Chapter 1
Mr. Dolj did not know his birthplace nor his real name. He simply woke up one day and went on with life, without knowing who he is. Mr. Dolj is a detective for the London police. His job was fairly simple, solve the cases the police cannot solve, and comprehend the criminal if possible. Mr. Dolj was a detective. An incredibly bright one, at that.
A detective with an unclear backstory is quite the bizarre origin, but Mr. Dolj did not allow the wariness of his colleagues to interfere with his job. The pay was generous, which meant Mr. Dolj led a rather lavish life. But what of his previous life?
Mr. Dolj awoke, startled. It was a hazy and grey morning in London, as expected. He sat up in his bed, and reached for his nightstand. He carefully lit a match and lit the candle on his nightstand. With the dim glow of candle light illuminating his disorganized bedroom, Mr. Dolj walked over to his wardrobe to choose a clean uniform for his job today. It was a rather bland uniform, consisting of a simple suit and tie. (and on some days a hat of his choice) After slipping on his work shoes, Mr. Dolj was off to work.
The streets were bustling, a variety of people, from well known nobles to beggars filling the sidewalks and roads, each with their own lives and goals.
While on his walk to work, he noticed a peculiar crowd surrounding a limp silhouette. Concerned, Mr. Dolj advanced through the crowd in order to get a closer look at the figure.
As he pushed his way through, he heard murmuring: "Oh my. Poor Mr. Greenson, his death was most untimely."
When he reached the head of the crowd, he was greeted by a most gruesome sight. A kind man he had seen often near the floral shops, purchasing fauna and flora for his wife and daughter; was now laying, deceased, on the street. The poor man appeared to have been shot in the temple with some sort of firearm, a musket he presumed. The blood was already dried, so the crime could not have happened this morning. Last night perhaps?
Mr. Dolj pulled a pocket watch from his shirt pocket. He had approximately 18 minutes until he must be at work. Mr. Dolj let out a sigh. He could solve this at work later. Not in the center of a busy street.
As he broke from the crowd and continued on his way, a hysterical cry broke out behind him: "Have any if you any decency? Your fellow man is here at your mercy, dead at your feet! Do none of you have anything to say or do? Damn you all! He was such a kind man..." The hysterical voice began to sob.
It was Mrs. Greenson. Her usually soft and gentle face was distorted into a variety of emotions; Fear, grief, rage, and disgust. A few gentlemen seized her by the arms and dragged her away from the crowd, screaming.
A mildly disturbed Mr. Dolj could not help but think about the grieving woman's words. "Damn us all, is that so?" He muttered. "Hysteria will do nothing but dig you a deeper grave, you poor madwoman," Mr. Dolj paused for a moment. ".. nothing but dig you a deeper grave..."
