Chapter 20

It was about an hour later when Arle, still maintaining her gentle expression despite showing signs of fatigue, returned with a pale and swaying Kirio.

“First, I can confirm without a doubt that the body is Princess Victie. I stake my reputation as a court physician on that. Kirio-chan wasn’t in a position to make that call, so this is my judgment alone. If you doubt me, the King, Queen, or the Archbishop may verify it later.”

Arle opened the conversation without any preamble.

“There is no need. I am her mother. I knew it was my daughter the moment I laid eyes on her.”

Beside Ice, who spoke with a heavy but resolute voice, Uraenus slumped his shoulders in despair.

“I concur,” Archbishop Mintz added in an exhausted tone.

“Continuing, I will report on the state of the body. I have had Kirio-chan confirm these details as well.”

Arle looked toward her for agreement, and Kirio gave a shallow nod.

“The head was severed with a sharp blade. Most likely, the murder weapon was the ceremonial sword found beside the body.”

Ah, that one.

I recalled the sword held by the statue in the basement of the Grand Cathedral. A sword modeled after that very one had indeed been placed in the chapel.

“What is this ceremonial sword?”

Geralt, being unfamiliar with the local circumstances, asked the question.

“It is said that Saint Fata defeated the monsters that preyed upon humanity in the first year of the Holy Spirit Era, approximately a thousand years ago. She gathered the wandering people and founded Shark. It was decided that Princess Victie would dress as Fata did during certain ceremonies.”

Archbishop Mintz, naturally well-versed in such matters, provided the explanation.

“I see. And the specifics?”

“It is said that Fata founded the nation while clutching a sword she had scavenged from a battlefield, clad in nothing but undyed tekito-cloth.”¹

Tekito-cloth was a textile made by weaving the fibers of dried tree roots, a specialty product of Shark. The weave was coarse and rough, making it unpleasant to the touch, but that very texture made it easy to dye. Even now, it was a common fabric used in the daily lives of the common folk.

I used to see tekito-cloth quite often back at my parents’ house.

“However, we could hardly let her appear exactly like that. While a ceremonial sword was prepared, it was merely placed at the site of the ritual rather than being held by Princess Victie. As for the tekito-cloth, we used pieces dyed white and wrapped them in many layers around her body. We could not risk exposing her person, after all.”

I see.

I hadn’t looked very closely because of my nerves, but back in the chapel, Princess Victie had been bundled in layers of white cloth. Just like during dinner, the lines of her body had been completely obscured.

It seemed they wanted to keep Princess Victie as hidden a presence as possible, even if it meant deviating slightly from the Saint’s original appearance.

“Yes. Just before she headed to the chapel, I assisted her with the dressing. I wrapped those long, long strips of tekito-cloth around her body over and over.”

Arle’s tone remained as leisurely as ever, but a tint of sorrow shaded her voice. She was likely remembering those final moments.

“That tekito-cloth—Princess Victie’s outfit—was clearly damaged and partially missing.”

At Arle’s words, Geralt spoke up.

“Oh? In what way?”

Geralt gave his cane a jaunty twirl as he spoke.

“It had been hacked to ribbons, and there were traces of scorch marks as well. Furthermore, the sheer amount of fabric was overwhelmingly insufficient. Of that incredibly long cloth, only enough remained to wrap around her body once at most.”

“How interesting. It wasn’t just shredded, but scorched as well?”

A faint smile played on Geralt’s lips.

“Regarding the body itself, in addition to the decapitation, there were lacerations across the entire torso.”

“Lacerations?”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed at the term.

“Yes. Some were shallow, others deep. Rather than clean slashes from a blade, it looked as though the entire body had been hacked at with something far duller.”

As Arle reached that point in her explanation, Uraenus let out a groan. it was the kind of sound that made anyone listening feel the pain behind it.

“My apologies,” Arle said, bowing her head.

“It is fine. Continue the report accurately,” Ice commanded, striving to remain calm.

However, I saw a thin trail of blood trickle from her mouth. She had bitten her own lip.

“Yes. That concludes the report on the body. Next is the situation inside the chapel. As for the door, it was partially destroyed when we forced it open, so we were unable to find any specific traces of tampering.”

“I figured as much,” Merlin sighed.

“I believe we can rule out the possibility of tampering. I can guarantee that, as I was the one who arranged it. That door was a custom order. It was installed only a week ago, and its perfection was certified by craftsmen from both the court and the church.”

Yasha spoke up, and Ice and Mintz nodded in agreement.

“That is correct. It is impossible to tamper with it. Every craftsman we asked said the same.”

“Indeed.”

“I see, I see. Please, do go on.”

Geralt urged her to continue, sounding almost entertained.

