The Assassinated Assassin

As dusk fell, Thunder Fort was shrouded in the veil of night, and the tumultuous roar of the Darcy Sea echoed incessantly below Thunder Cliffs, invading the dreams of those within the mighty fortress.

In the barracks of Tyrrel's military camp within the outer city, a lone guard sat in contemplation, leaning against a table where his full-face helmet and longsword lay.

Suddenly, a peculiar and faint knocking sounded at the door, alerting the guard. He donned his helmet, grabbed his sword, and cautiously approached the door, asking softly, "Who's there?"

No answer came. After a few seconds, the guard flung the door open, sword thrusting into the darkness, but found no one. Peering out, he saw only a pitch-black corridor.

"Cursed be this," the guard muttered, closing the door gently and returning to his seat only to find three tiny figures standing solemnly on the table, gazing up at him.

"Hello there, I hope our sudden appearance didn't startle you," the lead figure in white stepped forward, waving a hand holding a cigar, "Do you know why we're here?"

The guard studied them for a moment, his shock giving way to composure. He shook his head slightly, "No, I don't know. What do you want?"

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Grayson, a friend of Prince Tyrrel's, though I'm not sure he would say the same," Grayson drew deeply on his cigar, "I heard he was burned to death, so I've come here to find his killer."

"Did you find him?" the guard scrutinized Grayson with a skeptical look.

"Why do you use the word 'him'?" Grayson caught the nuance in the guard's speech, fixing his gaze on him, "Have you already concluded the killer is male before their identity has been confirmed?"

"Everyone knows a servant approached the Prince's room before the incident and then vanished afterward. Who else could it be?" the guard scoffed dismissively.

"You're right," Grayson agreed with a nod, "The killer is one person, not the three Solon mentioned. Those two deserters are a smokescreen because Solon would never recruit from his soldiers for assassins; that would only botch things."

Pacing the tabletop, Grayson continued, "Let's reconstruct the crime scene. The poison found on Tyrrel's dog indicates the assassin, disguised as a servant, brought food laced with Treasured Serpent's venom to Tyrrel's room, intending to kill him."

"Unfortunately for the assassin, Tyrrel was cautious. He let his dog eat first, and it died from the poison!" Grayson turned to Andros and Katheren, who listened intently, "Then Tyrrel fought the assassin, and the two guards outside rushed in."

He looked up at the guard who was listening intently, "When I examined the three charred bodies, I found all their necks were broken by bare hands. The identical break points on two of them indicate they were killed by the same person using the same method."

Grayson paused, taking another puff of his cigar, "The third person's neck was broken differently, showing that a different person killed him!"

"What are you trying to say?" the guard asked, his voice deepening with suspicion.

Grayson smiled, cigar at his lips, "The only possibility is that all the guards present were accomplices!"

"Nonsense!" the guard slammed his fist on the table, causing it to shake violently.

Grayson stood his ground, smiling at the guard, "Furthermore, including General Stark, all of Tyrrel's men were accomplices, and they did this to cover up for you, the real killer!"

"You're calling me the killer? What proof do you have?" the guard's fists clenched as he glared at Grayson, looking ready to strike at any moment.

"The evidence will come soon, but first, I'll point out four clues," Grayson walked to the edge of the table, looking up at the shiny visor of the full-face helmet, "First, you accompanied General Stark to the hall where the charred bodies were stored."

"When the Titan elder and General Stark entered the hall, you didn't wait outside as protocol dictates, but followed them in. That's a severe breach of conduct!"

"The strict hierarchy of the Titan caste system forbids such actions without proper rank, yet you boldly followed them. That's not something an ordinary soldier would dare!"

Grayson turned to Andros and Katheren, continuing, "Secondly, I examined the hands of the three bodies. The two with identical neck breaks had calluses on their palms and finger joints, signs of long-term weapon handling, indicating they were the guards standing outside the door."

