Avarice Crowne, president of Ecclesia, strode up to the stand, ready to make his speech. His bushy grizzled eyebrows and moustache gave him an aggressive look, with two beady black eyes sticking out from the eyes brows. The elegant town hall stood out behind him with its sturdy marble pillars holding it up and thousands of people crowded around the city square.
Nobody knew what had happened thirty nine years ago, when the late king of Ecclesia suddenly disappeared. A month later, the king and his entire household were found half-buried in a pit dug in the middle of a forest on the other side of the country. The villages in its vicinity were brought in and questioned but it remained a mystery; how they were transported across the country still remained unsolved.
But there were more pressing matters to be settled. Who was to sit on the throne? All the heirs of the king were dead. Naturally, the lower citizens didn't want another king; after all, the previous one had led the country to poverty and discontent with the many unjust laws pressing down on the people.
Then came Avarice Crowne, twenty two at that time. His history and relations were a murky river; hard to uncover and dangerous if approached too closely. Although no one had ever heard of him before, he instantly became the crowd's favourite. Through his motivational speeches and political campaigns, he instantly won over the majority of people and gained a group of loyal supporters.
He was elected as the first president of the country and the moment he stepped into the office, everything changed. From the wealthiest city to the poorest district, every memory of the previous royal family was erased, and the people's support for Avarice Crowne made them quickly forget about their hardships. Jobs were offered, food and water was distributed to those in need, and shelters were built for the homeless. By the end of the year, Ecclesia had completely transformed and a new government ruled the country.
The Custodians, the elite of Ecclesia loyal to Crowne, ran the country like a business. They oversaw every activity the citizens participated in, took charge of distributing money and resources, and made alliances with surrounding countries, as well as setting up a nationwide security service, the Enforcers. Everyone was satisfied for the first time in decades.
Seeing that the country was finally stable again and the people were in his hands, Crowne started the next phase of his plan. Slowly, he built up more and more factories and accumulated wealth. Prices on basic needs rose higher and higher, until the lower citizens of the country couldn't stand it; protests and actions of resistance were made, but to everyone's surprise, they worked. Blame was piled on one of the managers in the Custodians and trust was restored. Nobody asked questions. Everyone obeyed.
Four years later, one of the worst famines in Ecclesia's history hit the unsuspecting country like a bull. All eyes diverted to Avarice Crowne, the people's hero. Immediately, he restocked every storehouse the country had, secretly earning more than ten times the usual amount. Finally, after six months, the famine came to an abrupt stop, but now the people were divided more than before; the high price of food caused many of the poorer districts to collapse, while richer citizens were still quite comfortable.
This sparked rebellion from some people; they wanted compensation for the hard times during the famine. However, they did not realise how powerful the Custodians and Crowne had become. During the famine, while most of the country was withering, they grew bigger on the profit from their sales. Secret international deals were made, and by the end of the famine, they had more resources in their hands than any other country. Using the Enforcers, leaders of the rebellious group were rounded up and silently executed, shown to the public as a warning. Lies spread around like a wildfire in a forest, convincing the public of the executed leaders' immorality. Avarice Crowne had done it; he was now the most powerful figure in Ecclesia.
—
Clearing his throat, Crowne began his speech.
"Citizens of Ecclesia, we have suffered much under the heavy blows of the famine, but have we fallen yet? No, we haven't! So offer everything you have and sacrifice them for the future that is to come…"
As the speech continued, patriotic fervour crashed into the crowd. They began to cheer and chant; within minutes, the air around them turned into a sea of noise.
Suddenly, loud bangs erupted, and streams of smoke floated into the air. Several men drew revolvers and fired at President Crowne, who ducked behind his stand just in time to avoid a bullet coming at his head. Once the crowd understood what was happening, the scene turned into a stampede with screams and dust flying into the air. The Enforcers standing on guard, rushed into the mess, their crisp, military-style uniforms gleaming from the shining afternoon sun. They flooded the square and surrounded it, cutting off all possible escape routes, while some others escorted and shielded President Crowne from any possible harm.
More shots rang out, as the crowd began to thin out and revealed the rebels; a group of ten men armed with revolvers. Seeing that they had lost the cover of the crowd and were severely outnumbered, most of them fled for their lives, while some others stayed to try and finish off the job, but it was too late; the Enforcers had them in a tight circle and shot all of them down within seconds. After the smoke had settled, there laid the rebels, dead on the ground.
—
Sigerson rushed to the scene, where the bodies were now being carried away from the scene. Some of the crowd were still lingering around, hoping to get a glimpse of their president. He was pale, but other than that, was quite unhurt. A pair of burly Enforcers marched him back towards the town hall. As Sigerson watched, he noticed a man wearing a thick coat lurking close to the doors of the grand building.
"That's odd," he thought, "It's the hottest time of the day, and yet he's still wearing such thick clothes… Could it be?"
The man inched his hand closer and closer towards his coat as President Crowne approached, and just before he pulled out a concealed revolver, another loud bang filled the air, and the assailant crumpled on the ground in front of the president, holding his leg. The Enforcers guarding the president raised their weapons at Sigerson, who in turn lifted up his arms along with his revolver. Pulling out his ID, he made his way over and handed his revolver to one of the Enforcers.
"Mr Sigerson?" asked the Enforcer in charge, reading his ID card. Sigerson nodded.
"Are you by yourself or with other police members?"
"I've only just arrived, but I don't think you'll have to wait for the rest of the police much longer—"
He gestured at a group of constables led by Inspector Branch, who were marching up frantically.
"If you'll allow me to interrogate the assailant somewhere private, I can help find out more about this affair."
