The Murderer!

Prince Henry's head sat on the tabletop, resting on a silver platter. Beside it was an ordinary tray bearing a lump of dark, foul-smelling filth. "It's cow dung," Mr. Bede said. "Cow dung?" Karen asked. "Dug straight out of Prince Henry's mouth." Karen looked at Prince Henry's face again. It was merely a bit pale. "His face has already been cleaned," Bede explained. "Isn't that destroying evidence?" Karen asked. "Er..." Bede hesitated for a second before replying, "It is aristocratic etiquette." "Etiquette?" "In short: even if you are on the brink of starvation, upon seeing a table of food, you must first feign disgust that the cutlery isn't silver." "Heh." "How did it get here?" Karen asked. "The head was tied to the saddle. As it happened, that horse was a gift our family presented to the royal house several years ago. Driven by instinct, it brought Prince Henry's head right back home." "So is this an attempt to frame us?" "Father is already on the phone with the palace. Still, if it is a frame-up, it seems far too crude, and the price paid was far too steep." "I didn't mean the royal house was framing us themselves," Karen explained. "I understand what you mean, Young Master, but they shouldn't do such a thing either. The sole reason the Gloria family has managed to sit securely upon the Wien throne for so long is that they never stir up trouble outside. They are content to mind their own business at home... cough, content to serve as a well-behaved mascot. "Therefore, even with Prince Henry dead, it will be difficult to provoke a clash between the royal house and the Allen family. They won't let their emotions get the better of them—principally because all their emotions are channeled elsewhere." Karen recalled that Purr had once said something very similar to Mr. Bede's remarks. "So you don't think it's a frame-up?" "No, I don't believe it is. Perhaps the killer was simply waiting for an opportunity. As it happened, Prince Henry had been drinking and left the palace; after killing him, as it happened, the horse came from our Allen family stables; and as it happened, that head wound up inside Allen Manor." "That is quite a lot of 'as it happened's." "Yes, but I suspect that's truly how it went." Just then, Old Anderson hurried into the room and said to Karen: "Young Master Karen, I have spoken with the palace chamberlain on the phone. The Queen was overwhelmed with grief upon learning of Prince Henry's death, but she instructed the chamberlain to convey her view that this is a conspiracy aimed at driving a wedge between the royal house and the Allen family." "Mm, it seems Her Majesty is quite wise." "Indeed, Young Master. What do you make of it?" Old Anderson asked. "I don't know," Karen answered honestly. "Though we could hear what Mr. Bede thinks." Old Anderson glanced somewhat helplessly and perfunctorily at his youngest son and asked, "Well then, let's hear your thoughts." Mr. Bede glanced at Prince Henry's head on the table, shrank his neck back in fright, and shook his head. "I know nothing at all." "*Sigh.*" Old Anderson sighed. At that moment, a servant came in to report: "Master, another call came from the palace. They asked for you." "All right, I'm coming." Old Anderson looked at Karen. "Young Master, I..." "Go attend to this first." "Very well. I will keep you updated on the palace's stance and measures immediately, Young Master." Old Anderson stepped out to take the call. Karen covered his nose and walked outside as well, Mr. Bede following beside him. Once they stepped outdoors, a post-rain breeze drifted past, instantly making the air feel considerably fresher. With no servants around, Karen turned to look at Mr. Bede beside him and asked, "It wasn't your doing?" Mr. Bede looked back at Karen and smiled. "I kept thinking it was yours, Young Master." "Really not you?" "Really not you?" The two of them nodded at each other. It seemed neither was responsible. "I originally assumed that because he kept harassing Eunice, you, as her father, took the opportunity to..." Karen made a downward chopping motion with his hand, perfectly matching Prince Henry's present state. "Young Master, I recall confessing to you yesterday that I truly don't know how to fight. Besides, Eunice is now your fiancée, Young Master. Prince Henry ought to be the one you had the most reason to..." Mr. Bede mimicked the exact same chopping gesture Karen had made. "How could I possibly do such a thing?" Karen shrugged. "Utterly absurd." "You are Lord Diss's grandson," Mr. Bede reminded him. "I believe Father's heart is