Donnen Brennokovic didn't stand on ceremony. He strode through the barracks and slammed open the door to the captain's office without so much as a nod to the guards he passed.
Just barely dawn, and already Captain Hendallen was buried behind a mountain of paperwork taller than the Vimmarks. All Donnen could see of the captain was her fiery hair and an angry gaze that had stopped more than one pickpocket mid-grift.
"Captain, I need a warrant for the Comte de Favre." Even as the words left his lips, Donnen knew they were a mistake.
The Captain rose to her feet. "Brennokovic." The way she spoke his name was like a portcullis slamming shut. "Where's my report on the Hightown Market body?" It was the kind of question you might ask a truant child, the kind where you already knew the answer and just wanted to see someone squirm in guilt.
"I'll file it after—"
"You'll file it now, guardsman." She stepped out from behind the desk. "We follow procedure in my barracks."
"A magistrate was dead murdered on my watch, Captain." Donnen's voice was heated. He could never keep his temper in her presence. "I'm not letting the killer get away."
"You left the scene without a thorough search of the market." Hendallen began pacing, her voice like cold steel. "You harassed a magistrate's widow. And you practically broke down a comte's door." She turned to glare at him. "All before dawn! If you want a warrant, you'd damned well better have hard evidence to justify it."
"I know that de Favre isn't telling us everything!" Donnen insisted. "Let me bring him in and—"
"Forget it." She crossed back to her chair. "You've got nothing. You're not arresting a man on a feeling, Brennokovic."
"Captain!" He protested. From behind her paperwork, the captain waved for him to be silent.
"You're two weeks from retirement, guardsman. You want to stay in the ranks long enough to get pensioned, you follow procedure. Find me evidence and quit wasting my time. Dismissed."