"The third victim had smooth knuckles and thick calluses on the back of his hands but light ones on his palms, suggesting he practiced hand-to-hand combat and had the strength to break necks with his bare hands. It's clear the two soldiers died at his hand."

"What are you talking about?" the guard stared at Grayson, puzzled, "Are you saying Prince Tyrrel killed his own guards and then broke his own neck and set himself on fire?"

"I didn't say that," Grayson replied with a slight smile, calmly, "Don't rush; let me finish. Thirdly, I checked the feet of the three bodies, and they all had thick calluses, a sign of long-term barefoot walking."

"As I understand, the Titan caste also has clear divisions regarding bare feet. Only the higher-ups wear shoes, while the middle and lower classes go barefoot."

"But there's an exception," Grayson raised his voice, pointing at the guard, "soldiers with severe foot injuries that affect walking are allowed to wear shoes for protection. And you were wearing shoes in the hall where the bodies were stored!"

"So what?" the guard scoffed, "Just because of that, I'm the killer?"

"No," Grayson shook his head meaningfully, "As a soldier, you wear shoes, but your steps are light, showing no sign of injury. No shoe can make a severely injured foot move as if it's unharmed!"

He exhaled a puff of smoke, the corner of his mouth curling into a sly smile, "Moreover, I see an elegance and composure in you that's different from ordinary soldiers."

"In the presence of the Titan King and the elder, you showed no fear or hesitation, instead exchanging glances with General Stark. That's not something a soldier can do!"

He crushed the cigar butt underfoot, looking confidently at the guard, "Lastly, the evidence you asked for: take off your helmet. That's the best evidence, Prince Tyrrel, the third son of the Titan King!"

The guard looked down at Grayson, who returned his gaze unwaveringly. After a long pause, a soft chuckle emerged from the helmet. The guard slowly removed it, revealing Tyrrel's face, admiring and smiling.

"Mr. Grayson, you've surprised me once again. Is it going to be like this every time we meet?" The Titan prince smiled, bowing his head and sizing up Grayson's confident smile.

"Your Highness, you're really alive!" Andros and Katheren, standing behind Grayson, stared in amazement. Tyrrel nodded gently, "Yes, just as Mr. Grayson said, I am still alive."

He sighed softly, "Everything happened just as Mr. Grayson deduced. The assassin tried to poison me, but my dog detected the poison in the food and died. I then struggled with the assassin, and my two guards rushed in."

Tyrrel gently placed his helmet on the table, continuing, "This made me realize that Solon wouldn't dare to kill me openly, but he could do it in secret. Fearing another attempt on my life, I decided to fake my death."

"I strangled the assassin with my own hands, then burned his body along with the two guards. They were similar in stature to me, and once charred, they were indistinguishable. I thought I had covered all bases, but I hadn't accounted for your presence," Tyrrel said, smiling at Grayson.

"At least you're fortunate that I am not your enemy," Grayson replied, his smile fading as he spoke, "You might have thought everything through, not even telling the Knights or the Priests to keep it secret, but you made a fatal mistake today!"

"What?" Tyrrel's eyes widened with a sense of foreboding.

"Do you really think Solon stored the charred bodies in the palace just to wait for an investigation result?" Grayson shook his head, "He wouldn't be foolish enough to believe you were dead based on those unrecognizable bodies, especially since he still hasn't been able to draw the Thunder Sword."

"You mean..." A dark premonition surged in Tyrrel's heart.

Grayson continued, "Your actions today, following General Stark to the palace to inquire about Solon's movements, were too reckless. Solon was too busy dealing with the elder to pay attention to you, but he will surely recall the abnormality of that guard afterward!"

"I was careless!" Tyrrel stamped his foot in frustration.

"Your Highness, you must act now, find a way to leave Thunder Fort. Solon will soon send people to track you down, and you can't hide for long!" Grayson urged Tyrrel with a sense of urgency.

Tyrrel nodded repeatedly, rising to call General Stark, but the door suddenly burst open, and General Stark himself charged in, exclaiming, "Your Highness, it's bad news! Solon has surrounded this place!"