"Is this an illusion? Or is it real?"
Napoleon narrowed his eyes, suppressing the thoughts in his mind.
"I'm fine," he straightened up and replied calmly.
"Young Master... Sir Aldrich was such a good man, such an honorable official. How could this happen...?"
Petite's eyes brimmed with tears, ready to burst into sobs again.
Napoleon silently observed the Thornton family corpses scattered across the ground.
All the bodies were grayish-blue in color, with strangulation marks around their necks.
The Provincial Governor glanced around briefly before departing hastily, leaving the entire matter in the hands of the Chief Constable responsible for the case.
Several other government officials tasked with investigating the case huddled together with the Chief Constable, discussing the details.
"Young Master, the Lord requests your presence," a servant approached and whispered to Napoleon.
As he spoke, he cast a pitying glance at the Thornton family corpses on the ground.
"I'll be right there," Napoleon looked at the servant. "Aren't you afraid?"
"Of course I am," the servant was only eighteen or nineteen, but his demeanor carried a maturity beyond his years.
"But sir, I'm a refugee from the Eastern Kingdom of Kaedwen. There's a terrible famine there now—corpses litter the ground, and some families even resort to exchanging children for food. Having witnessed such horrors... *sigh*..."
He sighed, then quickly realized he was speaking too freely to someone of Napoleon's station and lowered his head.
"You've seen many such incidents? Are there similar occurrences in the Eastern Kingdom of Kaedwen?"
Napoleon asked casually.
The servant fell silent for a moment.
"Quite a few."
Napoleon's heart tightened.
Without stopping, he quickly approached this life's father, Lord Marcus Bonaparte.
Marcus Bonaparte, courtesy name Quan'an, styled as Master Golden Yuan.
Marcus's wealth was legendary throughout Oxenfurt. The impending marriage alliance between the Bonaparte and Thornton families had been the talk of the entire city, with congratulatory gifts arriving even from the neighboring Purple Flower City to the west.
Such a momentous celebration had now turned into this tragedy.
Marcus's expression was grim, his eyes revealing deep fatigue and worry.
"Tell Captain Gareth about yesterday's situation in detail."
He stepped aside to make room for a bearded man approaching them.
Napoleon's mind kept replaying Aldrich's words from yesterday. He was certain the undead creature case was connected to the Thornton family deaths.
He recounted his conversation with Aldrich the previous day without omission.
There was nothing to hide.
Captain Gareth furrowed his brow, unable to discern any leads.
Seeing there were no more questions, Napoleon took his leave.
As he prepared to depart, the magistrate's men began collecting the bodies.
Napoleon stood aside watching for a while. When he saw Aldrich being lifted onto a stretcher, he sighed and approached a constable.
"Good sir, are there any surviving members of the Thornton family?"
He thought that if any survivors remained, he could care for them and perhaps learn something useful.
"None... all gone. Even the extended family members were implicated. Perhaps there are a few distant relatives in Purple Flower City."
The constable shook his head and spoke quietly.
Napoleon discreetly slipped him a small piece of silver, then accompanied his family members back to their carriage.
The carriages returned home one by one.
But the horrific scene at the Thornton estate lingered in everyone's minds.
Marcus, as head of the family, convened a family meeting, declaring the engagement with the Thornton family officially canceled. He instructed the women to comfort Isabelle, then retreated alone to his chambers to rest.
The young men scattered throughout the city—some to taverns, others to brothels or music halls. When shocked, they typically sought to numb themselves this way.
The women hurried to the nearby Monastery of the Sacred Rose to pray and offer incense, seeking divine protection.
They hoped to obtain a blessed charm from Father Redmond to protect their household from evil influences.
The entire Bonaparte estate was shrouded in anxiety.
Napoleon chose not to indulge in such distractions.
Taking Petite with him, he made his way to the family's grand library.
The library was eerily quiet.
He pushed open the door to find a plump woman inside, dusting and cleaning the bookshelves.
The vermillion bookcases and furniture, combined with the dim light filtering through the windows, cast the room in somber shadows.
Napoleon entered, circling around the circular floral screen blocking the entrance, breathing in the faint woody fragrance of the library.
"Please leave me be. I wish to read and rest for a while."
He instructed.
"Yes, sir."
Petite obediently responded, then escorted the cleaning woman out.
Napoleon stood alone in the library, gazing at the rows of bookshelves before him with a slight sigh.
He began searching shelf by shelf.
Soon, he located records and chronicles of the local region.
Gathering these volumes, he began examining them one by one.
By the dim light filtering through the windows, he quickly finished one complete tome.
'Year 72 of the Holy Light Calendar: A madman appeared in the outskirts of Oxenfurt, killing twelve people in his delirium before being surrounded and killed by city guards.'
'Year 85 of the Holy Light Calendar: In Oxenfurt's marketplace, a man's head suddenly separated from his body in broad daylight. Cause of death unknown.'
'Year 91 of the Holy Light Calendar: Travelers disappeared at a ruined temple outside the city. After fifteen people vanished, the case remains unsolved.'
'Year 95 of the Holy Light Calendar: The owner of a music hall in Oxenfurt disappeared. His limbs were found in four different locations outside the city. Though dead only four days, the body had already decayed to bare bones.'
