Riding in the Valente family carriage, the two entered the Governor's Mansion in secret, holding a private discussion that lasted several hours with Baron Boivar, the spymaster responsible for Her Highness's security.
Lynch relayed all of his deductions to the baron.
The ambush on Her Highness two days prior had been exceedingly suspicious and executed on a massive scale. Not only had a gas pipeline been detonated, blasting half of Crown Square, but two fanatical Soul Severers of unknown tier—either rank three or four—had been deployed as suicide operatives. Very few factions possessed the means to cause such a tremendous upheaval.
Thus, the moment District Bishop Harlan mentioned the grand plan Raymond spoke of, Lynch immediately pieced everything together: the Shadow Alliance was very likely making a move on Her Highness, and heaven only knew what Raymond might do in his bid to thwart it.
Baron Boivar’s expression shifted several times as he listened. He no longer held the slightest doubt regarding Lynch's sharp intuition. After the three conferred at length, the baron met in secret with the Duke and Viscount Moliere. Long afterward, several figures quietly slipped out of the Duke's mansion, vanishing toward various directions across the city.
Yet the ball still had to go on—so long as the world had not yet ended.
By the time Lynch emerged from the rear exit, afternoon was already well underway, and he had parted ways with Miss Valente.
After all, she was an unmarried noble lady. If he dared to enter the venue alongside Miss Valente, tomorrow's front pages across all of Lande would be set for headlines, and assassins dispatched by the Valente family would likely arrive downstairs the day after.
Thus, Mr. Detective was left on his own to spend a whole hour trudging from the Governor's Mansion's rear entrance to the front gate, cursing under his breath in exhaustion all along the way.
Still, once he circled back to the main gates, he couldn't help but feel the trip was well worth it.
He was met with the true grandeur of high society reminiscent of the Victorian era.
In Tiger Claw District in northern Rhine City, a half-hour carriage ride from the city center, two seemingly endless iron fences extended to the left and right, enclosing an enigmatic domain. This was the Governor's Mansion.
Within the boundless estate grounds, the first thing that met the eye was an enormous racecourse bordered by sweeping open lawns, suddenly greeting Lynch's vision with lush greenery amidst this industrialized metropolis. A few spotted deer poked their heads through the paddock fences, bleating softly as they watched the passing carriages with curiosity.
The estate gates were wide enough to allow at least four carriages through abreast. The small plaza outside was already crowded with lingering carriages. Ladies and gentlemen dressed in formal evening gowns and tailored attire crossed paths before the entrance, exchanging polite pleasantries with beaming smiles, creating an atmosphere even more bustling than Crown Square.
In a venue like this, even while still outside the gates, the silent battle of status had already begun.
As carriages queued in a row, the disparities became obvious in an instant.
A purple paulownia wood carriage costing two hundred pounds? Such mass-produced standard carriages were utterly unpresentable here; coachmen had to stand with their hat brims pressed down in shame. One needed stone-heart wood at the very least, custom-crafted by renowned artisans, or else the owner would have to slink through the side entrance. Arriving in a purple paulownia wood carriage? No wonder you're stuck in traffic.
Those arriving in hired carriages, conversely, drew almost no attention; they were in an entirely different lane, and forcing a comparison would only reveal a lack of breeding. Most aristocrats would never make such a faux pas, though upstarts risen from commoners—the so-called gold coin nobles—occasionally engaged in such disgraceful behavior that invited mockery for generations. After all, a hired carriage was still a carriage, while there was someone strolling right beside them on foot.
Hm? Why is everyone staring at me? Haven't you ever seen someone walking on foot before?
Lynch calmly looked to his left and right, raising his hat with a polite wave toward a few familiar faces.
“Why have the rules changed, Jack?” a somewhat raised voice called out from among the guests gathered at the gates. “Neither carriages nor coachmen are allowed inside, and servants must wait in the vehicles? Isn't that terribly inconvenient?”
“Indeed! Who could be so wicked as to propose such an idea?”
Lynch rubbed his nose with a subtle smile. Never seen a centralized security screening before, have you? Never experienced per-person admission? And we haven't even deployed metal detectors yet. The accumulated security experience of several millennia from my homeland is going to drive you all crazy.
“There is no helping it, My Lord Baron. Please cooperate,” the middle-aged butler greeting guests at the entrance said with a smile even more elegant than those of the surrounding nobles, advising them in a pristine Norin accent. “These regulations were brought over from the royal capital. Word is that they only recently became fashionable there, and even His Majesty the King spoke highly of them. You...”
