Chapter 406: The Culprit of The Poisoning
Lyan stood over Garrick’s body, his eyes narrowing as he processed everything he had seen and heard. The ballroom was filled with whispers and unease, the once vibrant atmosphere now overshadowed by the tension hanging in the air. He moved around the ballroom, his eyes carefully examining every detail—the spilled glass, the wine bottles lined up along the table, the posture in which Garrick had collapsed. He was in deep thought, trying to piece together every clue, no matter how small, to form the bigger picture.
The nobles, servants, and guards were on edge, some of them whispering amongst themselves while others stared at the scene with wide eyes. Lyan ignored the murmurs, his focus sharp, his steps slow and deliberate as he moved closer to the wine table. His hand reached out, lifting one of the wine bottles, his eyes narrowing as he examined it closely. The bottle was unassuming, looking no different from the others. But Lyan knew there had to be something—something subtle, hidden in plain sight.
He turned the bottle slightly, checking the pouring mechanism. His eyes caught the faint glimmer of something unusual. It was almost unnoticeable, a tiny residue near the spout, something that might have been easily missed if not for his sharp attention to detail. He frowned, his mind racing. The poison had to have been administered in such a way that ensured Garrick would drink it, regardless of which glass he chose. It couldn’t have been pre-mixed in the glass—the chances were too slim. It had to be something more deliberate.
He turned, his gaze scanning the crowd. The nobles were watching him, their faces filled with uncertainty and fear. Some of them were visibly trembling, their nervous eyes meeting his for just a moment before they looked away. He moved his eyes from one face to another, gauging their reactions, noting every small detail—the way their expressions shifted, the way some of them seemed to be holding their breath.
His gaze lingered on a few of the nobles near the edge of the ballroom, their unease more pronounced than the others. Lyan noted the way their hands shook, how they seemed desperate to fade into the background. He continued moving, his steps taking him closer to Garrick’s body once more. The nobles shifted to give him space, their eyes following his every movement.
(They are scared, master. They know something,) Cynthia’s calm voice echoed in his mind, her analytical tone as sharp as ever.
(Or they are simply terrified after seeing a man drop dead in front of them,) Arturia countered, her voice softer, almost sympathetic.
Lyan let out a soft sigh, his eyes never leaving the crowd. He didn’t respond, focusing instead on the scene before him. He had to think, had to understand how everything fit together—the wine, the glass, the nervousness of some of the nobles. It was all connected, but the pieces weren’t falling into place yet.
Alice, who had been standing beside Wilhelmina near the royal platform, stepped forward. Her voice was calm but carried across the room with confidence, breaking through the silence. "The culprit is absolutely still inside here," she said, her words catching everyone’s attention. The nobles turned to look at her, their expressions filled with a mixture of curiosity and fear.