Lucien stood watching in the shadow of the east wing, his small frame dwarfed by the towering stone walls. The image of Dorian's lifeless body burned in his mind's eye. It was a sight he wasn't going to forget as it was his first time ever seeing a dead body.
Blood had pooled beneath the prince, staining the cold stone floor, a stark contrast to the pale, still face Lucien could still picture so vividly.
He hadn't known the prince for long, but in the brief minutes he had hung around him, he had truly liked him. Dorian's easy smile and quiet kindness had left an impression, making his sudden absence feel like a theft.
He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. The guards had failed. That much was clear. Someone had slipped through unseen and slit Dorian's throat while he hid in the dark corners of the east wing. The silence of the night had masked the killer's steps, and the shadows had been their ally.
Damn! If this was a reincarnation novel, I guess this would be my first test. Catching the killer.
The thought flickered through his mind, half-serious, half-mocking, as if fate had thrust a role upon him he wasn't ready to play.
His small face hardened as he resolved to find the truth. He had to. For Dorian. For the King and Queen, whose grief now tore through the estate, their wails echoing down the halls like a haunting melody. And for himself, to quiet the guilt that whispered he should have found Dorian sooner, should have heard something—anything—that could have changed the night's cruel end.
"Father," he said, his voice small but steady as he approached Duke Aldric near the east gate. The Duke turned, his stern face softening for a moment at the sight of his son.
"I want to help. I want to accompany you to talk to the guards. But… please, come with me. I can't do it alone."
Aldric's brow furrowed and a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he nodded. "Very well, Lucien. We'll do this together."
Lucien was stunned at how easily he had given in.
I thought the old man will argue that I should stay back. He must be really desperate to get the killer then.
Meanwhile, King Wilhelm gathered his own retinue of guards and strode toward the great hall, where the guests—nobles, merchants, and distant kin—had been corralled.
His jaw was set, his eyes blazing with a fury that masked the hollow ache in his chest. "Question them all," he commanded his men, his voice a low growl. "No one rests until we know who was behind the murder of my son."
Back at the east gate, Lucien stood before the two guards stationed there—Garrick and Thom, two men with weathered faces and eyes that darted nervously under the Duke's scrutiny.
"Tell me what happened," The Duke began. "When Dorian died, where were you?"
Garrick shifted uncomfortably, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. "We were here, my lord. At our post. All night."
Thom nodded vigorously, his beard bobbing. "Aye, never left. Swear it on my mother's grave."
Lucien frowned and spoke up, addressing them. "Did you see anyone? Anyone at all pass through this gate while we were playing?"
The guards exchanged a glance as they looked down at the four-year-old questioning them. Garrick scratched at his neck, his brow creasing. "I… I don't rightly recall. It's all a bit fuzzy, like. The night was quiet, then… then the screaming started."
"Fuzzy?" Lucien pressed, stepping closer. "What do you mean, fuzzy? You're guards. You're supposed to remember everything."
Thom's face paled, and he stammered, "It's like… like there's a fog in my head. I know I was here, but the details—they're slipping, like water through my fingers."
Duke Aldric's eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward, his shadow falling over the men. "Think harder," he said, his voice a low rumble. "A boy is dead. Your prince. What did you see?"
Garrick's hands shook as he rubbed at his temples. "I—I can't, my lord. It's like the memory's been… pulled out of me. I see flashes—torchlight, shadows—but nothing clear."
A chill settled over them, the air thick with something unspoken. The Duke's jaw tightened. "Dark Magic," he muttered. "A spell has tampered with their minds."
Lucien's eyes widened. "Is that possible?"
The Duke exhaled sharply. "Too possible." He turned back to the guards. "You must try to remember. Even the smallest detail."
Lucien's heart thudded in his chest. He turned to his father, wide-eyed. "Father, their memories… they're gone. Wiped away. Ask them something else—something simple. What they ate for supper."
Aldric's gaze darkened, but he humored his son. "Garrick, what did you eat tonight?"
The guard blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "I… I don't know, my lord. Bread, maybe? Or was it stew? It's all muddled."
"Thom?" Aldric pressed.
The second guard fared no better, his face twisting in confusion. "I can't say, my lord. It's like someone's scrubbed my mind clean."
A chill crept up Duke Aldric's spine, a sensation he hadn't felt in years. He straightened, his hand resting instinctively on the pommel of his sword. "This is not natural," he murmured, more to himself than to Lucien. "This is sorcery. Dark magic."
Lucien's breath caught, his eyes darting between his father and the guards. "Magic? You mean… someone used it to make them forget?"
Aldric nodded grimly. "Aye. I've seen it before, long ago. A dark practitioner can twist a man's mind, erase what he's seen, leave him hollowed out. Whoever did this didn't just slip past the guards, they ensured no trace remained."
The room grew heavy with silence, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the stone walls. Lucien swallowed hard, his mind racing. "But who, Father? Who could wield such power?"
His question went unanswered as Duke Aldric eyes scanned the place, as if the culprit might still lurk in the corners.
He turned to the guards. "Speak of this to no one. We'll root out the truth ourselves."