Chapter 95: The Murderer! (Please Subscribe and Monthly Tickets!)

Chapter 95: The Killer!

Prince Henry’s head rested upon the tabletop, cradled within a silver platter.

Beside it lay a common tray, bearing a dark, foul-smelling mass.

"It is cow dung," Mr. Bede said.

"Cow dung?" Cullen asked.

"Retrieved from the depths of Prince Henry’s mouth."

Cullen looked once more upon the face of the late prince; it was merely a shade too pale.

"He has already been cleansed," Bede explained.

"Is that not a destruction of evidence?" Cullen inquired.

"Ah..." Bede hesitated for a fraction of a moment before replying, "It is a matter of aristocratic etiquette."

"Etiquette?"

"In short, even if one were on the verge of starvation, upon beholding a table laden with food, one must still twist one’s features into an expression of disdain if the utensils are not of solid silver."

"Heh."

"How did it arrive?" Cullen asked.

"The head was bound to the saddle, and the mount happened to be a gift our house presented to the royal family some years ago. Driven by instinct, the beast brought Prince Henry’s head back to its old home."

"So, is it a frame-up?"

"Father is already on the telephone with the palace. Yet, if it were a frame-up, it seems a touch too clumsy, and the price paid is altogether too grand."

"I did not mean to imply the royal family framed themselves," Cullen clarified.

"I take your meaning, young master, but they ought not to have done such a thing. The Gloria family has held the throne of Wien so securely for so long precisely because they do not court trouble abroad; they content themselves entirely with remaining at home... ahem, content themselves with being a well-behaved, charming mascot.

Therefore, even with Prince Henry dead, it will be quite difficult to provoke a confrontation between the crown and the Allen family. They will not allow emotion to cloud their judgment, for all their passions are spent elsewhere."

Cullen recalled that Purr had once spoken words of a remarkably similar nature to Mr. Bede’s.

"So, you believe it is not a frame-up?"

"Indeed, I think not. It is likely the killer was merely waiting for an opportunity. It so happened that Prince Henry drank and left the palace; it so happened that after his slaughter, the horse proved to be from the Allen family stables; and it so happened that this head found its way into the Allen Estate."

"That is a great many 'coincidences'."

"Yes, but I believe that is precisely how it unfolded."

At that moment, Old Anderson entered in a great rush, addressing Cullen:

"Young Master Cullen, I have just spoken with the palace secretary by telephone. Upon learning of Prince Henry's murder, Her Majesty was overcome with grief, yet she instructed the secretary to convey her view that this is a conspiracy designed to drive a wedge between the royal family and the House of Allen."

"Indeed, it seems Her Majesty remains quite astute."

"Yes, young master. What are your thoughts on the matter?" Old Anderson inquired.

"I cannot say," Cullen replied in earnest. "But perhaps we might hear Mr. Bede’s perspective."

Old Anderson cast a somewhat helpless and dismissive glance at his youngest son, asking:

"Well, then, let us hear your thoughts."

Mr. Bede stole a glance at Prince Henry’s head upon the table, shrank back into his collar with a shudder, and shook his head.

"I know nothing at all."

"Alas," Old Anderson sighed.

Just then, a servant arrived to report: "My Lord, the palace has called once more, requesting your immediate presence."

"Very well, I am coming." Old Anderson turned his gaze to Cullen. "Young master, I..."

"Attend to this business first."

"Understood. I shall relay the palace’s stance and measures to you without delay, young master." Old Anderson withdrew to answer the telephone.

Cullen covered his nose and began to walk outside, Mr. Bede matching his stride beside him.

Stepping into the open air, the breeze following the rain carried a sudden, welcome freshness.

Finding themselves clear of the servants, Cullen turned his head to look at Mr. Bede standing beside him, and asked:

"It was not your doing?"

Mr. Bede looked back at Cullen, a smile gracing his lips. "I had quite assumed it was yours, young master."

"Truly not yours?"

"Truly not yours?"

The two men nodded to one another; it seemed, in truth, it belonged to neither.

"I had originally thought that because he incessantly harassed Eunice, you, as her father, took the opportunity to..."

Cullen made a swift, downward slicing motion with his hand, an gesture rather fitting for Prince Henry’s present condition.

