The Shepherds Are Dense

Chapter 107: York Hermes of Lloyd's

While Sherlock's deduction was sound and methodical,Only Aiwass knew that Sherlock's conclusion was clearly incorrect.

He was missing a vital piece of information,

but Aiwass was not allowed to tell Sherlock.

After the lead from Aiwass's grandfather,

Sherlock tracked it to the Order of the Noble Red.

Along with the Pelican Bar, the Giant Remnants, and the case of smuggling,

he logically concluded that the parents of Aiwass were murdered by the Order of the Noble Red.

This conclusion was wholly rational.

But in the ritual of the Dream Realm,

Aiwass, disguised as the Deformed Limb Demon,

examined the curse master "Aziz bin Abdul"

and discovered he worked for Professor Moriarty.

He was actually the real master of the Iron Hook Demon,

the one who slaughtered the whole Alexander clan.

But he wasn't a demon sorcerer of the Order of the Noble Red.

He wasn't even Avalonian,

nor did he have ties with the Giants or the Star Antimony folk.

He was an Anshian.

This data cropped up in the Dream Realm ritual,

when Sherlock himself told "Fox"

that "the mastermind fled abroad,

most probably to the Horus Empire or the Ancient Anshian Kingdom."

But Aiwass had observed the man's face

and recognized his distinctly Anshian name.

That is, the Alexander family,

as creators of the Scaleless Hand,

were linked to the Order of the Noble Red,

which had both motive and means to kill them.

Yet, the one who carried out the plan

was a foreign curse master hired by Professor Moriarty.

Those with motive didn’t act;

those who acted had no motive.

The key was that Aiwass had never heard of any connection

between Professor Moriarty and the Star Antimony group or the Giants.

If there were any,

Aiwass wouldn't have been assaulted and selected as a sacrifice

by the Order of the Noble Red to begin with.

He had almost been shut up permanently.

At that point, Aiwass had been in contact

with that couple of demon scholar mentors for quite some time.

If they had any idea about the Professor,

they would not have taken the risk of offending him by sacrificing Aiwass.

All this fiasco smelled of unnatural forces

and was ensnared in a web of strings,

causing Aiwass a headache.

He knew he was lacking a vital clue,

but without coming to Haina's hometown personally,

he could not be sure.

For the time being, Aiwass was only able to put this aside.

The angle he was able to hold on to was that the individual who assaulted Sherlock

had to be trouble.

The necessity for Sherlock to pretend to be dead

and for his family to go along

implied the assailant was probably familiar with Sherlock

and belonged to the Hermes clan.

Most importantly, Sherlock had all but instantly

known that Euclid was the one who killed him.

narrowed down a suspect.

*

After he washed his face and had sobered up,

Sherlock came back,

his face cold and calm,

like nothing had occurred.

He talked to Aiwass's skepticism with the gravest seriousness.

"By the way, this case is of concern to you in part… Mr. Fox."

"Me?"

Aiwass was confused.

"How am I concerned?"

Sherlock steadily sipped his honeyed tea

his voice firm with no trace of tremor,

as if what Aiwass had witnessed previously was an illusion.

"You informed me during the dream concerning the secrets of Lloyd's and the Strangler Party.

I was rather astonished at the time.

I have known of Lloyd's existence

and am very well aware of their history.".

I know they’re essentially a shady high-interest lending institution.

I also know they use as a form of credit currency

to collect profits and transfer taxes to Avalon.

But despite knowing so much,

I never knew they employed the Strangler Party.

In all my previous investigations,

I never uncovered this fact.

That’s highly irregular.

So I at once knew that someone was standing in my way

from reaching Lloyd's innermost secrets."

"And they were able to do it with ease,"

Aiwass inserted smoothly,

"since 'he' is your information source."

"Exactly," Sherlock nodded.

"And you think this source is extremely dependable—

at least in terms of Lloyd's and the Lloyd District,

you regard him as the ultimate authority."

There was but one chance.

Aiwass fully comprehended now

Sherlock's remarkable detective abilities.

In the space of a week,

without even getting off Glass Island,

he tracked down Aiwass's clue to Jacob and Scaleless Hand.

This was not something that mere "research" could accomplish.

Sherlock had to draw upon his extensive network,

calling in through his contacts and their contacts

to gather intel.

