Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

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If that person wasn't a land force spellcaster officer, this matter would be even graver.

It would mean that either the fruits of the Magic Combat Department's research had already been stolen by outsiders who also trained spellcasters capable of using advanced spells like the Deflection Spell;

or... the dead traveler was one of those legendary court wizards who were said to use magic. But could a court wizard be killed that easily?

Winters's headache grew the more he thought about it, and he decided that unless Colonel Field asked, he would keep his mouth shut. After all, he trusted Major Moritz more than Field.

And since you don't ask proactively, my not telling doesn't count as intentional concealment.

Thoughts brought him to a mild resentment: "Weren't we supposed to discuss this in secret together? Why has Major Moritz disappeared? When I get home, I must ask Uncle if he knows where the Major is now."

Nothing out of the ordinary could be seen about the suspect spellcaster from the autopsy report; these three had neither tattoos nor conspicuous scars.

And as for that traveler torn to pieces, although the coroner hadn't determined the cause of death, Winters knew it was due to an assassin stabbing him in the left rib with a short dagger. The explosion only hastened his death and destroyed the body.

However, for some reason, Winters always felt there was something discordant, like something was off.

He scrutinized the autopsy report again to make sure he hadn't missed anything. But he still couldn't pinpoint the source of this discordance.

Morlock had long finished copying the customs guards' investigative records and had been waiting silently for Winters to finish reading the autopsy report. Winters, with an apologetic look, exchanged the documents with the copyist and continued to peruse the investigation records.

Yet the investigation report was even shorter than the autopsy report.

The customs guards' approach was straightforward—immediately starting to look for the assassin. But the assassins all wore masks and cloaks, and no one had seen their faces.

If it was temporarily impossible to find out who the assassin was, then where did the assassin run off to? According to the statements of the vendors near the docks, the assassin fled in a black carriage heading east along the main road.

If one knew the carriage was black and in which direction it escaped, all that was left was to search.

Venetians liked grand styles, so pure black carriages were not very common, only a few coachmen used such carriages.

But the customs guards ran into difficulties in their investigation. When they inquired about it along the path of the assassin's escape, they found that after six or seven blocks, no one remembered such a carriage—who would pay attention to a mediocre carriage on the street?

When the customs guards described the carriage in detail and repeatedly inquired, those vendors seemed to "recall" this carriage. However, the directions they provided were all over the place. Some even swore they saw the carriage not coming from the docks, but heading towards them.

In response, Lop from the affairs office believed these statements were not credible; purely because the customs investigators were too detailed in describing the carriage, overly persistent in their questioning, which led to the vendors' induced testimony.

If it was not known who the assailant was, then how about investigating who the victim was? But the sailors from the Bandit Gull were completely ignorant about the identity of the deceased.

Wanting to question the captain, they found this captain was only a stand-in, while the original captain was still drifting at sea with the Fortunate Gull, his fate unknown.

The final result of the investigation was that the assassin could not be found, the carriage could not be found, and the port had a few extra corpses, but no one knew who the deceased were.

Winters had to admit, just as Lop said, this case was a tangled mess, almost certainly destined to be an unsolved mystery. Whoever took it over would have a headache, no wonder Colonel Field was furious enough to curse in his office today.

However, as a witness on the scene, Winters had his own informational advantage. He discovered something the customs people had not yet noticed: the traveler blown to pieces was actually killed by someone disguised as a dock worker.

And clearly, killers were also among the dock workers. These assassins did not wear masks, perhaps they could become a breakthrough.

Furthermore, on that day, army lieutenants were all at the docks, with many witnesses. Perhaps other lieutenants might have also noticed some valuable information.

Having finished reading both files, Winters stood up to stretch his stiff body; he suddenly remembered that he had not properly thanked Benvenuto for rescuing him from the water.

They had agreed to meet that night back at Sea Blue, but Winters ended up in the customs jail until now, so the meeting never happened.

Thinking of this, Winters figured he'd take the chance today to go home, change clothes, and clean up a bit. Later, when the dockworkers had finished for the day, he would go find Benvenuto at his place.

He bid farewell to Morlock and made his way home.

———Divider———

Winters arrived home, where the day-servant, who was not living in, opened the door for him. Kosha was sitting on the parlor sofa, a small basket resting on her knees, busying herself with some embroidery.

The Great General had been dozing beside her but was startled awake by the sound of the door and sat up alertly, looking toward the newcomer. Recognizing Winters, he settled back down.

Glad to see her nephew come home, Kosha happily laid down her needlework and rose to greet him: "How was the first day of the apprenticeship, and where did you get this sword?... Oh my, where have you been? Why do you smell so odd?"

"Really? Does it smell? I thought it was just my imagination," Winters replied with a smile, skirting around the topics of dead bodies and murder: "Colonel Field lent me the sword, he said a soldier can't be without a sidearm. Today, I went to a particularly smelly place with the Colonel."

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