Sonor was still preoccupied with the incident that had shocked everyone, while Detective Reese sat in the darkened interrogation room. In front of him was a thin man, his eyes filled with tension. His name was Lizon, an aristocrat who knew the victim well.
Reese stared at him for a long time before speaking:
Reese: "Tell me, Lizon... how long have you had a falling out with the victim?"
Lizon was confused and replied with a trembling voice:
Lizon: "They were just minor disputes... nothing worth killing!"
Reese gave a cold smile, then said:
Reese: "In the world of aristocracy, minor disputes are enough to ignite a war. Don't try to hide anything. Your eyes speak louder than your tongue."
Lizon tried to defend himself:
Lizon: "I was in my house the night of the crime. There are those who can testify!"
Reese paused for a moment, then muttered, as if to himself:
Reese: "The truth isn't hidden behind words... but in the blood that hasn't yet dried."
Meanwhile, de Mauret was walking toward an abandoned palace on the outskirts of Nestor. A vast, dusty palace, it had once belonged to King Maison XIV, a ruler known for his penchant for exotic arts and who left behind palaces holding unsolved secrets.
Among the cracked walls, a choking silence filled the air. Suddenly, from the shadows, a man armed with a rusty dagger lunged at de Mauret.
But de Mauret didn't seem afraid; he seemed like a poet confronting a missing line in his poem. He moved lightly, ducked to the side, then grabbed the attacker's arm and let himself go with pinpoint precision.
De Mauret said in a calm voice:
"Sometimes, the word is mightier than the sword... but at other times, the head is the poem that must be cut to be completed."
With a swift movement, he drew his thin sword, and with one elegant stroke, the blade slashed through the air. The attacker's head fell to the ground, as footsteps echoed like a mysterious melody in the deserted palace.
De Maurier stood over the body and said coldly:
De Maurier: "I'm gone, but you've added a new verse to this palace's poem."
In the distance, the echoes of politics were stirring. Commander Silver sat before a huge map in his camp. He contemplated the borders of the Kingdom of Rebem, running his fingers along its mountain roads and narrow rivers.
One of his commanders entered and said:
Commander: "Are we ready to move?"
Silver replied sternly:
"Rebem isn't just a land to conquer... it's the key to our future. Every soldier will march as if he were the last hope for this kingdom. We won't take it by force alone... but by cunning as well."
In Francesa, Lucy chose to meet Linus away from the aristocratic mansions. The meeting was at the seaside, where the waves gently broke against the rocks, and the breeze carried with it the flavor of freedom.
The two sat on the sand, looking out at the horizon as the sea melted into the sky.
"You know," Lucy said, staring out at the waves.
"Lucy," he said. "The sea isn't just water... it's a book. Every wave is a line, every storm a new chapter."
"And I want to be the one to read this book to the end," Linus replied, his eyes blazing. "The map I'm drawing isn't just lines... it's a promise that we'll reach where no one else has."
Lucy smiled lightly and said, "Then, Linus, we won't just be explorers... we'll be writers of the history to come."
A brief silence fell between them as the waves rose as if applauding them, and the sea receded as if giving them a way.
And so, while the investigation intensified in Sonor, blood was spilled in deserted palaces, and armies moved toward Rebem, two young men on the seashore plotted to open unknown doors.
The whole world seemed like a giant chessboard... and the players began to reveal their cards.