CHAPTER 335: SHIFT IN THE AIR

The destruction spoke volumes.

Had it been a fight between ordinary humans, the damage wouldn’t have been so catastrophic. The black and white checkered tiles on the floor had been shattered, some reduced to rubble. Cracks spiderwebbed along the walls, and portions of them were charred, scorched as though seared under an unforgiving sun.

Yet despite the devastation, there was surprisingly little blood. For a clash that had torn through the hallway with such force, the absence of gore was... unnatural.

Jeremiah surveyed the wreckage with a frown. "It’s clear there was a confrontation between two individuals," he muttered. "The suspect is the woman named Alice, a witch. As for the second party... we haven’t gathered enough evidence to identify them yet."

Arabella didn’t answer at first. She was already moving, stepping carefully through the wreckage, eyes scanning every broken tile, every trace left behind.

She stopped beside a faint bloodstain on the ground, crouching low. Then her nose twitched from a subtle scent that felt like blood and... jasmine flower.

There it was.

A strange, clinging scent, like burned herbs mixed with something similar to Jasmine, a sign of a powerful old magic. It lingered in the air, staining the hallway like smoke after a fire, a scent that only she seemed to realize, something that meant only other witches would use to know the other’s identity.

Arabella’s voice was low as she whispered to herself, "The magic hasn’t fully dispersed. Whatever happened here... it wasn’t long ago."

There was no mistaking it. There were really two witches in this place! Not once but two!

How could that be? Who is the other witch in the question?

The only one who had been recognize was Alice and so who could be the other one? Was it an enemy? Or an enemy of an enemy which make them their foe?

It was hard to remain positive in such situation but Arabella deeply prayed that even in such time it wouldn’t be two witches who they were going to be against.

One witch was already a headache but two?!

"Whoever they are, they seem to be at each other’s throat," Arabella spoke in relief as she noticed that the magic that were used wasn’t only deadly but on purpose to murder someone else.

"Do you know the other person who was up against the criminal, Alice?" Helena asked her but she could only shook her head in response which made the woman sigh but she didn’t seem disappointed regardless of the answer.

"Well I suppose that is the only lead we would have for now. If only there was a way for us to know what had truly taken pla-"

"MEOW!"

The three of them who were already on edge immediately jumped in surprise, their heads turning toward the fluffy white cat who was lazily pawing its pink nose, sighing as if it was exhausted by the humans who were overreacting to such a small matter.

"Oh that’s my cat," Arabella reached out her hand and swiftly picked Lala the cat to her arms all while Jeremiah looked at it with a brief frown.

A white cat. Right... didn’t one of the soldiers mentioned about the cat too? No one else had brought a pet so it stuck out like a sore thumb.

"Do you usually go around with your cat, Lady Arabella?" Jeremiah questioned and hearing it, she thought that her Lala must have gotten in trouble for walking around without someone to guard her.

"No, but I’ll make sure from now on that she does," she convinced Jeremiah who in response answered with a short nod.

Once they had finished looking over the scene, Arabella returned away from the courtroom that was now a mess to be cleaned up.

Jeremiah and Helena, however, didn’t immediately leave as they have work to do at the crime scene, unable to leave until they had made sure every single clue had been jolted down and preserved.

Jeremiah was the first to speak, "The witches," he noted as he took a sample of Iliza’s flesh, "They are not only inhuman but a powerful creature aren’t they?"

Helena hummed, "The type of power you don’t want to make an enemy with."

Jeremiah then slowly clenched his fists, "So perhaps the reason why Father had died..."

Helena could see the anger brewing in his expression, subtle but fierce. He had spent years chasing the shadow of a murderer, one with no face and no clear motive. And now that shadow was beginning to take shape.

"How could the Queen... how could she kill my father just because he was close to uncovering the truth?" Jeremiah’s voice trembled as he clenched his fists, his words carrying across the ruined hall. Around him, the guards stiffened. His anger wasn’t his alone, it resonated deeply with every soul present.

