An intricate tea set was placed in order on the table. A fire burned silently in the fireplace, emitting warm radiance to all four corners of the room. Numerous inspectors occupied themselves around the room. As they thumped their feet on the ground, the vibration produced was so strong it sent ripples in the teacups.
Dortmund was seated beside a small table, inspecting Berkley Andrew Nedgabel on the sofa opposite himself. A long time ago, Berkley was the tallest and most amicable person he knew. Memories came flooding into Dortmund's mind as he continued looking at his uncle. It was Uncle Berkley who gifted him his first ever pony. It was Uncle Berkley who taught him the profound theory of politics. It was Uncle Berkley who officiated his wedding with Celia. Now, it was Uncle Berkley who stood up against himself.
After what seemed like forever, Dortmund finally gave out a long and meaningful sigh and turned to face Colonel Peter.
"I still can't believe he died, just like that!"
Peter had no words in reply. Instead, he walked forward to nudge the dead body of the Chief of Military Investigation Bureau. Old Berkley leaned against the back of the sofa. His limbs weak and limp, eyes rolled to the ceiling, white foam and traces of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"Judging from the degree of elasticity from the deceased's facial appearance and organisms, time of death is predicted to be one to two hours ago." Baron Messier De Quixote explained to Marshal Andrew and the young confidential secretary. As the person in charge of the main branch of Military Intelligence Bureau, Messier was first to arrive at the crime scene.
"Besides, on the inner side of the deceased's teeth was stained with hashish, and on his left fingers can be noticed apparent yellow stain. This states that the deceased was habitually experienced with using his left hand before his death, and had a strong dependence on tobacco. His facial characteristics correspond to the facts that…"
"Tell me about the cause of death," Dortmund interrupted Baron Messier.
"I suggest you to first put down the teacup!" Messier reminded the duke. Immediately the latter laid down the teacup to its original position on the table. Oh God of Light! He almost in his consciousness gulped the cup of tea.
"The forensic experts from Ministry of Justice has confirmed that the Chief of Investigation Bureau died from an overdose of drugs, contained in the cup of tea in front of him," Messier said as he pointed at the teacup near the corpse.
"My lord, as you can see from the two teacups rested on the table, it is estimated that the deceased was engaged in a conversation before he died. However, the strange part is, our investigation results shown the content inside of the teapot and the other cup were not contaminated, only the one that the deceased drank was poisonous. Therefore, I can't confirm if it was homicide or suicide."
"Have you found out who was the person who met here with Berkley?"
Messier shook his head, "The person didn't leave any trace. Although there were a woman cook and an old guard who watches the door, both of them were in another room when this happened." Baron said and did a slitting action at his throat.
"Smooth and clean, indeed!" Dortmund sighed helplessly. "Obviously, the other party killed them to ensure they keep their mouth shut. It seems like a murder planned with much thought to me. This person must have poisoned Berkley's drink when he didn't notice, and… I think the person should have been someone Uncle Berkley trusted tremendously because he doesn't usually open himself for encounters at this hour."
"That's what I thought too!" Messier nodded in agreement, but soon he shook his head, "My lord, in fact, my concern wasn't about the murderer, instead… are you definitely sure that the deceased is Chief of Military Investigation Bureau of Andrew House – Berkley Andrew Nedgabel?"
Slightly confused at the question, Dortmund once again inspected the dead body in front of him. "Yes, I'm definitely sure of that! But why did you ask this?"
Messier sighed deeply as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulder, "Things will get processed smoother with your confirmation! For now, I can only say that the death of Chief Berkley is actually not the worst event. Although there was something that has been bothering me for a while now. Seeing as Berkley is the Chief of the Military Investigation Bureau, a retired soldier who has worked many years as a secret agent, it seems inexplicable that he was so careless! For example, even on my deathbed, I wouldn't believe if Rudolf Hoss from Secret Service Department was murdered, therefore I think there must be some other reason behind the death of this chief."
"You're trying to say… that it is not an easy task to murder the leader that organizes underground warfare?" Dortmund voiced out loud his opinion.
"Of course, if not there will be no more secret agents in the world since long!" Messier rolled his eyes. He figured Duke Andrew didn't understand the work of secret service at all.
"Duke my lord, if I were Berkley, and the Secret Service Department has issued an order to track me down, I would definitely escape at first notice and run away as far as I could! But Berkley didn't, instead, he secluded himself here at this place. This suggests that perhaps there are still some matters at hands that he hadn't solve in Dulin. Hence, I don't think the death of Berkley means the end of things, something must be waiting for us out there."
Dortmund's brows drawn together, "Berkley should have escaped, but he didn't. He should have dealt with everyone around him with extreme suspicious, but now he was murdered! The whole matter doesn't make any sense."
"Exactly my point!" Baron Messier nodded slowly, "That was why I doubted if his death was homicide or suicide because things would have made sense if he killed himself. Perhaps he was fearful of the House's punishment, but now, we find out that he was being murdered…" Messier didn't continue his sentence, but instead, he shrugged nonchalantly without giving further explanation. Just as the Duke of Andrew said himself, the whole matter just wasn't making any sense!
"Marshal!" Colonel Peter called out of the blue, his hand already tugging at the cuff of the dead man's shirt.
Dortmund motioned a nod of approval to his adjutant. Immediately Peter revealed a dagger from his boot and utilized it to pick the material of the cuff. From within he pulled out a short note the length of a little finger.
"271149!" Peter examined the paper but was disappointed. "Look, marshal, there is nothing else except for this series of numbers."
"271149?" Dortmund took over the piece of paper, and his face was also washed over by discontent. The series of number didn't trigger any link or association from his memory. Duke Andrew skimmed the paper and passed it to Messier whose face was written with curiosity.
Intelligence Analysis Officer from Imperial Military Intelligence Bureau examined the note. The paper used was of ordinary quality, which was available all over around the market. This meant that they already lost a traceable clue from the paper.
"Could this be a file? Or a person? Because it reminds me of the archives of Secret Service Department, and those secret agents, as they have all been assigned a serial number."
Colonel Peter shook his head to disapprove of that suggestion, "The serial number for Narcissus County archives and the soldiers are only five digits, I've not heard of any with six digits!" The Confidential Secretary said, glancing at the marshal, as he was unsure if there was some confidential information that only the family leaders knew. However, even Duke Andrew shook his head.
"Then, it leaves us with only one possibility." Baron Messier shook the piece of note in his hands, "Maybe this was left intentionally for us to discover, as to mislead our investigation toward a wrong direction!"
Dortmund pondered on that idea, as he glanced over at old Berkley whose mouth was opened but couldn't give him a clear account of what had happened. His uncle must have been really angry when he realized death was approaching! Kachev Drakas Ferdinand! This name suddenly appeared in Duke Andrew's mind. Wasn't he the one who sort of led him to this place? It seemed like all of these must be closely related to this chancellor!
One of the investigators from the Military Investigation Bureau abruptly drew the curtains. Bright rays of sunlight soon flooded the room and entered their sight. Then, he pushed open the French windows on the back of the curtain. On the balcony were numerous flower pots. Dark green spider plants and hardy variety of climbing vines basked in the warm sunset of early winter.
The streets outside were drowned in chaotic shouts and exchanges of nasty rebukes. This investigator turned around to the people in the house.
"My lords, you should check this out!"
Charath South Street was the street within Dulin city with the longest history. Like all other old streets, it was extremely narrow, and on both sides were buildings worn down by the years without repair. These buildings were not considerably tall. On the first floor was small stores opened to the public, while second and third floors were residences for the generations of Dulin middle and lower-class citizens.
Charath South Street was also nicknamed Beheading Road. This narrow street opened from south to north, with its end blocked by St Charath Sineth Church. Almost no one wasn't familiar with the famous saint Charath Sineth, who was once the hero who killed numerous pagans. It was rumored the God of Light assigned him to the underworld when his life came to an end in order to become the figure of Death.
In a small square not far away from the church, there was a historical stone platform, on it was an ancient guillotine. It was apparent where the nickname received its inspiration. It was the ultimate destination for those condemned criminals of Dulin.
The history of the guillotine dates back to one century before Church Calendar. Its stone steps were stained with splattered blood. After enduring eras of hardships and washings, these bloodstains integrated into the marbles as pinkish veins, which turned into frightening dark red color when intermingled with layers of moss.
"Baptized at Dulin Scott Cathedral, graduated with a degree at the University Town, worked at Hamilton Palace, settled down in Penelope Avenue, confessed of sins in Department of Justice, and ended their lives in Charath South Street!" This became a favorite saying of Dulin people to describe the life of Dulin nobles. In fact, throughout history, all those characters who stood on this Charath guillotine were not far from these descriptions. They were all once dazzling and powerful eminent personages of Dulin.