“We shall cooperate, of course we will! His Majesty the King is wise, and His Grace the Duke is judicious; this new rule is remarkably fitting for Rhine's current climate.”
Amidst loud echoes of agreement from those around them, the atmosphere among the flowing crowd grew increasingly harmonious—apart from the occasional overheard 'praise' like, “Whose brain was eaten by an evil god to suggest this?” or “His entire family ought to be hurled into the Dreamlands for a thousand years!” This filled Lynch's heart with private amusement, brightening his smile even further.
Seeing how miserable you all are makes me feel fantastic.
“How did that one get through, Jack?”
“My Lord Viscount, that is Countess Hathaway. In addition, the two carriages that passed through earlier belonged to the Count of Lorand and Her Highness Princess Chloe of the Kingdom of Salter. In a moment, the eldest daughter of the Valente family will also enter directly. They all have special clearance.”
“Ah, I see, that's fine then. I was worried it might disrupt His Grace's arrangements, hahaha.”
Amidst the laughter, Lynch passed through smoothly. He had actually asked Baron Boivar earlier if he should help keep an eye on suspicious individuals bringing mystery relics through the entrance, but the baron had simply offered an enigmatic smile in response.
Thus, Lynch felt completely at ease, swinging his cane as he swaggered his way into the Duke's estate.
In the distance stood the Duke's mansion, built in the style of an ancient castle towering into the clouds and radiating an imposing majesty. A small lake lay before the residence, where a flock of leisurely waterfowl floated upon the water. Following the stone path that wound around the lake, a dozen or so guests could be seen gathered in clusters of two or three across the open courtyard before the mansion. A small ensemble had already begun to play; Lynch closed his eyes, listened for a moment, and gave a quiet nod.
Mm, pleasant.
“Mr. Lynch Levive.”
Just as Lynch stood on the periphery of the gathering, utterly lost as to what he was supposed to do after arriving, he heard someone call his name from behind. Turning around, he was greeted by the Count of Lorand's two-men-wide silhouette.
“I was terribly discourteous that evening, Mr. Detective.” Utterly shedding the hostility from their initial encounter at Princess Chloe's reception, a warm, affable smile spread across the count's chubby face. “My sincerest apologies. We were simply far too tense and nearly caused dire consequences.”
To claim he hadn't taken it to heart would be false, but having weathered so many trials and faced countless perils, looking back on that encounter now gave Lynch a tranquil sense of detachment.
“It's all in the past; there's no need to dwell on it.” Lynch offered a mild smile and shook his head. “Where is Her Highness Chloe? I have something to hand over to her.”
“Her Highness went to the backyard with a friend to watch the animal taming show.”
“Oh? There's an animal taming show as well?”
“Indeed. The ball doesn't commence until evening, so His Grace arranged numerous activities for everyone to pass the time,” the chubby count explained patiently. “If you're interested, you could go horseback riding—His Grace keeps several fine thoroughbreds—or perhaps try fishing by the lake, though the fish are so well-fed that I've never managed to hook one.”
“There is a concert in the forecourt, and around back is the animal taming show along with a variety of free-roaming creatures. If you wish for some light exercise, there is a fencing ground and a shooting range in the back as well.”
“Inside the mansion, you may view His Grace's personal collection—hehe, not that sort of appraisal from last time—or partake in wine tasting, reading, or card games. In truth, all these pastimes ultimately serve a single purpose: socializing. If it were purely for entertainment, one might as well stay at home.”
No, I certainly wouldn't have the chance to ride horses or go fishing at home; I could only eat horse meat and fish. Besides, are you trying to cause a bloodbath? Why bring up a shooting range?
Taking a casual leave of the Count of Lorand, Lynch decided to spare the poor horses and fish for the time being, heading straight around toward the rear of the castle.
Sure enough, a stage had been set up in the backyard, where an animal taming performance was underway using beasts kept by the Duke's estate. Gazing at the tigers and bears on stage, Lynch fell into deep bewilderment.
You rich people must have far too much time on your hands to keep things like this. No wonder there are so few wealthy people.
Yet among the dozen or so people beside the stage, Lynch instantly caught sight of Princess Chloe's petite figure reservedly clapping. Noticing Lynch walking toward her, she politely lifted the hem of her gown and offered a deep curtsy.
But when Lynch shifted his gaze to the figure beside her, his eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Holy crap, why on earth did you bring this one along too?
Standing beside Princess Chloe was an even more diminutive figure.
The young Deep One, Alice.
Rate on N.U.
