“The Lorand family has served the House of Vane for nine generations. Over these three hundred years, we haven't amassed much of a fortune, but this collection room is our greatest source of pride.”
It was a large room on the second floor of the mansion, dazzling the eyes the moment one stepped inside.
The room displayed a vast array of strange objects, from oil paintings, statues, and tapestries to furniture, plates, weapons, armor, and machinery—everything one could imagine, and many things one shouldn't.
It seemed that taking guests on a tour of the collection was a standard affair; the large crowd from the living room followed along noisily, swarming into the collection room with Lynch and the Count of Lorand.
As soon as they entered, a scent of antiquity washed over them. It was difficult to describe, but it was the unmistakable aura that only ancient objects possess.
Hiss, there are so many.
Lynch maintained his signature half-smile, appearing calm and collected as his gaze swept across the exhibits.
Hmm... I don't recognize a single one.
Professor Dartmond of the Kingdom of Heaven, forgive me.
“How do you find our family’s collection, Detective? Pray, give us your critique.”
The portly Count pointed proudly at the massive collection room, his round face crinkling as his bean-sized eyes fixed on Lynch’s expression.
“Hmm, not bad, not bad...”
Lynch walked through the collection with his hands behind his back:
‘Neighbor, neighbor, help me out. Save me here.’
【I am only...】
‘Don’t give me that. You’re my dear neighbor, aren't you? Aren't gods supposed to be omniscient? Just give me some information.’
【That is limited to the First Age when I still existed. After my fall, my perception of the world became very blurred. I am not omniscient, so do not have such high expectations. The most I can do is tell you the approximate era based on the style of these items.】
‘That’s enough, more than enough. As long as there’s a shred of truth, I can improvise the rest.’
Lynch immediately smiled and stopped in front of a suit of armor.
“The ceremonial armor of the Royal Guard of the Kingdom of Marun from the Dawn Era of the Fourth Age. It weighs forty kilograms, and it took a master blacksmith half a year to forge a single set,” Lynch said, recalling the fragmented memories from his schooling. “The forging techniques of that period were very similar to the Salem Dynasty of the Third Age, but the differences in the seam-joining technology are quite distinct and easy to identify.”
With that, he pointed to the seams of the armor and walked toward the next exhibit without looking back.
“A bronze plate from the end of the Dark Age of the Third Age. This is already beyond what an ordinary person could access. Truly, as expected of the Count, to be able to collect such precious items. Bronze utensils were common in the Third Age, but since the period spans two thousand years from the early to late stages, one must look at the edge-finishing techniques to determine the era. A piece like this, which already utilizes silver-plating technology on the edges, is a standard characteristic of the late period.”
“Hiss, this one is even more incredible. Count, are you sure it is safe for you to keep this? I am very worried that President Olei of the Archaeological Association might come storming in here at any moment. A tribal totem from the savage Second Age—it belongs to some alien tribe, though which one would require further research. These things were usually staked in the very center of a tribe and possess faint sacrificial attributes. No, you must bring out your finest wine to treat me today, otherwise, I shall go and report this to President Olei tomorrow. When he visited my home five days ago, we had already agreed to meet again within these two days; this will be the perfect opportunity to lodge a complaint.”
Lynch spoke as he walked, describing each item in general terms. They were not detailed, but it was enough to fool the laypeople.
After introducing seven or eight items, Lynch finally stopped. The rough information came from the great Lady Red Moon, and as for the finer details... making it sound professional was exhausting work. Lynch put in quite a bit of effort, and the nobles following behind listened with rapt attention.
However, when he turned around, he noticed the Count staring at him with a strange look, like one watching a fly trapped in a spider’s web—a look tinged with malice and mockery.
It was fleeting, but Lynch captured it sharply.
My performance should have been quite good, so why that expression? Did I fall into the trap after all?
Is there something I missed?
His heart immediately sank. Lynch fell silent, trying to keep his expression calm as he wandered among the exhibits. The nobles watching the spectacle were puzzled by his sudden silence, while the Count of Lorand wore a peculiar smile, standing motionless with absolute confidence.
No, this is definitely wrong.
There is definitely a problem.
Lynch recalled the advice Miss Valente had given him during his training.
You do not need to worry too much about deliberate provocations. You are a detective of common birth; everyone already has a concept of your level of expertise. Politics, economics, culture, the private lives of kings, or the scandals of noblewomen—those are not things you are expected to know. It is pointless for them to make you look foolish in those areas; it would only make them look stupid and incompetent. Just like going to great lengths to highlight the poverty of a dockworker or flaunting wealth in front of a textile worker, only the most unrefined nouveau riche would take pleasure in such things, and they would only end up as the laughingstock themselves.