Today, the historical chapter of Charath guillotine was about to insert another glorious chapter. It would welcome another top noble – the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, Marshal Valier Cypress. After six months of trial and sentence, His Majesty the Emperor of Titan Empire Osli Alfa Morisette finally entrusted the Supreme Military Court to issue the final ruling.
The prisoner cart that held the former marshal of Imperial Guards came from the south street and was immediately surrounded by "passionate" Dulin citizens. They obstructed the entire street and greeted the old marshal - whose hair was in disarray and shirt stained with blood - with decaying rotten fruits and stinking saliva. A group of noble youths has long since rented a "ceremonial" room in the residential area of Charath South Street. They had prepared for themselves a basket of stinky eggs beforehand, and with the marshal as a target, they began to refine their throwing skills!
"Traitor!""Betrayal!""Son of a whore!""Come kiss my ass!""Revenge for the sacrificed warriors!" The angry faces of the crowd distorted into strange shapes as they shouted the filthiest words of abuse at the man.
From their eyes shone brutal hatred so intense even the hateful expressions carried on the executor's faces were inferior to them. The enraged masses humiliated the condemned criminal confirmed by the emperor in all possible ways. They peed into the prisoner cart and threw excrement on to the prisoner's face. Perhaps not feeling that his misdoings were correctly justified, a foul-smelling guy stretched his neck to get a better view of the prisoner and shouted, "Open your mouth! And enjoy this piece of shit!".
The children weren't able to pronounce such defiled phrases. In their immature young voice, these children shouted words like bad guy or lazybones. These bunch of kids jumped around the street to collect small objects that could be utilized as weapons, for instance, little stones and half-eaten cakes. One child even threw a passing by wildcat in the poor man's face.
Valier Cypress, the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, was once the man who grasped the political power of the human affairs of the Imperial Guards in his hands, who took control over all the budget and expenses of the imperial military. But now, his appearance has changed so much even those familiar with him couldn't recognize. The marshal's officer uniform was torn, on it was stained with fresh and old blood. Now it was even contaminated with excrement and urine. It looked like it could be worn as a new costume for the circus clown.
Ignoring the commotion from the crowd, those Imperial Guards who guarded the prisoner cart broke up the crowd of onlookers who held bricks and bats in hands. The leader of the knights utilized shields to disperse the crowd obstructing the road that has caused a delay in the moving troop.
At the end of the prisoner cart was a couple of iron chains. These chains dragged behind after the cart, producing loud noises as the cart moved along. On the other end of these chains were wooden made locks, and each lock cuffed a prisoner of its own. These terrified criminals seized with fear were the family members of Marshal Valier Cypress, including his men and women, but it seemed that the Secret Service Department and Department of Justice had let off the children of the House.
The family members of marshal appeared to be greeted with even more enthusiasm from the crowd. The chief culprit was definitely destined for hell, while the real taste of torture was reserved for those who were to be left behind.
As the prisoner cart trotted under the sun, Messier De Quixote was reminded of something. If it wasn't for O'Neil Andrew Morisette who took care of him, he wouldn't want to guess what would become of him right now. Hence the baron thought he should mention his concern to the father of His Highness Prince.
"My lord, do you know? Although the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards Marshal Valier Cypress was pronounced guilty regarding many of the reported crimes until now we haven't found any concrete proof to associate him to the event of Saijo Mountain Battle!"
Messier checked the expression of Duke of Andrew. Dortmund appeared rather interested in what he was saying.
"And it's strange that Count Rudolf Hoss removed everything associated with Marshal Valier Cypress out of the Imperial Army, even those copies of files from the Military Intelligence Bureau too. In the end, even our own investigation team was completely excluded from the task of collecting evidence for the crime! After all, the target of the investigation was a former marshal of Imperial Guards hence it seemed unable to explain away what Count Rudolf Hoss has done. His action almost offended more than half of the capital's military forces but I couldn't believe why Marshal Alan didn't take this…"
"Baron!" Dortmund abruptly interrupted his analysis, "You should know that there's no point in bringing up a past matter, and keep your doubts to yourself, it's better like this for everyone else and yourself."
Messier kept quiet and nodded obediently with a smile on his face. However, there was a huge wave of emotions surging from his heart, because Duke of Andrew sounded exactly the same as Marshal Alan when he talked about this matter.
The executioners finally showed up. Two bare-chested hefty men stepped up to the guillotine, on their heads were two steeple-crowned hats.
A loud cheer burst out among the crowd. Those who had no idea what was happening would have thought the large crowd was cheering for the carnival.
The former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards was dragged out of the cart. The Imperial Guards officer who was assigned for transporting the prisoners handed over the emperor's handwritten order and the arbitral award from Supreme Military Court to the bishop of St Charath Senith Church. This archbishop took over the documents and scanned the ferocious looking condemned criminal up and down with careful eyes.
"Is this the criminal?"
The same knight from before turned around to look at the prisoner behind him. Replying first with a low sigh, he then confirmed the bishop, "Yes! That's him, the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, Marshal Valier Cypress."
"Confirmation completed!" The archbishop signed off the emperor's order with his own fingerprint. This amiable messenger of God smiled faintly at the knight, "Death wouldn't know if he was the Empire's Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, so you don't have to feel sorry about this."
The leader of the knight nodded with understanding, and ordered the knights stood behind him, "Send him to the guillotine."
The crowd once again broke out into excited applause. Whistles were heard from the open air as if they were really celebrating out of happiness for a festival. The crowd revealed astonishing expressions as they looked at the guillotine that has been tainted with numerous blood and lives, as though it was from there where they sought for bliss and happiness.
The two executioners finally met the criminal. They carried him sideways to place his head on the humanly shaped stone slab of the guillotine after making sure the wooden shackles and manacles on the prisoners were still firmly locked. When that was done, the executioners then tied the prisoner's four limbs to the leather straps fastened on the side of the stone slab.
Valier Cypress felt a cold metal sensation on his neck. That was a crack engraved on the surface of the stone slab after many times of being slapped down by the blade between the crack was accumulated with so much fresh blood and spirits that it was enough to spread down to hell.
"I came, and now I take my leave!" Valier mumbled this line of a poem silently to himself. Only until now that he truly appreciated the quality of these words. His smile froze on his face as he closed his eyes.
The crowd calmed down at the cue from the archbishop. They listened carefully to the speech delivered by the messenger of God, their eyes gradually eased down as if they had undergone a mass hypnosis.
"The devil always floats on the stormy side of life where danger and risks are present. The messenger from hell survives in tragedy and breaths on others' lives. In the name of God, the saint will lead him away from the devil and make him pay off in hell the sins made in this world. May he rest in peace!" At the last word of eulogy, the crowd bowed their heads and together with the bishop they made a gesture that signified the prayers to God in front of their chests.
"Any penance to the God?" Bishop asked in a soft voice to the head positioned underneath the blade of the guillotine.
"Ask Him to go to hell! And you too!" Valier Cypress blurted out these words through his gritted teeth.
The bishop shook his head at the stubborn man. He took a few steps backward and motioned at the executioners.
"Kill him!""Kill this fella who disgraced the God!""Kill this traitor!" The crowd transformed into madness again. They couldn't bear the filthy sinner that still acted against the powerful God even at death's door. Disregarding the guards who were pushing them back, the crowd tried to break through the defense wall to perform a final humiliation to the condemned criminals.
As the madness went on, one of the executioners pulled at the ropes connected to the blade. With the aid of pulley between the two wooden posts, the ropes raised the blade quickly to the top of the guillotine. Simultaneously, the commotion of the crowd also reached a new height.
The executioner paused his action as if waiting for a perfect moment to the next step. The crowd calmed down and the people of Dulin all held their breath in fear. According to the ancient tradition, the figure of death would come along the last ray of the sunset afterglow. This messenger would use a huge scythe to cleanse the world of all evil and mercilessly take away those souls bewitched by the devil. The shadow cast by the guillotine pointed directly to the main church door. The appropriate moment finally arrived.
Another executioner covered the face of the criminal with a dirty red cloth. The larynx of the man began to move up and down fiercely. The executioner nodded to his companion who hauled the rope, and the blade suddenly fell!
Dortmund retrieved his gaze from the tumbling bloody head. In one swift move, the life of Valier Cypress, one of the four marshals of the empire, had come to an end. He wanted to thank Kachev Drakas Ferdinand for guiding him here, if not he wouldn't have had the opportunity to witness such a scene.
Marshal Andrew's gaze wandered around the venue and he saw all kinds of people. There were men, women, the elderly, children, civilians, nobles. It seemed that people have not yet recovered from the bloody scene. Only until the executioners dragged the corpse away, and the knight retrieved that rolling head, they began to cry out cheers of delight.
Baron Messier pointed to several buildings along the street, "Look! The speaker of House of Lords, several directors of the State Council, few cabinet ministers, people from Imperial Secretariat, Ministry of Finance, Ministry of Justice, and from Ministry of Finance! Haha, all these busybodies of capital's noble are here to join in the fun!"
