“I know who did it.”

Benjamin’s sudden declaration aroused mumblings throughout the room. It wasn’t even two hours after questioning everyone. Francis couldn’t reach a conclusion, and yet Benjamin did. Or maybe he was pulling an act. Either way, if he just accused everyone, he was bound to be correct eventually.

“Well? On with it, Lord Benjamin. Unless you want to keep everyone here in suspense,” commented Francis.

“I have reached the conclusion that it was Lord Trafel.”

“Understandable. But how? Or are you just making a guess?”

“If I had to be honest Lady Francis, I would be lying if I said that it wasn’t at least 45% instincts. But all the evidence points to him. As you have stated, the knife is in her ribcage, is it not? I’ve fought with a blade before, I know how much force is needed to thrust a knife in that deep.”

“So it couldn’t have been me, Lady Guile due to her age. But what about Mr Yens, the visitor with a limp, and Mr Mertel, the spice trader that stayed the night to tell his tales?”

“He has a limp. Would it be easy for him to sneak up on Ms Lana?” Benjamin asked as if he was a school teacher talking down to a dim student.

“Good point. But the spice trader?”

“Are you familiar with the customs of Loyra?”

“No. But what does that have to do with this?”

Loyra? What was that? Francis searched his mind and memories, but only bits and pieces came up. Supposedly, it was a kingdom to the south, somewhat tropical in the warmer climes of the world. He tried to recall what he learnt from the extensive home tutoring. But in an all too familiar fashion, the exam student failed to recall what he learnt.

“Well, in short, he would have been praying,” Benjamin said as he answered.

“Only if he’s religious.”

“He is. Noticed that bracelet around his wrist when he stretched and pulled back those sleeves?”

“How did you even notice something like that?” Francis asked. For a while now, how Benjamin worked things out kind of reminded him of Sherlock Holmes, or something similar.

“You just have to notice everything. In a war, you can’t go back and revisit anything. Especially not with lives on the line.”

“Tell me about the war later. But what does that bracelet mean?”

“Your ignorance is painful.”

“No need to tell me that. But explain.”

“That bracelet means that he’s associated and blessed by the temple.”

Francis touched his chin as he thought. The temple, was it? Perhaps one day he should make a visit there.

“So he’s entirely religious. Rules him out then, unless he’s praying to some evil god?”

“That's... Possible, actually. Some cults of the Forbidden One do sacrifice people. Good thinking, Lady Francis.”

He nodded. Forbidden One probably referred to Stasis, or whatever that banished god’s name was. Bahamut had warned him not to say that name. Why? Did their name hold that much power?

Francis paced around the room. His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure things out for himself. Nobles and servants watched him. The people here were those that had little to nothing to do with the case. Those that were asleep, and those who had an alibi. Of course, the suspects were instructed to wait outside. So far, the only people that contributed anything were Benjamin Wynt, Francis, and Estelle. Though, the other nobles did chime in occasionally with their own thoughts and ideas, but the three of them poked more holes in them than the number of holes in the bodies that Estelle could inflict.

“But why? There has to be a motive. A win condition. What could the murderer get from this? Ms Lana was just a commoner, not much assets to speak of,” Benjamin spoke to no one in particular.

“Couldn’t he just have been an ass?”

“Maybe. I should ask someone who would know that. So Lady Francis, would an asshole kill someone for fun?”

“For fun? Nah. A person needs a lot of courage to kill someone on purpose. And this is not accidental. Or so I’ve been told. Not that I’m speaking from experience or anything.”

“Have you... Nevermind. Not when you have people able to kill me with a single command. But that is true. What do you think is the win condition then?”

“You mean the motive? That depends. By the way, what kind of knife was used to stab her?”

“I don’t know. Why?” asked Benjamin as he rolled his eyes.

“Well a cult would use a special knife when sacrificing someone. Check to see if its a kitchen knife or something.”

“No. Absolutely not. Don’t desecrate a body for a worthless endeavour.”

“Worthless, Lord Benjamin? Are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure. And you must have respect for a dead body Lady Francis.”

Francis scoffed. Respect? That was the thing he cared least about in the situation. Getting to the truth mattered more than some customs and traditions.

“Then if I’m right? What if the type of knife used really would determine what motive this person has?”

“Highly unlikely. The weapon doesn’t matter. It's the user that makes or breaks it.”

“I’m not talking about how sharp the knife is.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the nature of the murder. And I am telling you, finding out the type of knife is essential to unravelling his motive.”

