Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 462

Chapter 462**Priter, East Tivian.**

Outside the Boyle family mansion, the two sentries at the entrance stared in complete bewilderment at their chief inspector, whose demeanor had reversed so abruptly it left them momentarily speechless.

What was happening? Chief Inspector Meshers? This individual appeared absurdly young for an inspector! Could this possibly be an error?

Hearing Homan’s statement, the two gate guards were deeply puzzled. Glancing once more at the young man, who seemed barely into his twenties, they saw him coolly putting away his credentials. Trailing Chief Inspector Homan, he marched through the main gate into the courtyard. After advancing a few paces within, Homan spun around and snapped sharply at the men by the entrance.

“You two, maintain your positions here. Prevent entry to any unauthorized individuals, clear?”

“Y-Yes, Chief Inspector!”

Acknowledging Homan’s command, the two guards returned to their posts. Having chastised them, Homan instantly adopted an ingratiating smile as he turned his focus to Grey, extending his arm towards the distant mansion doorway in a welcoming gesture and saying:

“Shall we head inside now, Mr. Meshers? My unit arrived recently, the location remains entirely undisturbed.”

“Mm, satisfactory.”

With that, Grey walked beside Homan toward the mansion’s principal entrance. As they proceeded, Homan cast a furtive glance around before lowering his voice to address Grey.

“Ahem… Mr. Meshers, concerning this incident… might it involve… well, your particular domain?” Homan inquired in a confidential tone. Hearing this, Grey neither confirmed nor denied outright. Instead, he replied ambiguously:

“Uncertain at present. Though I noted some potentially suggestive signs, whether this definitively falls under our jurisdiction requires deeper examination.”

“Signs? The signs you refer to are…”

“Better left unspoken. Occasionally, excessive knowledge proves unhelpful.” Grey countered Homan’s probing with a sternly admonishing tone. At this reprimand, a flicker of apprehension crossed Homan’s expression, and he refrained from further questions.

Thus, Grey followed Homan across the courtyard and formally stepped into the Boyle dwelling. Crossing the threshold, the sight confronting Grey was absolute pandemonium.

Smashed ceramics, upturned tables and chairs, rifled-through cupboards, slashed upholstery, rolled-back rugs… What had unmistakably been an opulently furnished space now lay in catastrophic disorder. Not a single area offered an unblemished view.

Water spilled across the floor from overturned containers. Fireplace ashes had been scraped out. Fragments of glass mingled with damp soot and torn cushion stuffing from furnishings. Locating a clean spot to place one’s foot was nearly futile.

“Utterly ruined…” Grey commented, surveying the grand foyer before him. Standing nearby, Homan added:

“This is the Boyle residence. Very early today, we received an urgent call from their staff reporting a break-in. The condition we discovered upon arrival matches what you see now. According to the servants who alerted us, besides the house being completely tossed, the family’s butler is unaccounted for.”

“Only the butler and staff… what about the actual family members?” Grey pressed, taking in the devastation.

“Per the servants’ report, the household head became ill last year and retreated to the countryside for recovery. The sole young mistress residing here also departed abroad for studies and travel at the year’s start and hasn’t returned. Consequently, the estate has been managed solely by the butler and servants. Last night was Coronation Day, so the butler granted the staff the evening off. Those servants found this wreckage upon their return this morning, and the butler is missing.”

“Did you canvass the neighbors?”

“We did. Many reported hearing significant disturbance from this mansion last night. Lights were also blazing throughout. Some presumed they were relocating,” Homan detailed.

Nodding thoughtfully at this intelligence, Grey cautiously moved deeper into the interior, scrutinizing the scene with heightened concentration.

Advancing into the ravaged interior for closer examination, Grey observed a chaotic jumble of diverse-sized footprints crisscrossing the floors and tracked across the chambers.

“These footprints presumably aren’t from your officers…” Grey turned to Homan, who stood close by.

“No, no, absolutely not ours. Likely belong to the invaders. We are exceptionally careful about preserving critical evidence like footprints,” Homan hastened to explain.

Having secured Homan’s assurance, Grey continued his thorough inspection. He moved past the foyer to explore adjoining rooms, encountering comparable levels of disastrous upheaval. Upset cabinets, shattered decorations, fractured glass, collapsed bookshelves… Numerous floor planks had even been levered up, exposing the naked stone beneath. Walls displayed multiple gouges and impact dents, their plaster fractured and flaking. Even beneath the removed floorboards, sections of stone showed similar disturbance.