'Year 116 of the Holy Light Calendar: Children's crying was heard outside the city at night. All who investigated disappeared. The crying ceased on its own after three days.'
Reading record after record of these strange incidents, Napoleon grew increasingly alarmed and disturbed.
In such a world—one practically fraught with danger at every turn—it was remarkable that people hadn't collapsed into madness and could still live normal lives.
He opened another volume.
This one was even more extraordinary than the last.
'Year 119 of the Holy Light Calendar: During a blizzard in Oxenfurt, locals reported divine manifestation of the Sacred Light. The three-day snowstorm ceased. After three days, the snowfall that had continued for dozens of days suddenly stopped.'
'Year 128 of the Holy Light Calendar: Mysterious fog appeared on the road to Purple Flower City. Those who entered lost their bearings and found themselves dozens of miles away on the shores of a white frozen ocean. After ten days, the fog disappeared.'
Reading this far, Napoleon was almost certain that this world was far more complex than he had imagined. Demons and monsters might truly exist.
At least from his current social position, he could see no earthly means of controlling weather.
He shifted his chair and used a flint to light the candle on the desk.
The warm yellow candlelight cast shifting shadows across his face.
"If this world is truly as dangerous as I suspect, what do I need to protect myself? What can I use for self-defense?"
He pondered this question.
After sitting at the desk in thought for some time, Napoleon slowly rose, extinguished the candle, and carefully returned all the books to their proper places.
Then he pushed open the door and stepped out.
"Young Master, have you finished reading?"
Petite had been dozing while standing by the door and startled when Napoleon suddenly emerged, but quickly recovered her composure.
"Yes. Do you know where Captain Garrett is now?"
Napoleon asked casually.
Though there were many captains in the Bonaparte manor, only one was universally called Captain Garrett.
That was the man Lord Marcus called Uncle Garrett—the Bonaparte family's finest warrior, their most skilled mercenary captain: Garrett the Tiger.
"Um... Captain Garrett is usually at the training grounds at this hour, conditioning his body and training the household guards," Petite replied. She maintained good relationships with other servants and stayed well-informed.
"Let's go find him."
After considerable deliberation, Napoleon realized that Captain Garrett represented his best opportunity to acquire the self-defense skills he desperately needed.
Following the manor's winding paths, Napoleon quickly passed through two residential quarters and arrived at the rear of the estate.
On a large training ground, an elderly man with graying hair was leading over a dozen household guards in combat exercises.
The morning sunlight gradually helped dispel some of the horror they had witnessed earlier.
Mercenary Captain Garrett the Tiger wore practical training clothes—a black tunic and gray trousers—with a thick-backed broadsword that never left his back.
Napoleon waited at the side, observing.
After Garrett finished instructing the guards, he had them pair off for sparring practice.
He then approached Napoleon, having noticed him some time ago.
"Young Master, what brings you to the training grounds today? Is there something you need this old soldier's help with?"
Captain Garrett held a status in the manor nearly equal to the master himself.
The other mercenary captains also enjoyed considerable standing, typically interacting with the young masters and ladies as equals.
Napoleon glanced at the guards still practicing their combat techniques nearby.
"Captain Garrett, I want to learn combat techniques."
His declaration caused Captain Garrett's smile to freeze instantly.
"Young Master, surely you're not jesting with this old man?"
"I'm not joking," Napoleon shook his head.
After much consideration, he had concluded that learning combat techniques from his family's mercenary captain was his most accessible path to acquiring self-defense abilities.
Captain Garrett the Tiger's swordsmanship was among the finest in all of Oxenfurt, with only a handful of warriors capable of surpassing him.
Captain Garrett studied Napoleon carefully, then shook his head.
"Young Master, if you truly wish to learn combat techniques, this old man wouldn't refuse to teach you what little skill I possess. However... you're too old now. Your bones have set, and you won't be able to execute many techniques properly.
When techniques can't be performed correctly, their effectiveness is greatly diminished..."
"That's fine. Please teach me what you can, Captain Garrett."
Napoleon wasn't just seeking self-defense skills—he also wanted to test and verify something.
Captain Garrett pondered for a moment.
Then he agreed readily.
"Very well. I have no sons, and I've spent many years with the Bonaparte family quite comfortably. The master has treated us very well. By rights and custom, learning my techniques would require formal apprenticeship ceremonies.
But given my relationship with the Bonaparte family, we can skip the formalities. Just promise never to teach these techniques to outsiders."
Captain Garrett waved his hand.
Napoleon, as the eldest son, would eventually inherit all of the Bonaparte family's businesses and properties.
Garrett was also thinking of strengthening their relationship for the future.
"However, Young Master, I must be clear about something first."
"Please, speak."
Napoleon replied earnestly.
Captain Garrett stroked his beard thoughtfully before speaking gravely.
"I know you're motivated by this morning's tragedy with the Thornton family—that you've been shaken and want to learn combat techniques for protection.
But I must tell you plainly: even the greatest combat masters cannot defend against those strange and supernatural phenomena."
"...I understand..."
Napoleon nodded.
"I just need peace of mind. I want to do what I can."
"As long as you understand, Young Master," Captain Garrett said, reaching into his coat to produce a small manual wrapped in layers of yellow cloth.
He carefully unwrapped it, revealing the booklet within.
The cover bore several large characters:
'Kaer Morhen Blade Techniques'.