drumming with suspicion right now as well, wondering if you did it. Once he finishes that phone call, he will probably come to probe you indirectly." "I am merely a God's Servant." "Yet for a very long time, Lord Diss was merely an Inquisitor." Both men fell silent for a moment. Karen spoke up: "What about his guards? Or rather, wasn't he accompanied by a hundred or so royal guards? Were the royal guards killed too?" "Not at all. Contact has already been made with the royal guards. They are completely fine." "Completely fine?" "Because Prince Henry rode out of the palace on horseback." "Yes, I know that." "The royal guards were also ordered to ride horses and accompany him." "And then?" "As soon as they left the city limits and entered the suburbs, more than half of them fell behind. As they pushed deeper into the suburbs toward the manor, the remaining group fell behind as well. In the end, the thoroughly infuriated prince rode into the woods entirely alone. When he came back out, only a head was left." "What do you mean?" Karen asked in bewilderment. "Because the palace royal guards exist merely to pad personal résumés. Every year, those guard posts are sold to the public, typically bought by wealthy merchants who pay to give their children a bit of life experience. "Consequently, most of them don't know how to ride a horse." "In other words, if Prince Henry hadn't chosen to ride a horse and had opted for a truck instead, he probably wouldn't have been killed?" "Presumably so. At the very least, with the guards around him, he wouldn't have ended up isolated." "Then why did he insist on riding a horse?" "Young people, you know—once drunk, they inevitably do outlandish things, wishing to emulate the valiant horseback figures of their ancestors. Even if, throughout most of history, the ancestors of the Gloria family were the ones being ridden." ... "The little idiot from the Gloria family is dead?" Purr asked around a mouthful of fried dried fish. "Mm." Karen sat on the sofa with a bottle of perfume in hand. He dabbed a drop onto the back of his hand, then lightly wiped it beneath his nose. "Heavens, you've actually started using perfume? Has aristocratic life corrupted you so quickly?" "The stench of dung got to me, and I don't feel like bathing and changing clothes just yet." The scent of this perfume was remarkably reminiscent of medicated cooling oil; it would have to do for now. "Well, the smell of horse manure isn't really that foul. Especially in my era, before automobiles existed, everyone traveled by carriage. We were all accustomed to the fragrance of manure. "That's why to this day I still loathe the smell of car exhaust. It's heresy!" "If that Prince Henry had moved with the times and chosen to drive here today, he probably wouldn't have died." "I feel like you're subtly mocking me." A knock sounded at the bedroom door. Karen walked over and opened it. Boge stood in the doorway. "Young Master, representatives from the royal house have arrived, led by His Royal Highness Prince York." "All right, I understand." Karen closed the door. Ceremonial receptions like this did not require his presence for the moment. Chewing on her dried fish, Purr remarked, "The title 'Prince of York' usually belongs to the crown prince." "The Queen is ninety-five, isn't she?" "Yes, so His Royal Highness the Crown Prince is in his seventies as well," Purr said. "The newspapers in Ruilan love poking fun at this Prince York's age." Just then, the rumble of motor engines rose—not from the front of the castle, but from the rear. Karen walked to the windowsill and peered down, spotting a motorcade parked below. Purr hopped onto the windowsill as well and explained: "Royal etiquette: when visiting a vassal's fiefdom, they alight from the rear. According to ancient tradition, the vassals had to form ranks out front to protect the royal house, while the royals dismounted behind the vassals' battle formation. Oh, of course, nowadays they alight from vehicles. "Evolving into modern times, when a royal delegation enters a vassal's residence, they cannot step out from the front. They must circle around to the rear before descending. "Ridiculous, isn't it?" "It's fine." At that moment, the door of the central Santland sedan opened. A red carpet had already been laid out in advance. Immediately after, an elderly man in his seventies stepped out of the car, supported on either side by two servants. Judging by the trembling of his legs, he could barely even lean on a walking stick anymore. Below, Old Anderson led the members of the Allen family in