As Arthur stepped into the drawing room, the first thing he heard was a voice filled with suspicion.
"And how long have you been working here?"
'Damn it. What is Ralph doing here? Was he the "servant" the butler mentioned earlier?'
"Pardon me, but I'm not inclined to answer you, Detective."
Ralph's voice was unwavering despite the weight behind the question.
Before he could say another word, Arthur stepped forward.
"Apologies for my tardiness, Detective. I had some pressing matters to attend to."
He turned his gaze towards Arthur.
The morning light caught the waves of his jet-black hair, casting faint shadows against his sharp features.
But it was his golden, piercing gaze that locked onto Arthur. Those eyes carried the weight of a man who dissected every glance, every twitch, peeling away layers until he found what he was looking for.
His lips curled slightly.
"No worries, Lord Ashbourne. I've had quite the interesting conversation with your servants."
'I see... so, he has already questioned a few of them.'
A thorough man. A dangerous man.
The golden studs in his ears glinted as he shifted slightly.
"Ralph, return to your usual work."
"Yes, young master."
Arthur watched as he departed.
'Why Ralph of all people? Why was he interrogating him? Was it mere routine inquiry, or was this something deeper? Was he in cahoots with those responsible for my father's disappearance?'
Arthur couldn't dismiss the thought so easily.
After all, the Lancaster family was new to nobility, a title bought rather than inherited. Their sudden wealth was suspicious, too much of a coincidence. Their rise had begun around the same time my father disappeared.
Arthur masked his thoughts behind an easy smile.
"Then, shall we continue our conversation?"
"Ah. Of course, Lord Ashbourne."
His lips curved in a way that lacked warmth.
He adjusted his coat with practiced ease, stepping forward with an air of rehearsed civility.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself."
'As if I already don't know who he is.'
"My name is Edgar Lancaster."
Dark circles rested beneath his golden eyes, lending him the unsettling, almost manic aura of a man who lived on the edge of obsession.
Though, it suited him. It made him look less like a detective and more like a serial killer masquerading as one.
"I am in charge of leading the investigation into the death of Lord Frederick Ashbourne, and I have a few questions to inquire regarding the case."
'Ah, so he planned to interrogate me in my own home? Nice try, but...'
Arthur let out a quiet breath, the corners of his lips tugging into a wry smile.
"Well, I wouldn't say it's a pleasure to meet you, Detective. Not when you disguise an interrogation as a mere inquiry. To be frank, I would've been far happier if you had chosen to grace those pirates with your presence instead of wasting your precious time here."
'I know you suspect me. I know you think I had a hand in my father's death. But if you truly cared about justice, why don't you investigate the ones who actually did it?'
His lips twitched at Arthur's words, but he said nothing.
"By the way, I am the acting head of house Ashbourne. Arthur Ashbourne. You may address me as such."
Arthur saw a small shift in his demeanor, just the slightest change.
"Then I won't waste your valuable time and will try to conclude my inquiry as quickly as possible, Lord Arthur."
Arthur recognized the unspoken meaning behind his words.
'Apologies, but you are my primary suspect, and I won't leave until I've gotten what I need.'
Arthur chuckled inwardly.
"Sure. Ask away, then."
'Let's see if you can get anything out of me, Detective.'
He observed Arthur for a moment before speaking again.
"I've heard the heirs of House Ashbourne undergo… rigorous training. I also heard that as a child, you were once kidnapped and sold off as part of a survival lesson."
Arthur tilted his head slightly, his expression remaining composed.
"I don't know where you heard that, but I wouldn't call our training severe. I would describe it as proper preparation befitting the Ashbourne name."
He let his gaze rest on him for a moment before he added:
"As for the so-called kidnapping, the assigned detective at the time already investigated it. The case was long closed."
Arthur leaned back slightly, allowing a sliver of boredom to creep into his tone.
"Perhaps, Detective, you are straying too far from the matter at hand?"
'Your job is to investigate my father's disappearance, not me.'
A brief flicker of something passed through his golden eyes.
"Alright. It seems I touched on an unnecessary topic. Then, Lord Arthur, how was your relationship with your father? I heard the funeral was held rather hastily, without even searching for him properply, and least to say, without waiting to recover the body. And that you were also appointed as an acting head rather in a hurry."
Arthur tilted his head slightly.
"Detective Edgar, I understand you are not the only heir of house Lancaster, so I doubt you would fully grasp this. We have people to care for, Detective. We are to lead them, provide their salaries, and ensure they are fed. Ashbournes bear the responsibility of those under us."
Arthur's tone was light, conversational, yet razor-sharp.
"So tell me, do you suggest that I should abandon my duties? That I should leave this household to crumble while I chase after a man whose fate has already been decided?"
Edgar looked at Arthur as he tried to defend himself.
"No. You're taking it the wrong way, Lord Arthur."
Before he could continue, a knock sounded at the door, and Butler Robert entered.
"Young master, Lord Demetrius wishes to know if you have any time to play a game of chess with him."