Benjamin shook his head. Was it that hard to grasp? Besides, if they found out what knife was used, even if it wasn’t sacrificial in nature, it would provide a clue. A sacrificial knife? Perfect, case closed. If it's a kitchen knife, then it was simple too. Find out who was in the kitchen, and that’s that.

“Well. It’s on your head, Lady Francis.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The few of them left the room and made their way to the deceased. Covered by a blanket, and as day creaked closer and closer, it was hard to not feel uneasy. Francis pulled the covers away with a swift tug, and winced at the corpse. He searched his body for a hankerchief, or a pair of gloves. Anything to not leave fingerprints on the murder weapons.

“Here,” said Estelle as she handed him a squarish piece of fabric. A handkerchief, great.

He wrapped the fabric around his fingers and picked up the handle of the knife. With a pull, he drew the blade like King Arthur drawing Excalibur from the stone. Though it was coated in blood, its shape was odd, to say the least. Unlike a normal kitchen knife with a definitely straight shape, it was jagged. Actually, it had a resemblance to a child’s drawing of a lightning bolt, coloured in red.

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“Well. I’ll be damned. Isolate Lord Trafel and Mr Mertal. At once!”

At Benjamin’s words the butler sprung into action. His movements quick, a predator chasing after his prey. He slammed the door open and shouted politely. Francis and Benjamin followed behind him.

“Stop it! What are you doing? A lowly butler like yourself barging in on us,” Nick said.

“Urg. How out of shape am I?” asked Francis as he made his way towards the room where the suspects were kept. It was a fair distance away from the corpse, and he was already panting.

“Oh you are incredibly out of shape,” the original commented.

“And you failed to help in the case.”

“That’s different.”

He stepped into the room. A lantern hung off the ceiling. Within it, a small flame burnt, fuelled by oil. Just barely enough to illuminate the whole room, 4 other similar lanterns hung from the other corners. They formed a nice geometric pattern. Together, they looked like the 5 face of a die. Without many windows, the room really looked like it wasn't meant for living. There was just a single window in the wall, one that wasn’t too large nor was it too small. If someone broke it, they could probably squeeze through without too much trouble. The room was cramped too. Just big enough to fit a few of them while standing. Francis could tell that once one of them laid down, there would be no space left. The ones that were fully ruled out were let out.

“Alright. Both of you, please listen to what I have to say.”

“That being?”

“Both of you are equally likely to have been the murderer,” Benjamin said.

“Preposterous.”

“It's not. First of all, the knife was of a sacrificial origin. And you are associated with the temple, are you not? You would be knowledgeable about rituals, Mr Mertal.”

“Yes, but I am not familiar with rituals with any kind!”

“I mean, you could be lying,” Francis said.

“Bullshit! It's obviously him!” Mertal blurted out as he pointed an accusatory finger towards Nick Trafel.

“And what makes you say that?”

“Because it isn’t me.”

“Of course, makes sense. Because a murderer would always be honest, right?”

“Gods... I’m innocent. I swear I didn’t do it.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not accusing you,” said Francis.

“But I am.”

Benjamin sighed. He sat down next to the suspects. They looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“Wow. Playing detective really doesn’t suit you.”

“Shut the fuck up original. You aren’t even helping.”

“Of course not. Why should I? You’re still stealing my body from me.”

“Urg! I told you before, this isn’t my choice!”

The warmth of the sun was approaching fast. Francis had been up for a very long time. Was this what Katalina was used to? If so, that was a life that he could never get used to.

He looked behind him. She was standing there, with her hands on her sword. She had been asked to stand on guard, just in case. Of course, everyone hoped to deal with it peacefully. Even as he looked, he found nothing off about her. Despite having seemingly no sleep, she still looked as pretty as ever. No black circles around her eyes, and nothing that he could insult her for. Without knowing, Benjamin grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Stop gawking at your knight,” he whispered, “Here’s the plan. There’s not enough evidence to really seal the deal. Keep your voice down. We’ll scare them into confessing. Tell them that we can show off the evidence if they want to make it hard for us, and that we’ve already alerted the guards. But listen up, we cannot let them leave, okay? If they manage to get to the temple, then we’ll have a diplomatic and religious nightmare on our hands.”

“Why? Just chase them.”

“Urg, your ignorance will kill you one day. The temples are owned and operated by his holiness. We can’t arrest or do anything there without permission. And that’s just the diplomatic part. We can’t rightly enter the temple if we plan on doing anything of that sort. Alright? Unless you have a guard planted there or something, but even that’s troublesome to arrange.”