bowing to Prince York. Old Anderson even stepped forward to exchange cheek kisses with him. "It looks like he's here for a wedding," Karen remarked. "The man is already dead anyway," Purr said, unfazed. "A dead person is naturally nowhere near as important as etiquette among the living." "Did he really come here to investigate?" Karen asked. "He's here to declare a stance," Purr said bluntly. "Representing the royal house to make their position clear to the Allen family: the royal house believes 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 away from home, their funeral must be held at that location. The body cannot be brought back to the palace. "Originally, during the pioneer era, it meant that if a royal fell in battle outside, the army had to fight their way back and hold the funeral on enemy territory. Now, it has degenerated into mere empty formalism." "So a funeral will be held for this Prince Henry right here at Allen Manor?" "Yes. That's another reason Prince York had to come in person." Purr stretched out a paw and tapped Karen's arm. "Right in your professional wheelhouse." Karen lifted Purr's paw off and dusted his sleeve, warning, "Next time you eat dried fish without washing your paws, you're not allowed to touch me." ... "Young Master, these are the agreed-upon articles." After concluding his meeting with Prince York, Old Anderson promptly drew up the memorandum and presented it to Karen for review. There were three simple clauses: First, the royal house and the Allen family would jointly issue a public statement condemning the assassination of Prince Henry; Second, Prince Henry's funeral would be held at Allen Manor on an undecided date, as the portions of Prince Henry below the neck still needed to be recovered; Third, the Allen family would sponsor all expenses for the funeral. "Is the third clause also a tradition?" Karen asked. "Yes, Young Master. Sponsoring a royal funeral or celebration was once an honor reserved for vassals. Nowadays, spending a million riels just to put the matter behind us is a bargain." "Mm." Karen knew the Allen family was not lacking in worldly wealth. "Are there any leads on the rest of the body?" "None for now. Royal personnel, local police, and Allen family servants have all been dispatched in large numbers. The search is ongoing." "Very well, understood." "Oh, right, Young Master—there is one more item not written here: this afternoon, Prince York will pay respects at the Allen ancestral cemetery." "Pay respects at the Allen ancestral cemetery?" "Mm." 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 royal house." "Because of Count Rekar?" "Your understanding of the Allen family history is truly profound, Young Master." Karen pointed to the painting hanging on the study wall and chuckled. "It's because your family has always flaunted it." If the ancestor dared to have it painted like that, the descendants dared to keep it hanging; of course, it truly was quite a glorious deed. Look, our ancestor dared to bed Her Majesty the Queen! "Because Gloria IV, who inherited the throne after Gloria III, was born after the Queen turned thirty. At that time, there was a certain relationship between the Queen and our ancestor. "However, nothing can be confirmed for certain, because at the time, the Queen's husband, Prince Sike, was still alive." "All right, I understand." "Then I shall go make the arrangements. If you feel bored, Young Master, you are welcome to stroll about and take in the sights. Consider it an appreciation of exotic customs. After all, the Ruilan royal house has never possessed much of a presence." The Ruilan royal family had fallen so low that they constantly endorsed various luxury goods to make money, naturally leaving them with neither ceremony nor airs. "All right, I understand." "However, please do not leave the manor grounds. 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 didn't kill Prince Henry." "Ah... er... um... Young Master, you misunderstand. How could I possibly think that? Haha." Immediately after, Old Anderson lowered his voice and asked: "Really?" Karen nodded. "Really." "*Phew...