The Enforcer stared at him doubtfully, then sighed and replied, "Very well. I will take you to our headquarters where you can question him alone."
—
Hidden deep in Sodor was the Enforcer's headquarters. It was an ordinary building with the exception of grim iron bars and hidden security systems dotted around its perimeter. From the outside, it had a dull look; most of it was made with orange brick. Sinister windows jumped out from each of the three storeys, revealing nothing to those lurking around outside, but provided an excellent outlook for the secretive Enforcers working inside.
Walking into the headquarters felt like entering a den of lions; danger and animosity jumped around the determined detective, who was unmoved by all the scowls and whispers around him. He was led by the captain of the Enforcers to a gloomy hall lined with interrogation rooms. Barely furnished, with the exception of two uncomfortable metal chairs and a table, these rooms gave off a chilly aura, as a plethora of hopeless souls suffered in these rooms, mentally and physically broken after the questioning. A lone guard pushed open the door and saluted his superior.
"Do not hand him anything and avoid unnecessary contact," warned the captain. "Remember, if you need any assistance, we'll be waiting outside."
Sigeron nodded grimly and entered.
The room was dimly lit by a pair of gas lamps flickering feebly overhead. It was no roomier than a garden shed; its walls were completely made up of brick, allowing every word spoken to reverberate around the claustrophobic room. The assailant, Samuel Cooper, sat on a chair, his face emotionless, as he waited and fiddled with his tweed coat. His cold black eyes swept to Sigerson as soon as he entered the room.
"Just so you know," Cooper started, watching the detective settle down in the chair opposite him, "I have no intention of answering your questions nor do I plan to give any information that could help the Enforcers."
"I do not work for them, nor do I wish to work with them." Sigerson replied softly, his sharp green eyes burning into the harsh black ones of the man in front of him. Cooper leaned back in his chair and asked coldly, "What do you want then?"
"What I want," He lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "Is why you decided to even attempt an assassination."
"Why?" repeated Cooper, moving closer to the light, his scarred face illuminated. "To destroy the corruption that has taken over our country; for the very reason soldiers go out to fight: to free this land from oppression. Let me tell you: Avarice Crowne may seem to be better than the previous king for some people, but ultimately, he's just another crook who's sacrificed the entire country for his profit."
He finished this sudden burst with an angry scoff.
"And if that's not bad enough, he also goes around arresting random people to satisfy his paranoia!"
During all this time, Sigerson had been silently listening, trying to work out if his suspicions were accurate or not.
"Have you told anyone about this?"
"Well, the lads with me had all agreed on—"
"Anyone who was not directly involved with you today?"
Copper stopped and smiled grimly at Sigerson, revealing several broken teeth.
"He was the one whom I talked to first."
"He? Can you describe him?"
Cooper sunk back, trying to recollect his memories, then replied in a hushed voice, "He was about as tall as you and had neat brown hair parted to the sides. He had blue eyes and shabby clothes too, now that I think about it."
"Did you notice anything in particular about him when he talked?"
"He didn't seem to be around the village; he didn't even know that the arms dealer was restocking on revolvers that day; but at the same time, not many people really have the need to purchase those kinds of things."
Sigerson sat up, listening intently.
"He was the first person to ever understand me," murmured Cooper in a dreamy voice. "Day after day, we would meet up in that pub and share our troubles together. Then one night, I came home and found a couple of revolvers on sale. I bought them, called some of my mates together, and we plotted every step of our assassination. My plan has failed. There is no hope for this country with that devil as president; just remember that."
Seeing that he could get nothing more out of the prisoner, Sigerson stood up and said politely, "Thank you for your cooperation; it has been most enlightening to me."
He opened the door of the room and left, leaving Cooper confused.
"So how was it?" asked the captain, a little bit forcefully.
"As expected. The prisoner is clearly deluded, and judging by his speech, listening to him talk will only lead to more trouble," lied Sigerson smoothly.
It's probably wiser not to reveal anything to them, since they could interfere with my investigation.
The captain glared at him watchfully, as if waiting for a proper answer. When no reply came, he gave orders to a flaxen-haired guard nearby, then the detective was escorted out of their building.
Walking down the streets, Sigerson quietly reflected on his short interrogation with Cooper.
Judging from what he told me, it's most likely Cooper was manipulated by an outsider, rather than someone in the village; the fact that they didn't realise the firearms store was restocking shows that they had not been in the village for very long. The revolvers just happened to be on sale again a week before merchandise was planned to arrive… Looks like somebody secretly restocked them… That is very suggestive… Evidence… There's no evidence that it's him…"
He arrived back at the police station and stepped into the glum building. Throwing his jacket on a rack and making his way to his desk, he barely stopped moving before the round figure of Inspector Branch rushed up and caught him before he could even sit down.
"We're going to need you, Sigerson," he said brusquely, putting on a coat. "We have a new case on our hands."
"Another case?"
"Yes, yes, you heard me!" snapped the inspector impatiently. "Winslow Towns was shot dead in his own home!"
Winslow Towns… The main suspect in the exploding boiler incident is dead? His death is certainly not random; he still contained much information about the accident. There's a high chance that something's been removed or hidden with his death… Two incidents in a day… If I'm not mistaken, the assassination attempt was just a diversion to draw our attention away from a seemingly smaller murder… The problem is who did it? There's not much evidence, but based on what I know, Blight would certainly benefit from the removal of the Wensworth Company… He also had the wealth to bribe Winslow Towns, who had received a large sum of money not long before… All I need now is evidence to support my theory…"
Throwing on his jacket, Sigerson departed with Inspector Branch; the two of them jumped into a cab, as it dissolved away into the cover of the approaching night.