Arthur decided to rest, since it would be several hours before the Daramten were supposed to arrive. He now had time to think ahead. But before that, he locked his rooms, left a very small gap in his window for ventilation, and checked the windows in every direction—even above the window frame. When he did, he saw someone standing above the frame. Arthur leaned his body out of the window, grabbed the figure's leg, and pulled him down. The shadowy figure plopped down. He tried to grab the window but fell headfirst. Even Arthur began to fall, but he let go of the leg. It was definitely someone's leg he had been holding. Finally, there was a loud thud. He had come very close to falling himself.
Knowing something had hit the ground, Arthur rushed outside. He unlocked the door, but as he hurried, he had to fiddle with the locking mechanism. He alerted the already alert guards and ran with them beneath the window. He dashed through halls and corridors, finally jumping through a first-floor window to get there first. Arthur knew that if he was late, the culprit might flee or the evidence might be distorted or destroyed entirely.
With nothing but a torch in his hand, he reached the spot—but the body wasn't there. Instead, there was a huge pool of blood, followed by a trail. Arthur followed the trail with the guards, who had finally arrived and saw the situation. They tried to persuade him: "Your Highness, please leave it to us. It might be dangerous ahead." Arthur declined with regal authority.
"No. That thing laid its hand on me. I shall track it down myself."
As Arthur chased the culprit, he suddenly remembered a line from his father's survival tips. The situation was unfolding exactly as it said: "Traitors will always target you at your most vulnerable moment." That moment had arrived. Had Arthur not checked before sleeping, he might not have woken the next morning—he and his family would have slept together in death's embrace.
Finally, the trail of blood ended with a body. A hooded figure with many knives, and beside him a vial of poison meant for Arthur. But because he was chased, the intruder had used the poison on himself and died a miserable death. His blood seeped into the soil and plants below him. His mouth was foaming excessively, his eyes fully dilated, and his face had a major bump—from hitting his head on either the palace walls or the ground.
Arthur examined the body, searching with his own hands for any message or means of identification. He found nothing. In the man's final moments, Arthur noticed bloodstains on his knife and a massive scar on his face. Arthur reasoned that the man had tried to scar himself to prevent identification, but finding it too painful, he had chosen instant death instead. The guards beside him also pointed out peculiar details. One asked, "Doesn't he look somewhat familiar?" The other guard agreed—it was as if he had seen the man somewhere before, but the scar made identification difficult.
Arthur gave an order: "Investigate this matter. I want hourly updates from the coroner and from the officer in charge of this investigation." Arthur left the scene, this time looking carefully at his surroundings for any small detail, any bit of evidence he might have missed. He found nothing. But it was hard to see at night, so he decided to put the case to rest for now.
The head butler came running with a few guards as backup. "Your Highness, are you injured?" Arthur denied any injury, but because he had touched the body with his bare hands, they were stained with blood. The head butler saw them. "Milord, your hand is profusely bleeding. I shall summon the royal doctor immediately." Arthur stopped him before he could run off. "The blood on my hand is not mine. Rest assured." The head butler took a fake breath of relief. At first only a few guards came, then many gathered to see the intruder. Many acted shocked, but they were merely performing for one another. Finally, the guards picked up the body and sent it to the local coroner.
Arthur was mentally exhausted from the entire ordeal, and now physically exhausted as well. He sat on a chair in the waiting room, facing the wrong direction, and rested his arms on the chair's frame. Then he remembered his royal etiquette. Instead of correcting his posture, he left for a place with the fewest prying eyes—his own room. There he once again peeked out the window, checking the frames. He had fetched water from the well beforehand and drank it so he wouldn't grow thirsty in the middle of the night. He locked his doors and windows tightly shut and proceeded to sleep, but sleep had already left him. He double-checked everything, making sure it was locked tight—but not so tight that he would suffocate, and so that he could escape easily in an emergency. Finally, he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes.
Then a thought struck him: Did I lock the doors correctly? This made him wake up and check the entire room again. He tried to sleep, but he was so anxious that he lay on the bed sweating. Extreme anxiety gave him insomnia. Instead, he took his father's diary and began reading it once more. He read those same notes he had already deciphered, but with incomplete translation, he could not understand many passages. He closed the diary and reviewed the facts of the case, searching for something more. Even in his mind, the case felt incomplete. He still could not tell which faction the man belonged to, as his body bore no visible marks or tattoos—it was completely clean.
Wide awake, Arthur decided to wait in the hall. He drank tea and caught up on books he had set aside. Only a couple of hours remained before dawn over the kingdom of Stella. After finishing the novel, he turned to his remaining work, since his entire day would be busy and he had nothing better to do in the middle of the night. The insomnia worked out well. Arthur revised the documents that Sieg was supposed to handle, but since Sieg was in the count's territory, Arthur had to do his share too.
He tried to write and sign documents, but as time passed, he noticed his pen growing heavier. He blinked often. He zoned out in the middle of his work without realizing it. Finally, Arthur closed his eyes for a moment to give them much-needed rest—and fell asleep without even knowing. Then came a knock on his door.
"Your Highness, may I enter?"
Arthur realized he had been asleep. Rubbing his eyes, he yawned and told the person to enter. As the visitor came in, Arthur corrected his posture and sat upright. He rubbed his eyes a little and fixed his hair.
The officer in charge of the investigation was Officer Raymond, who had come to give the hourly report. Among his men, Raymond was known as the most uptight and principled. His dream was to join the Knights' Order and gain knighthood, but he was deemed too weak for that role. Fortunately, another position had opened—Imperial Officer, in charge of investigations, documentation, and direct reporting to imperial headquarters. He had worked under Arthur's father, and now Arthur had inherited the privilege of having such men work for him.
"Your Highness, I have collected evidence and various testimonies from the guards, drawn a sketch of the person, and asked around the palace," Raymond said.
Arthur listened keenly, folding his hands and closing everything he had been working on.
Officer Raymond continued: "We have identified the culprit behind this assassination attempt. His name is Lenkarden Etwas. It has also come to my attention that you dueled him yesterday in the training grounds. Afterwards, he was removed immediately."
Arthur was shocked that someone from the Baron's lands had come to assassinate him. He remembered the one who had raised his sword against him, trying to injure him. Arthur knew he had seen the culprit somewhere but couldn't put a finger on it. Now it was clear.
"Thank you for your report and hard work, Officer Raymond. I will ensure you receive a significant reward for your efforts this early in the day."
Officer Raymond replied staunchly, "No, sir. I have no need of such rewards. I do not believe I am worthy of praise yet."
With that, Officer Raymond left. Arthur was left with the fact that he himself had given the attacker a motive. Should he have been more lenient? If so, how much? And how would it affect him?
Finally arranging his thoughts, Arthur started working again. As soon as his pen touched the paper, there was another knock on the door. It opened, and the head butler entered.
"Your Highness, the head of Daramten has arrived."