the knob...locked....hrrm Maybe this was a good chance to practice her lock picking? She pulled out her kit and began to set to work on unlocking the door before the beast who supposedly lived there came to answer.

 

[Marlowe Thistle]

Filly was frustrated, she had always hated Zann's Alley, all narrow streets and overbearing buildings rising up like uneven teeth. The pitch black ferret stopped to look at the doors she had just passed by....what did the door look like again? She thought back to the information The Squid gave her. Unmarked door, leaning tenement, missing sign. "''to Dark Forrest gate's with this!" She muttered to herself. If it wasn't for the fact she was on a job she would have gone back and given the old marten an ear full of how hard it is to find an unmarked building in the maze of Zann's Alley. in fact she might just march herself back to the Bilge and do that anyways. Wait....was that the an extra leaning building? Yes! Did it have a unmarked door? You bet your tail it did. And finally a missing sign? Maybe her luck had finally turned around, and she wouldn't need to chew out the old lady after all.

Filly knocked heavily at the door, then tried the knob...locked....hrrm Maybe this was a good chance to practice her lock picking? She pulled out her kit and began to set to work on unlocking the door before the beast who supposedly lived there came to answer.

Marlowe didn’t startle, the moment the ferret’s paw touched the door—before the knock, even—she heard it: the faintest shift in pressure on the warped wood. Then the scrape of metal. A lockpick. Not amateur. Not professional. Practicing. She set her pen down, no sound. No movement. Just stillness. From her desk, she could see the thin gap beneath the door, the shadow of paws crouched outside. She’d rigged the latch with a whisper-wire months ago—nothing dangerous. Just a loose thread of copper, strung across the mechanism, barely visible. When disturbed, it tugged a small tin bell behind a stack of files; it had rung.

She waited.


One minute.


Two.


The ferret was methodical. Slow. Deliberate. Not trying to break in—just testing. Or making a point. Marlowe rose quietly, no boots. She wore soft-soled slippers—quiet, worn thin from use. She crossed the room without a sound, stopping just beside the door, out of sight through the keyhole. She didn’t speak. Didn’t shout. Didn’t threaten. Instead, she turned the knob from the inside. The door opened—just six inches—held by the chain. Marlowe stood behind it, half in shadow.

“I don’t lock the door to keep beasts out,” she said, voice low, amused. “I lock it to see who tries to come in.” She didn’t sound angry. “If you’re here about a case, I’m listening.”

 

[Filly the Fingers]

Filly looked up sheepishly at the creature peering through the six inch gap of the door.

"Yes, I am here to tell you, that my job is also to inform you bout a job." she said scrambling to put her picks away and stand up straight. "My boss has heard of your skills in detectivery and is in need of them. An don't worry, the pay will be good." she produced a hefty bag from one of the pouches on her chest and shook it. "Now are you gonna let me in, or am I supposed to spill my boss's secrets on your doorstep?"

 

[Marlowe Thistle]

Marlowe didn’t react to the money. She didn’t flinch at the jingle, didn’t lean forward to peer into the pouch. Her gaze stayed fixed on the ferret’s face—on the shift of her ears, the tension in her jaw, the way her tail flicked once, just once, when she mentioned her boss. Still behind the chain, Marlowe tilted her head slightly.

“Detectivery?” she repeated, tone neutral.

A test. Not mockery. Observation. Most professionals said investigation. detective work. inquiry. That she used a slang term—mispronounced, no less—spoke of distance from the trade. Or someone repeating words they didn’t understand. Marlowe’s paws remained still at her sides. Her body language didn’t soften. Not yet.

“You came to deliver a job,” she said, voice level. “But you picked the lock before knocking. You carry tools. You’re not just a messenger.”

She paused.

“If your boss wanted discretion, they wouldn’t send someone who leaves scuff marks on a threshold. If they wanted competence, they wouldn’t send someone to threaten a doorstep with a hefty bag like it’s leverage.”

She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. “So let’s try again. Who sent you? And why should I care?”

 

[Filly the Fingers]

If Filly was not a pitch black ferret you would have seen her expression narrow considerably. Who was this beast to condescend down to her! she thought. Even though the beast whose gaze pierced right through her dark fur and into the soft squishy part that only novices have. It's right between the eyes where the brain should be. The Madam would not take too kindly to me failing this. Her boss having a reputation to uphold after all. That and there being a lot of money tied up in the operation.

Filly took a deep breath and relaxed her features. She put on what she thought was her most professional smile, one with as few teeth as possible.

