Wavaren Saltmere was a Tide-Runner, former lawyer and current Agister with the Third Arm of the Gendarme. Dispite his jurisdiction being on ecological side of the law, he found himself working a murder case. It was the investigation of the murder of an ageded Tide-Runner widow, living in the coastal seaport city of Harrowmere. The city was known as a seedy place before the tradegy. Outsiders called it, "The Drowning of Harrowmere." Natives, called, it, "The Day of a Thousand Tides" the ancient roots dating back to the last reset. Many decent people still call it home. The woman he was looking for hadn't been heard from in three days and her children had begun to panic. The Civic Arm or general officers of the Gendarme usually handle these but Wavaren was nearby when the call came in, on that late pre-winter morning and volunteered to do the check. He knocked on her sea foam green door, the breeze gently swaying the sea shell wind chimes hanging from the stoop. It was a nice sunny day, a cool breeze off the surf, and eerily quiet. A thickness in the air you didn't notice until it choked you. He knocked a third time and when there was no answer, he turned to leave.

Through the window, she caught his eye. Her yellow shoe peeked out from beneath the quilt. He rushed to the window, and banging on it, he yelled her name. The moment it came out it tasted like ash on his tongue. Finally after finagling with the latch, he gets into the house. Watching from the street, his partner sends a murder of crows to deliver the message that a murder has taken place. The word play was palpable.

Wavaren and his partner swept the house. The front room and kitchen appeared normal. The resonance fire in the hearth was low, you can see a log stack nicely put next to the fireplace. One log was laid down like someone put it down before they could put it in the fire. The side door off the kitchen was opened. As Wavaren got closer he could see the trim was splintered. Someone forced it open.

“He yelled to his partner in the other room, “This happened hours ago. That fire would have been started, her kids said she enjoyed her mornings by the fire with tea.” His partner came in, “You better come see this Wave” gesturing for him to follow.
When Wavaren got to the bedroom he was met with a horror scene. Beetles lie everywhere, their bodies were squished and their sky-glass home was in pieces on the floor. Few lived.

“Get an Agister over here to look for survivors.” Dream pearls casings were strewn over the floor by a nearby trashcan. It looked like someone was digging through the trash for something. Jewelry boxes turned over, its contents gone. A robbery. Multiple murders. The lady, and after an Agister can count, however many beetles.

The case dragged on for months. He couldn't sleep nor eat. He barely gambled anymore. Old Pete at the tavern tried to come visit but could do nothing until this was solved. It was his first big case, and he wanted to honor his father by catching the killer before he struck again. One day as a Selunaris sat half illuminated, dominating the sky, he finally caught his prime suspect. Wavaren spotted him, the guy was coming out of a pub in the middle of the day, smirking and chatting with his pals.

He got no closer than earshot when upon seeing Wavaren, the suspect stripped his friendly demeanor, straightened his shoulders, and puffing his chest out, he barked, "I told you guys I don't know nothing about nothing."

"We have witnesses that saw you sneaking around her cottage beforehand and you know her sons. We know you're in debt with the Accountants. So not only do you have opportunity, you have motive." Wavaren told him. "Just give me a real alibi, and the room at the Quiet Spoke doesn't count. Your other alibi doesn't count either."

He stared at the suspect with a look that could burn a hole right through him.
"How come it don't count?" the suspect asked visibly confused
Wavaren felt the migraine coming on, "You told my partner that you were at the graveyard visiting your late mother with your shadow bird."

"Yeah, and? It was a sad day." Wavaren was losing his patience with this man. He let out an exasperated sigh.
"Your mother is alive and you aren't a Shadowman! Come on. I know you know something."

The suspect was not budging and becoming angrier by the minute. He couldn't keep the man much longer, Wavaren had the witnesses, but with conflicting reports on timing, he would need a confession. So unless he could arrest him, he would be forced to let him go.

Sir Monocle esquire, was minding his own business, when a delicious smell entered his nose space. Salted fish. He hadn't had one since that human got spooked by a weasel and dropped one. He didn't like weasels, but he could admit when they came in handy. Monocle even let it have the fish's tail. His mouth watered at the memory. He followed the smell out of the forest to where humans lived. When the wonderful fish smell was overtaken by a stench that could only come from a leaking human. Ferrets were far too sophisticated. He watched from the treeline as an island human barked angry words at another one with weird ears and flickering lines on the skin. Monocle could tell the man was desperate to get away.