It was Demetrius' message to Arthur: If you have enough time to waste on this detective, then stop fooling around and come for your next lesson.
Arthur exhaled quietly.
"Haa... I see. Where is Grandfather?"
"He is waiting for you in the garden."
Arthur rose to his feet, offering Edgar a courteous smile laced with finality.
"It seems our conversation ends here, Detective."
He then turned towards the butler as he said:
"Butler, kindly escort the detective to the door. I'd hate for him to lose his way in unfamiliar halls."
'Take this man out of here. If left alone, I'm sure he'll start interrogating the servants again.'
"Yes, young master."
Edgar smirked, clearly understanding Arthur's intent. His golden eyes flickered with amusement.
"Then, I will continue my investigation and keep you informed of any progress."
Edgar Lancaster.
He was a man described in the novel as a mad dog, one who would chase his suspicions to the ends of the earth, obsessing over every detail.
Arthur smirked slightly, knowing exactly what he was implying.
He'll be keeping an eye on Arthur. If he finds proof that he was behind his father's death, he will hunt him down without hesitation.
"Sure. I'll be waiting."
'Catch me if you can.'
Without another word, Arthur stepped into the halls of Ashbourne Manor.
"Hoo... That felt like a war of nerves. Well, at least I managed to avoid suspicion."
***
Arthur entered the garden, where Demetrius sat beneath the shade of an ancient autumn tree. The golden-red leaves swirled lazily in the crisp morning breeze, drifting like forgotten memories before settling upon the earth.
The sunlight filtered through the branches, casting shifting patterns upon the table before him. He did not look up immediately, merely resting his fingers against the armrest of his chair, as though lost in thought.
Arthur stepped forward and inclined his head slightly.
"Good morning, Grandfather."
Demetrius nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze finally settling on Arthur.
"What became of the detective?"
"I had the butler show him the way out."
His gaze showed signs of amusement.
"Right. What a fitting way for an Ashbourne to dispose of an annoyance."
He reached for the wooden chessboard on the table, running his fingers over the polished surface.
"Have you played before?"
"Yes, once. With Father."
His emerald eyes gleamed with challenge.
"Then let's have a match. A wager, if you will. The loser grants the winner a favor."
"As you wish, Grandfather."
They arranged the pieces and began their game.
Demetrius' first move was sharp. However, Arthur countered with practiced ease, letting his fingers glide over the cool wooden figures.
Demetrius moved a knight forward as he mused:
"As the acting head of the Ashbourne household, what do you believe is the most pressing matter at hand?"
"The mine...?"
He nodded his head slightly in approval.
"Precisely."
That mine was an unexpected blessing wrapped in the guise of misfortune. The land granted to the Ashbourne family had been a barren wasteland, given to them as if in mockery.
For decades, it had been nothing more than an empty expanse.
But then, precious ore was discovered beneath its surface. And suddenly, the worthless land became a prize worth coveting.
Fifty percent.
That was the King's demand. Half of what rightfully belonged to the Ashbournes. As if the ore was his by some divine right. As if his claim to their land was an immutable truth rather than an insult.
And this was the reason why Frederick had spent the past few years in the capital. He was busy with negotiations that were nothing short of a battlefield.
"The King remains as stubborn and avaricious as ever. He will not relinquish his claim, nor will he lower his demand."
The Ashbournes speaking of the King with the same indifference one might afford a stray dog was nothing out of the ordinary.
Demetrius moved another piece as he continued:
"And that sly old weasel, he sure has a way of slipping from the negotiation table. He claims he will not interfere, that we are free to act as we see fit."
A scoff escaped his lips.
"Hah! That arrogant man hasn't changed."
Demetrius referred to Desmond Crowndale as the old weasel.
The former King of the Crowndale Kingdom.
Where the current King, Dominic Crowndale, was a man driven by boundless ambition, Desmond had been something else entirely.
He was a ruler who saw the world as beneath him, so assured of his own superiority that he scarcely acknowledged those outside his immediate circle of interest. To him, the Ashbournes had been nothing more than an inconvenience. A minor nuisance, hardly worth his notice.
But this conversation was not a mere complaint. It was a strategy in motion.
"How do you plan to handle the matter?"
Arthur shifted a rook forward as he replied:
"Why negotiate at all? Why not exchange the land for another fief?"
Demetrius' gaze sharpened.
"You're suggesting we simply hand over the mine to those greedy men?"
"I understand that my father fought for that mine for many years, but we can take it back anytime we wish."
After a brief silence, Demetrius leaned back in his chair, amusement flickering in his sharp eyes as a deep, resonant laugh escaped him.
"Hahaha! So, you're even more ambitious than those wrinkled old men, are you?"
"If that's the conclusion you've drawn, I won't deny it."
Arthur reached forward and, with a quiet flick of his fingers, tipped over the king.
"Checkmate."
The game was certainly his. But it didn't feel like a victory.
The moves had been too clean. Too easy.
Demetrius' pieces had faltered in all the right places, yielding just enough to grant him the illusion of triumph.
And Arthur knew that he had been granted yet another favor.