On a rare occasion, Nero found himself in possession of an item that he did not know what to do with. It was a famous, valuable jewel, The Tealing of Comte Alton. Had he known the extent of its infamy before taking the case, he would not have taken it. Now the Guard was butting into all sorts of things Nero did not want to deal with. 

The man who hired him, a long descendant of Comte Alton Caspen, had made a convincing speech. Returning a stolen item to its place of origin, their family’s historic estate in Caspen Falls, seemed fair. That was until further research lead to the discovery that the Caspens came into position of the jewel during the War of the Silver Moth, by stealing it from a Rudan chief and murdering his entire family in front of the rest of the nomadic colony. 

Nero had  a poor memory of his father, but his mother said he was a good man and a full blooded Rudan. 

This explained his internal conflict. Returning the jewel to the Caspen family did not feel right. He also wanted nothing to do with the frankly ugly rock, even if it once held great spiritual significance to his ancestors. 

Nero walked into his ‘office’, which was a 5 by 10 closet in the corner of his friend Mason’s bookstore. 

Startled to see Azui sitting on his desk, Nero dropped the chunk of jewel. The thud of the massive thing scared Azui and Mason’s youngest, Ian  who was sitting in a chair happily showing Azui many of his crayon masterpieces. 

The  jewel broke into two parts. The problem had solved itself. He would refund the Caspens with a half assed apology. 

“Ne’o! You have a customer!” Ian announced, flailing his arms in the air and nearly running into Nero. He stopped just short of colliding with his legs and saluted him. 

“Thanks, Ian.” He ruffled his hair, “You know, I think your sister was looking for you for supper.”

The boy stared at him blankly, processing what he said, “mkay!” He took off, arms flailing.

“Mr. Azui, how can I help you?” Nero walked around behind his desk, setting down his bag and clearing off some papers. 

“‘Zui’, I insist.” The young gentleman stood up, glancing at the broken rock on the floor, “ You erm, dropped your…” He picked up the two pieces, “crystal potato?”

“I think it’s supposed to be some kind of bird.” 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” 

“It’s not your fault, I was thinking about that rock and what to do with it.”

Azui looked at the jewel in his hands.

“That’s besides the point. What brings you here?”

“Oh right,” he snapped back into character, slinking over to the chair and taking a seat. “I came to hire you but also something you said last time didn’t sit right with me Mr. Nero.”

“As I suspected.”

“Yes, I am here to prove to you that you are wrong.” 

“Very well.”

He leaned forward, sharp eyes glistening, he patted the desk in excitement, “I want to find a dead person. At least I suspect they are most likely dead. And before you try to talk me out of it, I’m not doing to gain something of monetary or sentimental value. Nor am I looking for answers. There is something I want to give this person. A song.” 

To the young man’s credit, that was a first for Nero, never had he been asked to give something to the departed. 

He grabbed a notepad and a pen, then took a seat, “What can you tell me about the person you are looking for?”

“When I last heard from her she was performing in Banesur, about 11 years ago. She’s gone by many names, but she tends to use Aguilar often, or a variation of it. Her maiden name was Illya Forte, born in Lados, sometime in winter. I have letters where she claims both 1498 and 1488 as her birth year, I can let you see them if you wish. She lived here in Northern Gaidos in the 1510s, for about 6 years and worked as a seamstress on 5th street, next to Pancove’s Bakery. The business is closed now, the owner still lives there, however she has not been able to recall anything aside from her moving to Banesur.” He leaned back, his face suddenly pensive. “I have documents from her stay here. I didn’t bring them because I don’t wish to lose them. If you’d like, you may come to my residence to see them for yourself. I apologize that I cannot give you more to go on.” 

The finder of things took all he said in deep consideration. “I’ve found things with less. May I ask who this person is to you?”

He winced, “My mother.”

“But your parents-”

“This is why my information is limited. All my poking around must be rather discreet. If my adopted mother knew I was trying to find my birth mother, it would break her heart. She’s a sweet person who doesn’t deserve that. My mother was my father’s mistress, and any attempt to get information from him has been completely shut down.” He mused it over, “Although he was the one to tell me that my mother was a talented musician.” 

When Nero said nothing, he went on, “I can pay what you want. And like I said, I’m not looking for answers. I don’t need to know why she left or what she’s done. All I want is to play her song for her. At her resting place if need be.” 

“I’ll do it,” said Nero, setting his pad down. “I can’t promise I’ll find what you seek, but I will do what I can with the resources I have. I’ll start by verifying some information and then I will get in contact with you.”

Azui beamed, “That’s all I ask. Thank you.” He took the two pieces of the broken jewel from where he had set them down, “Do you want this fixed? I know a great lapidarist.”

No lapidarist could save that rock, thought Nero.

“You can turn them into paperweights for all I care. They’re yours now.” 

Azui at first made a face of visible confusion, but then shrugged and shoved the pieces into his pocket. 

Before he left, Nero had a thought: “Why not hire a private investigator? You know, a real one?”

The young gentleman’s gaze shifted in the direction of the door, “I… can’t say. In words anyway. Perhaps one day.”  Then he departed.