"Well if ye can't wait to know, my boss is the Squid. Don' worry about not knowing her right away, you'll get to know her if ye decide to take up her job. And you should care because she is providing you with an opportunity, one that would get ye yer face in the Smelt, right next to a bag ten times the size of this one." She shook the bag again for emphasis. "And if that is not enough for you, it would mean solving a case no other beast has been able to for eighty years. Does that at least pique your interest? Now, would you be so kind as to invite a good beast in and we can talk business?" The Squid had told her if the coin failed to interest the detective to try and appeal to their sense of competition. A chance to solve a case that dozens, nay a hundred detectives, could not solve. Maybe that was enough to grab her attention.

 

[Marlowe Thistle]

If Filly was not a pitch black ferret you would have seen her expression narrow considerably. Who was this beast to condescend down to her! she thought. Even though the beast whose gaze pierced right through her dark fur and into the soft squishy part that only novices have. It's right between the eyes where the brain should be. The Madam would not take too kindly to me failing this. Her boss having a reputation to uphold after all. That and there being a lot of money tied up in the operation.

Filly took a deep breath and relaxed her features. She put on what she thought was her most professional smile, one with as few teeth as possible.

"Well if ye can't wait to know, my boss is the Squid. Don' worry about not knowing her right away, you'll get to know her if ye decide to take up her job. And you should care because she is providing you with an opportunity, one that would get ye yer face in the Smelt, right next to a bag ten times the size of this one." She shook the bag again for emphasis. "And if that is not enough for you, it would mean solving a case no other beast has been able to for eighty years. Does that at least pique your interest? Now, would you be so kind as to invite a good beast in and we can talk business?" The Squid had told her if the coin failed to interest the detective to try and appeal to their sense of competition. A chance to solve a case that dozens, nay a hundred detectives, could not solve. Maybe that was enough to grab her attention.

The name Squid landed like a stone in still water. She didn’t react to it—no twitch, no shift in posture—but she filed it. Marlowe studied the ferret through the gap. This wasn’t a casual offer; it was a probe. But then came the last line, and that—finally—earned a reaction. Just a slow, measured exhale through the nose and the faintest tilt of the head. She didn’t reach for the bag, didn’t comment on the size of the coin. Instead, she unhooked the chain. “Come in,” Marlowe said, stepping back without inviting trust. “You can talk. I’ll listen.” She didn’t shut the door behind the ferret. Left it slightly ajar—protocol. Always a way out. Always a witness. She returned to her desk, sat, and folded her paws over the closed ledger. “If the Squid wants my attention,” she said, voice low, steady, “she sent you with two things: a bribe and a challenge. The bribe doesn’t impress me. But the challenge does. So tell me about the case. Not the legend. Not the rumor. The facts."

 

[Filly the Fingers]

Filly followed the small mouse into the small space that was perhaps her office? It was hard to tell, it looked like the burrow of a minimalist, conspiracy theorist. The maps on the wall with string, the collection of photographs and notes all spoke of an organized mind, but was there not a better way to decorate? Maybe some flowers, oh and a tapestry! That would really bring the room.....no Filly eyes on the prize. You are going to pull this off and show her you are trustworthy! she thought. No more distractions. She pulled the small stool in front of the mouse's desk toward her and sat down.

"I deeply apologize but my employer is somewhat of a story teller 'an she trusted me to read this word for word. You know how it is." Filly pulled out a scroll from a leather case on her belt, unfurled it, and began to read.

"Once upon a time in the year 1684, almost 40 years before the coronation of the former Emperor Markan II. The then Emperor Zilgam the Unsurprised. A misnomer as he was eventually surprised to find out he was being garroted during one of the many "bloodless" coups that were fashionable at the time. But while Zilgam was still breathing through an un-garroted windpipe, he was a lover of art and patron to many of the most famous artisans at the time. There was one particular piece though that stood out from the rest; the Globe of Conquest. Made by the famous artisan Phineses Philigree, it was a globe about the size of a small melon, adorned with precious stones and jewels arranged to look like a map of the world. It was going to be the symbol of a new age, one of expansion and warfare. Zilgam had big plans for the Imperium and the Globe was the symbol of those dreams. It was displayed in the very center of the Emperor's audience chamber, where all eyes would settle on it, housed within a crystal glass display locked behind a golden cage.... There it sat, to be looked upon by any and all visitors to the chamber.
That was until Zilgam was garroted, a new Emperor crowned all within twenty-four hours - the fastest bloodless coup in the history of the Imperium. In the rush of executions that followed every coup at the time, the Globe was forgotten and presumed stolen. The only suspects being Phineses, realizing that the Globe was going to be used as a symbol of death and destruction, vowed to have it destroyed; an unnamed skullery maid who was in charge of polishing the globe daily; and the notorious thief known only as Lupo the III, who was reported to be within the city at the time.

