Yours Truly,
By: Dakota David
Chapter One: The Past
I suppose there is not much to say about myself. I have been a bastard all my life. My father, the owner of the Bank of London, many years before I took my first breath of life, was a wealthy man. He brandished his money much in the same way that a knight would brandish his sword before going into battle. Much for the same reason as well; a knight fought with his blade and my father, may he rest in peace, went into battle with his pocketbook. So I suppose that the last name Knight was quite fitting.
One day, shortly after I had been conceived, they day finale came when my father's open attitude toward his currency had come back to haunt him. He was visited by three unruly mercenaries that wanted nothing more than to rob him of his wealth, but made off with something far more valuable. The Mercenaries, to prove what they had done, I would guess as some kind of a trophy, made off with my father's cold, gray, head.
Enough about him! He had little to noting to do with my current success as of today. I am where I am not because of the cocky bastard, but because of my mother, I can call myself proud of where I am. Because of her profession, she and I spent little time together. She was a prostitute. After my father died, she had to find some way f making a lot of money fast. The pleasure she got from her work, along with the need for money, must have been enough to keep her in this dangerous, horrid profession. I personally think that she had no other reason other than desire. Despite the lack of time that she and I spent together, I learned life's greatest lesson. Not through nurturing and caring for me, but in fact it wasn't until her untimely death that I learned skills necessary to lead me later in life.
From analyzing the scene of my mother's demise, I had learned many of my investigating techniques I still use today. For instance, in looking at the scene, I deducted that the murder had to come from someone close to her, someone that was inside the house at the time of the murder, before the locks were secure. I myself once thought it was her client, until the discovery of his body showed brutal gashes in the neck and back area. Wounds that could not have been self inflicted. The police and I were baffled. No clues. No trace.