In the Vineyard mansion's spacious hall, the glow of the fireplace cast wavering shadows upon two men sitting in hushed conversation. Now and then, the wood popped and cracked, echoing in the silence.
Charles was recounting the details of his investigation to Reginald. The raw grief that had seized the young man moments earlier had receded for now.
Charles explained every step in meticulous detail—from examining the crime scenes to interviewing witnesses, then analyzing the evidence and piecing together motives.
"All my findings point to Robert alone, without any real doubt," Charles began, his gaze distant, as though he were recalling the sequence of events in his mind.
"In Mary's bedroom, she was poisoned and killed. There were also signs of a struggle and physical assault. Yet strangely, there was no evidence of forced entry. I suspect the killer slipped in while she slept, using a spare key inside the house. Mary must have awakened, leading to a brief fight before the murderer forced poison down her throat… just a few days before she was to marry you."
Reginald clenched his fists, face contorting with rage at the brutality visited upon the woman he loved, but he forced himself to remain calm and nodded for Charles to continue.
"As for Thomas—Edmund's friend's son—he was murdered viciously in the forest just outside the village. He died in much the same condition as Mary, with no sign that his body was dragged from elsewhere. Everything suggests he died on that very spot. He had fresh injuries that seemed inflicted even after death, no doubt the killer venting anger on a corpse."
Charles shifted slightly, turning his direct gaze on Reginald again.
"What's particularly noteworthy is the testimony from Priest Gerard. He stated Robert had once been infatuated with Mary, even before she married his own father. Thomas also pursued her, though Mary already had a husband. Robert eventually backed off, but Thomas kept hounding her."
Reginald frowned in distaste. He disliked the thought that other men had encircled his fiancée that way.
"There's more," Charles pressed on, reading the tension in Reginald's face. "From questioning the villagers, it seems Robert's relationship with his father—the former village head—was shaky at best. Once Edgar took Mary as his new wife, matters worsened. It was as if Robert felt his beloved had been stolen by his own father. Then Thomas made it worse by pestering Mary as well. Robert likely seethed with anger but was too afraid to act against his father. When the old headman died, there was no one left to stop him from unleashing that rage."
Charles took a measured breath. "Your upcoming marriage would have aggravated his wounds. He stood to lose both the woman he had once desired and the inheritance he believed should be his alone. All of these factors likely drove him to these crimes."
Reginald listened with deepening horror, eyes widening as he grasped the malevolence behind it all.
"The most alarming part… Edgar Thorn did not die of natural causes, as everyone believed. He was poisoned by Ergot, exactly like the other two victims."
"W-what?" Reginald's face went pale. He clutched his brow in shock. "So Robert was willing to kill even his own father?"
"I believe so." Charles nodded, a grim seriousness settling in his features. "As his father's son, he would have had easy access. Combined with his knowledge of herbal substances, it stands to reason he was the one who slipped the poison to his father without raising suspicion."
"Besides the old grudge, the inheritance was another motive. If Mary remarried, Robert might have to share the fortune he thought was rightfully his."
Reginald pressed his lips into a hard line, piecing all this together. "If Robert had harbored hatred for his father for so long, then with the head of the household gone, nothing held back his malice… not even from his rival, Thomas, or the woman he claimed to love."
He shut his eyes painfully. "I was such a fool for not seeing the vengeful madness in Robert's eyes. If I had realized sooner, maybe I could've protected Mary…"
His voice trembled. He gripped his own knees as though to quell the rage and sorrow roiling within.
"At present, we have sufficient evidence to implicate Robert, but ideally, we need a confession from his own lips—and more concrete proof. Your help is crucial," Charles said quietly.
"W-what do you mean by that?" Reginald looked up, confusion glimmering beneath grief.
Charles's answer was calm but carried an unyielding resolve. "We need you to act as bait… to lure Robert into admitting his guilt."
"Bait…? You mean me?" Reginald repeated, his throat going dry at the danger that implied.
"I'll explain how. But first, you must promise to help us see this case through," Charles urged, voice resolute.
