3 bar menu

The Black Female Warrior Races Through – Part 04

Eight years had passed in the blink of an eye, and everyone had aged a little.

The eldest son of the farmwoman had settled down nearby, with her own grandchild coming soon. Despite the doll maker’s constant grumbling and disparaging remarks about the unborn child, saying things like, “I bet your grandchild will be just as vulgar and inconsiderate as you,” he couldn’t help himself from feeling excited.

Then one day, the doll maker’s younger brother, who had been traveling throughout Europe, paid a sudden visit. Unlike the doll maker, he was friendly and wore a constant smile. However, the farmwoman was wary around him.

“I don’t trust him,” she said. “She calls me ‘lady’. I don’t know which country’s crazy culture that is, but I’m no lady. There’s something off about him.”

Her husband and sons told her that she was too distrustful, but she remained cautious of the doll maker’s brother.

Around that time, the doll maker received an invitation to a doll exhibit to be held in Russia. Leaving his son and granddaughter behind at the house, he traveled to Russia with government officials. Despite his old age, he appeared to be in good health. Everyone saw him off at the train station, not overly concerned.

Unexpectedly, the doll maker took the farmwoman’s gnarled hands and said, “Thank you for everything. Goodbye!”

As the train departed, tears streamed down the woman’s face.

“Stupid geezer!” she whined.

Her husband and sons consoled her on the way home.

The next day, a call came to the village police station. It was from the doll maker’s house. Inspector Grevil de Blois, who had been stationed there just a few months ago, hurried to the scene with his two subordinates in tow. They discovered the doll maker’s son lying motionless under the staircase that connected the first and second floors. He had died with a broken neck.

The doctor presumed that he must have slipped on the stairs and suffered a fatal fall, but the farmwoman did not accept it.

“No, the doll maker’s brother killed him!” she asserted. “I don’t know why, but I’m sure of it!”

“Mind your tongue!” Inspector Blois warned.

She then broke down crying.

The doll maker’s younger brother did have a motive to kill the man. The doll maker’s creations fetched high prices in the market, and if the son, who managed the rights to the works, was gone, the brother would likely take over instead of the young granddaughter. Furthermore, according to the law, if the doll maker were to pass away, the son would inherit his assets, but if the son were to die before the doll maker, the right of inheritance would transfer to the brother, not the granddaughter.

While the doll maker was still in Russia, his brother swiftly began asserting his authority over the house. The timid granddaughter, burdened by the loss of her father, lost her spirit and was on the verge of being kicked out. It was only thanks to the farmer’s support and encouragement that she managed to stay in the house, albeit barely.

However, a few days later, a terrible news arrived from Russia.

On the same day that the son met his tragic end, the doll maker, Grafenstein, passed away at Moscow Station.

---

“How? Was it black magic?”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Not that it’s anything new, of course.”

The girls, one trapped in a hollow and the other brandishing her bow, exchanged curious looks.

The snow had stopped falling, and the sun grew brighter. The wind picked up a little, rustling their golden hairs.

“Well, they died on the same day,” Avril said.

“The old doll maker was already old. He apparently died of a heart attack,” Victorique explained. “During dinner the night before, he complimented the food and even mentioned how delicious the soup made by the farmwoman was. And just like that, he collapsed and passed away. Since it happened far away, we don’t have all the details. All we know is that it occurred when the train was at Moscow Station.”

“What does it all mean?”

“In short,” Victorique said, removing the pipe from her mouth. “The doll maker and his son died on the same day in different places. Now the question is, who passed away first? That has become a point of contention for everyone involved.”

“Hmm?”

“If the son died first, then all the rights to Grafenstein’s dolls belong to the doll maker’s brother. But if the doll maker died first, then they belong to the granddaughter.”

“Ah!” Avril tapped her palm. Then, her voice took on a hint of concern. “What happened after that?”

“Well…” Victorique pursed her lips. “I got dragged into the case for some reason.”

---

The grand library tower, St. Marguerite Academy.

