Chapter 41: Noble Investigation Team, Turns Out They're Our Own People

"Chop, chop, chop...!" The rhythmic sound of an iron spade biting into the earth drifted from outside the door.

Avia lifted her eyelids, crawling out of bed with the lingering drowsiness of one who had slept far too long; her tattered rags had been replaced by a clean nightgown.

She looked left and right. This was no longer the dim, yellow-lit basement; bright daylight spilled in through the curtained window.

It was a modest wooden cabin, the interior tidy and well-ordered. It was certainly not the ruined mansion, but rather a servant’s quarters on the estate.

Yet, in this moment, it had become the most comfortable shelter in the entire manor. She stepped out of bed, slipped into the shoes left by the bedside, and walked to the window to pull back the curtains.

The sudden influx of sunlight stung her eyes, accustomed as they were to the gloom, and for a moment, her vision turned white. As her sight cleared, the scene outside came into view.

The sun was bright, but the air was far from fresh; a faint, metallic tang of blood permeated this estate, which had witnessed more slaughter and combat than she cared to count.

Stains of blood still marred the ground. The rain had been heavy and long, yet some of the gore had seeped deep into the crevices of the rocks, impossible to scrub away.

In the distance, a figure stood, using one hand to drive a spade into the earth, digging pit after pit. Beside him lay a pile of corpses and mounds of excavated soil.

"Chop!" With another strike, a hole—hardly large enough to fit a man—was finished. He dragged a bloated mercenary corpse, swollen from the downpour, from the pile and kicked it into the pit.

The hole was too small; the upper body remained exposed. He delivered two sharp blows to the head, and with the crunch of shattering bone, he successfully forced the body into the grave.

He was shirtless, his body a map of bandages. His left arm was immobilized, leaving only his right hand to wield the spade. Such injuries could only belong to Wang Yu.

He shoveled a few more mounds of dirt over the body, burying the crumpled remains deep into the earth.

Avia stepped out of the cabin and trotted toward him. The girl had suffered little physical harm, her exhaustion being mostly mental; a good rest had nearly restored her.

"Yo, Avia, you're awake?" Wang Yu turned to dig another pit, spotting her approach, and greeted her with a cheerful tone.

"Yes, I'm awake! How are you up before me when you were so badly hurt?"

Her tone held a hint of grievance. She had expected that since he was usually the one to wake her, this time it would be her turn to wake him, but once again, he had beaten her to it.

Halfway through, she realized how that sounded—as if she were wishing for his injury to be worse. Her face flushed, and she stammered, unsure of how to continue.

"Constitution, that’s the difference in constitution. My constitution is better than yours, so I can wake up earlier even with worse injuries," Wang Yu said, laughing as he patted her shoulder.

"That’s why you need to exercise more..." He spoke with earnest gravity, gesturing to his own muscles.

He was quite serious, though in reality, it was because his mental state remained unaffected by his physical condition, while the girl had needed time to recover from the depletion of her own spirit.

"Ah... oh." Still that same response. The girl scratched her head, looking rather dazed.

"You're in a good mood, Wang Yu." Noticing his lighthearted demeanor, she asked.

"Indeed. While burying corpses is dull work, the side income is quite nice. Look at this."

Wang Yu was indeed in high spirits. He rummaged through the pockets of the next mercenary, his eyes lighting up as he pulled something out.

He took a look, grinned, and held it up for Avia to see: a golden locket that could be pried open.

Inside was a photograph of a family of four. Wang Yu didn't even glance at it; he tore the small photo out and tossed it into the pit.

What else was he to do? Offer a philosophical reflection on life and death? He wasn't that idle.

After discarding the photo, Wang Yu hummed a little tune and dropped the golden locket into a small cloth bag hanging from his belt, which emitted a crisp, metallic clink.

Avia walked over and peeked inside. There were gold, silver, and even sparkling gemstones. No wonder Wang Yu was so happy; the man certainly loved his coin.

"Your mother should be at the manor gate. Soon, a noble investigative commission and the Void-handling specialists from the Night’s Edge will arrive. Go on ahead; I’ll join you once I’ve buried these."

Wang Yu spoke without looking up, continuing his work of burying and looting.

"Mm." The girl nodded and headed toward the gate. She hadn't spoken to her mother in a long time; they had been separated by her slumber, and now that they were so close, a sense of urgency took hold of her.

Walking toward the gate, she realized she hadn't had a chance to appreciate the manor when she and Wang Yu had arrived. It was a fine estate, complete with all manner of buildings, distant mountains, a river, and farmland.

She imagined that if her mother lived here without intrusion, life would be quite pleasant. Thinking that Dicanon was now nothing but ash, a smile touched her lips.

But the smile faded quickly. A thought Wang Yu had mentioned earlier made her brow furrow.

The Noble Investigative Commission—an organization tasked with investigating and handling the deaths of nobles, usually staffed by the nobles themselves.

Whenever a noble died, these people would appoint their own to investigate. If the perpetrator was a commoner, they would likely be framed and executed regardless of the justification.

As for a noble killing a noble, it depended entirely on titles, wealth, and influence.

