Chapter 1: The Archduke is Dead

Town name: Maygynks. Every damn month out of the 12, it was soul-freezing cold, back in the year 1840. Maygynks was adorned with towering lodgepole pines, majestic western red cedars, fiery red oaks, and an array of red and orange trees that could only be imagined. Nestled within hilly terrain, the town was blessed with abundant natural resources.

Maygynks, neither too big nor too tiny, pulsated with an extraordinary liveliness. It seemed as if the town had a body, a heart, a pair of limbs, and a soul... A remarkable beginning for my autobiography, but what comes next? Hmm, let's see. "Ah, yes! you should recount the incident from yesterday when you found myself tasting the aromatic floor of our pigsty." suggested galba "Oh, how cringe the memory! I distinctly urge you not to remind me of that humbling experience",

"especially since it occurred in front of that self-proclaimed detective," Galba retorted.

"Why on earth was she present there, of all places?" Holden questioned. "Anyway, Galba, have you heard about the disappearance of Jenna Fischer? Where could she be? And why is nobody talking about it?"

"Hmm, I've wondered the same thing. Perhaps she eloped with her lover, engaging in the same dramatic rejection of marriage that we've seen countless times," pondered Galba. "It's no wonder Mrs. Orla and Neilson Fischer are refusing to cooperate with the police. Protecting the honor of their family must be their utmost concern," Galba continued. "By the way, where was our meeting scheduled for today? I seem to have forgotten," Holden inquired.

It was a typical ignorant autumn morning in Maygynks, where two indigent communists, Galba Hinks and Holden Raulswiser, engaged in their casual banter. The town was infested with these communist roaches, causing mayhem for bureaucrats, politicians, generals, viceroys, and those with excessive layers of fat known as the privileged families.

Both Galba and Holden had unwavering faith in their leader, Big Brother Williamson. In fact, every communist in town held immense respect for him, addressing him as Big Brother. He operated and controlled the roaches, which were given that name for a reason. Killing a cockroach would earn you praise as a hero or a savior, while harming a butterfly would label you as a heartless psychopath. Appearance truly mattered, and the beliefs ingrained in one's mind determined what they chose to see. The communists and the roaches had striking similarities. They emerged from the filth created by man, both met their demise as heroes, and to the world, they appeared equally repulsive.

Maygynks housed precisely 40 roaches, and yes, there were rich and poor families as well. However, the town was entirely under the control of Galba and Holden. One prominent figure was the Archduke of Maygynks, the honorable Gilbert Mayer. Aged between 50 and 60, though who cared about the exact figure? Both the upper and middle-class families envied him and idolized him like a father, despite the fact that even a 6-year-old child would find it hard to trust him. And let's not forget the renowned lady detective who solved numerous challenging cases, albeit only for the wealthy. Lady Aurelia Buckingham, blessed with a noble Roman name, possessed a captivating beauty that enchanted the young souls of the town.

Returning to the archduke, who seemed to have enemies buzzing around him like flies in horse manure, he had four sons and three daughters—a peculiar distribution for his assets.A wife named Mrs. Kywera Mayers resided in a grand mansion, where the number of people living and working surpassed the entire population of the town. The mansion was bustling with activity, employing 5-6 gardeners, 3 car drivers, 14-15 maids, 5 secretaries, horse trainers, and feeders. The Fischers, a family held in the same regard as the archdukes, had a longstanding connection with the Mayers, serving as governor generals for generations. Mr. Neilson or Neil Fischer shared similar characteristics with the Archduke, enjoying activities like golf, indulging in seafood, and daily massages on his expansive 5000 sq ft terrace, all while savoring French liquor brand Chambords.

This generational relationship had remained unbroken for over 120 years. Similarly, there was another influential family, the Buckinghams, known as viceroys. However, their name carried the connotation of greedy colonizers who cared solely about their position. These families accumulated unimaginable wealth, profiting off the hard work of the townsfolk. Lady Aurelia, daughter of Ferdinand Buckingham, the viceroy of Maygynks, had a son named Harold Buckingham, who brought shame to the family as a drunkard.

Harold was considered highly unsuitable to become the Viceroy. In recent weeks, Jenna Fischer, the daughter of Mr. Fischer, studying medicine at the age of 20, vanished mysteriously in the town. Inspector Berg had been seen visiting the Mansion of The Fischers. Mr. Fischer inquired, "Gotten any leads yet?" to which Mr. Berg responded, "Sir, I have scoured the entire town, taking risks and deploying unofficial units of the police department, questioning her colleagues, friends, and teachers. No one seems to know anything. Most likely, they are keeping silent to avoid getting entangled in this mess. I believe we should proceed legally, turning this into a national issue." Mr. Fischer expressed concerns about the consequences such a step might have on his honor as the governor.

