Investigation on the Word 'Blood' (1)

With so many people patrolling here, it was obvious that this was the crime scene. The body of the church deacon's wife who had been tortured and killed was at the corner of the street 20 meters away.

The entire security team spent great effort to seal off this place to prevent the scene from being destroyed. And this guy who came out of nowhere was actually smoking here!!!

The sheriff walked up to Sherlock. After confirming that he did not bear any insignias related to the Church or the nobles, he naturally treated him as a member of the carriage's entourage.

He bent his huge mecha body, which was nearly three meters tall, and looked at the other party fiercely. "You! Snuff out the cigarette immediately!"

The mechanical arm could not complete such a delicate operation as 'snatching the cigarette', but judging from the guy's tone, he did not want to snatch the cigarette. Instead, he wanted to rip off the other party's head along with the cigarette.

"Don't be so nervous, brother. A cigarette won't damage anything." Sherlock raised his head and waved his hand calmly.

"Even if it could destroy the evidence, these steam iron sheets have been spraying around in the vicinity for a few hours. Most damage would have been done long ago."

"Uh—" The sheriff's voice trailed off.

The exhaust pipe on the back of the armor was very good in picking the right time to spit out a few hot streams.

As a sheriff, most of the time, he did manual work such as 'assisting in the cleansing of small demons' or 'escorting church members'. He was really not good at preserving crime scenes.

Turning around, he saw Miss Catherine standing not far away. At this distance, she could definitely hear their conversation clearly.

Embarrassment rushed to his head.

He undoubtedly admired Miss Catherine. Or rather, most men who knew something about this judgment nun would be attracted to her.

She was young, beautiful, devout, valiant, well-bred, and had an excellent family background and bloodline. All sorts of virtues could be found in her. What was even more commendable was that she was a covenant person who had reached the second stage.

This natural gap prevented countless admiration from turning into love. It could only be disguised as a kind of worship from the males for the strong.

This made the sheriff even angrier! However, he still forced himself to show some chivalry and gritted his teeth.

"Get out of here as fast as you can, commoner! This is no place for you!"

Before he could finish his sentence…

"He can't leave yet," Catherine spoke for the first time since she arrived.

The sheriff looked back in shock.

The blurry and beautiful face under the light made him dazed for a moment. He was a little unsure of what he had heard.

"While it's hard to believe, from now on… this guy is the main person in charge of this murder."

The sheriff looked at the beautiful woman under the light in confusion. He lowered his head and looked at Sherlock, who was still smoking calmly.

He knew that Miss Catherine would bring back a capable person who could solve the case this time, but he did not expect it to be such an inconspicuous commoner.

He could not guess the reason behind this. He could only stand rooted to the ground, stunned for a few seconds.

Still…

He seemed to be able to sense that Miss Catherine did not have a good impression of this commoner, let alone any respect. This made the young sheriff feel much better.

"I'm sorry." He hid his conflict. "How should I address you?"

"Sherlock… private detective."

"Sure, Mr. Detective." He did not call the other man by his name, much less give his own. He simply continued in a very process-oriented manner.

"Since that's the case, you should be aware of the nature of this incident, right? Therefore, before you see the body, you need to swear to the Holy Light that you won't expose all the details of this case to anyone, including your loved ones…"

He skillfully rattled off a lengthy oath, but the general content was one: let this matter rot in your gut!

Sherlock had expected this procedure. To the people in the uptown area, the commoners generally had no credibility.

He himself understood this view very well. After all, most of the people in the downtown area were busy working to make ends meet. Credibility was not worth much.

Hence, he recited the oath after the other party in a perfunctory manner.

After saying the oath, there was a soft click. A thin black card the size of a thumb popped out from the sheriff's armored arm.

This was a miniature phonograph record that recorded the oath that had just been read. All oaths would be sent to the tribunal court of the Church. If anyone violated it, they would be wanted and judged by a deacon.

Under the church, an oath naturally could not be a frivolous joke where one could simply talk nonsense with three fingers raised, and would not be struck by lightning even if one violated it.

Instead, there were documentations, substance, and real constraints with disciplinary effects.

Of course, the tribunal court would not really take every oath seriously. In their words, the Holy Light would not pay attention to those who were inconsequential.

Therefore, the tribunal court never took the initiative to investigate a person. This institution was completely independent of the social system. Even if a mayor, a general, or even the king or the pope wanted to investigate someone and check their oaths, they had to submit an absolutely sound and valid reason.

…

The sheriff handed the newly formed oath to one of his subordinates and turned, motioning for Sherlock to follow.

A few steps away, a deep alley was quietly hidden in the shadows where the light from the gas lamps could not reach.

At the intersection of light and darkness, a few people in clerical robes stood reverently and humbly. Their heads were slightly lowered, and they held brass pendants engraved with sacred scriptures in their hands as they chanted rhythmically.

In front of these people stood a tall middle-aged man who was nearly two meters tall. He had no hair, but a very thick beard. The robe on his body was mainly blue, but there was a wide and abrupt blood-red notice that extended from his collar to the hem. The night wind blew, and the robe swayed gently, outlining the exaggerated muscles under the robe from time to time.

His attire indicated that he was a deacon of the judicial department!

Under the Church, he was the purest enforcer of violence.

Unlike the army of the Holy Church at the shore of Drake Passage, these people were focused on purging the empire of oath-breakers, rebels, blasphemers of the Holy Light, and those covenant people who had committed unforgivable sins, to name a few.

They possessed the cruelest torture methods, the most bloody means, the harshest powers of execution, weapons comparable to those of the Holy Church's army, and authority above the empire's laws. They had almost everything, except a benevolent heart.

Therefore, in the eyes of most citizens of the empire, this group of people wearing blood-colored notices were even more terrifying than demons.

"Sir Baldell." The sheriff tried his best to lower his head. Although he was much taller than the other party with his steel armor, he revealed a clear sense of inferiority. "This is Sherlock, a detective. Miss Catherine found him…"

The man named Baldell raised his hand, signaling that there was no need to continue. Then he turned his head, his high brow bones covered his eyes in darkness as he looked at Sherlock.

A few seconds later…

"I don't care about the identity, profession, whether he's mortal, or a covenant person. I don't even care if he's a citizen. My wife is dead. I need the murderer… alive!"

His voice was mellow, and there was no discernable sadness in it. However, Sherlock noticed that when the word 'alive' was uttered, the sheriff beside him subconsciously shivered.

It must have reminded him of the tortures in some bloody prisons of the Church that made life worse than death.

After saying that, Deacon Baldell turned his body sideways, allowing the light from the street lamps to shine into the alley.

A shocking scene appeared before Sherlock's eyes.