"Young master, I recall confessing to you only yesterday that I truly possess no talent for fighting. Furthermore, Eunice is now your betrothed, young master; it is you who would have the greatest cause to..."

Mr. Bede mirrored Cullen's slicing gesture precisely.

"How could I possibly commit such an act?" Cullen shrugged. "It is utterly preposterous."

"You are the true grandson of Lord Dis," Mr. Bede reminded him. "I suspect that at this very moment, Father's heart is beating like a drum, wondering if it was your handiwork. He may well come to probe your thoughts the moment he hangs up the telephone."

"I am merely a servant of the gods."

"Yet Lord Dis, for a very long time, was merely an inquisitor."

A brief silence fell between them.

Cullen broke it, asking, "What of his guards? No, did he not have a century of the Imperial Guard with him? Were they slaughtered as well?"

"Not at all. The Guard has been contacted; they are entirely unharmed."

"Unharmed?"

"Because Prince Henry departed the palace on horseback."

"Yes, that much I know."

"The guardsmen were likewise ordered to follow him on horseback."

"And then?"

"The moment they left the city limits and entered the outskirts, more than half of them fell behind. As they pressed further into the countryside toward the estate, the remaining minority dwindled away. In the end, the Prince, thoroughly enraged, galloped into the woods alone. When next he emerged, only his head remained."

"What do you mean by that?" Cullen asked, perplexed.

"Because the Imperial Guard exists merely to embellish a young man's curriculum vitae. Every year, commissions in the Guard are offered for public sale, typically purchased by wealthy merchants to afford their sons a bit of life experience.

Consequently, the vast majority of them do not know how to ride a horse."

"Which is to say, had Prince Henry chosen to ride in a pickup truck rather than on a horse, he would likely have escaped his fate?"

"It would seem so. At the very least, the guards would have remained by his side, rather than leaving him isolated."

"Then why on earth did he insist on riding a horse?"

"Young men get drunk, and it is only natural for them to push the boundaries, trying to imitate the majestic equestrian spirit of their ancestors. Though, for most of history, the ancestors of the Gloria family were the ones being ridden."

...

"Is that little idiot from the Gloria family dead?" Pur asked, chewing on a piece of fried dried fish.

"Yes," Karen replied, sitting on the sofa with a bottle of perfume in hand. He dabbed a drop onto the back of his hand and swept it lightly beneath his nose.

"Heavens, you have actually started using perfume. Has the aristocratic lifestyle corrupted you this quickly?"

"I was tainted by horse manure, and I do not quite feel like bathing and changing my clothes just yet."

The scent of this perfume was strikingly similar to essential balm, but it would have to suffice.

"Fair enough. The smell of horse manure isn't actually that unpleasant. Especially back in my era, before motorcars existed, everyone traveled by carriage, and we all grew accustomed to its fragrance.

That is precisely why I still despise the smell of car exhaust to this day—it is heresy!"

"If that Prince Henry had moved with the times and chosen to drive today, he probably would not have died."

"I feel like you are taking a swipe at me with those words."

A knock sounded at the bedroom door.

Karen walked over and opened it to find Borge standing at the threshold.

"Young Master, the royal family has arrived, led by His Royal Highness Prince York."

"Very well, I understand."

Karen closed the door; for the time being, he had no need to show his face for such public receptions.

Pur chewed on the dried fish and remarked, "Prince York is usually the title held by the Crown Prince."

"The Queen is ninety-five now, is she not?"

"Yes, which makes the Crown Prince over seventy himself," Pur said. "The newspapers in Ruilan love to mock Prince York's age."

Just then, the sound of an engine echoed, though it came not from the front of the castle, but from the rear.

Karen walked over to the window and looked down, discovering a fleet of vehicles parked there.

Pur leapt onto the windowsill at that moment and explained:

"Royal etiquette dictates that when arriving at a vassal's fiefdom, they must alight from the rear. According to ancient tradition, the vassal must form lines at the front to protect the royalty, while the royals dismount behind the army's formation. Oh, of course, nowadays it means getting out of a car.

As it has evolved today, when a royal procession enters a vassal's estate, they cannot alight from the front; they must circle around to the back to do so.

Ridiculous, isn't it?"

"It is acceptable."

At that moment, the door of a Sunderland sedan in the center of the fleet opened, the red carpet having already been laid out in advance.