Ultimately, it came down to how much power the involved parties had planted within the organization. In the end, the exchange of interests was the only law that never failed among the nobility.

The girl frowned because her mother lacked the influence to sway such an organization. When they arrived, things might become very difficult.

Filled with anxiety, she walked to the gate. In the distance, she saw her mother standing there, looking out toward the horizon. Avia looked as well, soon spotting dark specks that were slowly growing larger.

The sound of hooves began to rise. By a cruel coincidence, just as the girl reached the entrance, the investigative commission and the Night’s Edge personnel arrived on horseback.

Avia broke into a run, reaching Mira. Her mother pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing her on the fair cheek.

"My little Avia, you certainly can sleep. Two days have passed. If not for my spells telling me you were safe, I would have been worried sick."

The girl nuzzled into her mother’s arms and nodded. "Yes, I’m sorry to have worried you, Mother. I’ve mostly recovered."

"This is no time for chatting. We must deal with these troublesome people first."

Mira shook her head with a resigned expression, clearly unhappy that their reunion had been interrupted.

In the distance, a large troop of cavalry became clear. Their hooves churned the mud, which had yet to dry after the rain, spraying clods of dirt into the air.

The troop was divided into two groups. The first consisted of about a dozen riders, the second of several dozen in perfect formation.

The first group was dressed in opulence. Their horses were sturdy, high-bred steeds with heavy, ornate armor inlaid with decorative carvings.

The riders wore equally lavish attire—intricate lace, elaborate patterns, and fabrics that looked exorbitantly expensive.

Most striking were the banners carried by each rider, emblazoned with family crests.

The girl’s eyes narrowed. She recognized the banner of the family she had once belonged to: a snow wolf clutching an eagle. The crest of the Dolfin family—her wretched uncle’s house.

The second group looked far more practical. Their horses were of no particular breed, their armor simple, sturdy, and utilitarian.

Each man wore light leather armor over non-essential areas, with heavy plates covering their vital points.

Their faces were hidden behind visors, but their disciplined formation gave them an air of lethal, professional efficiency.

Soon, the two groups reached the gate. The second group bowed to Mira and rode directly into the manor; Avia watched them head toward the ruins of the mansion—they were clearly the Night’s Edge specialists.

The investigative commission pulled their reins, their horses neighing as they halted before Avia and Mira. The leader was, without question, the man from the Dolfin family.

He was a tall man with a blank expression, lean but sturdy.

He dismounted and approached them, his complexion a sickly, melancholic gray.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Riley Dolfin, leader of this noble investigative commission."

"Mira Swain."

"Avia Dolfin."

Avia and Mira responded with flat, cold tones. They had no love for this man.

Riley seemed to have no interest in pleasantries. He pulled out a parchment and began to read.

"By official notice: Dicanon Dolfin, a member of the Dolfin family, was murdered while traveling to the estate of Viscountess Mira Swain to process the transfer of noble rights. He, along with thirty-six mercenary guards, perished within the manor."

"Therefore, the commission suspects that Viscountess Mira Swain, unwilling to fulfill the decree of noble rights transfer, committed this breach of contract and orchestrated the assassination of Dicanon Dolfin."

"Consequently, the commission shall escort Viscountess Mira Swain back to the Imperial City for investigation. Our mental magus will confirm the veracity of these events."

Riley recited the contents of the scroll with meticulous precision, sounding righteous, though he had twisted the facts beyond all recognition.

“Now, let us proceed to the vote of the families. Does any member have objections regarding the handling of this incident? If there are none, please lower your family crest to signify your approval.”

As Riley finished speaking, all the family banners were lowered in quick succession, signaling a unanimous agreement to bring Mira back to the Imperial City for investigation.

The girl’s expression turned icy. What kind of promises had been made to entice these people to gang up on a Viscountess?

Back to the Imperial City? Justice from the Mind Mages? Avia knew exactly what these people were thinking; it was nothing more than a desire to carve off another piece of meat once the dust had settled.

She looked at her mother with a flicker of worry. Avia understood their motives, but she was at a loss for a solution.

Though the vote seemed casual, the kingdom’s statutes dictated that the resolutions of such noble investigative committees held genuine legal weight.

A thought struck her, and her eyes brightened. With a surge of mental energy, she revealed the Alchemical Eye from its state of invisibility. The device had remained undamaged, and it had recorded everything that needed to be seen.

Once the contents were presented as evidence, Riley’s rhetoric would be rendered utterly useless.

“I disagree. I have evidence here proving that my mother did not assassinate Decathlon.”

Avia produced the Alchemical Eye and gave it a twist. It projected a screen of light into the air, displaying the scene of her negotiation with Decathlon—a scene in which Mira did not even appear.

Yet, aside from her mother, who cast a look of relief toward Avia, the members of the noble committee did not even spare the projection a glance.

Riley continued, “Given that Mira Swain is a Grand Mage and a Great Witch, we cannot rule out the possibility of forged or destroyed evidence. To maintain impartiality, we shall disregard any evidence whose authenticity cannot be guaranteed. Please cast your votes.”