After being pestered by the farmwoman’s family, Inspector Blois reluctantly returned to the academy. Ever since he solved his first case in the village—the kidnapping of a business man’s young son—a few months ago, he had gained a reputation as a competent inspector. He had a heavy responsibility to bear.

Walking with a heavy gait, Inspector Blois entered the library tower and took the elevator.

Clank, clank, clank.

The iron gate closed, and the elevator ascended slowly.

Finally, he reached the top floor, where the secret conservatory was located. As always, Victorique de Blois—his sister, descendant of the Gray Wolves, and Europe’s brightest—was lying on the floor, reading a book.

A candy stick protruded from her cherry lips. The smoke from her small white pipe swirled into the air.

She pretended not to notice the inspector’s arrival and continued reading. Inspector Blois cleared his throat.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “What do you want?”

“Uh…”

“Did Father pass away?”

“Of course not. That man is immortal. Even if the king and the Academy of Science sent a thousand assassins, he would still survive. Stop saying stupid things when you know it’s not true, you little snot.”

“An incident in the village, then?”

“…”

“On one condition. Coil that stupid pointy hair of yours so it resembles a drill. It should be amusing. That’s all.”

“V-Very well.”

“Hmph!”

Victorique sat up, then quickly shrank back. Inspector Blois had come quite close, the tip of his pointy head threatening to stab her.

“So what happened is…”

“S-Stay back! You’re creeping me out.”

“And whose fault do you think that is?! I’m gonna poke you!”

“Stop! It’s terrifying…”

“You must know about Grafenstein’s dolls. Pale and exceptionally beautiful dolls, their eyes embedded with precious jewels. For god knows why, a momentous incident that would determine their fate has occurred in this small and peaceful village.”

“Hmm?”

Inspector Blois provided a detailed explanation of the events and individuals involved. Victorique was smoking her pipe, observing the magnificent fresco on the ceiling.

“The son died in the early afternoon,” the inspector said. “The doll maker, on the other hand, left Leningrad in the morning and headed for Moscow. I believe they were scheduled to arrive in Moscow in the evening, where they had dinner.”

“I see.”

“Word is he collapsed and passed away near Moscow Station, so it would have been in the evening. That would mean that the son died first, and all the rights would belong to the doll maker’s brother.” There was a hint of worry in his voice.

Wearing a puzzled expression, Victorique asked, “Why does that matter?”

“You see, the dolls that Grafenstein crafted after the war had magnificent gemstones embedded in their eyes, gemstones that he had gifted to his deceased young lover. His brother is having financial troubles and doesn’t know the true value of these dolls. Since he believes that he’s inheriting the dolls anyway, he’s planning to smash the dolls and take the gems for himself. The granddaughter was telling him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“How disturbing.”

“Those magnificent dolls…”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, i-it’s nothing. Anyway, I found this unacceptable, so I went to the kitchen, grabbed some cooking wine, and forced the brother to drink it. I then had my subordinates hold his arms and legs and swing him around, and arrested him for drunk and disorderly conduct. He’s currently in jail, but only until tomorrow morning. Once he’s released, he’ll definitely head straight back to the mansion and start breaking the dolls. If the granddaughter and the farmer’s family hid the dolls, he would accuse them of theft for sure.”

“Hmm.”

Victorique smoked her pipe with an air of disinterest.

Complete silence enveloped the library tower. There was no sound, not even the singing of birds.

Inspector Blois sullenly shook his pointy head.

Moments later, Victorique let out a bored sigh. “Grevil.”

“Wh-What is it?”

“It seems like your stupid pointy head overlooked something important. Allow me to enlighten you.”

Victorique began searching for something, lifting and clearing the books scattered about. Once she found what she was looking for—a book—she opened it with her tiny, chubby hands.

It was a map, depicting a large continent in shades of brown.

Pointing at a particular spot, she said, “You see, Grevil…”

“What?!”

“The Moscow Station in Russia is actually located in Leningrad.”