Following this, valley

An elderly man in his seventies stepped out of the vehicle, supported on either side by two servants. Judging by his trembling legs, he was in no condition to even lean on a walking stick.

Below, Old Anderson led the members of the Allen family to bow in salute to Prince York, and Old Anderson stepped forward to exchange a cheek kiss with him.

"It looks as though he has come to attend a wedding," Karen remarked.

"The man is dead anyway," Pur said, entirely unfazed. "The etiquette of the living is naturally more important than a corpse."

"Did he truly come to investigate?" Karen asked.

"He came to make a statement," Pur said bluntly. "To state the royal family's stance to the Allen family: the royals believe Prince Henry's death has nothing to do with the Allen family.

Furthermore, this involves another royal tradition. If a member of the royal family dies an unnatural death in a foreign land, their funeral must be held in that very place; the body cannot be transported back to the royal palace.

The original meaning was rooted in the age of conquest—if a royal died in battle abroad, the army would have to fight its way back to hold the funeral on enemy territory. Now, it has degenerated into a mere formality."

"So, Prince Henry's funeral will be held right here at the Allen Manor?"

"Yes, and that is likely another reason Prince York had to come in person."

Pur extended a paw and pressed it against Karen's arm. "This falls right into your professional domain."

Karen pushed Pur's paw away and patted his arm, warning:

"Next time you eat dried fish and do not wash your hands, you are forbidden from touching me."

...

"Young Master, these are the agreed-upon terms." Old Anderson had concluded his meeting with Prince York and immediately drafted the document, presenting it for Karen to review.

It consisted of three very simple points:

First, the royal family and the Allen family would jointly issue a public condemnation of the assassination of Prince Henry.

Second, Prince Henry's funeral would be held at the Allen Manor, with the date yet to be determined, as they still needed to recover the rest of Prince Henry's body below the neck.

Third, the Allen family would sponsor all expenses for the funeral.

"Is the third point a tradition as well?" Karen asked.

"Yes, Young Master. Sponsoring a royal funeral or celebration used to be a great honor for a vassal. Nowadays, spending a million Reals to put the matter behind us is a bargain."

"Mm." Karen knew the Allen family did not lack worldly wealth.

"Are there any clues regarding the rest of the body?"

"Not yet. The royal entourage, the local police, and the Allen family servants have sent out many men, but the search is still ongoing."

"Very well, I see."

"Oh, right, Young Master, there is one more detail not written here. This afternoon, Prince York will pay his respects at the ancestral tomb of the Allen family."

"Pay respects at the Allen ancestral tomb?"

"Yes." Old Anderson weighed his words carefully. "Because of a certain ancestor, both sides believe there might be some bloodline connection between the Allen family and the Gloria royalty."

"Is it because of Count Recar?"

"Your understanding of the Allen family history is profound indeed, Young Master."

Karen pointed to the painting hanging on the study wall and smiled.

"It is because you all have always been so ostentatious about it."

The ancestor dared to paint it that way, and you descendants dare to keep hanging it up.

Of course, it was indeed a glorious achievement. Look at that, our ancestor dared to bed Her Majesty the Queen!

"Because Gloria IV, who succeeded to the throne of Gloria III, was born after the Queen turned thirty. At that time, the Queen and our ancestor shared a certain relationship.

However, nothing can be said for certain at the moment, because the Queen's husband, Prince Siko, was actually still alive back then."

"Understood."

"Then I shall go down to make the arrangements. If you find yourself bored, Young Master, you may stroll around. Consider it an appreciation of foreign customs. After all, the Ruilan royalty has long lacked any real presence."

The Ruilan royal family had fallen to the point of constantly endorsing various luxury goods to make money, so they naturally had little sense of ritual or dignity left.

"Understood."

"However, you should still refrain from leaving the manor. As you know, the killer might still be nearby. If you wish to go out for some fresh air, you can instruct me in advance, and I will have Mike..."

"I did not kill Prince Henry."

"Ah... er... um... Young Master, you've misunderstood. How could I possibly think that, haha."

Immediately after, Old Anderson asked in a low whisper;

"Really?"

Karen nodded and said, "Really."

"Whew..." Old Anderson breathed a sigh of relief, "I understand."

"Go on with your work, Mr. Anderson."

"Alright, Young Master."

Old Anderson left the study, and Karen stood up to stretch his muscles and bones.