Dortmund looked closely at the balcony near his left. Indeed, these little rooms were gathered with neatly dressed lords with imposing appearances. "I saw them! But… it seems that someone's waving at me!"
Messier looked toward the direction where the Duke of Andrew had pointed at, "Oh God! That's Marshal Robin Sparse! He is, in fact, waving at you."
Late to realize, Dortmund quickly nodded at Marshal Robin who was seated on the balcony. Then he turned around to look at Berkley who was lying in the room. It seemed like this old man chose a good place to die.
Under the protection of many knights and secret agents, Duke of Andrew boarded Marshal Andrew's carriage. The knights guarded the carriage that didn't look too attractive but had sparked the curiosity of the passing by civilians and nobles who couldn't help but try to peek into the carriage.
"It's been a while, Dortmund!" Different from the other lords whose faces grew grave, unexpectedly Marshal Robin greeted him with an energetic smile.
"Yes, indeed, my lord. We haven't seen each other in a long while! But I notice that you're looking fine!"
"Of course!" Robin Sparse suddenly embraced the Duke of Andrew, causing the latter to be dumbfounded.
"Oh! I remember now!" Dortmund's eyes shone with brightness, "His Majesty the Emperor has appointed you as the new Chief of Staff for Imperial Guards. I've heard about it sometime before, but I didn't think it'd be so soon that…"
"Are you kidding!" Marshal Robin interrupted the Duke. He put on a serious expression, and pointed outside to the window, "My old friend's blood is still flowing outside on the ground! Moreover, who cares about this, really!"
Dortmund turned to the same direction. Several guards were washing the guillotine. Bloody red water gushed down from the steps like a mini waterfall. A couple of dogs rapidly rushed forward to drink the bloody water in order to quench their thirst.
The sight of it struck a chill into Duke of Andrew's heart, and he quickly returned his gaze to the old man.
"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have brought this up!" Dortmund sincerely bowed slightly to Marshal Robin, "You must have already received the message of my youngest son's safe return. To tell you the truth, I'm truly grateful for all you have done for my Oscar! It really put me, this father, to shame!"
"Hahaha!" The old man patted the Duke's shoulder, "Don't mention it, your youngest son is also my student, and he's a pretty good young man! But if he plots a couple more battles like the Saijo Mountain Battle, perhaps this old heart of mine couldn't take it anymore!" Delight was showing all over his face. From the drawer located at the bottom of the seats, he retrieved a bottle of Engels produced Brandy. "Pop!" He then removed the golden badge pinned in front of his chest to open the bottle of wine.
"Come on! Dortmund, the last time we met you were still a young lad who only cared about girls!"
"Hahahahaha!" Duke of Andrew grew excitement over the old man's enthusiasm and funny remark. He took over the wine bottle and filled their glasses close to the brim.
"To Oscar!" Dortmund raised his glass at Marshal Robin.
"Yes! To that young rascal who's definitely bolder and more daring than his father's young self!"
After a round of stiff drink, both the marshals weren't agitated. On the contrary, the alcohol evened their temper.
"Why are you here anyway?" Marshal Robin asked out of nowhere, "You don't seem like the kind who like crowds in an activity."
"Uh…" Dortmund hesitated to answer the question, but he was quick to put on a big smile, "You got it wrong this time, I'm indeed here to join the crowd. Well, what about you? You certainly are not one who likes the chaos! Moreover, the one being put to death was Marshal Valier Cypress!"
The light went out from Robin's eyes, "I'm only here to bid goodbye to my old friend. After all, Valier Cypress and I are of the same head family, and we've been through a lot throughout the years. Besides, the one being executed was the stupid Marshal Valier, this fella didn't even have a chance for a comeback! It was exactly his stupidity that allowed Alan to take advantage of him."
"What… what do you mean?" With extra care, Dortmund sought clarification. He knew that this old marshal hidden in the Imperial Military Academy was a difficult personage to deal with.
"Don't sound as if all this is none of your business! I'm only telling you this because you're Oscar's father!" Marshal Robin cast a dangerous look at Duke of Andrew.
Dortmund adjusted his expression. There was nothing for him to be scrupulous about, as he had said earlier, any doubts regarding past events were only one's psychology playing with their mind.
Seeing that Duke of Andrew remained expressionless, the old marshal gave up and turned his head around.
"Dortmund, I've no idea what's your arrangement with Alan, and I don't want to know about your hazardous plans for the future either, but I really ought to remind you to take all kinds of opinion into consideration. Alan is playing with fire, you know? I haven't notice that earlier but now I realized how much threat he poses being here in the capital!" The old marshal said and pointed at his own head.
"Actually… all these are not that important really, the prioritized concern is about Oscar's future. Perhaps you might think Alan's strategy is practical, but I'm worried if that sly old fox will end up like Valier Cypress!"
Dortmund avoided Marshal Robin's burning stare on intention. He already had so much on his plate, with things happening in his family and matters to that old Kachev. If he had to beware of both Silver Fox Alan and this old marshal who sat opposite him then this trip to the capital truly put him down to the bottom of his luck!
"Why do you think so?" Dortmund couldn't resist the doubts pestering his mind.
Robin shrugged nonchalantly, "More or less I can guess what evil plans are Alan plotting in his mind. Although he is of high prestige in the army, being the Dean of Imperial Military Academy for numerous years I have fostered my own connections too. Not mentioning those high-ranking military officers in the regionals, more than half of the officers in Imperial Army used to be my students."
Dortmund shook his head, "I'm well aware of your power and influence so there's no need for you to show them off to me. You still haven't answered my question."
"Is there still a need for that?" Marshal Robin raised his eyebrows, "Although I don't know about the exact content of the correspondence between you and Alan, someone will definitely keep me informed about it."
Dortmund clicked his tongue. He was completely speechless now.
"You've been taken in! I'm sure Alan's plan is greater than what he revealed to you in the letter!" Robin finally cast his bait.
"Oh?" As expected, Duke of Andrew revealed a confused expression.
"Even I'm aware of this, so don't you think our great Majesty the Emperor will not know?" Marshal Robin looked mockingly at Dortmund, "Now you should know why you are encountering numerous big problems in Dulin. The reason the Emperor has pressured you was because he picked up some dangerous signals based on the cooperation of Andrew and the military. His Majesty the Third may allow Alan's tricks because his tactics have indeed changed the strategic layout of the Empire. As the master of Titan, the Emperor knew better than anyone that Alan's strategy did no harm to himself! However, if the same thing happens to Andrew…"
Dortmund trembled at the thoughts. Why did Alfa III lay his cards on the table at this inappropriate moment? Marshal of Andrew finally comprehended the mystery of how the Imperial Army could change their usual practice, but Andrew couldn't! By only avoiding the constraints of Titan Code to get to the eastern part of Deiss already triggered the emperor's vigilance. He wanted Andrew to restore their correct profile, he wanted Andrew to bow down to Morisette once more!
If so, how could he explain the internal conflict in his House? Dortmund frowned to think hard but he could only infer that it was a by-product of which Oscar's distress acted as a catalyst! Coupled with Kachev Drakas Ferdinand's teasing…Wait a minute! What was old Kachev's intention really? His position has reached its peak, so was he creating so much trouble in order to become the emperor? It didn't seem quite possible! That illegitimate child made the royal family keep this cabinet chancellor at arm's length, so what could the old man possibly wish for?
Dortmund once again downed the glass of alcohol. Dulin was occupied by a group of monsters, and this was definitely not a place to stay. However, he still agreed to Marshal Robin's inference that if it wasn't for Alan's strategy, he would not have appeared in the capital, then all of these would not have happened!
Alan seemed too frail for his large appetite! He stabilized the southern part of the empire, called the western part his own, gradually reorganizing the northern part of the empire, and also… perhaps the most obscured motive behind all his planning was that he successfully isolated the eastern part of the empire! He managed to isolate Andrew!
However, Dortmund knew Alan's obscure strategy toward Andrew wasn't malicious. In the eyes of most of the Empire's important people, Andrew should only stay obediently in the eastern border. It could also be said that to a large extent, Alan's strategy has been a help to Andrew. Due to the exposure of their ambitions and repression from imperial family, Andrew House's own instability was completely revealed. Dortmund could, therefore, take the right actions to solve the problems; to prepare his people mentally for the debut of his youngest son, therefore, laying down some foundation for his future rule.
If this had been expected by Alan since long before, then Dortmund had to admit that even though they were both marshals he was slightly at the lower hand compared to Silver Fox!
"Dortmund, will you do me a favor?" Marshal Robin broke the long silence, interrupting Duke of Andrew's train of thought. "Very soon, the Emperor will issue an order for me to become the next Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, and I want to seize this opportunity to request a demand."
"What is it?" Marshal Andrew became perplexed again. What was wrong with these old men in Dulin? What was in the thoughts of Marshal Robin now?
