Letters from Nowhere

The huge, palace-like Interpol office in Lyon was well lit. On the outside, the stark columns and shadows made it appear well ordered, but that night there was disorder within.

Director Ranjit was spending another night in his usually austere office, trying to string together the breadcrumbs that his crafty opponent had left for him. The hulking tiger’s office was cluttered with maps, dossiers, coffee cups, cyphers - both broken and unbroken - and dominated by a picture of the fox he was hunting, tacked to a billboard and looking on the scene as though his picture was presiding over the chaos.

The tiger leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples with one paw as he stared at the latest report. His remaining eye, yellow, sharp, and unyielding, scanned the document for the hundredth time, finding nothing new.

Where are you, Veilwinter?

Director Ranjit had a grudging respect for, if not Interpol’s most wanted criminal, at least its most persistent. Right then, a knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. 

“Enter,” he barked, straightening in his chair.

A junior agent, a nervous-looking ferret, stepped inside, holding a fresh stack of reports. “Sir, the latest intel from our sources in Eastern Europe, along with your mail. And, uh, a few intercepts from the private networks we’ve been monitoring.”

“Put them there,” Ranjit said, gesturing to a precarious stack of files on the corner of his desk.

The ferret hesitated. “Sir, with all due respect... maybe it’s time to consider reallocating resources? Veilwinter’s been quiet for months. Some of the team thinks he’s—”

“Dead?” Ranjit finished, his tone icy, then his fist slammed on his expansive desk - almost breaking it in half. “Again?”

The ferret flinched. “Yes, sir. The reports—”

“The reports mean nothing,” Ranjit snapped. “Veilwinter is not dead. He’s hiding, waiting, plotting. And if we stop looking, even for a moment, he’ll resurface with something catastrophic.”

The ferret nodded and skittered out of the office as quick as he could. Ranjit sifted through the mail when he stopped. A plain white envelope with no return address, no identifying markings—just his name, neatly printed in an elegant hand.

His sharp golden eye flicked over the envelope as he opened it, his movements calm but deliberate. Inside was a single check, its pristine paper almost glowing under the overhead lights.

Ten million dollars.

The sum was issued from yet another one of Szal Veilwinter’s labyrinthine shell organizations, its name as bland and innocuous as any of the others the fox had used over the years. But like the rest, it would lead nowhere. The money was untraceable, the organization a ghost that existed only on paper.

Ranjit’s gaze shifted to the back of the check, where a handwritten note in the same elegant script awaited him.

Please, Director... please let me go.

There was no signature, but the tiger’s lips curved into a dark smile, his sharp teeth glinting as he let out a low, humorless chuckle.

“Desperate, are we?” he murmured, his voice low and edged with satisfaction.

He stood, the check still in his paw as he moved toward the small shredder tucked into the corner of the office. The machine hummed to life as he fed the paper through, the ten-million-dollar bribe reduced to thin, meaningless strips in a matter of seconds.

Ranjit leaned back against his desk, his arms crossed as he stared at the remains of the check. His eye glinted with a mixture of amusement and determination.

“The fox is getting desperate,” he said to himself, his voice carrying a note of relish.

The Veilwinter estate, meanwhile, cozied on top of a hill, surrounded by vineyards, secrets, and love, maintained its noble place above the town of New Nottingham. Velope Greenfoot-Veilwinter and Lucas Veilwinter-Greenfoot were joined by their children for another Reynard’s Mass.

The manor was extravagantly decorated as usual, with Velope - a happy and stunning vixen - in her blue and white Reynard’s Day dress, her tail fluffed to perfection.

Meanwhile, ‘Lord’ Lucas - a tall, relaxed hare - took it all in as he swirled a glass of Veilwinter vintage. He wasn’t always a wine drinker, but he sure was one now. The hare, who had been disowned by his family basically the day he told them he was going to propose to Velope, was resplendent in a silk kimono that “someone” had sent the previous Reynard’s Day: Black, with silver foxes jumping from cloud to cloud.

Velope’s and Lucas’ children - there were five of them now - were scattered in various places in the room, toasting each other in one corner, playing with Cublo blocks in another. 

Lucas let out a satisfied sigh... but couldn’t help but eye the present under the Reynard’s Mass tree. He smirked.

What’d you get us this time, Szal? Another kimono? Another stolen artifact?

The remainder of Reynard’s Mass was joyous as usual with the oldest children on their winter break from Wildwood High and the youngest just about to enter first grade. Lucas and Velope presided over it all, exchanging flirting glances over an extravagant meal.

“Reynard has truly blessed us,” the hare patriarch said, raising a glass without a hint of irony.

The presents were unwrapped next, with Szal - or “Nowhere” as he signed it - not forgetting to give gifts to all of the children. “Uncle Szal” had become a familiar phrase around the manor, but his gifts to the children had always been books.

“He must love reading,” Kana, the middle child and a vixen with Lucas’s grey fur, said.

“Oh yes,” Velope chirped happily. “An avid reader.”

Kana smirked as she opened up her present and announced the verbose title. “The Esoterics: A Beginner’s Guide to the Fourth Volume of the Book of Compromise.”

There were eye rolls, sighs, and smirks aplenty at that one. Their eldest, though, always got doted on the most of their children.

“Open yours, Szal!” One of the younger ones said. The fox - who really did resemble the wayward uncle who was his namesake, down to his sparkling blue eyes - smirked. Szal the younger always looked forward to this part of the year.

His gift this year was in an envelope.

“Maybe it’s a check for a million dollars!” one of the younger ones squeaked.