The noble crests fell once more. Everyone agreed to ignore Avia’s evidence. The girl was livid; this was a complete dictatorship. Any evidence unfavorable to the committee could be discarded with a single vote.

She looked at her mother in desperation, but Mira offered her a reassuring gaze. The girl was bewildered, yet she suppressed her unease for the moment.

A playful smile touched Mira’s beautiful face. “And what if I refuse to go with you? With my strength as a Grand Mage and a Great Witch, how exactly do you intend to take me?”

Riley’s expression remained unchanged. He was unaware that Mira’s power had actually dwindled to that of an apprentice; clearly, Decathlon had kept this secret to hoard the prize for himself. Had he known, he would not have been the only one to strike.

Taking her words as a genuine threat, Riley maintained his indifferent, formulaic tone.

“The noble investigative committee has requested the assistance of the Imperial City’s Blades of Night for this inquiry. Led by Special Operations member Ziggy Wilsbach, we will proceed with a forced arrest if you do not comply, Mira Swain.”

“Is that so? Then I still do not agree,” Mira replied calmly, her tone matching Riley’s, as if they were locked in a stalemate.

The girl watched her mother, puzzled by her confidence, yet she trusted that her mother had her own reasons.

“Then we shall have Mr. Ziggy lead his soldiers to place you under forced arrest,” Riley said, his voice flat and brimming with certainty.

“We shall see!” Mira remained unruffled.

The two parties stood at a deadlock. Riley and the mother-daughter duo stared each other down with cold, indifferent expressions, creating a stifling atmosphere.

The other members grew restless. They had come expecting a share of the spoils, not to be baked under the summer sun, and a murmur of discontent began to ripple through their ranks.

Soon, however, the investigators from the Blades of Night returned. Their leader rode back with a large contingent and pulled his horse to a halt.

“Mr. Ziggy Wilsbach, I require you to assist in the arrest of Viscountess Mira Swain for resisting detention, in accordance with the assistance mandate,” Riley addressed the leader.

“Is that so?” The leader removed his helmet—which looked no different from those of his subordinates—to reveal a handsome face.

His chestnut hair was slightly wavy, and a gold-rimmed monocle rested over one eye. His pupils were a striking, blood-red hue; what should have been a bloodthirsty, eerie sight instead possessed a unique aesthetic charm, framed by his soft, refined features.

He was a handsome man with a scholarly air, radiating wisdom and profound learning. This was the leader of the Blades of Night operation, Ziggy Wilsbach.

He wore a thoughtful expression, then nodded. “A reasonable request, but I refuse.”

“Mr. Ziggy, the Imperial City has requested your assistance. Any reasonable request must be fulfilled. Why do you refuse…”

Riley’s expression finally shifted, his already gloomy face turning even uglier, though his tone remained as flat as ever.

This fellow had certainly prepared well. An order from the Imperial City was indeed difficult to refuse.

Listening to Riley, Avia wondered why Ziggy would refuse. But as Riley had noted, if the Imperial City had explicitly ordered it, Ziggy would have no grounds to deny the request for arrest.

“The Imperial City’s order pertains to the mission concerning the noble Decathlon. However, based on our investigation, we suspect Decathlon Dofin of releasing the Void. His noble status should be stripped,” Ziggy explained, his tone grave.

“But any suspicion regarding a noble’s actions cannot serve as a direct justification; it must be treated as a line of inquiry, requiring sufficient evidence to be collected before confirmation. Your suspicion of Decathlon Dofin cannot be used as a reason for refusal.”

“According to the regulations of the Blades of Night, your definition of a Void incident must be recorded by a member holding the ‘Void Blade’ vambrace to be recognized as such. Otherwise, the Blades of Night do not possess the authority to ignore other statutes in matters involving the Void.”

Though the previous claim that suspicion could not serve as evidence seemed laughable now that they were attempting to force Mira Swain’s arrest, it was clear that Riley was well-versed in the kingdom’s laws, twisting them to his advantage with ease.

Yet, Ziggy did not yield. He offered a smile. “Who says we don’t have one? We have had a member here all along.”

He pointed into the distance, toward Wang Yu, who was just finishing burying the corpses.

Wang Yu looked at Ziggy, who was pointing at him, with a sense of bewilderment. Why was he pointing at him?

Ziggy walked toward Wang Yu. Wang Yu glanced at Mira, and seeing her smiling at him, he realized that things were likely under control.

“Hello, I am Ziggy Wilsbach, a member of the Blades of Night Imperial Special Operations unit. I am here to handle the matter concerning Decathlon. Please hand over the ‘Void Blade’ vambrace.”

The Void Blade vambrace? The one from the old knight? Without hesitation, Wang Yu unbuckled the vambrace from his left arm and handed it over. Ziggy took it, inspected it, and nodded with satisfaction.

He turned back toward Riley, whose face was now twisted in suppressed rage. As he turned, a voice drifted into Wang Yu’s ear via magic.

“Father Fang and Garcia both told me to keep an eye on you. I won’t let a future colleague be bullied.”

Wang Yu smiled back. So that was it—he was one of their own.