"As you wish, sir. I will inform you as soon as we find something. Thanks for the nice and strong coffee, sir. I must take my leave," said Inspector Berg before departing. Mr. Fischer placed a hand to his head, visibly distressed. Mrs. Orla, with tears welling up in her eyes, interjected, "Do you trust the inspector, Niel? He could easily be swayed for a few pounds."

"Don't worry, dear. I will call upon the best detectives in the world," assured Mr. Fischer, "and..."

"Lady Aurelia! Yes, Aurelia! She is flawless when it comes to cases like ours! We must approach her immediately," Mrs. Fischer interrupted eagerly.

"But, darling, I don't think she has the expertise for our case. It's quite complicated for a lady detective who is only 32 years old," expressed Mr. Fischer with skepticism.

"Niel, don't forget she rescued Mrs. Purshington's child from communist kidnappers without a scratch. Please, we have this opportunity. We must approach her," pleaded Mrs. Fischer.

Convinced by his wife's argument, Mr. Fischer made the decision to reach out to Lady Aurelia, promptly sending an invitation to her.

Meanwhile, in the open yard, Holden was sprinting and laughing like a hyena, with Galba chasing after him. "You slowpoke, Grandpa! You can never catch me," taunted Holden.

"I'll kill you once we reach the sty, cut you to pieces, and feed those pigs," retorted Galba.

Holden held a paper in his hand which looked like something private for Galba. Both Galba and Holden were aesthetically fit and well-built. Holden was physically stronger but less intelligent, while Galba was slightly smarter and more skeptical. Galba's face had the ruggedness of a Greek god born in filth.

After a few minutes, Galba became exhausted and fell down, breathing heavily. Seizing the opportunity, Holden opened the letter. It turned out to be a scientific research paper on the chemical "arsenic," which Holden considered as useless as dirt under his fingernails. He tossed it aside and hurried off to chat with the barmaids at Erwington's bar.

Then, there was another suspicious character named Lieutenant Erwington, who had served in the army for eight years before engaging in a scam and resigning. He hailed from Gastovik, 120 kilometers away from Maygynks.

Galba asked Erwington for a job at his bar Located in 12B grimmauld which is the south border of Maygynks, 12B has Majestic palace of Archduke, A fishing lake, A small local saloon, and a bank. As Galba's intelligence is more than average Erwington hired him on the spot. Galba worked as an accountant, managing stocks and sales, and occasionally tending the bar. Holden, thanks to Galba, worked as a floor sweeper in the bar but spent most of his time engaging in idle chatter with the barmaids.

On the night of October 24th, the town was enveloped in an eerie silence. It marked a dark day for the native Maygynkians, as hundreds of people, including native protesters, communists, and even innocent individuals, had been massacred by the colonizers nine years prior under the order of the archduke.

That particular evening, the bar was unusually empty around 11:00 pm. Galba barked at Holden, "You lazy-assed pig, get up and clean the windows, and clear the cedar leaves piled up on the verandah."

Holden sat in one of the comfortable bar seats, cigarette in hand, with a bucket of soap near his legs. He retorted, "Who the fuck cleans the verandah on a dark and chilly night like this? My back aches for some reason."

A silhouette swiftly ran in front of the bar, catching Galba's attention. He carefully set down his martini glass and rushed to the door, but all that remained was silence.

"What happened, pal? Did you see a ghost or something?" asked Holden.

"The shadow disappeared so quickly. How could someone run so fast without making a noise?" questioned Galba.

"Must be a well-trained assassin," Holden suggested.

Galba let out a short laugh, but his facial expression quickly changed. A thought struck him—what if it truly was an assassin? Who would be the target? Jenna Fischer, the Archduke, Viceroy Buckingham, General Fischer, or an ordinary citizen?

Galba returned to the bar and opened a bottle of gin. The exquisite yet gloomy bar only had three occupants. The third person was Miss Paige, a mentally mature woman of 32, as sweet as a raspberry. She had initially joined as a barmaid but proved trustworthy enough to become the manager.

Galba prepared late-night drinks for the three of them before closing the bar, when they heard sirens approaching from afar.

"The town is gradually lighting up. I hear people rushing through our back alleys," Miss Paige remarked.

Suddenly, Erwington burst into the bar with his manager, gasping for air. He urgently declared, "We need to clear this bar, close it down immediately, and get the hell out of here. The Archduke is dead."