Chapter 73 Chapter 73 (revised) That freak is getting excited again...

It was an interesting question. Elio helplessly scrolled through his address book, flipping up and down, looking left and right, unable to think of anyone who could accept without a trace of surprise the words, "I'm playing a magic prank. Can you wear this card when you sleep or I'll probably die?" and yet actually live a real life.

The latter was skeptical, mainly because Elio was too embarrassed to ask.

Oh, and there are also grade requirements.

After a long period of hesitation and sighing, Elio finally called Alvin.

"My dear mentor," Elio greeted obediently, "what have you been busy with lately?"

Alvin on the other side was silent for a moment, then uttered a rather bewildered "Hmm?" He even seemed to be holding the phone further away.

"Who are you?" Alvin asked suspiciously, leaning closer to the phone. "What did you do to Elio?"

Elio had to spend a long time explaining that he hadn't been kidnapped, nor had his mind been disturbed by magic—well, a little, but it was physically disturbed. "I can't think of any way to find someone and me within five days..." Elio swallowed the rest, "so I wanted to ask if you have any ideas."

"Find someone willing to sleep with you within five days?" Alvin raised his voice in disbelief. "Me?"

"No, no, no," Elio quickly clarified, "I mean you sleep with anyone! You don't have to tell me."

Alvin was strangely silent for a moment. Elio sensed something in that silence.

Elio couldn't help but question, "You wouldn't—"

"I have an idea," Alvin interrupted. "You're in London, aren't you? Sill was there recently too. Give him the card."

"Who is Xier?"

"Silvio Galahad. You remember the last part, at least."

"Okay." Elio replied obediently.

"By the way, are there any grade requirements?" Alvin asked casually, "Can you see what grade Xi'er is?"

Elio was nearly blinded by the golden light. Galahad asked the same question. Elio was both grateful that the Templar had so readily agreed to help him solve this problem, yet embarrassed to explain the specific requirements. He replied dryly, "Anyone who meets the card's required level can break it."

Galahad nodded thoughtfully and told him that he could break the card within three days and would notify him of the follow-up of the matter as soon as possible.

Elio wondered how he could make such a statement sound so dignified. And he didn't blush at all, as if Elio was the only one fidgeting, just waiting to hand in his card and leave.

"Don't leave so quickly," Galahad called out to Elio, who was about to slip out of the window. "I have something else to tell you."

Elio quietly went back into the room.

"It's business. Don't be so shy." Galahad clicked on his phone and showed Elio the Wikipedia page. "I'll leave him to you."

This simple sentence immediately sent shockwaves through Elio's heart. He jerked his head up and stared intently at the Templar, who calmly put away his phone and smiled at him.

"How did you…"

It was one of the many Templars Elio had seen in his memories. Upon arriving in London, the man listed on the Wikipedia page as "Councilor Moran" immediately rose to the top of Elio's wanted list. However, until then, Elio had no idea of ​​his name or identity, and knew nothing about him except his appearance.

"Alvin gave me this portrait," said Galahad. "I suppose it was for him that you came all the way to London."

Elio opened his mouth, then closed it again. Alvin had indeed said he would share the portrait with others to get more clues, but Elio had always assumed it was other members of the Assassin Order—well, he knew Galahad and Alvin were close, but Elio had never thought to ask him directly before—so could he actually ask directly?

"But you..." Elio watched his expression, choosing his words, "but you're a Templar. I thought Councillor Moran was your friend?"

Galahad rolled his eyes. "Not every colleague of mine can be considered a friend. And strictly speaking, Moran isn't much of a colleague. Okay, go do your thing and stop wasting my time."

Elio took a dazed step toward the window, but after a few steps, he retreated.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Galahad," Elio said, "but I do have a question—something about Leo. When are you free?"

Galahad raised his head again and looked at him thoughtfully for a moment.

"Leopold Mitchell," Elio added, assuming Galahad didn't remember who Leopold was. "Mitchell is the chairman. You worked together in Gotham."

"Of course I remember him." Galahad narrowed his eyes. "But I don't understand what you are asking."

"I'm not going to ask personal questions," Elio said. "I know there are things you can't tell me, and he won't tell me. But..." The Assassin hesitated, but continued, "I see a possibility in you. The possibility of a peaceful coexistence between Templars and Assassins.

Galahad stared at him intently. The Templar dropped what he was holding and leaned back into his chair.

"Go on," he said. "I have time now."

"With so much of the past between us," Elio asked, "how do you do it?"

Galahad looked at him, and Elio soon noticed that the haughty look had faded from the Templar's face, replaced by a deep, true calm that befitted his age.

"I don't have a good answer for you," Galahad said slowly. "My situation and the Assassins I've known—any of them—are different from yours. If you look back through history at the occasional truce between the Templars and the Assassins, you'll find that each pairing was unique and perfectly timed."