Why would the felon stop in this town? With all these gendarme patrolling? Monocle would bet the man regretted that choice now. Or maybe it was better than the alternative. Afterall, Monocle thought himself much better than the creatures that resided on that island, that burped fire. Well, he couldn’t worry about them right now. He had to deal with the current smells at hand. One human was smelly but not foul. More like an old shoe. Nothing to get excited about. Now the other, his odor was the distinct smell of foul mouth. Then the smell poured out of the glowing one, it made him choke and hiss. Every time he opened his mouth every word released the stink. He needs to wash his tongue or teeth or something. He was getting mad now, he made himself known to the humans.

Wavaren did not want to let him go. He needs this win.

“Would you come down to the complex for more questions?” “I don't know, do I got to?” “Have.” Wavaren corrected him. His illiteracy is almost debilitating. “What?”

“It's, 'Do you have to. Not do I got to’. Jeebus.” Wavaren probably shouldn't have done that but his patience was running thin. “No, technically you don't have to.”

The man was visibly offended but before he could answer, a violent hissing came out of the trees. Wavaren didn't look back, ignoring the hissing ferret and continued questioning his suspect.
“Look, Cyraliel, just come into the office, we'll have snacks, just talk a bit.”
“Can you get those little pastries with cinnamon and maple?” he chuckled as he asked it.
“You know damn well that I can't. Do you want to be chained to me for four days as I speak nothing but almost-puns?” Wavaren spat, the man's laughter tore through air, like jagged glass.

Monocle couldn't stop himself, the blue one's lies were rooted in malice. Wavaren noticed the ferrets' reaction to the lie. He decided to test it. Every time he claimed to be of innocent mind, Monocle, made a sour face and audibly hissed.

This continued as Wavaren questioned him, “I know you broke into her house. I know you did it! You not only killed her beetles but then you murdered her too! For her things? Her precious dream pearls were more important than her life? We have witnesses that drew you at the scene! Confess!” his blood was boiling but he had to get this confession.

He went 15 years not knowing what happened to his father. This woman had kids. He didn't have anyone that fought for him. He remembered the feeling of being powerless, defeated, and utterly alone. His mother and sisters, strangers of his own making. The two of them, Wavaren and Monocle, shared a look that somehow bridged the gap time left between them. Instantly cementing their bond. In a moment, the ferret knew Wavaren was honorable and Wavaren knew Monocle was noble.

Sir Monocle Esquire sensing the foul smelling human's intent growing, let out a shriek. A terribly loud shriek. With a violent twist of his shoulders, Cyraliel broke Wavaren's grip. His boots slammed into the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust that choked the scent of salted fish, and he bolted straight into the thicket.

“We need to find him, Monocle,” Wavaren urged. “Every criminal holds a piece of the truth; we just need to coax it into the open.” He gave Monocle a scratch behind the ears and salted meat treat. Monocle was grateful for the scratch of reassurance and the treat helped too.
“Chrrrp chrrrp!” Monocle didn't hesitate. The foul-mouthed human was tracking that wretched, rancid stink all over the pristine forest floor, ruining the air space. It was offensive. It was an insult to the nobility of the woods.

With a low, furious chattering, Monocle flattened his long noodle body to the earth and transformed into a blur of sable fur. He didn't run like the humans did, all heavy and loud such as they did. No, he flowed. He squeezed under the briars that snagged Cyraliel’s clothes. He drifted over the rotting logs that slowed Wavaren down.

Up ahead, Cyraliel was panting, his skin lines flickering wildly in the dark as he tried to use his own notched ears to navigate the dense trees by sound alone. He was clicking frantically, trying to map an escape route through the twilight.
Wavaren took off in haste. Branches whipped his face and thorns cut his skin, but Monocle held fast to the back of his neck, tilting his weight to signal directions through the dark. He had to catch this guy.

