Pirate Kingship-Chapter 647 - 454 Sea King’s Trident_2

The surname Tudor felt quite special, quite rare.

After Saranthe received affirmative answers from others, he managed to keep his composure on the surface, but his gaze flickered, a clear sign of inner turmoil. His turmoil was no less intense than Byron's reaction had been when Byron first learned Saranthe's name. It was likely akin to the feeling of the real and fake Black Whirlwind meeting.

However, aside from a surname that was identical in pronunciation and spelling, the absence of The Little Mermaid's Secret Realm and the Sorenburg of twenty years ago as corroborating evidence made it difficult for him to determine whether Byron truly shared his bloodline.

The pronunciation 'Tudor' doesn't mean much in the Old Continent; it seems like a common name among the ordinary folk. But in the Eastern Continent, it represents a leader, a Capital City, one of the oldest and most prestigious surnames. Such a coincidence seems unlikely. Could the Captain actually be my long-lost... younger brother? Reaching the Fourth Order before the age of twenty—such genius aptitude is actually a mirror image of my own.

At this point, Saranthe deliberately avoided mentioning that he was a Melee Mage who only knew the Flash Technique. Regardless of whether their talents truly matched, his stinginess in not letting others take advantage of him was certainly a pronounced trait.

Could it be that Father had foreseen the irresistible disaster and prepared an escape route for the Tudor Family twenty years in advance? Should I then involve him in the family's vortex again? My mind is truly filled with too many forbidden secrets. If the Material World continues to slip toward the Intertidal Zone, I might not be spared even in the Old Continent; eventually, I'll be caught up by the knowledge that comes back to life. Perhaps I should test him with the Zero-Level Sacred Relic fragment inherited by my family for generations, the [Triton of the Sea King]. If he gains acknowledgment from the Sacred Relic, then he must be my brother. If anything were to happen to me, I would entrust the treasure to him. Although one has to fulfill the Mandate of Heaven, which means becoming a Sea King who is universally loving in various senses, adoring the entire marine biosphere. It also enhances the bearer's fertility and occasionally causes Demon Monsters within a certain radius to become agitated. Beyond that, there's not much else. Byron seems to have only two non-human wives, which is a bit too devoted. I wonder if he would be willing to accept such a Mandate of Heaven. Speaking from personal experience, herbivorous fish don't have teeth; relatively speaking, that's manageable.

Saranthe was considering probing Byron indirectly before deciding on his next steps.

"It's terrible, there's been a death—!!!"

At that moment, a piercing scream tore through the curtain of rain.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

Several pirate officers exchanged glances. Their feet created sonic booms, leaving after-images as they dashed like lightning to the side of Byron and Catherine, who were already by the back door. Knives, swords, and Wolf Fang Clubs were drawn, their wielders warily scanning every individual around. Kingston's public order was not their concern; their primary duty on this trip was to guard. Ensuring the safety of their own lord and Queen was the top priority.

Saranthe, in particular, looked at Byron with a certain fervency in his eyes.

WHOOSH!

Meanwhile, a group of plainclothes guards rushed out from the other nearby shops, gathering around Byron and Catherine. The number of private soldiers Nobility could maintain was limitless, depending on their strength, but the number allowed into the Royal Capital was capped. Barons could only have ten men, while Earls could have fifty. Considering Byron's special circumstances, he had been granted permission to enter the city with an Earl's guard size of fifty men.

These guards were all among the best of the Wings of Death. Not only were they equipped with Azkek's Cursed Coins, but nearly every one of them had reached the Second Order and was battle-hardened. This band of desperate men had exposed skin crisscrossed with fierce scars, and their icy eyes reflected flares of bloodthirsty violence. Their swords, although polished to a shine, couldn't conceal the iron-rust scent of mass killing. The flintlock pistols at their waists had long been replaced with revolvers using whale oil cartridges. These weapons made them capable of easily overcoming Musketeer Corps many times their number and of the same order.

"Hiss—! Where did these elite troops come from? Even His Majesty the King's Elite Guard are probably not much better than this."

The residents and tourists who came out at the sound of the scream had never seen such a scene before and subconsciously shrank their necks. They immediately assumed that this must be some high-ranking individual who had the leisure to stroll the streets and had just happened to come across a murder scene. If not for the accident, no one would likely have noticed the vast number of guards following them from the moment they left home until they returned.

SNAP!

Byron casually snapped his fingers, and the rain above automatically parted, falling to either side of him and Catherine.

"Bruh, clear the way. Let's go take a look," he said.

Since they hadn't avoided the double 'Death Has Come' from him and that Mr. Sherlock, and had even triggered a new hidden development, there was no way to avoid it any longer. He might as well take his men and straightforwardly investigate what this "Death Stranding incident under the dispute of the two parties" was really all about. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

At this moment, Sheriff Sherlock had already made his way to the front of the building, confirming the murder scene. The first to discover the victim was a staff member of the Bluebell Cafe, who had just come out the back door to take out the trash. Seeing the small door ajar, two long streaks of blood trailed from the doorway into the dim interior, as though someone had made it to the door only to be dragged back inside by something. Through the dim light of the rainy day, everyone could still see an incomplete corpse lying at the boundary of light and darkness.

Sherlock turned back to the overly curious residents of the Royal Capital, showed a silver scales-of-justice badge, and said solemnly, "I am the Sheriff of this district. Please keep your distance and do not approach, so as not to disturb the scene."

Once he entered work mode, the Sheriff's demeanor suddenly changed, exuding an undeniable authority.

The Nemesis of Sin, Sherlock, was a Third Order Sheriff of the Tribunal's Sequence and undeniably part of the upper-middle tier in the justice system. Had he been able to learn the 'ambiguously just' ways of others, he wouldn't have remained on the front lines dealing with the dead—a role entirely unfitting for a Mid-Sequence Transcendent's dignified status. But he couldn't; he insisted on delving into the root of every case, regardless of who it might offend.

But his outstanding capabilities needed no further mention. In other places, Sherlock might have needed to inspect the scene, collect testimonies, and carefully deduce. In his own jurisdiction, however, he required none of that.

This Nemesis of Sin simply raised his hand to use one of the Sheriff's most commonly used transcendent abilities and investigative starting gambits... "Crime Reenactment"!

The interplay of light and shadow at the crime scene immediately began to precisely reconstruct the events that had occurred there.

Peers from an Otherworld seeing this would probably cry out in alarm, "Someone's breaking the rules!"