Accompanied by Homan, Grey systematically reviewed room after room. He paused to examine the pits and markings on walls and subfloors, intermittently studying footprints on the ground.

After surveying the equally catastrophic second and third levels, Grey redirected his attention to the ground floor, lingering specifically in what had evidently been a display chamber.

Grey could perceive this had once been a repository housing numerous valuable antiquities, sumptuously appointed. Now, it mirrored the rest of the dwelling: fractured display cases littered the floor with glass, paintings ripped from walls and discarded carelessly. Objects within cabinets were either upset or entirely absent. Floorboards had been torn up, walls defaced. In one corner, Grey noticed a small mound of ash.

After surveying the collection room briefly, Grey knelt near the corner. He pinched a minuscule sample of the ash and inhaled its scent, then gave a slight, comprehending nod as he rose. Turning towards Homan, who had been shadowing him, he inquired:

“Chief Inspector Homan, what are your thoughts on this band of thieves?”

Grey’s direct question prompted Homan to frown slightly in contemplation. After a brief pause, he responded cautiously:

“These thieves… by my judgment, they exhibit extraordinary boldness yet behave in an exceptionally bizarre manner. Highly peculiar.”

“Oh? In what way?” Grey pressed further.

“First, the sheer nerve to invade a home, plunder it to this degree, and brazenly abduct someone speaks volumes. But what baffles me is the *thoroughness* of their looting. Ordinary thieves might rifle through drawers. But these individuals surpassed that. They pried up flooring, shattered vessels, battered walls, even sifted through the ashes in the hearth… Knocked over an entire bookcase…

“Honestly, Mr. Meshers, in all my years on the force, I’ve witnessed numerous burglaries, yet I have *never* encountered thieves who leave a residence in such complete devastation. If unaware, one might suppose they weren’t here to steal, but to dismantle the structure… like demolition experts!”

Confronted with Grey’s query, Homan laid out his assessment plainly. Grey, listening intently, nodded once more.

“Correct. These are not common thieves. They are grave robbers from North Ufia, specifically targeting ancient artifacts.”

“North Ufian… tomb robbers? What? Foreigners?!?”

Homan’s expression contorted with profound confusion. He couldn’t grasp how a case right here suddenly linked to criminals from thousands of miles away in North Ufia.

Grey didn’t directly answer Homan’s astonished query. Instead, after another scan of the ravaged chamber, he paused, then stated deliberately:

“I’d approximate the group comprises roughly five persons. Three stand about 65 inches tall, one around 68 inches, and the fifth perhaps 69 inches. They are North Ufian, typically possessing darker complexions than us here in Priter. The men maintain substantial facial hair per their custom. Most likely cannot speak Priterian, or if they can, with a thick, distinctly foreign accent.

“Their dispositions are likely… combustible. Attempted interaction could readily provoke conflict. They carry an assortment of tools – peculiar shapes, unusual shovels, hammers, bone implements whose function isn’t immediately obvious. Probably wouldn’t appear out of place at a building site.

“Their arrival in Tivian is likely very recent; they seem poorly prepared for the city’s conditions. The Port District vicinity might yield related leads nearby. Also, they may have been compelled to acquire warmer attire recently – attempt inquiries at clothing merchants in the Port District and adjacent zones…”

With deceptive casualness, Grey delineated the specific traits of individuals he’d never encountered. Homan, beside him, gaped in astonishment. Silence lingered until Grey turned to him again and stated matter-of-factly:

“Understood? Require repetition?”

“Ah… y-yes, understood, Mr. Meshers. Astounding that you inferred such specific conclusions so rapidly. Might I inquire… how did you derive such remarkably precise characteristics of these offenders?”

Homan regarded Grey with a blend of respect and wary fascination. Grey answered with a faint, cryptic smile.

“Logical deduction… supplemented by certain techniques from my specialized sphere… Not for elaboration presently. The priority is uncovering clues to locate those thieves. Finding the unfortunate captive.

“Chief Inspector Homan, deploy personnel as I described. Concentrate your search efforts intensely on the Port District and this vicinity. Examine inns, clothing shops, eateries – any pertinent establishments. Relay *any* significant findings to me without delay.

“Vitally, should you *directly* uncover their refuge, you are under *no conditions* to intercede or initiate any actions yourselves. Report the position instantly to me. I will handle subsequent measures.”

Grey spoke with unquestionable authority. The reference to “specialized sphere techniques” instantly sobered Homan. He gave a grave nod, stifling his queries.