In order to "poison" Sherlock's intellect,

one would have to be a specialist in that area.

"As long as he gained your absolute confidence,"

Aiwass went on,

"whenever you required information in this field,

you'd approach him first,

assuming him to be the most dependable."

"Eloquent words," Sherlock nodded in appreciation.

'Not bad for "Fox,"' he remarked to himself.

Sherlock highly respected Aiwass's capacity to catch up with his logic.

He nodded approval,

throwing in in a soft, even voice,

"Furthermore, this individual is probably intensely involved in Lloyd's interests.

Fortunately, I know such an individual.

He's my uncle,

my father Arthur Hermes's half-brother—

York Hermes."

Sherlock placed down his teacup,

fingers interlaced in front of him.

“He’s the vice-president of the Avalon Lawyers’ Association

and the editor-in-chief of .

He’s also a senior legal advisor hired by Lloyd’s.

I mentioned in the dream that Lloyd’s once invited me—

he was the one who extended the invitation.

In fact, you’ve met him before.”

“I’ve met him?”

Aiwass was confused.

Sherlock nodded.

“At your knighthood ceremony.

He was sitting next to Inspector Gordon.”

“That middle-aged lawyer with short golden hair?”

Recalling Sherlock’s words,

Aiwass pictured the lawyer in a white suit.

He was surprised.

“But he’s blond…”

“My father’s and my black hair come from my grandmother,”

Sherlock explained flatly.

“My uncle York inherited my grandfather’s golden hair.

Being the eldest son,

the family heirloom of the Hermes clan was to be inherited by him.

But in the 'Ten-Day War,'

my uncle did not wish to see battle,

so my father inherited the armor.

My father was the head of the vanguard army.

It was due to the Great Arbiter

that the war that was supposed to be nasty and long lasted but ten days.

Following the victory,

my father was appointed Minister of Palace Affairs."

"Your father was the Minister of Palace Affairs?"

Aiwass cried out.

"You never told me that."

The member of the palace staff

who looked after royal ceremonies and events,

sat at royal weddings and funeral services,

and had charge of the employment and discharge of servants and ladies-in-waiting

in the Hall of Silver and Tin.

It was like a head butler in a knightly family of nobles,

but with even more power—

including the privilege to supervise the education and behavior of royal children,

and to punish naughty princes and princesses.

Sherlock sighed.

"Because my father and Her Majesty the Queen

enjoyed theater together.".

He's a passionate fan of literature unlike myself.

I think his appointment had Her Majesty's personal favor,

so it's not something to be bragged about.

Due to this,

Her Majesty made a special decree,

giving my father more powers

to veto new plays,

to demand changes in existing ones,

or withdraw performance licenses for new theaters.

But he never used this power

before he met with calamity.”

“Calamity?” Aiwass pressed.

“A curse,” Sherlock replied.

“At the time, we didn’t detect traces of a curse,

so we thought it was poisoning.

Prince Kant’s symptoms clearly pointed to poison—

his liver, lungs, and brain nearly melted,

blood seeping from his mouth and nose.

The priests who tested him assured it was poison.

Since a royal had been poisoned,

the servants in charge of the prince's day-to-day life were the first to be questioned.

They were grilled, their memories ripped out—

naturally, nothing was unearthed.

Then an anonymous letter implicated my father as the poisoner.

The Bureau of Supervision discovered the same poison at our residence.

In such a situation,

a search of memory was inevitable,

and the magical formula of law for extraction of memory sears the brain.

That is to say, my father was condemned either way—

the question was simply whether he'd die innocent or guilty.

"But obviously, things were reversed," Aiwass remarked.

Since Sir Arthur was no longer a minister but alive.

"Yes," Sherlock replied.

"Her Majesty signed an emergency decree to free my father.

She said, 'I do not think Arthur would do such a thing,'

disregarding the 'evidence' from the Bureau

and granting him a pardon, reinstating him to his position.

My father was very thankful

but steadfastly offered his resignation."

Sherlock sighed.

"He was justified in doing so.

We later discovered it was only the start.".

Every royal member passed away in a different manner,

verifying that it was probably a curse.

Rationally, only the Star Antimony nation

could possess such an effective curse,

but that is not an absolute or scientific claim."

