Chapitre 4: Chapter 4: Solving a Case on the Go
Chapter 4: Solving a Case on the Go
Joseph casually pulled open the curtains, and upon seeing the surrounding scene, he frowned. Since arriving in this world, he had been taking exams in Versailles Palace, and this was his first time seeing the face of Paris.
It was completely different from the bustling European metropolis he had imagined—buildings were dirty and old, the streets were covered with mud and sewage, and even excrement. The stench came from this. Dead animals floated down the Seine River from time to time, while the workshops along the banks discharged strangely colored wastewater, turning the river brown.
Vendors crowded both sides of the streets with their messy stalls, making the already wide streets feel cramped. Children happily chased each other, waving mud around. Shouts and curses echoed without any clear cause.
Fights were everywhere, and passersby ignored the cries of those being beaten. There were even robberies happening in broad daylight, only stopping when Joseph ordered his guards to intervene, causing the thieves to flee into the alleys. And this was the Louvre district, known as the safest area in all of Paris...
In short, the city had none of the romantic atmosphere influenced by Enlightenment thought, nor the energy of the Industrial Revolution. The grandeur of Versailles Palace and Paris, though physically close, felt like they belonged to different worlds.
The carriage crossed to the north bank of the Seine, and the driver gently called out, "Whoa," bringing the vehicle to a slow halt.
"Your Highness, we've arrived," said Éman as he bowed and then stepped down to open the door for the crown prince.
Joseph rubbed his sore rear from the bumpy ride, stepped down the stairs laid out by his attendants, and looked up to see a grand building, nearly a hundred meters wide, adorned with statues on its exterior walls and featuring many columns and arched floor-to-ceiling windows. It looked like a giant castle stationed in the heart of Paris, proclaiming the absolute power of the feudal class.
The town hall had long received word of the crown prince's arrival, and officials large and small had gathered in the square outside the main entrance, lined up to greet His Highness.
But the royal silver carriage they had eagerly awaited never appeared. Instead, three gray-black carriages pulled up in front of the town hall. When Éman emerged from one of them, the Paris city commissioner, Levebel, twitched his eyelids and hurriedly called out to those around him:
"Quick! It's the crown prince!"
Levebel, pressing his black tricorne hat with one hand, moved his trapezoid-shaped legs and drove his nearly 200-pound body to rush forward with the others. They respectfully bowed in front of Joseph, one after the other, "Your Highness."
The musicians nearby were startled into action, hurriedly playing music.
Levebel introduced himself, then gestured toward a middle-aged man beside him with sharp cheekbones and gray-blue eyes, saying, "Your Highness, allow me to introduce the president of the Paris Chamber of Commerce, Viscount Flessel."
Upon hearing this, Joseph looked at the man a little more closely. From the reports he'd read earlier, he learned that although Levebel was technically the city commissioner, the real power in Paris was held by Flessel. The government was short on funds, so they relied on the Chamber of Commerce to finance operations, and Flessel's connections solved many problems, giving him significant influence.
Flessel stepped forward again to bow, "Your Highness, we have prepared an afternoon banquet and hope you will honor us with your presence."
Although Joseph disliked the banquets and balls of this era, finding their endless formalities torturous, he knew social obligations couldn't be avoided. So he nodded in response:
"Thank you all."
In the spacious and luxurious banquet hall of the town hall, servants bustled back and forth, and the tables were piled high with all sorts of fine dishes. Cold dishes were quickly replaced with new ones.
Wine flowed, laughter echoed, and Joseph politely handled the endless flattery from the officials, but in his mind, he was focused on reforming the police system.
"Your Highness wishes to participate in police management?" The plump mayor looked shocked as he exchanged glances with the head of the Chamber of Commerce, then quickly smiled at Joseph, "Your Highness, you are of such noble status—how could you deal with thieves and murderers?"
The president quickly nodded in agreement, "Exactly, and the police department's work is very tedious and boring."
In his mind, though, he was groaning, Please, young master, you're just here for a ceremonial role—don't take it so seriously. If you mess up the police system, Paris will be in chaos!
Joseph was a bit exasperated, but just as he was about to continue arguing, a woman's loud voice suddenly rang out from outside the town hall:
"No! Lenotte could never have committed suicide! You must catch the killer!"
Her voice was sharp one moment and then melodious like an opera singer the next. "Lenotte was so cheerful. We were going to be married next month. How could he kill himself? You can't close the case! The murderer is still out there!"
The mayor's face instantly darkened, and he angrily said, "Her again?"
Flessel immediately waved forcefully at the guards, "Get rid of her! Don't you see who is here today?!"
He then turned to Joseph, with an apologetic smile, "Ah, Your Highness, she's just a madwoman. Don't let her spoil your mood."
Joseph looked out the window and asked, "I heard her mention a murderer—what's the situation?"
Levebel quickly explained, "A month ago, her fiancé, Viscount Lenotte, committed suicide by swallowing a sword. The case is clear; there's no doubt. But this woman seems to have lost her mind and insists it was murder."
"She's made such a fuss that we had to ban her from entering the town hall, but she still shows up outside every few days, yelling."
Joseph, puzzled, asked, "Swallowing a sword?"
The thin man sitting to Levebel's right placed a hand on his chest and explained, "Your Highness, it's when someone places the sword hilt on the ground, the tip in their mouth, and then pushes downward, piercing the back of the throat. It's a common suicide method."
Joseph remembered that the mayor had introduced this man earlier as Viscount Guizot, the chief of police in Paris, responsible for all police matters in the city.
Seeing that the crown prince seemed interested, Guizot eagerly elaborated:
"About a month ago, in the afternoon, Viscount Lenotte's servant reported that his master was found dead in his bedroom. When my men arrived, they found he had committed suicide by sword swallowing."
Joseph frowned, "How did you determine it was suicide? Was there a note or signs of depression?"
"None," Guizot admitted. "But Lenotte used his own sword, no valuables were missing, there were no signs of a struggle in the room, and he had no other injuries."
"You must understand, Your Highness, Lenotte fought in America. He was over 6 feet tall, skilled in combat. If anyone could have gotten a sword into his mouth in broad daylight without injuring him, it could only have been himself."
Six feet tall—that was indeed a big man.
Joseph narrowed his eyes slightly. He had seen many similar murder methods in detective novels. With no signs of suicide or a note, only the poorly trained and uninformed police of the 18th century would crudely classify it as suicide.
He looked at Guizot and said, "No, there is one other type of person who could have done it."
The plump mayor chuckled, waving it off, "Your Highness must be joking. What, do you think the person used magic?"
Joseph calmly replied, "No, they just know how to fix teeth."
"Fix teeth... you mean a dentist?!"
"Exactly, a dentist."
Everyone fell silent, stunned, as the image formed in their minds—a dentist telling Lenotte to obediently open his mouth, then covering his eyes with a cloth as if for a procedure, turning around to pull Lenotte's sword off the wall, and easily thrusting it into his mouth, spraying blood everywhere...
Note 1: In 18th-century Europe, "fast and agile" swordsmanship was highly prized, which led to nobles carrying swords that were thin and light, making it difficult to slit one's throat with them. As a result, sword swallowing became a common method of suicide. Moreover, this method left the body in a kneeling, prayer-like position, which made it even more popular among nobles.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
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