"I want the Military Intelligence Bureau to be withdrawn from the Combat Department to be under the control of the Chief of Staff!"
"You must be kidding!" Duke of Andrew widened his eyes, "Marshal Alan is going to disdain you for this, he will never agree with this idea!"
"That's for sure!" Marshal Robin shrugged with indifference. "The Military Intelligence Bureau is a real powerful department created single-handedly by him and he will never give it up, but I can't allow his forces to continue expanding in the military either! Do not forget that the chief position of the Military Intelligence Bureau is still vacant, in preparation for young Oscar. I don't want young Oscar to turn into a yes-man of that dangerous person Alan. I think Oscar and the Military Intelligence Bureau under his command must struggle out of Alan's control!"
In the twinkling of an eye, Dortmund understood perfectly the associations between all these. No matter what was Robin's ulterior motive, this suggestion of his was indeed worth considering.
"And so, what should we do to let Marshal Alan give up?"
Robin didn't bother concealing the excitement for the first step of his successful plot. One day, sooner or later, this father sitting opposite him would discover that he had racked his brain trying to mold a proud disciple.
"I will choose an appropriate time to propose this initiative. I know Alan will definitely stand up against my idea of putting the Military Intelligence Bureau under the administration of Chief of Staff, and His Majesty the Emperor might also take his side! So just when Alan and I are each sticking to our guns… Marshal Andrew, you must stand up to suggest another idea! You should propose for the Military Intelligence Bureau to be a complete independent department, separating it from the Combat Department and Chief of Staff to be the third largest unit which would be directly under His Majesty's responsibility!"
Dortmund almost slapped at his thighs at this brilliant idea, it seemed that all of these experienced men of capital Dulin were all extremely interesting figures.
"Let's do it your way, Marshal Robin! Your tactics are impeccable. Out of all the choices he was to be given His Majesty the Third will certainly agree to this compromised opinion that "I" suggest. Besides, if the Military Intelligence Bureau really becomes the third largest unit and is responsible only to the Emperor, in other words, this new real powerful department will become the second Secret Service Department other than the Imperial Secret Service Department, I'm sure the Emperor must be willing to accept it."
"You're totally right! However, even so, Alan would still be the person in charge of arranging the personnel placement in Military Intelligence Bureau. This means that it'll still be up to Oscar to fully grasp the forces to lead these secret intelligence agents powerful enough to influence the Imperial Guards!" The old Marshal finished his sentence and patted the shoulder of the Duke of Andrew. "Let's toast to our child!"
Dortmund could only raise his glass and forced out a smile. It has been too long since he last dealt with a Dulin, and he found himself not working at it with great skills.
***************
O'Neil Andrew Morisette was completely furious! What happened to his courage and physique during the escape? Currently, His Highness Prince couldn't even hold an egg steadily in his hand! He could vividly remember the expression on the Eight Region Second Corps' main physician when he examined his wound. If it weren't for the troop of soldiers completely armed to the teeth and the other two super assassins who were staring closely at the process all this time, the prince believed his physician could have long since labeled him with a black label that indicates a patient was untreatable!
Anyway, having said that, Oscar himself wondered how he endured this ardent process! Not to mention those wounds of knives and swords, those eight injuries incurred by shooting arrows all over his body were already a terribly disgusting sight! Oscar himself almost fainted by the horrible stench emitted when the physician removed that piece of torn cloth from his body. What was even more outrageous was that the physician found half a piece of arrowhead buried in his scapula when cleaning the wound! Oscar's eyes widened at the arrow that had been completely corroded by blood. Oscar couldn't believe how he hadn't felt anything in all these days!
Thinking of last night made His Imperial Highness' face burn with redness! He remembered screaming and kicking like a lady when his physician applied ointment to the wound! If not for the few Second Corp tall soldiers who kept pressing down his arms tightly, he would have long since smashed his fist into the physician's face! Throughout the whole process, he found himself thinking of his friend Percy. It seemed that he should only rely on people whom he trusted and was familiar with when it came to medical concerns.
"Hey! Can both of you stop talking? I'm on the verge of cutting off your tongues!"
Oscar finally expressed his impatience. Using his only good hand, he knocked the head in front and behind of him respectively!
James and Maxime burst out into sly laughter. As the first few fortunate ones to have discovered His Highness Prince, they were assigned by Major General Silvio to… bear a stretcher! However, both the messenger and sentry didn't have any complaints regarding this assignment, instead, they were buoyant all-day long. In order to commend their efforts in discovering the prince and render meritorious military service in the rescue plan, Silvio had submitted to the Imperial Army two requests for the Warrior Medal.
Hehe! The Empire Warrior Medal! In these recent years, only Big Brother Ciel was awarded this reward in the entire Eight Region!
Bubbling over with excitement, James and Maxime talked about all sorts of nonsense under the sun. They were each other's best partners, at the same time each other's worst enemy. Throughout the whole journey with His Highness Prince, these two guys were non-stop arguing over every little trivial matter.
"Your Highness, how do you like the rattan seat?" Maxime asked.
"Hmm!" Oscar replied with a snort. He felt a little strange about his impression toward these two men as he normally wouldn't have gotten along with people who talked too much. Perhaps it could be that James and Maxime rescued him.
"Hehe! In the southern mountainous area, only big heroes and nobles like Your Highness could enjoy this privilege deck chair to go up the mountains! So grand it looks!" James also chipped in.
"He's right, Your Highness! What you're traveling on now is an authentic mountain deck chair, I spent the whole afternoon to build this thing!"
"Hey, I contributed too!"
"You only picked a few rattans, that's all!"
"Bullshit! I constructed the framework!"
"You only…"
"My two Empire Warriors, that's really enough!" Oscar interrupted their banter impatiently. He didn't like how they always seemed to forget his presence once they get into a heated argument.
"One golden Ti! Who can tell me where are we actually heading?" Oscar glanced back at the overcrowded mountain warriors who sandwiched him and then at the surrounding thick woods. He already found himself on the deck chair when he came from unconsciousness.
"Hehehe!" James revealed his gleaming white teeth, "Your Highness, you asked the wrong person. We're the Empire Warriors, and we'll never bend down to one golden Ti! Commander said it was a top confidential information that we could never reveal to you!"
"Your Highness!" Maxime chirped in again, "Don't listen to any of James' bullshit, he will spill the secret right away on a hundred golden Ti! This fella is just greedy by nature!"
"Shut your nonsense!" James glared at Maxime from the other end of the deck chair.
"I'm exactly right! If I haven't been watching you, you have long become a deserter!"
"Are you asking for a fight?"
"Come on!"
"..."
Oscar rolled his eyes helplessly. No matter what awaited him, his only concern now was to speed up his recovery so he could return to the arms of his friends and lovers!
The setting reddish sun illuminated the vast sky, making the woods appear to be on fire! Deiss champak trees in the early winter dusk exuded a soft, tranquil fragrance. In the last season of the year, tuberose hidden in the depths of the woods revealed their budding flowers like a bride underneath a veil, shyly standing in a dark corner.
Forest birds spread their wings around as the long winter approached, and they had to seize the time to fill their belly. Squirrels and guinea pigs competed for expanding their territory. They were simultaneously neighbors, but also rivals.
The scenery in the woods gradually cleared up, and field of vision also slowly opened up. A red horizon hovered in the west. The last afterglow of sunset silhouetted against the flames.
The deck chair came to a halt and was rested on the ground. O'Neil Andrew Morisette slowly opened his eyes. Oh God! What was this?
A long queue of knights stretched into infinity, their bodies were drenched in a blood-red glory, proudly displaying their heroic spirits in front of the horizon. These knights centered around a white flag with red stripes, the fluttering perfect lines made the young man narrow his eyes to carefully scrutinize.
Fierce Tiger! Narcissus! But the tiger illustrated on this flag was red in color.
"I want to stand up! I want to stand up!" With his trembling arms, Oscar supported his whole body weight, and finally! He rose to his full height! His knights were waiting for him! He still needed to lead them to assault!
The moment their commander got to his feet, the camp of Fierce Tiger sounded an earth-shattering noise of knives and spears hitting against shields. The loud volume frightened the flying creatures and beasts in the wood.
All of a sudden, a knight sped by from the camp toward the commander. He mounted the warhorse and performed an immaculate salute.
Major General Murat Bedoya handed over the machete and Delin mini cannon Oscar left behind in Saijo mountain Battle to the hand of the commander.
With much care, Oscar received the items. He tucked the mini cannon into his bosom, the other hand grasped tightly around the handle of the machete.
Murat remained silent and retreated with a small step to the side. This moment belonged to the hero.
Facing his thousands and thousands of soldiers, Oscar raised aloft the weapon above his head!
"Andrew Haila!"
Between heaven and earth sounded an ear-splitting cheer.
"Oscar is back!"