Reginald fell silent, head bowed in thought. He weighed the risk to his life against the justice Mary deserved. At last, his resentment won out. He lifted his chin, grim determination burning in his eyes.
"I promise," he said in a raw yet firm voice.
Charles inclined his head, reading the conviction in Reginald's reply.
"All right. Here is our plan. First, you write a letter to Robert, hinting that you've discovered what he's done. Invite him to meet you at the spot in the forest where Thomas's body was found. That location will make him suspect you know of his crimes. Meanwhile, I and a squad of city guards will lie in wait, hidden from sight."
Charles's voice dropped to a low hush. "You must make Robert believe he has an ideal opportunity to dispose of you with no witnesses. Goad him into confessing everything: how and why he did it. Get him to reveal as many details about his method as possible."
Reginald furrowed his brow. "What if he doesn't fall for it? What if he attacks me before saying anything?"
"You'll have to trust us. We'll be watching and ready to intervene the moment we see a danger signal."
"And if you miss your cue? He could wound me—or worse," Reginald said, voice unsteady.
For a long moment, Charles said nothing. Then he exhaled. "We've brought along a skilled doctor from the capital, Elias Harper. He'll be standing by to help if it goes that far."
Reginald's expression flickered with uncertainty. At last, he nodded faintly. "Understood."
Charles stood. "Then get yourself ready. We'll put this plan into motion at once."
Reginald summoned his butler to write the letter and send it to Robert's home. Then he went upstairs to change. Some time later, he returned in looser clothing, each item chosen with care.
Charles, waiting below, nodded, and the two of them headed out from the mansion into the darkening night, traveling to the forest clearing that would stage their dangerous trap.
Under a looming old tree at the designated rendezvous, Reginald stood with tense shoulders. The damp earth, chilled by the night air, clung to his boots. Though his face was drawn and pale, his eyes shone with fierce resolve.
He surveyed the surroundings, body trembling slightly from the cold and his own nerves. He forced himself to stay steady.
Suddenly, a twig snapped not far away. Reginald flinched, whirling toward the sound. His heart thudded as he watched a lone figure step forward slowly.
"What do you want?" Robert asked in a flat tone, though there was a wary glint in his eyes.
Reginald swallowed, fighting to keep control of his voice. "I wanted to speak about Mary… and about everything that's happened."
Robert's mouth twisted into a humorless smirk. "What about it? She just died of that sickness like everyone else in the village."
"Really?" Reginald arched a brow. "It's peculiar that a healthy woman like Mary died so suddenly."
Robert shifted, appearing uncomfortable. "What exactly are you implying?"
Reginald inched closer. "I think someone couldn't stand that she chose me… so he killed her."
Robert recoiled slightly, then gave a hollow laugh. "You're overthinking. Who would do such a thing?"
"Someone who loved her for a long time," Reginald stated in a level voice. "Someone who couldn't bear the thought of her being with anyone else."
Robert went silent for a moment, tension rippling in his posture. "You don't have any proof."
"Don't I?" Reginald tilted his head. "You look awfully nervous."
Robert clenched his jaw, fury flickering in his eyes. "You know nothing! You never understood Mary like I did!"
"But you did understand her," Reginald pressed. "You knew she would never love you."
"Shut up!" Robert snarled. His hand darted into his coat pocket.
Reginald held his ground. "Why, Robert? Why did you have to kill her—and your own father too?"
Robert froze, eyes widening. "You… you know?"
"Yes. I know it all," Reginald declared, voice firm. "But I want to hear it from you."
For a moment, Robert stood still, as if torn between anger and anguish. Then it burst out, raw and feral:
"Yes! I did it! I killed them!" he shouted, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. "That damned father who never cared about me. Thomas, that bastard who dared chase after Mary. And… Mary…"
His voice dropped to a bitter hush. "She was supposed to be mine… She should have loved me… not you!"
Reginald stood silent, pity and revulsion twisting inside him as he watched Robert unravel. "Why, Robert? Why go to such extremes?"
"Because I loved her!" Robert roared. "I've loved her all along, and she never even noticed me!"