“Understood. Thank you for your investigative aid, Mr. Meshers. I’ll assemble the men forthwith. Though, before leaving, you wouldn’t object if I first sent a telegram from the station to… ah, verify your credentials with the pertinent bureau?”

“That’s reasonable. Adhering to my directives implies an operational command transfer. Caution is prudent. I shall likewise update the Bureau on the present status,” Grey replied directly to Homan’s request.

“Right. I’ll brief my men now.”

Homan retreated from the collection room. Grey watched him depart, exhaled a lengthy, slow breath, then scratched his head, murmuring quietly.

“Whew… classic ‘The Detective.’ Uncovers entire ranges so swiftly…”

A flash of envy crossed Grey’s gaze.

“If only I possessed *that* aptitude…”

……

**Ivig, Adrea.**

Inside an elegant hotel adjoining Adrea’s Cathedral Square, Dorothy sat perched on a plush sofa, her expression intent. Employing Grey’s senses moments earlier, she had remotely probed the Boyle mansion incident in Tivian and formed initial conclusions.

The Boyle residence had been invaded by grave robbers originating from North Ufia. Nuño had been taken captive by them. Their objective: locating the golden staff capable of shielding the Boyle bloodline from the ancestral affliction.

While Grey was examining the violated mansion, Dorothy had already directed Neve to offer her detailed recollection of her own undisturbed home to Alka. Consequently, as Grey surveyed the aftermath at the Boyle estate, Dorothy simultaneously held an exact mental map of its pristine state for comparison.

This comparison revealed absent artifacts – specifically, numerous items of North Ufian cultural heritage formerly exhibited in collection zones. These were likely appropriated by individuals recognizing their worth, marking Dorothy’s first clue regarding the assailants’ North Ufian origin.

The second indicator resided in the pattern of pits and indentations marring walls and floor surfaces. Untrained eyes might overlook them, but Dorothy, having studied the treatises of master tomb-raiding engineer and scholar-looter Plaeral, recognized these marks instantly. They were left by specialized grave-robbing percussive instruments – small hammer-like devices used by seasoned raiders to detect cavities behind walls or beneath floors – concealed chambers, mechanisms, even potential guardian creature dens. The distinct resonance produced by a strike reveals the material’s composition. This is fundamental for tomb raiders charting treasure locations and circumventing hazards. Moreover, Dorothy observed charred residue in a corner of the display chamber – likely residue from a ‘Listening Earth Rune’ employed to locate hidden compartments.

The third identification point centered on the footprints. As Chief Inspector Homan noted, footprints provide invaluable clues. Dorothy discerned the distinct impressions of five individuals etched into the chaotic setting. From footprint dimensions, she approximated their statures.

Critically, Dorothy analyzed the sole patterns embedded within the tread marks. These differed from footwear commonly worn by Tivian residents but were characteristic of boots designed for sandy desert terrain – a signature feature of North Ufian landscapes.

That the raiders hadn’t even changed their footwear before descending on Tivian suggested either considerable haste in their movements or inadequate preparation regarding Tivian’s climate. This lack of foresight hinted at another probable consequence: procuring garments due to the cold.

While Tivian wasn’t frigid, it was markedly colder than North Ufia. Visiting in March, at higher latitudes, unprepared North Ufians would feel the chill acutely. Even those bolstered by “Cup” physical augmentations would likely still seek comfort when feasible. Hence, Dorothy instructed Grey to advise Homan’s precinct to also scrutinize local apparel vendors.

Clearly, the North Ufian tomb raiders hadn’t been randomly tearing up floors and battering walls. They were methodically hunting for voids that might conceal the Boyle family’s hidden vault containing the golden staff.

Fortunately, Neve’s memory confirmed the activation mechanism for the secret repository chamber remained intact. Though the raiders expended immense effort trying to locate it, causing extensive unnecessary destruction evidenced by shattered vases (some pointlessly broken, likely from frustration), Dorothy concluded the concealed vault itself remained undiscovered. Davis, its architect, had been a consummate tomb raider himself; he intimately understood raider methodology. The vault was constructed with sophisticated countermeasures specifically designed to thwart this type of reconnaissance, frustrating the raiders after exhaustive exertion.

“So, it appears these individuals connect to that so-called Prince. Locating them remains essential to unraveling specifics.
“In Tivian, however, this falls within manageable parameters.”

Murmuring to herself, Dorothy accessed Adel’s contact page. Within Tivian’s borders, she retained considerable resources at her disposal.