An intricate tea set was placed in order on the table. A fire burned silently in the fireplace, emitting warm radiance to all four corners of the room. Numerous inspectors occupied themselves around the room. As they thumped their feet on the ground, the vibration produced was so strong it sent ripples in the teacups.
Dortmund was seated beside a small table, inspecting Berkley Andrew Nedgabel on the sofa opposite himself. A long time ago, Berkley was the tallest and most amicable person he knew. Memories came flooding into Dortmund's mind as he continued looking at his uncle. It was Uncle Berkley who gifted him his first ever pony. It was Uncle Berkley who taught him the profound theory of politics. It was Uncle Berkley who officiated his wedding with Celia. Now, it was Uncle Berkley who stood up against himself.
After what seemed like forever, Dortmund finally gave out a long and meaningful sigh and turned to face Colonel Peter.
"I still can't believe he died, just like that!"
Peter had no words in reply. Instead, he walked forward to nudge the dead body of the Chief of Military Investigation Bureau. Old Berkley leaned against the back of the sofa. His limbs weak and limp, eyes rolled to the ceiling, white foam and traces of saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth.
"Judging from the degree of elasticity from the deceased's facial appearance and organisms, time of death is predicted to be one to two hours ago." Baron Messier De Quixote explained to Marshal Andrew and the young confidential secretary. As the person in charge of the main branch of Military Intelligence Bureau, Messier was first to arrive at the crime scene.
"Besides, on the inner side of the deceased's teeth was stained with hashish, and on his left fingers can be noticed apparent yellow stain. This states that the deceased was habitually experienced with using his left hand before his death, and had a strong dependence on tobacco. His facial characteristics correspond to the facts that…"
"Tell me about the cause of death," Dortmund interrupted Baron Messier.
"I suggest you to first put down the teacup!" Messier reminded the duke. Immediately the latter laid down the teacup to its original position on the table. Oh God of Light! He almost in his consciousness gulped the cup of tea.
"The forensic experts from Ministry of Justice has confirmed that the Chief of Investigation Bureau died from an overdose of drugs, contained in the cup of tea in front of him," Messier said as he pointed at the teacup near the corpse.
"My lord, as you can see from the two teacups rested on the table, it is estimated that the deceased was engaged in a conversation before he died. However, the strange part is, our investigation results shown the content inside of the teapot and the other cup were not contaminated, only the one that the deceased drank was poisonous. Therefore, I can't confirm if it was homicide or suicide."
"Have you found out who was the person who met here with Berkley?"
Messier shook his head, "The person didn't leave any trace. Although there were a woman cook and an old guard who watches the door, both of them were in another room when this happened." Baron said and did a slitting action at his throat.
"Smooth and clean, indeed!" Dortmund sighed helplessly. "Obviously, the other party killed them to ensure they keep their mouth shut. It seems like a murder planned with much thought to me. This person must have poisoned Berkley's drink when he didn't notice, and… I think the person should have been someone Uncle Berkley trusted tremendously because he doesn't usually open himself for encounters at this hour."
"That's what I thought too!" Messier nodded in agreement, but soon he shook his head, "My lord, in fact, my concern wasn't about the murderer, instead… are you definitely sure that the deceased is Chief of Military Investigation Bureau of Andrew House – Berkley Andrew Nedgabel?"
Slightly confused at the question, Dortmund once again inspected the dead body in front of him. "Yes, I'm definitely sure of that! But why did you ask this?"
Messier sighed deeply as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulder, "Things will get processed smoother with your confirmation! For now, I can only say that the death of Chief Berkley is actually not the worst event. Although there was something that has been bothering me for a while now. Seeing as Berkley is the Chief of the Military Investigation Bureau, a retired soldier who has worked many years as a secret agent, it seems inexplicable that he was so careless! For example, even on my deathbed, I wouldn't believe if Rudolf Hoss from Secret Service Department was murdered, therefore I think there must be some other reason behind the death of this chief."
"You're trying to say… that it is not an easy task to murder the leader that organizes underground warfare?" Dortmund voiced out loud his opinion.
"Of course, if not there will be no more secret agents in the world since long!" Messier rolled his eyes. He figured Duke Andrew didn't understand the work of secret service at all.
"Duke my lord, if I were Berkley, and the Secret Service Department has issued an order to track me down, I would definitely escape at first notice and run away as far as I could! But Berkley didn't, instead, he secluded himself here at this place. This suggests that perhaps there are still some matters at hands that he hadn't solve in Dulin. Hence, I don't think the death of Berkley means the end of things, something must be waiting for us out there."
Dortmund's brows drawn together, "Berkley should have escaped, but he didn't. He should have dealt with everyone around him with extreme suspicious, but now he was murdered! The whole matter doesn't make any sense."
"Exactly my point!" Baron Messier nodded slowly, "That was why I doubted if his death was homicide or suicide because things would have made sense if he killed himself. Perhaps he was fearful of the House's punishment, but now, we find out that he was being murdered…" Messier didn't continue his sentence, but instead, he shrugged nonchalantly without giving further explanation. Just as the Duke of Andrew said himself, the whole matter just wasn't making any sense!
"Marshal!" Colonel Peter called out of the blue, his hand already tugging at the cuff of the dead man's shirt.
Dortmund motioned a nod of approval to his adjutant. Immediately Peter revealed a dagger from his boot and utilized it to pick the material of the cuff. From within he pulled out a short note the length of a little finger.
"271149!" Peter examined the paper but was disappointed. "Look, marshal, there is nothing else except for this series of numbers."
"271149?" Dortmund took over the piece of paper, and his face was also washed over by discontent. The series of number didn't trigger any link or association from his memory. Duke Andrew skimmed the paper and passed it to Messier whose face was written with curiosity.
Intelligence Analysis Officer from Imperial Military Intelligence Bureau examined the note. The paper used was of ordinary quality, which was available all over around the market. This meant that they already lost a traceable clue from the paper.
"Could this be a file? Or a person? Because it reminds me of the archives of Secret Service Department, and those secret agents, as they have all been assigned a serial number."
Colonel Peter shook his head to disapprove of that suggestion, "The serial number for Narcissus County archives and the soldiers are only five digits, I've not heard of any with six digits!" The Confidential Secretary said, glancing at the marshal, as he was unsure if there was some confidential information that only the family leaders knew. However, even Duke Andrew shook his head.
"Then, it leaves us with only one possibility." Baron Messier shook the piece of note in his hands, "Maybe this was left intentionally for us to discover, as to mislead our investigation toward a wrong direction!"
Dortmund pondered on that idea, as he glanced over at old Berkley whose mouth was opened but couldn't give him a clear account of what had happened. His uncle must have been really angry when he realized death was approaching! Kachev Drakas Ferdinand! This name suddenly appeared in Duke Andrew's mind. Wasn't he the one who sort of led him to this place? It seemed like all of these must be closely related to this chancellor!
One of the investigators from the Military Investigation Bureau abruptly drew the curtains. Bright rays of sunlight soon flooded the room and entered their sight. Then, he pushed open the French windows on the back of the curtain. On the balcony were numerous flower pots. Dark green spider plants and hardy variety of climbing vines basked in the warm sunset of early winter.
The streets outside were drowned in chaotic shouts and exchanges of nasty rebukes. This investigator turned around to the people in the house.
"My lords, you should check this out!"
Charath South Street was the street within Dulin city with the longest history. Like all other old streets, it was extremely narrow, and on both sides were buildings worn down by the years without repair. These buildings were not considerably tall. On the first floor was small stores opened to the public, while second and third floors were residences for the generations of Dulin middle and lower-class citizens.
Charath South Street was also nicknamed Beheading Road. This narrow street opened from south to north, with its end blocked by St Charath Sineth Church. Almost no one wasn't familiar with the famous saint Charath Sineth, who was once the hero who killed numerous pagans. It was rumored the God of Light assigned him to the underworld when his life came to an end in order to become the figure of Death.
In a small square not far away from the church, there was a historical stone platform, on it was an ancient guillotine. It was apparent where the nickname received its inspiration. It was the ultimate destination for those condemned criminals of Dulin.
The history of the guillotine dates back to one century before Church Calendar. Its stone steps were stained with splattered blood. After enduring eras of hardships and washings, these bloodstains integrated into the marbles as pinkish veins, which turned into frightening dark red color when intermingled with layers of moss.
"Baptized at Dulin Scott Cathedral, graduated with a degree at the University Town, worked at Hamilton Palace, settled down in Penelope Avenue, confessed of sins in Department of Justice, and ended their lives in Charath South Street!" This became a favorite saying of Dulin people to describe the life of Dulin nobles. In fact, throughout history, all those characters who stood on this Charath guillotine were not far from these descriptions. They were all once dazzling and powerful eminent personages of Dulin.