Elio was a little disappointed, but the answer wasn't what he'd expected. The Assassin was about to say a polite goodbye when the Templar's next words stopped him short.

"But if it is peace you seek, true peace," the Templar said, "I support you."

Elio stared at Galahad.

"And, from my limited knowledge of little Michèle," Galahad winked at him, "he would not object to that."

The "peace" he was referring to seemed broader than the one Elio had meant. After all, Elio had only intended to inquire about the peace between Leopold and himself, but the Assassin easily realized that the peace Galahad was referring to was most likely...

Peace between the Templars and the Assassins.

This wasn't entirely without precedent. Such a peace existed during the French Revolution, when the Templar Grand Master François de la Serre adopted Arno Dorian, the orphan of the Assassin Charles Dorian—well, Elio's ancestor—and Mirabeau, the Grand Master of the Assassins, collaborated with the Templar Lafayette, though he was soon killed by the Brotherhood's radical Bellec.

De la Serre also died at the hands of the radical Templars.

…No matter how you look at it, it's impossible. Elio shook his head, trying to shake the thought. The past was the past. What the modern Templars had done to the Assassins was absolutely unforgivable. Not even Elio could forgive them. As for the future—no one knew what would happen.

Perhaps, one day in the future, the Templars and Assassins will once again collaborate. But the trenches of old and new hatreds will always flow with blood, smearing the eyes of radicals; war is always easier to start than peace; after all, it only takes a bullet to start it.

Or, a hidden blade.

"bass!"

Elio drew his Hidden Blade. He helped Senator Moran slowly sink onto the crimson sofa. The Assassin had thoughtfully covered him with a thin blanket. The Templar, his eyes closed, appeared to be sleeping peacefully. But as Elio watched him, he thought of the array of incriminating evidence, both those the Assassin had discovered and those he hadn't.

For a moment, Elio stared at the Templar's closed eyes, and a faint sense of fatigue surged in his heart.

When will all this end?

But Elio quickly forced himself to come to his senses. Breaking into the hereditary knight's estate was no easy feat, and leaving quietly after the murder certainly wasn't. Before being discovered by the estate staff, Elio snuck into the study and hurriedly stole some confidential information he thought might be useful.

But Elio overlooked one thing in his busy schedule.

His previous experiences, especially those in Gotham and Blüdhaven, in a sense, have eroded the assassin's trust in the authorities and his vigilance against them - the fact is that those cities do have the breeding ground for crime, which is why Blüdhaven has always only "wanted" Elliot Smith but neglected to pursue him.

They don't really care. There's just... too many wanted criminals.

New York and the Middle East didn't really matter. Besides, Elio always left quickly.

But London?

Little London really cared. Especially when they discovered that a member of Parliament, former army colonel and hereditary knight had been murdered in his own estate, with signs of a break-in in his study and estate staff pointing out that some documents were missing...

An uproar erupted almost immediately in London's upper echelons. Nobles, military personnel, and politicians who considered their lives crucial and knew whether they had enemies strongly demanded a thorough investigation.

What a joke! Such a prominent figure, associated with the "aristocrats," the "military," and the "political" world, had died inexplicably in his own heavily guarded estate. Could they be next?!

MI6 didn't react until they realized what Councillor Moran had lost. They ignored it. So the pressure was on Scotland Yard.

"…The incision was deep and smooth, with smooth edges," said Medical Examiner Anderson, bending down to shine his flashlight. "The trachea and carotid artery were severed almost instantly."

He glanced wordlessly at their boss, Detective Lestrade. He touched his nose with a gloved hand, his expression indescribable. Officer Donovan, who had been checking around, came back and reported, "This door was locked at the time of the incident."

"What about the windows?"

"It's locked too. They couldn't break the door down, so they broke through the glass to get in." Donovan nodded at the shattered glass on the floor beside the curtains. "According to the staff at the manor, there's no other entrance or exit."

"Wow, locked-room murder," Anderson said dryly. "That freak's getting excited again."

There was a moment of silence, and everyone looked at each other.

This might be a bit beyond popular belief, but Scotland Yard isn't as incompetent as they think. They still handle the majority of routine cases, and London's security depends on them. Only a small number of cases are intercepted mid-sentence by Secret Intelligence or other covert agencies, but that's hardly Scotland Yard's fault.

…But there are still some cases that Scotland Yard is helpless to solve. A murder case in a locked room with no entrance or exit, or one where the scene has been tampered with; coupled with the sensitive identity of the deceased, and the attention and pressure from higher-ups…

"Well," Detective Lestrade finally spoke, "I guess we're all thinking the same thing."

Anderson sighed, "Same guy."

"Sherlock Holmes."

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The author has something to say: (Small theater:

Oreo: You don’t have a life without a surname, do you?

Alvin: Shut up! If you keep saying that, I won’t find anyone to help you clear your card.)

And after this chapter was published, the ending was changed