There wasn’t much to look at. Other than the bedroom that contained the corpse of the house’s owner, the rest of the rooms were in a general state of disarray. Only the kitchen was relatively cleaner — someone had lugged in a cauldron to cook some stew or whatnot, judging from the marks.

“Some diabolical brain stew or something, perhaps,” Captain Blake said. “Why else would someone specifically bring a giant heavy pot into the house with two corpses?”

“I hope you meant that as a joke,” Claud replied.

“I wish it was. However, how else would you explain the fact that the murderer saw the need to bring a giant cauldron into the house? The stove is still working, last I checked.”

Claud stared at Captain Blake, but doing so didn’t help him refute that particular possibility.

“Doesn’t it seem like quite the possibility? Someone ambushed Zulan Patra and dug his brains out, before making some…” The captain didn’t continue his sentence, but his grossed-out face was more than enough to finish his sentence. “You guys, found anything of use?”

“Nothing much, sir.”

“No, captain.”

“Can’t say I’m not surprised. But if that’s all we have going for us, we’ll have to apply for help from the headquarters. There’s someone who can replay the scene of a crime there, and I think the bloody, gruesome murderer of a tetra-folder is enough to get them moving,” said Captain Blake.

“There’s someone with such a skill?”

“Yes. Once they arrive, we’ll be able to figure out what roughly happened, but it can take months for someone to mana-walk their way from Grandia to this far-flung county,” said the captain. “We’ll have to report to the Church of the White God and get them to help out too. They won’t be happy about this, that’s for sure.”

Claud didn’t know all that much about the Church of the White God, but given its influence in the Istrel Dukedom, they probably had their headquarters in the dukedom capital. It would indeed be a lot faster to get them to come down here instead.

“Do you think they’ll vent their anger at Licencia?”

“Probably. But the death of a zealot won’t be easily compensated, that’s for sure.” Captain Blake had a sour look on his face. “They’ll probably force the city to open up a local parish for them or something.”

“That doesn’t seem that bad,” Lily noted.

“No, not for now. But this opens the floodgates for the other churches to come in too. And then we’ll see small squabbles between the priests stationed here…even though the Coloured Gods are actually a team.” Captain Blake shrugged.

“You sound experienced in this.”

“Hard not to, when the nine churches swept through the Umbra Sovereignty twenty-six or so years ago. I was like twelve at the time, and my family had to stay indoors the whole time, since there was so much fighting on the streets. Count Nightfall had to evict them personally, and he never let them in ever since.”

“Well,” said Lily, “did you hear about those murders that were going on in Nachtville?”

“What of it?” Captain Blake asked, before his eyes widened slightly. “Right. Right. I know what you’re getting at now. Yes, the Church of the Black God should be dropping by Nachtville anytime. After all, the murderer was one of their priests.”

“Priests? I sure didn’t hear about that bit.”

“Just came in.” The captain shook his head, before making his way out. “And I can’t believe I got used to this mortifying smell. Follow me, the two of you. We’ll go to the city administration, and then send a letter to the Church of the White God.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Lily and Claud glanced at each other and followed the captain out. It didn’t take long for them to cordon off the area properly, and other than leaving behind an unfortunate guard to watch the area, everyone departed from the area.

“We’re not going to bury the corpse?”

“No,” said Captain Blake. “I’ve preserved the crime scene with a skill. Nothing will change for the next ten days. Besides, if we stayed any longer, we’ll stink for the next few days.”

“A skill?” Claud asked, interested.

“I think it’s a skill that the clergy of the Indigo God can give out,” said Lily. “If it’s anything to do with time, that’s the god we’re looking for.”

“Bingo, missy. The skill I used is ‘Indigo God’s Canvas’. It preserves a user-defined area for ten days, preventing it from being affected by environmental changes,” said Captain Blake. “Dust, rot…natural processes, in general, will be frozen.”

“Frozen…” Claud tried to imagine a scene in which he was frozen in time by some guard, and then shivered slightly. “Is there a version that could freeze someone in time?”

