Baron Lonanks
After what had happened that morning, Vincent spent the whole day listless. Only toward evening did he recover enough spirit to summon Green to the castle for dinner and discuss the news about that "eerie" thing.
In truth, Vincent had still been unwilling to let it go after returning. The information the auction house attendant had gathered that morning might not have been accurate, so he had sent someone to investigate thoroughly. The findings, however, were much the same.
This was not a formal occasion, and since the Industrial Revolution, noble authority had steadily waned. Many old formalities had fallen away. Green gave Vincent a slight bow, then took his seat. A modest but exquisite dinner already awaited him.
Green glanced at the food. Knowing this was how his predecessor and Vincent usually spent their time together, he settled in and began eating without a qualm. As he ate, he listened to Vincent recount everything his people had learned. Green offered no opinion, only listened quietly. Just as he was finishing, hurried footsteps sounded outside the dining room. A capable-looking young man in light leather armor strode in, a revolver and a short sword at his waist.
"Rolt, what's so urgent?" Vincent asked in surprise. Rolt was his personal guard, an Advanced Apprentice Knight. Steady by nature and reliable in his work, he was rarely this flustered.
"Something terrible has happened, young master!" Rolt's grim expression made clear how serious it was.
"What exactly happened?" Vincent's face tightened.
A faint sense of foreboding rose in Green's heart.
"Baron Lonanks has been murdered! The adventurers staying at the auction house are dead too. Nine people in all, not a single survivor." Rolt spoke rapidly, his voice taut with urgency.
Green and Vincent were both shocked. Baron Lonanks was a figure in Landon City whose standing rivaled the Wilson Family's. Though only a baron, he had a gift for business, and his family's mining company was a renowned giant in the south of the Lorenzo Kingdom. Beyond his title, he was also a senator in the Northwest Province Council. His influence across the province exceeded even the Wilson Family's.
"How did he die? Who did it? Have they caught the killer?"
Vincent fired off three questions, though he already had a suspicion. Baron Lonanks had also gone to the auction house that morning. If he had bought the three Elf Female Slaves, everything would make sense.
Besides, the adventurers from out of town had been killed too. Who else could the murderer be but the eerie thing that had followed them all the way here?
Before Rolt could answer, a silver-haired old man in a black tailcoat and white gloves entered. He bowed to Vincent with meticulous formality.
"Grandpa Lawrence, what brings you here?" Vincent immediately rose and returned the greeting. Green stood as well.
No one in the Wilson Family dared slight this old steward, who had served three Viscounts. Even Vincent, as heir to the family, treated him with respect.
Steward Laurence glanced at Rolt, then said evenly, "Young master, you've heard about Baron Lonanks, I take it. The master is going over to see for himself and asks that you accompany him."
"All right," Vincent answered at once. Then he turned to Green. "Green, come with me." The two of them hurried after Steward Laurence to the castle entrance.
A luxurious carriage bearing the Wilson Family crest stood outside. The coachman waited beside it and stepped forward to open the door when he saw them approach.
Vincent climbed in. As stewards, Green and Laurence were also permitted inside the carriage, but they could not sit as equals with their master. They took the two small seats by the door.
Inside sat Vincent's father, Paul Wilson, head of the Wilson Family, his face dark and still as water. He showed no expression when the three entered, giving nothing away of his thoughts.
Viscount Paul was not yet fifty. Tall and imposing, he had reportedly served in the army when he was young and once possessed the strength of an Advanced Apprentice Knight. Now age had left him somewhat stout. He looked less like a Knight than a capitalist.
"Father!" Vincent was plainly a little afraid. He lowered his head and sat opposite Viscount Paul.
Viscount Paul gave a brief acknowledgment. His gaze passed over Green before settling on his son. "You went to the auction house this morning?"
Vincent nodded. "Yes. I heard last night that three Elves had arrived, but they seemed to be involved with that eerie thing, so I gave up on them."
Approval flickered in Viscount Paul's eyes. "Good. Your head was clear enough to read the situation and restrain yourself."
"Thank you for the praise, Father." Vincent breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Evidently, nothing he did escaped Viscount Paul's notice.
Meanwhile, the carriage rolled along the smooth road toward 25 Westbrus Street: Baron Lonanks's mansion in Landon City, a three-story house built in the Baroque style.
It was not far, and the carriage soon arrived.
Many people had arrived before Green and the others. The mayor of Landon City, the City Council Chairman, the Director of the Police Station, the head of the chamber of commerce—all these figures seldom seen in public were there. Police had cordoned off 25 Westbrus Street, holding curious onlookers beyond the line. They talked and pointed, while some who knew only scraps of the story embellished how the wealthy baron had been killed, as though they had witnessed it themselves.
With Viscount Paul among them, Green and the others were not kept out. The four crossed the cordon and walked straight in.
A woman's sobs greeted them at the door. In the first-floor sitting room, a beautiful young woman in her twenties was wiping away tears. She was Baron Lonanks's second wife, a Baroness born a commoner, and now the first in line to inherit his estate.
Beside her, the head of Landon City's chamber of commerce—a potbellied, forty-year-old widower—was offering comfort with eager attentiveness.
Viscount Paul offered a few perfunctory words, then went straight to the study on the first floor. This was where Baron Lonanks had been killed. The mayor, the Council Chairman, and the Police Station Director were already there, and the Police Station's forensic staff had just arrived.
The study had limited space, so Green and the other attendants were kept outside. Through its open door, however, they could see the baron's body still hanging in midair.
The rope was tied to the base of a crystal chandelier. The corpse hanging below it had a blue-black face, bulging eyes, and a protruding tongue. Its expression was twisted in such agony that it seemed the baron had seen something unspeakably terrifying before he died. His arms and legs were bent at unnatural angles, apparently broken. This could not have been suicide.
The body was soon taken down, and the Police Station's medical examiner began a preliminary examination.
A few minutes later, the experienced old medical examiner looked up, his face grave.
The Police Station Director immediately asked, "Well? An ordinary murder, or something else?"
The old medical examiner understood what the director meant by "something else," and what answer he hoped to hear. Unfortunately, the director would not get his wish.
The old medical examiner's expression hardened. "The body shows a clear Psychic Energy reaction. Some kind of eerie thing must have done this."
"Shit!" the director muttered. Helpless to change anything, he looked toward the mayor, the Council Chairman, and Viscount Paul and his son. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry to say Landon City now has an eerie thing that tortures nobles to death. We must notify the Anomalies Bureau and report this immediately. It's beyond Landon City's ability to handle."
Green listened from outside the door, thoughts racing. The medical examiner's mention of a "Psychic Energy reaction" in particular sparked an idea.
Psychic Energy was the foundation of supernatural power in this world. Whether a mage, a Knight, or a practitioner of another path, their abilities all came from its transformation. Earlier, Green had absorbed the Psychic Energy stored in half a Bone Whistle, unexpectedly activating the Graveyard within him. But there had not been enough Psychic Energy. It had opened only halfway, and he needed more.