At the edge of the clearing, Monocle leaned back, the silent signal to stop. A foul wave of deception hung heavy in the air. They waited, frozen, listening for anything to betray the suspect's hiding place. The wind rustled the brush. A twig snapped. Their heads darted in unison.
“Tktktktktk. Brrrt!” Monocle spotted the shadow and sprang.
The little ferret positioned himself determinedly in front of Wavaren, his small stature radiating an unexpected, fierce nobility. Gaining newfound confidence from his tiny partner, Wavaren glared into the brush.

“A few pearls?” The words tasted like gravel in his raw throat.
“You slaughtered an innocent lady! Vile fiend!”
His voice shook the forest like cannon fire, demanding justice with every breath.
The celestial energy shifted around them like stranded boats caught in a surging tide. Straddling the line between vengeance and truth, Wavaren stepped closer, his voice steady.

“You shall face the cold hand of death. Mrs. Wavecrest was a saint, you livereater!”
The grove radiated with his steady, animated energy, forcing the scum to show his face. Cyraliel stepped from the dark, smirking as malice permeated his gaze.
“I ain't did nothing wrong!" the felon spat, the illiteracy hung in the air. "The weak will move outta the way to make way for their betters. You're next, fopdoodle weasel!”

The insult thickened the air with shameless wickedness. Enraged by the word weasel, Monocle’s posture faltered for a fraction of a second before his fortitude roared back.
“Tttttssskkk!? Chirrrrp brrt bbbrrrrrttt!”
Wavaren held back a chuckle, translating smoothly:
“You call him useless, but he can smell the wickedness stretching all the way back to your mother.”
“You dare speak of my mother!?” Cyraliel growled, his voice carrying the brittle resonance of a desperate man, not a fighter.
“My mother died fighting the Blackwake! That old lady was weak. She had it coming!”
“Weakness is no excuse for murder,” Wavaren shot back. “Her dreams were worth living. So are the dreams of her children, the ones you extinguished!”
“I'll cut through you just as I did her!”

Cyraliel lunged. Monocle sprang, and Wavaren hit the felon like falling timber, tackling him hard into the dirt. The suspect writhed frantically, his desperation turning the chemical stench rancid, but Wavaren held on with iron resolve. Bloody and bruised, the two men violently separated, exhaustion finally clouding their movements.
Cyraliel pulled a knife from his belt, flashing the blade without shame as he lunged at Monocle. The ferret paced backward, timed the strike perfectly, and sank his teeth straight into the criminal's nose.

Seeing his partner in danger, Wavaren surged forward. He harnessed years of old grievance into raw power, wrestling the man down into the damp earthy loam.
“You will stand trial for this!” he roared, his voice mingling with the whispering leaves.
Sir Monocle, overflowing with courage, thrust his tiny paws into the air to punch the sky. Fully convinced he had won the day single-handedly, the ferret pounced onto the chump's backside, planting his paws firmly on the suspect's rear with an air of absolute, terrifying toughness. A true testament to loyalty in the dance of justice.
They made their way to the Complex of Regret with Cyraliel sulking behind them. His hands in the banana lined wrist locks at his back. His magic rendered useless. They’d soon put the weave over him, that would put him under magical arrest.

As they returned victorious, the halls of the Complex reverberated with the sounds of cheering, standing ovations, celebrating their hard-fought triumph. Sir Monocle Esquire, received an honorary title within the Gendarme, and all the snacks a ferret could hope for. Solidifying their bond, they faced one case after another, their purpose reaffirmed amidst unpredictability of life on the border of the Respite and Twin Currents.

They received a case that almost broke them. A rather famous one at that. Though it ultimately brought them closer, at the time, Monocle called it The Dastardly Deeds by Diabolical Not-So-Noblemen. It was among the most intricate and mysterious cases of their careers, culminating in the dismantling of the notorious Ferret Sparring Circle. The event's name would famously be changed, due to title length, to the Ferret Fiasco of 11.4.
Out of that chaos, they drafted the Charter of Misdeed Ferrets, cementing their place in Atheria's heart and history forever. Even centuries later, the legacy of their adventures and hijinks remains a cornerstone of law and culture in Atheria.