“We live in a castle, Elara,” Kana retorted.

What fell out stilled the chattering. A black and white photograph of an onyx black fox statue with a nonsensical, garbled sentence on the other side.

“Must be an encoded message,” Kana observed.

Lucas leaned back. “I guess he sent you a puzzle this year.”

Szal pondered it as the rest of the children joined in unison: “Mom, open your present!”

Lucas smiled. “Ap, ap, ap! ...It’s your father’s turn.”

A collective groan.

“Daddy, we already know what Uncle Szally sends you!” Elara said, causing Velope to smile softly.

“Why look at this!” Lucas said in mock surprise. “A kimono... And an ancient bottle of Veilwinter Wine! From... Mr. Nowhere? How mysterious!”

Another collective groan.

“Okay mommy, open it!” Elara, a hare with her mother’s fur pattern, said.

Velope gently tore at the edges of the rather heavy package, which Szal had wrapped in dimestore packaging, to reveal a glass case, within which was what looked to be a leatherbound book in some older Western Continent language. After some searching on the internet, it turned out to be a first edition of “The King” by the political philosopher - and ancestor - Akastis Veilwinter.

“Another book!” Elara said.

After dinner, Lucas, Velope, and their two eldest, settled down for digestifs. They were old enough to drink now, so it was the first Reynardmas where the founders of the feast were joined by some of their children.

Szal was still looking at the photo from his enigmatic uncle and working on the code on the back. His sister Orphea, a sophomore named after her aunt, posed a question to her parents that she had been afraid to ask.

“Dad? After Szal’s accident...” she began, referring to Lucas’ brother-in-law, “...Did you guys know he was still alive?”

Lucas chuckled and shook his head. “No. It broke everyone’s hearts, including Lord Caelum and Lady Maris. Your aunt Orphea, however... She had an annoyed look on her face when the news was announced.”

“How is grandfather and grandmother?” Szal asked, looking up from his photograph for the first time since he received it.

Velope inclined her delicate snoot towards him. “They are still sailing around the world. I heard from papa just last week.”

The elder Orphea Veilwinter - Velope’s twin sister and Szal’s younger sister - sent her regards as well... more books for all the children to ‘enjoy’. Orphea was in her office at Varunkirk university, her bright blue eyes greedily scanning an auction page from twenty-two years ago.

Two months after Szal’s supposed death, the mysterious doubloons appeared at an auction in Morocco. An anonymous seller had listed the artifacts, and the collection—sold piecemeal—had fetched tens of millions. The math was too clean, the timing too convenient. Everything she had read before. 

For the first time since Orphea had found her brother’s smirking face after hacking the Interpol database: a real lead.

She leaned back in her chair, her ears twitching. “So that’s how you funded your escapades, brother,” she murmured to herself. “A sunken treasure, just plausible enough to hide the truth. Of course...”

She shook her head and smiled in spite of herself.

“Of course.”

Somewhere else in New Nottingham, about a month later, the smell of roasting vegetables and simmering stew filled the small kitchen of Evelyn Brightpaw’s cozy home in New Nottingham. The squirrel hummed softly to herself as she moved about, deftly handling a spatula in one paw while glancing over her shoulder to check on her two children. They were nestled on the couch in the living room, their laughter rising above the faint hum of the radio.

It had been a long day at the local Tyrian community center, where Evelyn volunteered to organize events and mentor young students. She had built a quiet, fulfilling life here, far removed from the tumult of her high school days. She had risen above the drama, above the whispers of Corkscrew’s antics and the chaos of her time as the captain of the Safety Patrol.

The phone rang, a sharp intrusion against the domestic tranquility. Evelyn wiped her paws on her apron and crossed the room, her bushy tail twitching in mild irritation.

“Hello?” she said, cradling the receiver to her ear.

There was silence at first, a faint crackling of static. Then came the voice—low, smooth, and hauntingly familiar.

“Hello, Evelyn. Or is it Lieutenant Detective, now?”

Evelyn’s breath slowed. She didn’t want to guess as to the identity of the creature.

“W-who is this?”

Static, then the voice came through again like a velvet knife. “Just an old friend from high school.”

Evelyn looked out the window above her sink at the moon.

“I’m not amused by this, whoever you are,” she said.

The voice on the other end chuckled. “Are you still the stalwart defender of justice that you were at Wildwood?”

Evelyn’s fur prickled when her son ran into the kitchen, tugging at her apron.

“Who is it, mama?”

Evelyn put her hand over the receiver. “No one dear, dinner will be ready soon.”

“Remember how you stalked the halls for me, Evelyn?”

Evelyn gulped, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. “Szal’s dead. He died in a car crash.”

More static. “It’s a very cold night where I am, Evelyn. I hope you and your family are warm.”

Evelyn kept the phone to her ear as the voice continued.

“It’s snowing... no, blizzarding, here. I’m at the gate of a place you have never heard of, with officials and diplomats waiting to escorting me into its depths... They trust me, you see.”

Evelyn continued looking at the moon.

“I wanted to check in on you before I disappear forever.”

She sucked in some air, her grip on the phone tightening. “...What are you planning, Szal?”

Another chuckle amidst the static. “In High School, you were the only one who figured I was the elusive Corkscrew. I enjoyed our mental games together. And perhaps... I’ll check in again, one day.”

“Szal, wait-!”

The line went dead as Evelyn’s husband walked into the room and kissed her on the cheek.

“Who was that, babe?”

Evelyn exhaled, her eyes still holding on the moon as she slowly replaced the receiver. “I think it was an old friend from Wildwood.”