Chapter 2: Investigation Team

The dawn crept over the city of Yewis, but the tranquility of the morning was shattered by the grim news that had spread like wildfire. By sunrise, the entire city and the county of Laxia were abuzz with the shocking assassination of Viscount Rox Kendrick and his family. The air was thick with tension, and whispers of conspiracy echoed through the streets.

In the heart of Laxia's capital, within the stately manor of the Count, Marcus stood in the dimly lit study, holding a letter encased in a white envelope sealed with crimson wax. The envelope bore the mark of the Yewis City Printing Press, its dark red lettering stark against the pristine paper. Breaking the seal, Marcus discovered a bill for 100 gold coins nestled within. Without hesitation, he made his way to the Count's chambers, where the nobleman, with a practiced flourish, signed an informal bank note for the sum. The transaction was swift, the weight of its implications unspoken.

Meanwhile, the Count, ever the consummate actor, arrived at the Viscount's estate to pay his respects at the funeral. Though he had orchestrated the assassination himself, his face was a mask of sorrow and humility, his demeanor appropriately somber as he mingled with the grieving attendees. The funeral was a gathering of the realm's most influential figures—five Baronial houses and two Viscounties were represented, their conversations hushed but urgent. The absence of the Viscount's only son, who was studying at the Royal Academy in the capital of the Kingdom of Efrus, loomed large over the proceedings. The question of succession and the future of the Kendrick lineage hung heavily in the air.

As the mourners deliberated, the atmosphere shifted with the arrival of Duke Leon Avantes of Rohhox. Accompanied by a retinue of formidable knights, the Duke commanded immediate reverence. The assembled nobles and commoners alike bowed deeply, their greetings laced with deference. The Duke, his voice resonant with authority, addressed the gathering. "By the order of His Majesty, the King, I am here to address this grievous matter. The death of the Viscount and his family is a stain upon our kingdom's honor. As the county of Laxia falls under my Dukedom, I shall personally oversee the investigation. To this end, I have summoned the finest minds from my Shadow Corps to uncover the truth."

With a gesture, he introduced two figures who stepped forward. The first was a young man of twenty-six, his blonde hair catching the light as he adjusted his gray attire. In his hand, he clutched a small, leather-bound book, his sharp features exuding both intelligence and charm. Beside him stood a striking woman, no older than twenty-five, her short black hair framing a face of striking beauty. Her presence was commanding, her poise radiating strength and nobility. Together, they embodied the elite prowess of the Duke's Shadow Corps, their very presence a promise of justice—or retribution.

The room fell silent as the Duke's words lingered, the weight of his authority and the gravity of the situation settling over the assembly like a storm cloud. The investigation had begun, and with it, the unraveling of secrets that would shake the very foundations of the County.

After the somber funeral, the attendees gradually dispersed, leaving behind an air of unease. Duke Avantes, his expression unreadable, approached Count Waylond with a quiet intensity. In a low, measured tone, he posed the question that had been weighing on his mind: "Who do you think stands to gain the most from Viscount Rox's death?"

Count Waylond shifted uncomfortably, his voice tinged with nervousness as he replied, "Your Grace, I truly cannot say. Viscount Rox was a man of integrity, always neutral in political matters. It's hard to imagine anyone wishing him harm. Perhaps it was a personal matter, something unrelated to politics."

The Duke's gaze remained steady, betraying no emotion. After a moment of silence, he simply said, "The truth will surface eventually. The people I've hired are among the best." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Count Waylond to his thoughts. The Count, now visibly anxious, wondered if he had made a grave mistake in trusting the assassin he had hired. The weight of his secret gnawed at him as he departed, his mind racing with fear and doubt.

Meanwhile, in a modest school on the outskirts of Yewis, a man of striking appearance made his way toward the classrooms. Tall and handsome, with jet-black hair and piercing red eyes, Zaiden carried a small satchel slung over his shoulder. His presence commanded respect, even among the common folk who frequented the school.

As he walked, an elderly man with a long white beard and spectacles called out to him. "Mr. Zaiden!"

Zaiden turned and greeted him warmly. "Headmaster, how are you today?"

"I'm well, thank you," the Headmaster replied. "Would you be able to assist me with some paperwork after classes today?"

"Of course," Zaiden answered softly, nodding before continuing to his classroom. He was a beloved figure in Yewis, admired by commoners and nobles alike. Though his past as a former professor at the Royal Academy was known to few, his reputation as a scholar and his connections to the higher echelons of society remained intact. After the tragic loss of his family, Zaiden had retreated from the grandeur of the academy, choosing instead to teach in this humble school. Yet, his influence and respect had not waned.

The day passed as usual, with Zaiden imparting lessons on history to his eager students. Once classes ended, he fulfilled his promise to the Headmaster, assisting with the paperwork before setting off for the evening.

His destination was an old tavern near the Yewis Printing Press, a place frequented by locals and travelers alike. Inside, two investigators hired by Duke Avantes were seated at the bar, their presence inconspicuous but purposeful. Among the patrons was Loki, a worker at the printing press, who greeted Zaiden with a wide grin.

"Long time no see, Mr. Teacher!" Loki exclaimed. "Come, let me buy you a drink today."

Zaiden raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Did you come into some fortune, Loki?"

"Not much, but enough to share a drink with an old friend," Loki replied with a laugh. The two men settled in, enjoying their drinks and the simple fare the tavern offered.

As they conversed, one of the investigators, a woman of striking beauty, leaned over from her seat nearby. "Hey, what's going on here?" she asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

Loki, ever the charmer, turned to her with a grin. "Well, hello there! We're just enjoying the evening. Are you here alone?"

The woman introduced herself as a newcomer to the city, eager to learn more about Yewis. As Loki engaged her in conversation, Zaiden remained quiet, observing her with a keen eye. She was no ordinary traveler, and her questions betrayed a deeper purpose.

"Is this town safe?" she asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. "I heard a high-ranking noble died here recently."

Loki waved off her concern with a laugh. "Don't worry, that was an isolated incident. Yewis is the safest place you'll find."

The woman continued to probe subtly, but Loki, now thoroughly intoxicated, was of little help. Eventually, she excused herself and moved on to speak with other patrons. Zaiden, however, had taken note of her every word and gesture. He knew she was more than she appeared, and her presence in Yewis was no coincidence.