"It would be better if His Highness, the Crown Prince, took full control of the kingdom," he muttered. "The Queen... and her followers... what’s to stop them from sacrificing every citizen in Versailles just to preserve her power?"

"Jeremiah," Helena sighed gently. Though she understood his pain, she also knew the danger of speaking too freely. In times like these, even truth could become a weapon turned against the wrong hands.

"I just don’t understand what we are still afraid of," Jeremiah said, frowning deeply. "The Queen has no more power. After what she’s done today... who in their right mind would still follow her?"

"I know," Helena said quietly, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "But it’s precisely because things are shifting that you must be careful. If you truly want His Highness to ascend the throne, reckless words could do more harm than good."

A heavy silence followed. The other guards avoided each other’s gaze, but the doubt had taken root.

Deep down, many of them wondered: Was the King’s death a necessary cost to make Prince Cassius the next ruler?

It was a treacherous thought, yet not as horrifying as the alternative, the rampage Morgana had unleashed, the countless lives she had already taken. In comparison, one life lost to crown a king seemed far less damning. The thought was enough to make everyone else who had seen the horror that day in the court to wonder if they should start praying for the King’s death for the sake of their Kingdom’s future...

The same night, Arabella had entered Cassius’s chamber fresh out of the bath.

White haze appeared from her steamy skin, her cheeks flushed red under the white bathrobe and her green eyes moist as she looked at Cassius who was tending to his wound at the plush couch, his red eyes focused until it sensed her presence.

"You’re trying to seduce me aren’t you?" Cassius had smirked, his lips that were still chapped and his complexion that was paler than usual was clear to show that he wasn’t at his top condition. Regardless, he didn’t miss smiling towards her, his gentle eyes always softened and turned sincere with emotions that made her full of being loved just by looking at them.

She walked toward him with a smile. Her fingers then brushed over his knuckles as she gently pulled away the tweezers he had used to pull the cotton balls from the brown box. Then dipping it with medicine, she carefully cleaned the wound that was on his shoulders.

A hiss echoed from Cassius’s mouth and a click of his tongue resounded.

She noticed that there were other wounds but this one on his shoulder seemed to bother him the most.

"How this did happen?" she whispered to him, "It doesn’t seem to be a stab wound."

"It’s that bloody monster’s blood," he replied, clicking his tongue when she dabbed it again as the pain zapped him. "Seems that not only the troll has a fatal strength of being too thick to cut, it also has blood that are meant to go against a vampire’s healing."

She slowly pulled away the cotton ball before pressing a gauze with the green herbs and gently wrapped it around his shoulders and under his arms.

"Considering how quick they were in making the remnant potion, should I start expecting fighting a bunch of ugly monsters all at once soon?" Cassius questioned her after the wounds were addressed, still smiling which made her heart full with delight.

She gently leaned on his other shoulders, her head near his chest that made her feel calm, "I don’t think there would be another troll again."

Cassius’s eyebrows raised. His hand gently brushed her hair that he noticed had gone from brownish red to completely red. Her green eyes were also a hint brighter, a sign that she had gotten far more connected to her bloodline as a witch than before.

"Why do you say so, my smart girl?"

Arabella looked at the book that she had taken, the book that was filled with Circe’s handwriting. She paused as her expression grew darker in a ponder, "Circe mentioned that she had created that potion but had never wanted to create it again. I then heard from Lastor how she has the habit of creating the same potion three times just to make sure that if one of it broke, she could still have other samples."

"So you think that witch, Alice, didn’t make the potion, rather she had taken one of Circe’s old sample?"

"I suspect so," Arabella’s green eyes rolled aside as she pulled the book to her hands, "I think she might have two samples on her hands. One had been used to Iliza and the other is still kept because she wish to find out a way to copy what Circe had made. But what about the King?" she then asked him, "I heard that he is also under Alice’s influence. Now without Queen Morgana or Alice, shouldn’t he be back on his right mind?"