"Siegfried—if you catch this Batman and find out he's human… what will you do with him?"
"Of course we'll hand him over to Princess Adda."
"And what will the princess do to him?"
"That's not something I can predict. But this so-called symbol of freedom has added yet another ugly rumor to a princess whose reputation was already… not great. I don't expect Batman to have a good ending." The knight of the Rose spoke earnestly. "After hearing the gist of it, will you help me? I really want your opinion."
"Sorry. This time I truly can't. I have another commission to handle right now. Next time you need something, come to me—I promise I'll help," Victor refused tactfully.
He had considered joining the investigation, but ultimately chose to stay out of it. If he went to the scene, he'd inevitably come into contact with last night's other parties—and possibly run into all kinds of famous magical detection methods. In the end, he decided the safest move was to keep himself outside the mess.
Siegfried looked disappointed. "What a shame. The way you handled the ghoul incident was steady and reliable. I feel like with your help, we'd definitely be able to catch this Batman."
"Catch? The way you say that… you don't think he's a monster?"
"I'm not assuming anything. But since those drunks were only beaten into serious injuries, and he didn't hurt any bystanders while fleeing through the Trade Quarter, I do lean toward him being a human in weird clothes. Still, the investigation has to be done." The knight stood. "Since you've got other business, thanks for the hospitality. I'll go ask around near the taverns and see if there's any new information."
After seeing the knight out and closing the door, the first thing Victor did was go downstairs and shove the bat suit into the deepest corner of his herb pouch.
Last night, driven by a surge of nostalgia, he'd destroyed Catwoman—but he hadn't destroyed Batman. Instead, he'd left the suit standing in the alchemy room to air out, planning to wear it again someday and go have fun.
Which meant that if Siegfried had walked downstairs and stepped into the alchemy room, he could've declared the case solved on the spot. And judging from Victor's final exchange with Adda last night, if that princess actually got her hands on him… it would be very hard for him to tell her "no."
Still, the risk had been worth it. The storage capacity of his herb pouch really had increased a little—proof that his spirit had grown stronger. The positive feedback theory worked.
…
Meanwhile, in the Temple Quarter of Vizima, inside a three-story old building, there was a tidy office on the second floor. Three people were in the room: two sat facing each other across a table, while the third stood guard by the door.
"…Interestingly, after studying the detailed dialogue record, I can feel it—this Batman is probably someone born to a noble household, well educated, yet cynical and disgusted with the world." A thin, bald man wearing a monocle slid a heavily annotated report across the table to the man opposite him.
Then he leaned back—thumped his boots onto the tabletop—removed his monocle and polished it with a cloth.
"He carries himself with noble etiquette, and he doesn't seem to feel, even for a moment, that his status is beneath Princess Adda's. He speaks to her as an equal.
"And that final sharpness—so vivid it practically cuts the air. On Temerian soil, a soul that reckless and unrestrained… for a second, I thought it was my king himself stepping onto the stage to play Batman."
"Damn it—watch your mouth, Thaler. Even you aren't allowed to joke about His Majesty." The man with a black headscarf, chewing on a cigar while studying the intelligence, showed clear displeasure at the bald man's careless comment.
Head of Temerian Intelligence—Thaler: "Go to hell, Vernon Roche. Don't parade your loyalty in front of me, and you don't get to question mine either. After that bitch Catriona finally cleared out, the plague system—loose on the outside, tight on the inside—was lifted. Vizima's prosperity is back, and the price of that is that every kind of scheme is crawling out of the woodwork again. Especially those damned Scoia'tael—something's been off about their movements lately. That's what I need to keep an eye on. As for this Batman nonsense, if there's any new development, I'll tell you."
Commander of the special forces "Blue Stripes"—Vernon Roche: "We all know the royal knights are full of noble showpieces. But common folk don't know that—they think it's Temeria's finest unit. Their blunder isn't good for Temeria's honor. So the culprit shouldn't get a good ending either. I'll catch that bastard."
"Tch. And when you catch him, what—hand him to the lovely Adda?"
"Turning him into a toy would be a waste. First I'll beat him senseless and make sure he understands that Temeria's authority isn't something you offend. Then I'll fold him into my Blue Stripes—so he learns the glory and benefits of serving the king."
Thaler put his monocle back on and laughed. "Hah… sounds like you admire him."
Roche bit the cigar, lit it, and took a deep drag. "Those royal knights might be idiots, but escaping a net like that while surrounded—that's real ability. At the very least, Ves couldn't have done it."
"Fuck you! Admire him all you want—why are you using me as the comparison?" snapped the third person in the room. "In a sudden situation with a dragnet that tight, even you might not get out!"
The blonde, blue-eyed Ves had come with Vernon Roche. Her shirt wasn't properly buttoned, revealing a broad stretch of pale skin. She was the Blue Stripes' second-in-command. As the only woman in the unit, the fact she could hold that post said everything about her brutal swordsmanship and archery—along with the iron-hard, cold-blooded personality needed to match.
Roche looked at Ves with a mix of annoyance and amusement. Ves shot him a provocative glare right back. Within the Blue Stripes, their bonds ran deep—comrades, family—but she was really giving him no face at all.
Thaler, now wearing his cleaned monocle again, tapped the table twice to draw their attention. "In any case, I understand. This Batman who popped out of nowhere—at the very least, you've both taken a liking to his physical ability. I'll keep an eye on it."
The Blue Stripes commander nodded, walked to the door, and ruffled Ves's blonde hair with a large hand in a calming gesture. "Come on. Next time we're in front of outsiders, learn to preserve my dignity."
As Roche's hand touched the doorknob, Thaler added, almost casually, "This looks like a sudden bit of street entertainment—but it also creates the perfect excuse for every faction to wade in and exploit the chaos. If this was planned, I'd say the planner's understanding of conspiracies—his sense of force and timing—was as crafty as any Nilfgaardian diplomat."
Roche ground the cigar out against the door. "If his actions were deliberate, I believe he'll show himself to us soon enough."
…
That night, on the second floor of the Hairy Bear Tavern, Ramsmeat—of Ramsmeat's gang—was treating people to dinner as usual. His guest was Madame Carmen.
There was also a gang member in the room: Black Dog, one of the few who'd witnessed Batman's appearance last night. He was describing what he'd seen, animated to the point of spitting.
From the three lines Batman spoke when he appeared, to that Catwoman whose figure was absurdly explosive—he'd never seen curves like that in his life—to how she kicked that Salamandra scum down in one shot, and finally how the two black-clad figures beat the other three thugs who joined the fight.
After Black Dog finished and left the room, Ramsmeat said, "That's the whole story. To be honest, Madame Carmen, I can't figure out who those two are, where they came from, or what they want. Any thoughts?"
After a brief pause, Madame Carmen shook her head. "I don't have any thoughts. I don't know why they stepped in. And I'm not especially interested in understanding it. Protecting us is your job. Handle it however you see fit."
With that, Madame Carmen stood and left.
Ramsmeat had the vague feeling she might know a little something—but he didn't stop her.
A fighter like Batman didn't just fall out of the sky. And if Madame Carmen really had someone like that under her control, there was no way she'd have him running around in attention-grabbing costumes. So even if she knew something, it probably wasn't important.
He admired her toughness, and he respected the man behind her—Vincent. Since their interests aligned, there was no need to dig up every little secret.
After all… he had his own small secrets too.
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