He pulled a small vial from his pocket. "If she wasn't going to be mine… then nobody else deserved her!"
Reginald backed up, realizing how dangerous this had become. "Robert… calm down."
"It's too late," Robert murmured with a sorrowful smile. "Everything ends now. And you're going to die."
He lunged at Reginald just as a shout rang out: "Stop!"
Charles and several guards emerged from hiding, weapons drawn. Yet Robert ignored them, eyes fixed only on Reginald in a frenzy of rage.
"Mary!" he screamed, rushing Reginald at breakneck speed. One hand clutched the vial of poison, while his other brandished a knife.
Reginald tried to dodge, but Robert's movement was swift. The knife slashed down, hitting Reginald squarely in the torso.
A dull thud sounded as the blade collided with a layer of hidden leather armor beneath Reginald's loose shirt. Though the impact forced him back a step, the armor absorbed most of the blow.
Robert's eyes went wide. "What…?"
Taking advantage, Reginald shoved him away, clutching the spot where the knife had struck. "Did you really think I'd come here unprepared?"
Robert growled in frustration, struggling to uncork the vial with shaking hands. "If I can't have her, then no one can!"
A guard fired a warning shot into the air, and the gun's sharp crack made Robert flinch for half a heartbeat. It was enough for Charles to tackle him to the ground. They rolled across the damp earth, each grappling for control.
"Let me go! Let me go!" Robert writhed furiously, stabbing at Charles with the knife, but Charles pinned his wrist just in time.
The other guards rushed in to help, wrestling Robert into submission. The knife and vial flew from his grasp.
Even then, Robert kept thrashing and shouting, half in tears, half in broken laughter. "Mary! Why? Why didn't you love me?"
Charles got to his feet, chest heaving from exertion, and turned to Reginald. "Are you hurt badly?"
Reginald shook his head, removing his outer shirt to reveal the sturdy leather armor beneath. "I'm fine. If not for this, I'd be in real trouble."
Charles exhaled in relief. "Thank goodness we planned ahead. I'm sorry you had to risk your life."
Reginald gave a sorrowful smile. "I don't mind. If it means Mary receives justice, it's worth it."
As the guards dragged Robert away—still raging between sobs and hollow laughter—Charles looked at Reginald with sympathy. "We've caught the murderer, but there's still more to investigate."
"This case isn't over, is it?" Reginald asked, weariness heavy in his voice.
Charles shook his head. "Not yet. We need more evidence and a thorough inquiry."
They watched Robert being hauled off, the echo of his delirious screams lingering in the darkness. It left behind an unsettling emptiness and many unresolved questions.
Robert Thorn's fate would soon be decided. He would face the punishment he deserved, for the sake of the innocent lives he had taken.
Later that night, as officers searched the vacant home that once belonged to the late village headman and the newly captured killer, Charles joined them, seeking more clues. He held a spare key found on Robert—proof of how the man had crept into his victims' bedrooms unnoticed. They also discovered contaminated rye, illicit distillation equipment for extracting deadly substances, and personal notes incriminating Robert beyond any doubt.
While rummaging through the makeshift laboratory, Charles noticed a small, timeworn slip of paper peeking out from a thick book. Seemingly unremarkable, it nevertheless drew his attention.
He plucked it out and read. It contained strange characters, a script he did not recognize from any known language in the Kingdom of Hydelyn, or beyond—yet somehow, he grasped the meaning clearly.
"Proph… ecy…?"
He only managed to glean a single word before the rest blurred and smudged beyond recognition. The damaged edges suggested there might have been more to it.
Suddenly, Charles felt something warm trickle beneath his nose, trailing onto his lips. The scent of fresh blood drifted into his senses.
He dabbed his fingers beneath his nostrils, holding them up to the candlelight. Dark red droplets. Definitely blood.
"What… in the world…?"
Those were the last words he managed, voice hazy with confusion. The room seemed to spin, his legs weakening. He collapsed to the floor, consciousness slipping away.
The last thing he saw was the officers rushing toward him, calling his name in alarm—and then, everything went black.