Today, the historical chapter of Charath guillotine was about to insert another glorious chapter. It would welcome another top noble – the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, Marshal Valier Cypress. After six months of trial and sentence, His Majesty the Emperor of Titan Empire Osli Alfa Morisette finally entrusted the Supreme Military Court to issue the final ruling.
The prisoner cart that held the former marshal of Imperial Guards came from the south street and was immediately surrounded by "passionate" Dulin citizens. They obstructed the entire street and greeted the old marshal - whose hair was in disarray and shirt stained with blood - with decaying rotten fruits and stinking saliva. A group of noble youths has long since rented a "ceremonial" room in the residential area of Charath South Street. They had prepared for themselves a basket of stinky eggs beforehand, and with the marshal as a target, they began to refine their throwing skills!
"Traitor!""Betrayal!""Son of a whore!""Come kiss my ass!""Revenge for the sacrificed warriors!" The angry faces of the crowd distorted into strange shapes as they shouted the filthiest words of abuse at the man.
From their eyes shone brutal hatred so intense even the hateful expressions carried on the executor's faces were inferior to them. The enraged masses humiliated the condemned criminal confirmed by the emperor in all possible ways. They peed into the prisoner cart and threw excrement on to the prisoner's face. Perhaps not feeling that his misdoings were correctly justified, a foul-smelling guy stretched his neck to get a better view of the prisoner and shouted, "Open your mouth! And enjoy this piece of shit!".
The children weren't able to pronounce such defiled phrases. In their immature young voice, these children shouted words like bad guy or lazybones. These bunch of kids jumped around the street to collect small objects that could be utilized as weapons, for instance, little stones and half-eaten cakes. One child even threw a passing by wildcat in the poor man's face.
Valier Cypress, the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, was once the man who grasped the political power of the human affairs of the Imperial Guards in his hands, who took control over all the budget and expenses of the imperial military. But now, his appearance has changed so much even those familiar with him couldn't recognize. The marshal's officer uniform was torn, on it was stained with fresh and old blood. Now it was even contaminated with excrement and urine. It looked like it could be worn as a new costume for the circus clown.
Ignoring the commotion from the crowd, those Imperial Guards who guarded the prisoner cart broke up the crowd of onlookers who held bricks and bats in hands. The leader of the knights utilized shields to disperse the crowd obstructing the road that has caused a delay in the moving troop.
At the end of the prisoner cart was a couple of iron chains. These chains dragged behind after the cart, producing loud noises as the cart moved along. On the other end of these chains were wooden made locks, and each lock cuffed a prisoner of its own. These terrified criminals seized with fear were the family members of Marshal Valier Cypress, including his men and women, but it seemed that the Secret Service Department and Department of Justice had let off the children of the House.
The family members of marshal appeared to be greeted with even more enthusiasm from the crowd. The chief culprit was definitely destined for hell, while the real taste of torture was reserved for those who were to be left behind.
As the prisoner cart trotted under the sun, Messier De Quixote was reminded of something. If it wasn't for O'Neil Andrew Morisette who took care of him, he wouldn't want to guess what would become of him right now. Hence the baron thought he should mention his concern to the father of His Highness Prince.
"My lord, do you know? Although the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards Marshal Valier Cypress was pronounced guilty regarding many of the reported crimes until now we haven't found any concrete proof to associate him to the event of Saijo Mountain Battle!"
Messier checked the expression of Duke of Andrew. Dortmund appeared rather interested in what he was saying.
"And it's strange that Count Rudolf Hoss removed everything associated with Marshal Valier Cypress out of the Imperial Army, even those copies of files from the Military Intelligence Bureau too. In the end, even our own investigation team was completely excluded from the task of collecting evidence for the crime! After all, the target of the investigation was a former marshal of Imperial Guards hence it seemed unable to explain away what Count Rudolf Hoss has done. His action almost offended more than half of the capital's military forces but I couldn't believe why Marshal Alan didn't take this…"
"Baron!" Dortmund abruptly interrupted his analysis, "You should know that there's no point in bringing up a past matter, and keep your doubts to yourself, it's better like this for everyone else and yourself."
Messier kept quiet and nodded obediently with a smile on his face. However, there was a huge wave of emotions surging from his heart, because Duke of Andrew sounded exactly the same as Marshal Alan when he talked about this matter.
The executioners finally showed up. Two bare-chested hefty men stepped up to the guillotine, on their heads were two steeple-crowned hats.
A loud cheer burst out among the crowd. Those who had no idea what was happening would have thought the large crowd was cheering for the carnival.
The former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards was dragged out of the cart. The Imperial Guards officer who was assigned for transporting the prisoners handed over the emperor's handwritten order and the arbitral award from Supreme Military Court to the bishop of St Charath Senith Church. This archbishop took over the documents and scanned the ferocious looking condemned criminal up and down with careful eyes.
"Is this the criminal?"
The same knight from before turned around to look at the prisoner behind him. Replying first with a low sigh, he then confirmed the bishop, "Yes! That's him, the former Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, Marshal Valier Cypress."
"Confirmation completed!" The archbishop signed off the emperor's order with his own fingerprint. This amiable messenger of God smiled faintly at the knight, "Death wouldn't know if he was the Empire's Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, so you don't have to feel sorry about this."
The leader of the knight nodded with understanding, and ordered the knights stood behind him, "Send him to the guillotine."
The crowd once again broke out into excited applause. Whistles were heard from the open air as if they were really celebrating out of happiness for a festival. The crowd revealed astonishing expressions as they looked at the guillotine that has been tainted with numerous blood and lives, as though it was from there where they sought for bliss and happiness.
The two executioners finally met the criminal. They carried him sideways to place his head on the humanly shaped stone slab of the guillotine after making sure the wooden shackles and manacles on the prisoners were still firmly locked. When that was done, the executioners then tied the prisoner's four limbs to the leather straps fastened on the side of the stone slab.
Valier Cypress felt a cold metal sensation on his neck. That was a crack engraved on the surface of the stone slab after many times of being slapped down by the blade between the crack was accumulated with so much fresh blood and spirits that it was enough to spread down to hell.
"I came, and now I take my leave!" Valier mumbled this line of a poem silently to himself. Only until now that he truly appreciated the quality of these words. His smile froze on his face as he closed his eyes.
The crowd calmed down at the cue from the archbishop. They listened carefully to the speech delivered by the messenger of God, their eyes gradually eased down as if they had undergone a mass hypnosis.
"The devil always floats on the stormy side of life where danger and risks are present. The messenger from hell survives in tragedy and breaths on others' lives. In the name of God, the saint will lead him away from the devil and make him pay off in hell the sins made in this world. May he rest in peace!" At the last word of eulogy, the crowd bowed their heads and together with the bishop they made a gesture that signified the prayers to God in front of their chests.
"Any penance to the God?" Bishop asked in a soft voice to the head positioned underneath the blade of the guillotine.
"Ask Him to go to hell! And you too!" Valier Cypress blurted out these words through his gritted teeth.
The bishop shook his head at the stubborn man. He took a few steps backward and motioned at the executioners.
"Kill him!""Kill this fella who disgraced the God!""Kill this traitor!" The crowd transformed into madness again. They couldn't bear the filthy sinner that still acted against the powerful God even at death's door. Disregarding the guards who were pushing them back, the crowd tried to break through the defense wall to perform a final humiliation to the condemned criminals.
As the madness went on, one of the executioners pulled at the ropes connected to the blade. With the aid of pulley between the two wooden posts, the ropes raised the blade quickly to the top of the guillotine. Simultaneously, the commotion of the crowd also reached a new height.
The executioner paused his action as if waiting for a perfect moment to the next step. The crowd calmed down and the people of Dulin all held their breath in fear. According to the ancient tradition, the figure of death would come along the last ray of the sunset afterglow. This messenger would use a huge scythe to cleanse the world of all evil and mercilessly take away those souls bewitched by the devil. The shadow cast by the guillotine pointed directly to the main church door. The appropriate moment finally arrived.
Another executioner covered the face of the criminal with a dirty red cloth. The larynx of the man began to move up and down fiercely. The executioner nodded to his companion who hauled the rope, and the blade suddenly fell!
Dortmund retrieved his gaze from the tumbling bloody head. In one swift move, the life of Valier Cypress, one of the four marshals of the empire, had come to an end. He wanted to thank Kachev Drakas Ferdinand for guiding him here, if not he wouldn't have had the opportunity to witness such a scene.
Marshal Andrew's gaze wandered around the venue and he saw all kinds of people. There were men, women, the elderly, children, civilians, nobles. It seemed that people have not yet recovered from the bloody scene. Only until the executioners dragged the corpse away, and the knight retrieved that rolling head, they began to cry out cheers of delight.
Baron Messier pointed to several buildings along the street, "Look! The speaker of House of Lords, several directors of the State Council, few cabinet ministers, people from Imperial Secretariat, Ministry of Finance, Ministry of Justice, and from Ministry of Finance! Haha, all these busybodies of capital's noble are here to join in the fun!"