“Yeah yeah. I got it. Take the lead then.”

“Ahem.” Benjamin turned back towards the two suspects. “Well, it's now or never. We’ve collected enough evidence. The guards are on their way here.”

“Wha- I demand to see the evidence you have,” Nick said.

“Sure thing. Come, Lord Wynt. We have a huge pile of evidence to pull in.”

“Mhm. The guards will be here shortly.”

Francis left the room, along with Benjamin Wynt. They closed the door behind them. Bickering instantly erupted once the door shut. So that was the plan that the so-called brilliant strategist hatched.

“Win conditions, Lady Francis. For them, the win condition is to be proven innocent. On a larger scale, I want to marry her highness. That’s my win condition. In a war, both sides have their own win conditions they need to fulfil to end the battle. Whether that’s getting the enemy general, or defending against a siege.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point, Lady Francis, is that I do not know your win condition. Let’s take a game of chess for example. What’s your goal in that game?”

“To checkmate your opponent, obviously. Are you saying you don’t know what my goal is?” Francis asked.

“Exactly. So be honest with me here Lady Francis. I don’t want to have to fight against you.”

“Are you saying that if I, hypothetically, am in love with the same woman you desire, you would compete with me?”

“Yes. And I hope I do not have to.”

“Well, you should be happy to know that I am not in love with her.”

Francis patted him on his shoulder. Benjamin didn’t react. Or if he did, he didn’t show it. Instead, he pointed at the door. With his hands, he counted down to one. On the final count, he opened the door.

“Fuck. I screwed up,” said Benjamin.

“Why? Did the-” Francis looked inside. “Ah. We did.”

The window was cut open. But more importantly than that, Mr Mertal’s neck was snapped. Outside, Nick Trafel was fleeing.

“Shoot him!” Francis commanded, and Kim Hye Sung pointed her finger.

“No! Don’t! Even with her highness protecting you, and your family’s power, you’ll still be committing murder!” Benjamin pushed Francis back. “Chase him!”

“Yes, milord!”

“Damnit! Shoot him leg then.”

“No problem.”

Kim Hye Sung pointed her index finger and shot off a blast of light. But, it bounced off an invisible barrier just before it reached Nick. Her finger twitched as she stepped back in shock and surprise.

“Lady Claudia, where’s the nearest temple?” asked Benjamin.

“Um, it's really close by!”

“Well. We need to outrun him I guess. How could I forget about the window?! Damn it!”

“If you have time to complain you have time to run. Chase after him!”

Everyone rushed out of the cramped room and ran out from the mansion. If they had chased him through the window, it would have created a bottleneck. Benjamin and the guards pursued, as did Estelle. She significantly outsped them, but the headstart that Nick Trafel gave him enough distance. They followed him into the town, and the temple was in sight.

With a distinct light blue colour, it stood out from the rest. Stained glass windows, and what seemed like 4 floors. Around it, golden fences spanned the perimeter. It was large, about half the size of the mansion. Various priests and priestesses dressed in strange clothes went about their business. There were several people praying to a statue on the open, first floor. Meanwhile Nick Trafel crossed the fences. He stopped just after entering, and turned to face them. If Francis was closer, he would have given that man a punch for how scummy that smile was.

“Hah! Suck it, bitches.” Nick spat onto the ground.

“What’s happening?”

A crowd was gathering. Priests and temple goers circled around them with curiosity. Of course, he still kept within the temple’s boundaries. Amongst those praying at the crack of dawn, however, Francis spotted someone he knew.

“Get him, Iris!” he jumped and pointed.

The blonde girl nodded, and tackled the murderer. They were both within the temple’s lines, so if anyone could do so, it was her. She sat atop his body, and seemed to pass through whatever barrier he had.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Haa... Urh, I need to work out sometime. He’s a murderer,” Francis said in between pants.

“What? He’s the murderer, and not you?”

“I’m coming in!” he announced as he approached the temple.

“Wait, no! That’s a bad idea, his holiness won’t be happy.” Benjamin tried to stop the inevitable.

For a while now, Francis had wanted to visit the temple. Then, he could maybe try to establish some sort of connection with Bahamut. And perhaps that meeting could get the scammer dragon to do something that wasn’t a complete rip off. But meeting Iris there was a complete coincidence. Perhaps it really was fate.

Fate. He hated it. That word reminded him far too much about the deal he made that he wished to forget about. Actually, it all made sense. Iris was the one to kill him. And she was already there. Supposedly, if she was the hero to slay the tyrannical villain, then was his destiny set in stone?