“If there is, I imagine such a skill would only be learned by the highest echelons of the Indigo Church. Maybe their Holy Child or something.” Captain Blake replied. “Anyway, it’s a really useful skill. I use it every few days at home, so that there won’t be any dust or dirt.”

“Talk about a mundane use,” Lily observed wryly. “But it does sound nice, having a perpetually clean home.”

“Not perpetually clean. I still have to wash my plates and everything after eating. But dust and general wear and tear has nothing on my house anymore.” Captain Blake grinned for a few seconds, and then let the smile on his face slide off. “Alright. Thank you for accompanying me in small talk.”

“The pleasure is ours,” Lily replied. “Besides, you’re not the only person who feels out of sorts right now.”

Claud nodded. “The bartender of Triple-D did say it before. If something traumatic happens, our memories and perception of that event is more fuzzy than usual.”

“Traumatic…yeah, that might be it. Maybe I’ll give them a few days off after the people from the White Church arrives.” Captain Blake rubbed his head. “Bartender, eh? When is his bar open?”

“Used to be the whole day, but now, it’s at night,” Claud replied. “The bartender has a second day job now.”

“Huh. Is he hiring? I could quit this job and open the bar for him in the daytime,” said Captain Blake. “I’ve seen enough insanity to last my whole life; quitting sounds great now.”

“Quitting, huh…well, you can ask him about it,” Claud replied. “I don’t know if he has vacancies or anything.”

“Me neither,” Lily added.

“Okay then.” Captain Blake turned to look at the three city guards following him. “Disillusioned by your captain? He’s a quitter now, if nothing else. It sucks to be a guard in those chaotic times.”

“No worries, sir. If you quit, I might be able to take over your position.” One of the guards grinned brightly. “Is that okay?”

“You and your ambitions. Well, just wait for me to secure a new job first.” The captain chuckled. “How many times have I said this already, guys?”

“This is your thirty-third time, sir.”

Claud didn’t know what to make of that little conversation, so he chose to think about the murder that had happened so far. The two of them were essentially witnesses to the last time Zulan Patra appeared in public — the Spear of Fate had stolen a mana herb from a Tri-head Snake. What happened after that? How did he end up dead?

Who killed him, and brought his corpse back to Licencia? Or was he captured and then smuggled into the city?

Claud didn’t know which possibility was better, given that smuggling a captive into the city was no mean feat. Either way, it had to have happened before Claud pushed out a bunch of methods to improve security, since there was no conceivable way someone could have snuck a corpse into the city.

Unless, of course, they had inside help.

“This is insane,” Claud muttered. “Say, Lily. When do you think Zulan Patra was captured?”

“You think he was captured, and then murdered afterwards?” Lily asked.

“Correct. I get a feeling that he was tortured and everything before his death. And we haven’t quite identified a direct cause of death yet. It’s possible that he died from the torture itself, but why would anyone risk torturing a tetra-folder? They can apparently blow themselves up too, right? Why didn’t that happen?”

“We’ll just leave this to the Church of the White God to handle,” said Lily. “I get a feeling that all this is too dangerous for us right now.”

“I agree, but…” Claud folded his arms. “There’s a dangerous, insane murderer on the loose. If we don’t do anything about that person…well, who’s to say that the next victim won’t be me? Or you? If the killer can take down Zulan Patra, no one in this city is going to be a match.”

“But you can’t do it, can you? Neither you, me or the Moon Lords together can possibly hope to triumph in a direct confrontation,” Lily replied. “We’ll have to rely on trickery if we are to disable or kill the murderer outright.”

Claud, despite himself, nodded.

No one would believe him if he said he could theoretically kill the murderer, after all. The master thief had no intention of letting anyone know about Absolute One — his intuition was warning him of untold dangers in that regard.

“In that case,” said Claud, “we’ll…let the Church of the White God handle this.”

“That’s for the best, I guess.”

Claud glanced at the chattering guards in front of him, and then wondered if they constantly lived under the same fear he was feeling now.

That could not have been an enviable lifestyle.