Dortmund looked closely at the balcony near his left. Indeed, these little rooms were gathered with neatly dressed lords with imposing appearances. "I saw them! But… it seems that someone's waving at me!"
Messier looked toward the direction where the Duke of Andrew had pointed at, "Oh God! That's Marshal Robin Sparse! He is, in fact, waving at you."
Late to realize, Dortmund quickly nodded at Marshal Robin who was seated on the balcony. Then he turned around to look at Berkley who was lying in the room. It seemed like this old man chose a good place to die.
Under the protection of many knights and secret agents, Duke of Andrew boarded Marshal Andrew's carriage. The knights guarded the carriage that didn't look too attractive but had sparked the curiosity of the passing by civilians and nobles who couldn't help but try to peek into the carriage.
"It's been a while, Dortmund!" Different from the other lords whose faces grew grave, unexpectedly Marshal Robin greeted him with an energetic smile.
"Yes, indeed, my lord. We haven't seen each other in a long while! But I notice that you're looking fine!"
"Of course!" Robin Sparse suddenly embraced the Duke of Andrew, causing the latter to be dumbfounded.
"Oh! I remember now!" Dortmund's eyes shone with brightness, "His Majesty the Emperor has appointed you as the new Chief of Staff for Imperial Guards. I've heard about it sometime before, but I didn't think it'd be so soon that…"
"Are you kidding!" Marshal Robin interrupted the Duke. He put on a serious expression, and pointed outside to the window, "My old friend's blood is still flowing outside on the ground! Moreover, who cares about this, really!"
Dortmund turned to the same direction. Several guards were washing the guillotine. Bloody red water gushed down from the steps like a mini waterfall. A couple of dogs rapidly rushed forward to drink the bloody water in order to quench their thirst.
The sight of it struck a chill into Duke of Andrew's heart, and he quickly returned his gaze to the old man.
"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have brought this up!" Dortmund sincerely bowed slightly to Marshal Robin, "You must have already received the message of my youngest son's safe return. To tell you the truth, I'm truly grateful for all you have done for my Oscar! It really put me, this father, to shame!"
"Hahaha!" The old man patted the Duke's shoulder, "Don't mention it, your youngest son is also my student, and he's a pretty good young man! But if he plots a couple more battles like the Saijo Mountain Battle, perhaps this old heart of mine couldn't take it anymore!" Delight was showing all over his face. From the drawer located at the bottom of the seats, he retrieved a bottle of Engels produced Brandy. "Pop!" He then removed the golden badge pinned in front of his chest to open the bottle of wine.
"Come on! Dortmund, the last time we met you were still a young lad who only cared about girls!"
"Hahahahaha!" Duke of Andrew grew excitement over the old man's enthusiasm and funny remark. He took over the wine bottle and filled their glasses close to the brim.
"To Oscar!" Dortmund raised his glass at Marshal Robin.
"Yes! To that young rascal who's definitely bolder and more daring than his father's young self!"
After a round of stiff drink, both the marshals weren't agitated. On the contrary, the alcohol evened their temper.
"Why are you here anyway?" Marshal Robin asked out of nowhere, "You don't seem like the kind who like crowds in an activity."
"Uh…" Dortmund hesitated to answer the question, but he was quick to put on a big smile, "You got it wrong this time, I'm indeed here to join the crowd. Well, what about you? You certainly are not one who likes the chaos! Moreover, the one being put to death was Marshal Valier Cypress!"
The light went out from Robin's eyes, "I'm only here to bid goodbye to my old friend. After all, Valier Cypress and I are of the same head family, and we've been through a lot throughout the years. Besides, the one being executed was the stupid Marshal Valier, this fella didn't even have a chance for a comeback! It was exactly his stupidity that allowed Alan to take advantage of him."
"What… what do you mean?" With extra care, Dortmund sought clarification. He knew that this old marshal hidden in the Imperial Military Academy was a difficult personage to deal with.
"Don't sound as if all this is none of your business! I'm only telling you this because you're Oscar's father!" Marshal Robin cast a dangerous look at Duke of Andrew.
Dortmund adjusted his expression. There was nothing for him to be scrupulous about, as he had said earlier, any doubts regarding past events were only one's psychology playing with their mind.
Seeing that Duke of Andrew remained expressionless, the old marshal gave up and turned his head around.
"Dortmund, I've no idea what's your arrangement with Alan, and I don't want to know about your hazardous plans for the future either, but I really ought to remind you to take all kinds of opinion into consideration. Alan is playing with fire, you know? I haven't notice that earlier but now I realized how much threat he poses being here in the capital!" The old marshal said and pointed at his own head.
"Actually… all these are not that important really, the prioritized concern is about Oscar's future. Perhaps you might think Alan's strategy is practical, but I'm worried if that sly old fox will end up like Valier Cypress!"
Dortmund avoided Marshal Robin's burning stare on intention. He already had so much on his plate, with things happening in his family and matters to that old Kachev. If he had to beware of both Silver Fox Alan and this old marshal who sat opposite him then this trip to the capital truly put him down to the bottom of his luck!
"Why do you think so?" Dortmund couldn't resist the doubts pestering his mind.
Robin shrugged nonchalantly, "More or less I can guess what evil plans are Alan plotting in his mind. Although he is of high prestige in the army, being the Dean of Imperial Military Academy for numerous years I have fostered my own connections too. Not mentioning those high-ranking military officers in the regionals, more than half of the officers in Imperial Army used to be my students."
Dortmund shook his head, "I'm well aware of your power and influence so there's no need for you to show them off to me. You still haven't answered my question."
"Is there still a need for that?" Marshal Robin raised his eyebrows, "Although I don't know about the exact content of the correspondence between you and Alan, someone will definitely keep me informed about it."
Dortmund clicked his tongue. He was completely speechless now.
"You've been taken in! I'm sure Alan's plan is greater than what he revealed to you in the letter!" Robin finally cast his bait.
"Oh?" As expected, Duke of Andrew revealed a confused expression.
"Even I'm aware of this, so don't you think our great Majesty the Emperor will not know?" Marshal Robin looked mockingly at Dortmund, "Now you should know why you are encountering numerous big problems in Dulin. The reason the Emperor has pressured you was because he picked up some dangerous signals based on the cooperation of Andrew and the military. His Majesty the Third may allow Alan's tricks because his tactics have indeed changed the strategic layout of the Empire. As the master of Titan, the Emperor knew better than anyone that Alan's strategy did no harm to himself! However, if the same thing happens to Andrew…"
Dortmund trembled at the thoughts. Why did Alfa III lay his cards on the table at this inappropriate moment? Marshal of Andrew finally comprehended the mystery of how the Imperial Army could change their usual practice, but Andrew couldn't! By only avoiding the constraints of Titan Code to get to the eastern part of Deiss already triggered the emperor's vigilance. He wanted Andrew to restore their correct profile, he wanted Andrew to bow down to Morisette once more!
If so, how could he explain the internal conflict in his House? Dortmund frowned to think hard but he could only infer that it was a by-product of which Oscar's distress acted as a catalyst! Coupled with Kachev Drakas Ferdinand's teasing…Wait a minute! What was old Kachev's intention really? His position has reached its peak, so was he creating so much trouble in order to become the emperor? It didn't seem quite possible! That illegitimate child made the royal family keep this cabinet chancellor at arm's length, so what could the old man possibly wish for?
Dortmund once again downed the glass of alcohol. Dulin was occupied by a group of monsters, and this was definitely not a place to stay. However, he still agreed to Marshal Robin's inference that if it wasn't for Alan's strategy, he would not have appeared in the capital, then all of these would not have happened!
Alan seemed too frail for his large appetite! He stabilized the southern part of the empire, called the western part his own, gradually reorganizing the northern part of the empire, and also… perhaps the most obscured motive behind all his planning was that he successfully isolated the eastern part of the empire! He managed to isolate Andrew!
However, Dortmund knew Alan's obscure strategy toward Andrew wasn't malicious. In the eyes of most of the Empire's important people, Andrew should only stay obediently in the eastern border. It could also be said that to a large extent, Alan's strategy has been a help to Andrew. Due to the exposure of their ambitions and repression from imperial family, Andrew House's own instability was completely revealed. Dortmund could, therefore, take the right actions to solve the problems; to prepare his people mentally for the debut of his youngest son, therefore, laying down some foundation for his future rule.
If this had been expected by Alan since long before, then Dortmund had to admit that even though they were both marshals he was slightly at the lower hand compared to Silver Fox!
"Dortmund, will you do me a favor?" Marshal Robin broke the long silence, interrupting Duke of Andrew's train of thought. "Very soon, the Emperor will issue an order for me to become the next Chief of Staff of Imperial Guards, and I want to seize this opportunity to request a demand."
"What is it?" Marshal Andrew became perplexed again. What was wrong with these old men in Dulin? What was in the thoughts of Marshal Robin now?