Ever since entering Allen Manor, he hadn't left once; even when riding horses with Eunice, it was strictly within the estate grounds. When Old Anderson suddenly questioned him like that earlier, it was actually just as Bede had said before—testing to see if he was the killer.

Karen walked over to the window and opened it, wanting a breath of fresh air.

Just then, a climbing sound came from below.

Karen leaned forward slightly and looked down, discovering a young girl around ten years old scaling the wall. The girl was dressed in a red formal gown, her hair intricately styled, and most importantly, she wore several pieces of jewelry on both hands.

This burglar-like wall-climbing behavior was truly at odds with her style of dress and appearance.

Karen took two steps back, and by this time the young girl had already clambered onto the windowsill.

Abruptly, the once open window suddenly spat out streaks of blue silken thread, sweeping toward the girl.

During his first entry into this study, Karen had asked Alfred about it. Alfred had scanned the room with his Succubus Eye and confirmed that conversations held here could not be heard from the outside.

This isolation naturally didn't rely on a simple bell on the desk, but because there was a formation inside the study.

Anyone who did not enter through the main doors of the study, attempting to gain access from any other position, would be repelled by the formation.

However, just as the girl was about to be flung away by the formation's barrier, a blue light of the identical color suddenly erupted from her body, instantly merging with the formation. Then, with a thud, the girl plunged face-down, crashing directly onto the study floor in front of Karen.

Karen was stunned. Having been purified, he could "see" much more now, and he realized that the light on the girl earlier was not only identical in color to the light of the window's formation, but actually... identical in attribute.

The two forces of the same attribute did not repel each other, but instead displayed an affinity.

And the attributes of the formations within the Allen family all upheld the family's belief system. After all, maintaining and repairing them generation after generation were the hands of their own family members; they couldn't possibly borrow the hands of others, so they were basically of the two types: water and fire.

"Ouch... pull me up!"

The girl held out her hand.

Karen hesitated for a moment but still walked over to grasp the girl's hand, and she used Karen's strength to pull herself up.

Standing up, the girl patted her dress and grumbled, "Sigh, I originally wanted Grandfather to go speak with Anderson so we could enter the Allen family study to look at the portraits, but Grandfather felt that would be a humiliation for us Glorias and refused.

Sigh, there was no other choice but to climb the wall myself, hehe. I knew the formation here wouldn't hurt me."

Karen stood to the side, listening to her speak. The girl should be a member of the royal family, and the grandfather she mentioned must be Prince York who arrived at noon.

The girl looked at Karen, blinked, and said, "Are you the manservant responsible for cleaning the study?"

"I..."

"No, the fabric of your clothes isn't something a manservant could wear. Oh, you're a member of the Allen family, right? What's your name, handsome older brother?"

"My name is Karen. Karen Allen."

"My name is Judia."

The girl pinched both sides of her skirt and curtsied to Karen.

"Hello, Your Highness?"

"You can just call me by my name, big brother."

Saying this, Judia walked into the center of the study and began to admire the portraits, finally stopping before the portrait of Count Recar.

"Hehe, I just wanted to see this painting."

Judia pinched her skirt in the same manner and curtsied to the portrait of Count Recar:

"The family belief system awakened within me isn't Gloria, but rather that of the Allen family, so you really are my ancestor."

Karen looked at Judia, thinking to himself: She really did come to claim kinship.

"Oh, that's right, I'm hungry. Handsome older brother, do you have any food there?"

"Yes." Karen turned around to pick up his pastries resting on the desk, but just as he prepared to hand them over to Judia who stood before the portrait, his steps froze.

Because he saw Judia, standing before the portrait, holding a human hand in her grip, gnawing on it as if eating a chicken claw.

Immediately after,

Judia, her mouth smeared completely with blood, turned to look at Karen, waved the half-consumed palm,

and smiled:

"I forgot, I brought food with me. This belongs to my brother Henry.

The family wanted him to mate with me to breed the next generation to inherit the new generation of the Allen family's belief system, but he actually refused, and kept shouting that he could just go marry Miss Eunice of the Allen family to complete the family's mission all the same."

"Pop!"

Judia sucked on a finger, the flesh entering her mouth entirely, leaving only white bone. As she chewed, she shook her head and said:

"Hmph, bad brother, actually looking down on his own biological younger sister."

——

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