“The interior of the chapel was smeared with blood. I got the impression that rather than it being naturally splattered, someone had intentionally painted the inside of the room with it. The ceiling, in particular, was covered in blood. It is possible that someone threw the blood against it.”

The facts were delivered in a dry, matter-of-fact tone, but I shuddered at the reality of it.

Not only had they beheaded the reincarnation of the Saint, but they had smeared her blood across the room and even drenched the ceiling. The sheer grotesqueness of the scene made me feel physically ill.

I wasn’t the only one; everyone else let out a collective breath as if they were fighting off nausea.

Archbishop Mintz seemed particularly struck by the news; he stared wide-eyed in stunned silence.

To a man of the Church, this must have sounded like the ultimate act of profanity.

“Considering the victim, it certainly feels like there’s a religious subtext here. Perhaps followers of some heretical cult?”

Geralt remained unchanged. He merely muttered the thought with a cheery air.

“That is essentially the gist of it for now. Kirio-chan, do you have anything to add?”

At Arle’s question, Kirio shook her head vigorously and sat down heavily next to me without saying a word.

“Are you all right?”

I asked just to be sure, only to be met with a glare from her bloodshot eyes.

“How could I possibly be ‘all right’?”

Fair point.

“Now then, next, I’d like you to tell me in detail about the moment Princess Victie vanished.”

Sipping the tea Yasha had prepared for him, Geralt turned his gaze toward Jin and Raika.

“Not that there’s much to tell,” Jin muttered, stroking his goatee. “It’s pathetic, but I have nothing of note to report.”

“He’s right,” Raika added with a sigh. “Around 2:10 PM, we delivered Kirio Rahura back to the hall, and the two of us headed straight back to the chapel. We unlocked the doors, escorted Princess Victie out, and the three of us headed for the hall together. Just as we reached the second floor, that explosion happened.”

“The chapel door used a magic lock, correct?”

“Yes. Therefore, every time the door is closed, it must be opened using both keys,” Yasha replied to Geralt’s confirmation.

“I see, I see. And naturally, Princess Victie was alive at that time, I assume?”

“Of course she was.”

Jin spoke with a grimace.

“Every time an award presentation ended, Raika and I checked the interior of the chapel and the Princess’s condition. Obviously, we didn’t do a thorough search of every corner, but we would have noticed if the room was covered in blood or if the Princess was injured.”

“But it was pitch black inside the chapel, wasn’t it?”

“It’s true that there was only candlelight, but it was still light enough to see if the room was drenched in blood. The students who were honored would tell you the same.”

“That is certainly true,” Leo agreed with Jin.

Following his lead, Kirio, Bob, and I all nodded silently.

It had been dim, but if a corpse had been lying there or if the room had been painted with blood, we definitely would have noticed.

“Regarding the explosion, did you see any suspicious objects?”

“I don’t think there was anything in particular.”

“Yes, I believe that space was empty,” Jin and Raika answered.

“Hmm. So, the working theory is that a bomb was thrown in from the outside?”

“That’s not quite accurate.”

Suddenly, a sharp glint flashed in Jin’s eyes.

“There are no windows. Rather than something being thrown inside, it’s more natural to assume an arrow with a bomb attached—or something similar—was fired into the outer wall. Furthermore, the explosive used was likely a Dragon Round.”

“A Dragon Round?” Bob repeated, sounding confused by the term.

I felt like I’d heard the name somewhere before, but I couldn’t place it. I must have learned about it in class.

“It’s an explosive made by mixing dragon dung with several types of plants,” Geralt answered instantly, living up to his reputation as a Great Detective.

“Yeah. Judging by the blast power required to blow through that outer wall and the sheer volume of smoke, I’m certain of it.”

“Explosive force that can shatter rock even in small quantities, while simultaneously generating a massive amount of smoke. I see; given the situation, a Dragon Round seems certain. Since you only need a small amount, it’s the perfect tool for portability.”

Geralt gave a pleasant smile.

“As expected of a former adventurer and the Church’s ‘fixer,’ Sir Jin.”

“You knew?” Jin muttered quietly, looking as though he had expected this revelation.

Meanwhile, Archbishop Mintz stood up in a visible state of panic.

“I’d love to know why a man like you was recommended as a guard for this event, but…”

“Drop it. It has nothing to do with the case anyway. It was for a trivial reason,” Jin said, sounding more annoyed than secretive.

“Is that so? Then I’ll leave it at that.”

Geralt backed off surprisingly easily.

Archbishop Mintz, who had stood up panting, sank back into his seat unsteadily.

Then, silence fell.

Geralt closed his mouth and stroked his cane as if lost in thought.

“Well, Geralt?”

Ice prompted him, unable to bear the silence.

“Well then. Resolution is still a long way off, but there is a hypothesis we should consider.”

Geralt said, giving his cane a light flick.

“A switch.”