"I want the Military Intelligence Bureau to be withdrawn from the Combat Department to be under the control of the Chief of Staff!"
"You must be kidding!" Duke of Andrew widened his eyes, "Marshal Alan is going to disdain you for this, he will never agree with this idea!"
"That's for sure!" Marshal Robin shrugged with indifference. "The Military Intelligence Bureau is a real powerful department created single-handedly by him and he will never give it up, but I can't allow his forces to continue expanding in the military either! Do not forget that the chief position of the Military Intelligence Bureau is still vacant, in preparation for young Oscar. I don't want young Oscar to turn into a yes-man of that dangerous person Alan. I think Oscar and the Military Intelligence Bureau under his command must struggle out of Alan's control!"
In the twinkling of an eye, Dortmund understood perfectly the associations between all these. No matter what was Robin's ulterior motive, this suggestion of his was indeed worth considering.
"And so, what should we do to let Marshal Alan give up?"
Robin didn't bother concealing the excitement for the first step of his successful plot. One day, sooner or later, this father sitting opposite him would discover that he had racked his brain trying to mold a proud disciple.
"I will choose an appropriate time to propose this initiative. I know Alan will definitely stand up against my idea of putting the Military Intelligence Bureau under the administration of Chief of Staff, and His Majesty the Emperor might also take his side! So just when Alan and I are each sticking to our guns… Marshal Andrew, you must stand up to suggest another idea! You should propose for the Military Intelligence Bureau to be a complete independent department, separating it from the Combat Department and Chief of Staff to be the third largest unit which would be directly under His Majesty's responsibility!"
Dortmund almost slapped at his thighs at this brilliant idea, it seemed that all of these experienced men of capital Dulin were all extremely interesting figures.
"Let's do it your way, Marshal Robin! Your tactics are impeccable. Out of all the choices he was to be given His Majesty the Third will certainly agree to this compromised opinion that "I" suggest. Besides, if the Military Intelligence Bureau really becomes the third largest unit and is responsible only to the Emperor, in other words, this new real powerful department will become the second Secret Service Department other than the Imperial Secret Service Department, I'm sure the Emperor must be willing to accept it."
"You're totally right! However, even so, Alan would still be the person in charge of arranging the personnel placement in Military Intelligence Bureau. This means that it'll still be up to Oscar to fully grasp the forces to lead these secret intelligence agents powerful enough to influence the Imperial Guards!" The old Marshal finished his sentence and patted the shoulder of the Duke of Andrew. "Let's toast to our child!"
Dortmund could only raise his glass and forced out a smile. It has been too long since he last dealt with a Dulin, and he found himself not working at it with great skills.
***************
O'Neil Andrew Morisette was completely furious! What happened to his courage and physique during the escape? Currently, His Highness Prince couldn't even hold an egg steadily in his hand! He could vividly remember the expression on the Eight Region Second Corps' main physician when he examined his wound. If it weren't for the troop of soldiers completely armed to the teeth and the other two super assassins who were staring closely at the process all this time, the prince believed his physician could have long since labeled him with a black label that indicates a patient was untreatable!
Anyway, having said that, Oscar himself wondered how he endured this ardent process! Not to mention those wounds of knives and swords, those eight injuries incurred by shooting arrows all over his body were already a terribly disgusting sight! Oscar himself almost fainted by the horrible stench emitted when the physician removed that piece of torn cloth from his body. What was even more outrageous was that the physician found half a piece of arrowhead buried in his scapula when cleaning the wound! Oscar's eyes widened at the arrow that had been completely corroded by blood. Oscar couldn't believe how he hadn't felt anything in all these days!
Thinking of last night made His Imperial Highness' face burn with redness! He remembered screaming and kicking like a lady when his physician applied ointment to the wound! If not for the few Second Corp tall soldiers who kept pressing down his arms tightly, he would have long since smashed his fist into the physician's face! Throughout the whole process, he found himself thinking of his friend Percy. It seemed that he should only rely on people whom he trusted and was familiar with when it came to medical concerns.
"Hey! Can both of you stop talking? I'm on the verge of cutting off your tongues!"
Oscar finally expressed his impatience. Using his only good hand, he knocked the head in front and behind of him respectively!
James and Maxime burst out into sly laughter. As the first few fortunate ones to have discovered His Highness Prince, they were assigned by Major General Silvio to… bear a stretcher! However, both the messenger and sentry didn't have any complaints regarding this assignment, instead, they were buoyant all-day long. In order to commend their efforts in discovering the prince and render meritorious military service in the rescue plan, Silvio had submitted to the Imperial Army two requests for the Warrior Medal.
Hehe! The Empire Warrior Medal! In these recent years, only Big Brother Ciel was awarded this reward in the entire Eight Region!
Bubbling over with excitement, James and Maxime talked about all sorts of nonsense under the sun. They were each other's best partners, at the same time each other's worst enemy. Throughout the whole journey with His Highness Prince, these two guys were non-stop arguing over every little trivial matter.
"Your Highness, how do you like the rattan seat?" Maxime asked.
"Hmm!" Oscar replied with a snort. He felt a little strange about his impression toward these two men as he normally wouldn't have gotten along with people who talked too much. Perhaps it could be that James and Maxime rescued him.
"Hehe! In the southern mountainous area, only big heroes and nobles like Your Highness could enjoy this privilege deck chair to go up the mountains! So grand it looks!" James also chipped in.
"He's right, Your Highness! What you're traveling on now is an authentic mountain deck chair, I spent the whole afternoon to build this thing!"
"Hey, I contributed too!"
"You only picked a few rattans, that's all!"
"Bullshit! I constructed the framework!"
"You only…"
"My two Empire Warriors, that's really enough!" Oscar interrupted their banter impatiently. He didn't like how they always seemed to forget his presence once they get into a heated argument.
"One golden Ti! Who can tell me where are we actually heading?" Oscar glanced back at the overcrowded mountain warriors who sandwiched him and then at the surrounding thick woods. He already found himself on the deck chair when he came from unconsciousness.
"Hehehe!" James revealed his gleaming white teeth, "Your Highness, you asked the wrong person. We're the Empire Warriors, and we'll never bend down to one golden Ti! Commander said it was a top confidential information that we could never reveal to you!"
"Your Highness!" Maxime chirped in again, "Don't listen to any of James' bullshit, he will spill the secret right away on a hundred golden Ti! This fella is just greedy by nature!"
"Shut your nonsense!" James glared at Maxime from the other end of the deck chair.
"I'm exactly right! If I haven't been watching you, you have long become a deserter!"
"Are you asking for a fight?"
"Come on!"
"..."
Oscar rolled his eyes helplessly. No matter what awaited him, his only concern now was to speed up his recovery so he could return to the arms of his friends and lovers!
The setting reddish sun illuminated the vast sky, making the woods appear to be on fire! Deiss champak trees in the early winter dusk exuded a soft, tranquil fragrance. In the last season of the year, tuberose hidden in the depths of the woods revealed their budding flowers like a bride underneath a veil, shyly standing in a dark corner.
Forest birds spread their wings around as the long winter approached, and they had to seize the time to fill their belly. Squirrels and guinea pigs competed for expanding their territory. They were simultaneously neighbors, but also rivals.
The scenery in the woods gradually cleared up, and field of vision also slowly opened up. A red horizon hovered in the west. The last afterglow of sunset silhouetted against the flames.
The deck chair came to a halt and was rested on the ground. O'Neil Andrew Morisette slowly opened his eyes. Oh God! What was this?
A long queue of knights stretched into infinity, their bodies were drenched in a blood-red glory, proudly displaying their heroic spirits in front of the horizon. These knights centered around a white flag with red stripes, the fluttering perfect lines made the young man narrow his eyes to carefully scrutinize.
Fierce Tiger! Narcissus! But the tiger illustrated on this flag was red in color.
"I want to stand up! I want to stand up!" With his trembling arms, Oscar supported his whole body weight, and finally! He rose to his full height! His knights were waiting for him! He still needed to lead them to assault!
The moment their commander got to his feet, the camp of Fierce Tiger sounded an earth-shattering noise of knives and spears hitting against shields. The loud volume frightened the flying creatures and beasts in the wood.
All of a sudden, a knight sped by from the camp toward the commander. He mounted the warhorse and performed an immaculate salute.
Major General Murat Bedoya handed over the machete and Delin mini cannon Oscar left behind in Saijo mountain Battle to the hand of the commander.
With much care, Oscar received the items. He tucked the mini cannon into his bosom, the other hand grasped tightly around the handle of the machete.
Murat remained silent and retreated with a small step to the side. This moment belonged to the hero.
Facing his thousands and thousands of soldiers, Oscar raised aloft the weapon above his head!
"Andrew Haila!"
Between heaven and earth sounded an ear-splitting cheer.
"Oscar is back!"