*" Old Anderson breathed a sigh of relief. "I understand." "Go attend to your business, Mr. Anderson." "Yes, Young Master." Old Anderson departed the study. Karen stood up and stretched his limbs. Ever since entering Allen Manor, he had not set foot outside. Even when riding with Eunice, it had been strictly within the manor grounds. Old Anderson's sudden inquiry earlier had indeed been, just as Bede had suggested, an attempt to probe whether he was the culprit. Karen walked over to the window and pushed it open, wanting some fresh air. Right at that moment, the sound of scrambling came from below. Karen leaned forward slightly and looked down. He discovered a young girl of about ten climbing the wall. She was clad in a red formal dress, her hair exquisitely styled, and most notably, several pieces of jewelry adorned her hands. Yet this cat burglar behavior of scaling walls clashed completely with her attire and demeanor. Karen took two steps back. By then, the girl had already clambered onto the windowsill. Suddenly, the open window erupted with threads of blue light sweeping directly toward her. The first time Karen had entered this study, he had asked Alfred about it. Alfred had scanned the room with the Succubus Eye and confirmed that conversations held here could not be overheard from outside. Such isolation was naturally not achieved through a simple bell on the desk; it was because a magic formation protected the study. Anyone who did not enter through the study's main door and attempted to break in from other locations would be repelled by the formation. However, just as the girl was about to be bounced away by the barrier, an identical blue glow suddenly burst from her body. It merged instantly with the formation. The next moment, with a loud *thud*, the girl landed flat on her face upon the study floor right in front of Karen. Karen froze. Having undergone purification, he could "see" far more than before. He noticed that the light the girl had emitted not only matched the window formation in color, but in fact... shared the exact same attribute. Two forces of identical attributes had not repelled each other; rather, they exhibited natural affinity. The magic formations within the Allen family all adhered to the family faith system. After all, generation after generation of maintenance and repairs were carried out by their own kin without outside assistance, so they generally centered upon the two elements of water and fire. "Ow... help me up!" The girl reached out a hand. Karen hesitated briefly, then stepped over and took her hand. The girl used his leverage to pull herself up. Once on her feet, she patted down her dress and grumbled, "*Sigh*, I wanted Grandpa to talk to Anderson and let us into the Allen family study to see the portraits, but Grandpa insisted it was a disgrace to us Glorias and refused. "*Sigh*, I had no choice but to climb the wall myself. Hehe, I knew the formation here wouldn't hurt me." Karen stood beside her, listening to her chatter. The girl was evidently a member of royalty; the grandfather she mentioned had to be Prince York, who had arrived at noon. The girl looked at Karen, blinked, and asked, "Are you the manservant in charge of cleaning the study?" "I..." "No, the fabric of your clothes isn't something a servant could wear. Oh, you're an Allen, aren't you? What's your name, handsome brother?" "My name is Karen. Karen Allen." "I'm Judia." The girl pinched both sides of her skirt and curtsied to Karen. "Greetings, Your Highness?" "You can just call me by my name, handsome brother." With that, Judia walked into the center of the study and began admiring the portraits, finally stopping before the portrait of Count Rekar. "Hehe, this was the exact painting I wanted to see." Judia pinched her skirt in the same manner and curtsied to Count Rekar's portrait: "The family faith system awakened within me isn't the Gloria family's, but the Allen family's. So you truly are my ancestor." Karen looked at Judia and thought: *She really came here to claim kinship.* "Oh, right, I'm hungry. Handsome brother, do you have anything to eat?" "Yes." Karen turned around and picked up his own pastries from the desk. But just as he was about to hand them to Judia before the portrait, his footsteps halted. Before the painting, Judia was holding a severed human hand, gnawing on it as if it were a chicken claw. Immediately after, Judia, her mouth smeared with blood, turned to face Karen. She waved the half-devoured hand, smiling brightly: "I forgot, I brought food with me! This is my brother Henry's. "The family wanted him to mate with me to breed a new generation to inherit the Allen family faith system. But he actually refused! He kept screaming that he could marry that Miss Eunice from the Allen family to fulfill the family's mission just the same." *Slurp!* Judia sucked a finger clean, pulling all the flesh into her mouth until nothing remained but white bone. Chewing, she shook her head. "Hmph. Bad brother, actually looking down on his own sister."