Chapter 72
The room fell silent.
Only the faint chirping of crickets from outside could be heard, and Nirma waited—waiting to see what would come from the mouth of Georgios Palaiologos after all the indirect accusations she had just presented.
Georgios Palaiologos listened patiently to all of Nirma's explanations.
At times he even continued eating bread that had been spread with olives, his jaw moving in slow, rhythmic motions as he chewed, as though not a single word spoken by the two investigators could disturb his appetite.
When Nirma finally finished speaking, Georgios placed the remaining piece of bread at the edge of the plate.
He then sipped his diluted wine slowly, allowing the liquid to moisten his throat before he finally voiced something neither of the women before him had expected.
It was not anger, nor was it a hurried defense.
Instead, it was praise that left his lips with apparent sincerity.
"I must admit, Master Arya and Madam Nirma, you are truly talented at solving riddles," he said with a smile, a smile that this time appeared warmer than before, although Nirma still could not determine whether it was genuine or merely the strategy of a cornered nobleman.
"The way you assemble facts that appear separate into a coherent narrative—that is a rare talent, even among the palace investigators I have encountered."
However, after delivering that praise, Georgios Palaiologos sat straighter in his chair.
Both of his elbows rested on the chair's armrests, and he began answering the points one by one with the same calm tone, as though he were simply explaining a breakfast menu to guests who had just arrived.
Regarding the first piece of evidence, he nodded slightly, not denying a single word.
"That is correct. I purchased it. And not for rats," he said firmly, his eyes fixed on Nirma without wavering.
"Green bile, in alchemical and military practice, Madam Nirma, is not merely a poison as you understand it.
Aconite mixtures in micro-doses are used as pest repellents, leather preservatives, and experimental agents for controlling fungal growth on leather equipment and bowstrings.
The official record stating 'for rats' is merely an administrative simplification.
In military environments, technical reasons are often written briefly so as not to reveal formula details to ordinary scribes who do not need to know too much."
He paused briefly, drawing a breath before continuing in a slightly deeper tone.
"I admit, there are indeed no rats in my armory warehouse.
Because the formula was actually intended to test the reaction of leather materials to bitter compounds, not to kill animals.
And most importantly, ladies—if I truly intended to poison someone, would I purchase the poison under my own name from an officially recorded alchemist?
Would I leave such an obvious trace, like leaving fingerprints upon a dagger?
The residue on the victim's robe indicates contact with liquid, not oral consumption.
That means the poison touched the outer surface rather than being mixed into a drink.
If I intended to kill, I would ensure the poison entered the victim's body, not merely cling to his robe."
Georgios then raised his right hand reflexively, displaying the Palaiologos family signet ring circling his ring finger—a golden ring with the same circular pattern Nirma had described moments earlier.
"This ring can indeed become warm, Madam Nirma.
That is the natural property of gold as a conductor of heat.
But never, in my life, have I used this ring as a branding iron to burn someone."
His voice remained calm, yet something in his eyes suggested he wished to be understood, not merely heard.
Gold rings can retain heat, yes.
But to produce the evenly distributed blister pattern of two to three millimeters that you observed on the victim's back would require stable temperature and pressure—not merely a ring warmed by sunlight or friction.
The victim's wound did not burn deeper tissues.
That means the heat was brief, shallow, and repetitive in pattern.
If this ring had been used, there would certainly be soot marks or discoloration on the gold.
There would also be the unmistakable smell of burnt metal—something that could not possibly go unnoticed by those nearby.
And there would certainly be witnesses who saw me heating this ring. To reach such a temperature, I would have had to dip it into something hot—something impossible to conceal easily."
He glanced down briefly at the ring on his finger, then looked back at Nirma.
"Aconite and certain sulfur compounds, when reacting with skin under specific conditions, can produce wounds resembling micro-blisters without requiring heated metal at all.
The bubbles on the victim's skin do not necessarily mean the touch of a ring, Madam Nirma.
There are a hundred other possibilities you must consider before concluding that this is irrefutable evidence."
When addressing the third piece of evidence, Georgios' smile widened slightly, as though this part were the easiest to explain.
"I did indeed come from the baths, Madam Nirma. And sulfur is present there—on the floors, in the water, and in the steam I breathed for hours."
He raised his cup again, taking another sip before continuing.
"The public baths of Zeuxippus use mineral water and certain cleansing materials that contain sulfur. Everyone who leaves those baths, without exception, carries a faint sulfur scent on their clothes. T
hat is not unusual, nor suspicious.
I hurried out of the baths not because I had just murdered someone, but because I was summoned regarding warehouse matters—military reports that could not be delayed. And if I left the baths minutes before the victim was found dead, that does not automatically mean I was present at the crime scene at the moment of death."
He set his cup down again, his fingers tapping lightly upon the table.
"The Forum, the baths of Zeuxippus, and Kapeleion lie within the same radius, Madam Nirma. Many people move from one place to another within minutes. That is the nature of a great city like Constantinople. People arrive, people leave, people meet, people part. You cannot draw conclusions merely from the fact that someone was near the location of a murder at roughly the same time."
From the moment Georgios Palaiologos opened his mouth to present his rebuttal, Nirma and Arya simultaneously moved their hands toward their respective wax tablets.
Their styluses danced across the soft surfaces with the speed of those accustomed to taking notes under pressure.
Every word that left Georgios' lips, every pause, every shift in tone—everything was recorded in small scratches upon the tablets.
Nothing was missed.
Nothing was considered too trivial to document.
Amid his long and structured explanation, Georgios casually sipped from his cup of diluted wine.
His throat moved up and down every five seconds or so, and between those sips his other hand automatically reached for pieces of olive-spread bread, placing them into his mouth and chewing slowly, savoring the blend of warm bread and olive oil spreading across his tongue.
He seemed like an artist performing a show, demonstrating to the two investigators that not a single word of his rebuttal caused him to lose his appetite, and not a single accusation was capable of disturbing his enjoyment of the meal before him.
To be continued…