Now why would the globe, which disappeared almost a century ago come up now? Well, the family of Phineses has contracted me wishing to find the orb and fulfill their late father/grandfather's wishes." Filly swallowed hard, her mouth dry and even a little hoarse from reading out loud. If only she had remembered the advice her Oration teacher gave her "Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate". Filly rolled up the scroll and tucked it back into its case. she then looked back at the mouse, who hadn't seemed to blink let alone move. "Well, wotcher think, interesting enough?"

 

[Marlowe Thistle]

Filly followed the small mouse into the small space that was perhaps her office? It was hard to tell, it looked like the burrow of a minimalist, conspiracy theorist. The maps on the wall with string, the collection of photographs and notes all spoke of an organized mind, but was there not a better way to decorate? Maybe some flowers, oh and a tapestry! That would really bring the room.....no Filly eyes on the prize. You are going to pull this off and show her you are trustworthy! she thought. No more distractions. She pulled the small stool in front of the mouse's desk toward her and sat down.

"I deeply apologize but my employer is somewhat of a story teller 'an she trusted me to read this word for word. You know how it is." Filly pulled out a scroll from a leather case on her belt, unfurled it, and began to read.

"Once upon a time in the year 1684, almost 40 years before the coronation of the former Emperor Markan II. The then Emperor Zilgam the Unsurprised. A misnomer as he was eventually surprised to find out he was being garroted during one of the many "bloodless" coups that were fashionable at the time. But while Zilgam was still breathing through an un-garroted windpipe, he was a lover of art and patron to many of the most famous artisans at the time. There was one particular piece though that stood out from the rest; the Globe of Conquest. Made by the famous artisan Phineses Philigree, it was a globe about the size of a small melon, adorned with precious stones and jewels arranged to look like a map of the world. It was going to be the symbol of a new age, one of expansion and warfare. Zilgam had big plans for the Imperium and the Globe was the symbol of those dreams. It was displayed in the very center of the Emperor's audience chamber, where all eyes would settle on it, housed within a crystal glass display locked behind a golden cage.... There it sat, to be looked upon by any and all visitors to the chamber.
That was until Zilgam was garroted, a new Emperor crowned all within twenty-four hours - the fastest bloodless coup in the history of the Imperium. In the rush of executions that followed every coup at the time, the Globe was forgotten and presumed stolen. The only suspects being Phineses, realizing that the Globe was going to be used as a symbol of death and destruction, vowed to have it destroyed; an unnamed skullery maid who was in charge of polishing the globe daily; and the notorious thief known only as Lupo the III, who was reported to be within the city at the time.

Now why would the globe, which disappeared almost a century ago come up now? Well, the family of Phineses has contracted me wishing to find the orb and fulfill their late father/grandfather's wishes." Filly swallowed hard, her mouth dry and even a little hoarse from reading out loud. If only she had remembered the advice her Oration teacher gave her "Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate". Filly rolled up the scroll and tucked it back into its case. she then looked back at the mouse, who hadn't seemed to blink let alone move. "Well, wotcher think, interesting enough?"

Marlowe remained seated behind her desk, her posture unchanged from the moment Filly had entered. She did not shift in her chair, nor did she reach for a pen or open a notebook. Her paws remained folded atop the closed ledger, and her expression—though attentive—betrayed nothing of her internal assessment. When Filly finished reading the scroll, Marlowe allowed a measured silence to settle over the room. The oil lamp flickered slightly, casting long shadows across the pinned maps and the red string connections that lined the walls. Somewhere outside, a cart rattled down Zann’s Alley, wheels clattering over uneven cobbles. But within the small office, there was only stillness.

“The Globe of Conquest,” she repeated, testing the name. "A melon-size object, jeweled. Any records of its existence, inventory number, surviving sketch, or known tax levy on its materials?" She paused, then added, “If such an object existed, it would have been inventoried. If it vanished, there would be a sealed inquiry. Even if suppressed, there’d be traces: requisition orders for the stones, security logs, payroll for the artisan, a single line in a courtier’s memoir." She reached out, finally, and opened a drawer in her desk. From it, she removed a thin folder labeled UNVERIFIED CULTURAL LOSS (1500–1700) – a compilation she had assembled herself from fragmented references, marginalia, and redacted footnotes. “If something like the Globe existed,” she continued, “it wouldn’t have disappeared because of a coup. It would have disappeared because someone powerful wanted it gone. And if Phineas’s family only now wishes to fulfill his wishes, after nearly a century of silence, then either they just discovered he made it… or they’re being used as cover. I do believe someone wants it found. And if they’re willing to go through the Squid to hire a detective who doesn’t play games… then whatever’s buried under this is worth uncovering."