Therefore, to insult you and tarnish your reputation, they must make you look foolish in a field you are expected to excel in. That is the only way to solidify the image of you being incompetent and stupid.
Making me look foolish in my own field of expertise—clearly, this is that moment. But how can he be so certain I would fail rather than seize the opportunity to showcase myself? This isn't something he can control, unless... the trap is fundamental, and I am doomed to fail regardless of how I perform.
In a flash, Lynch’s mind raced, cycling through various dramas and conspiracies he had encountered. Time passed quickly, and the watching nobles began to grow impatient. As the Count’s gaze grew increasingly sinister, a sudden spark of inspiration struck Lynch.
These are precious ancient relics; would he just leave them out in the open like this?
There are even relics from the Second Age. One must remember that President Olei would bully his juniors for the sake of knowledge from the Second Age, yet the Count just leaves these relics out? Is he not pained? Are the viewers not pained?
There is definitely something wrong here. Right, I remember a story I read where many collectors would hide their real treasures and display only forgeries.
Yes, if these are all forgeries, the more professional and brilliant I appear, the more embarrassing it will be later. Because I would be raving about a pile of fakes, I would inevitably become a laughingstock.
The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed. After a moment of hesitation, Lynch made up his mind.
I will gamble.
“However, Count of Lorand, I still have one question.” Lynch narrowed his eyes and poked a leather shield nearby with his cane, whispering, “For these pieces that nearly deceived my eyes, which master did you commission to forge them? The technique is superb; it is enough to pass for the real thing.”
The collection room fell into instant silence. Everyone’s eyes darted between Lynch and the Count of Lorand, filled with surprise. The Count’s face turned extremely dark for a moment, but he immediately regained his smile and clapped his hands lightly.
“Brilliant! As expected of the Detective praised by the Duke himself. Your eyes are sharp enough to distinguish truth from falsehood. Hahaha, the real pieces are, of course, hidden in the vault. If you are interested, I will take you to see them later. For now, let us continue with the topic at hand and appreciate these paintings. These, at least, are authentic.”
“My apologies, everyone. I am merely a detective of common birth. I cannot compare to all of you; my understanding of art is very shallow. I fear I may disappoint you all.”
This was also guidance from Miss Valente. There is no need to avoid one's own weaknesses. If you do not know something, admit it. This is not a field Lynch is expected to master, so ignorance is normal. As long as he is not high-profile and does not pretend to know what he doesn't, his image will not be ruined.
But if he can still display sufficient cultivation in such matters, that is an unexpected bonus, and a high-scoring one at that.
Lynch bowed slightly to everyone and said with a smile, “However, if you do not mind, I shall share my shallow insights. If there are any errors, please do point them out.”
As he spoke, Lynch gripped a small conch in his pocket.
The Telepathic Conch, a mystery relic he had used once before in Zur-Baha-Sahr. It allows communication within a certain distance, acting as a walkie-talkie.
To others, the voice coming from within might be detected, but for Lynch, who possesses the phantasmal sound ability, it was the perfect cheating tool.
When it comes to art, who has more right to speak than the eldest daughter of a noble family with a thousand years of heritage?
Thus, under the astonished gazes of everyone, Lynch stopped in front of an oil painting. His lips moved, but no sound emerged; he appeared to be talking to himself. A moment later, he said in a loud voice, “A Woman Holding a Silver Fox. A rather obscure work by David Lucas. Mr. Lucas was a man of the Fourth Age, but his paintings were not accepted by the public until the Fifth Age. He...”
Clear, logical, and confident, the audience did not dare to make a sound. When he finished, a thunderous round of applause immediately erupted.
Lynch turned his half-smiling gaze toward the Count of Lorand, and the portly Count could only force a smile, laughing dryly as he praised, “The Detective has truly exceeded my expectations. You will surely become the most dazzling star in Rhine City in the future. Hahaha...”
Amidst the jarring laughter, the sound of a bell rang from outside. The Count immediately acted as if he had been saved, sighing in relief as he said, “Her Highness the Princess has rested, and the reception is about to begin. Let us head down; we must not keep Her Highness waiting.”
Lynch, too, felt a sense of relief. He knew that the hurdles of the appetizer were finally over, and the main course for the evening was about to begin.
It was finally time to meet the person responsible for bringing so many troubles his way today.
As a client who wants me to handle matters for her, yet allows those around her to be filled with such malice toward me—you had best be able to give me a reasonable explanation.
Her Highness, Chloe Russell.
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