"The Path of Love also possesses cursing powers,"

Aiwass continued.

"So the Iris people are also within the realm of possibility."

"Precisely," Sherlock nodded.

"The Iris Flower Kingdom is under intense pressure from the Star Antimony.

They are begging Avalon to help share the load.

The curser may be from the Giant Remnants,

as one of their routes, the Path of Transcendence,

contains cursing capabilities.

It may even be the Scaleless Hand or the Order of the Noble Red,"

both of which have traditions of cursing.

"Are you telling me," Aiwass realized,

"Avalon doesn't even know the source of the curser?"

"Right. A curse that is so difficult to trace,

used so rarely,

is attributed to the Star Antimony for propaganda reasons.

It's because we already have a vendetta with them,

so it's simpler for the public to believe and feel the need—

since many know we can’t defeat the Star Antimony.

Setting an unbeatable target

avoids being swayed by public opinion.”

Not knowing the true enemy

meant that if Avalon targeted the wrong foe,

defeat was certain.

The side cursing the royals

wouldn’t join the war immediately,

instead waiting to strike when both sides were weakened,

reaping the benefits.

"My father was fortunate to get away," Sherlock stated,

his gaze narrowing intensely.

"My uncle, who insists that he enjoys his lawyer practice,

now appears to have had both motive and means to set up my father.

I once got on well with him.

As a kid, he took me on hunting trips,

while my father only wanted to do plays.".

While my father was away at war during the half-month,

he took care of me at home.

I only suspect him for the most part

because

he was the last to see me before the bombing.

He questioned me about the 'Sweater Brotherhood,'

insisting several times on my source

and why I didn't ask him first before 'recklessly investigating.'

Prior to that, I always consulted him with everything regarding Lloyd's or the Lloyd District.

I told him it was from a dream,

another historical possibility.

But that obviously wasn't enough to persuade him.

He asked me to rejoin Lloyd's.

Now that I knew their real nature,

how could I oblige?

I outright refused."

"You should've agreed," Aiwass couldn't help but remark.

"How could I have known he'd do something like this?"

Sherlock answered.

"York was angry but soon cooled down.

He told me he'd come back in the afternoon with my father,

implying I shouldn't move far away.

After he'd gone, I grew sleepy

and went and had a bath and slept."

But as I was getting out,

a huge explosion shook the house

and it collapsed.

The showerhead burst,

walls exploded inward with smoke and debris.

Luckily, I reacted quickly,

using the bursting pipe’s water to form an ice shield,

protecting myself from the initial blast.

I didn’t die immediately,

but at least twelve bones were broken,

my organs were bleeding heavily,

and I lost my sight and hearing.

I was lying on the ground, immovable.

Given the timing and magnitude of the explosion,

he couldn't have been more than a few feet away.

He could've heard it and come back—

but he didn't."

He never did.

Sherlock spoke quietly,

appearing rather hurt.

"I was shaken by someone—

my last vestige of sanity told me it was probably the landlady.".

I instructed her not to move me

and left her Bishop Mathers' number

and the whereabouts of an alchemy potion in my locker

that might allow me to survive temporarily.

Due to Bishop Mathers' proximity assistance,

I only just made it.

Upon reviving,

I quickly called my brother, Mycroft Hermes,

and explained everything to him.

I prompted him to spread the news that I had passed away

to observe how Uncle York would behave."

He gazed at Aiwass with seriousness and stated,

"Now, recalling,

the person who implicated my father could very well be him.

If we pursue this lead,

he can be linked to the curser,

which would account for how he came to possess that accursed poison.".

This isn't about my own grudge

or family vendetta—

it's about Avalon's future

and even Princess Isabel's safety.

If we succeed, we may lift the mystery of the curse.

Edward has memory-seeking powers,

but they can be employed only at the time of crisis.

I can't ensure how deeply York is implicated,

and we have one opportunity only.

If they know I am still alive,

they will get cautious,

and this trail will get blocked.

The landlady is safe already.

The only people who know I am still alive

are my brother Mycroft, all of you, and Edward.

My pretended death won't remain a secret for long.

This has to be cleared off in no time.

I'm relying on you, my friend.

If you require my assistance in analyzing,

come to me anytime."

Sherlock gravely commissioned Aiwass with the responsibility.