With so many people patrolling the area, it was obvious that this was the scene of the crime, and the body of the abused church deacon's wife was on the corner of the street20 meters from here.
The whole sheriff's squad was wasting a lot of effort to cordon off this place so as not to destroy the crime scene, and this guy who appeared out of nowhere was actually smoking here!!!!
This magistrate took a few steps towards Sherlock's body, and after confirming that the other party didn't have a single mark related to the Church or the nobility, he logically took him as the coachman.
His huge body, which was nearly ten feet tall under his rule, looked at the other party viciously, "You! Extinguish the smoke immediately!"
The robot arm couldn't perform such a delicate operation as 'snuffing out the cigarette', but listening to this guy's tone, it wasn't about snuffing out the cigarette, it was about pulling off the other guy's head along with the cigarette.
"Don't be so nervous, brother, smoking a cigarette won't destroy anything," Sherlock tilted his head and waved his hand nonchalantly:
"Even if it could be destroyed, you steam irons have been spraying around for hours, and what should have been destroyed would have been pretty much destroyed long ago."
"Uh--" the sheriff trailed off.
The exhaust pipe on the back of the armor was also very good at picking the right time to spit out a few streams of heat.
As a magistrate, most of the time he went out to do violent jobs like 'helping to cleanse mini-demons' or 'escorting church members', and he really wasn't that good at things like protecting the scene of a crime.
Turning his head back, he saw Miss Catherine standing not far away, and at that distance, the sound of their conversation could definitely be heard clearly.
A wave of embarrassment went straight to his head.
He undoubtedly admired Mademoiselle Katharina, or rather, most men who knew a little about this Sister of the Inquisition were attracted to her.
Young, beautiful, pious, brave, educated, with an extremely good family and pedigree, she had almost every virtue, and what was even rarer was that she was also an indentured servant who had reached the second level.
Because of this natural difference, countless admirers did not dare to turn their admiration into love, and could only disguise it as a kind of male worship for the strong.
This made the magistrate even angrier! Still, he forced himself to show some chivalry, gritted his teeth, and said:
"Get the hell out of here, civilian! This is no place for you!"
The words are not enough......
"He can't leave yet," Catherine spoke for the first time since arriving here.
The sheriff glanced over his shoulder in shock.
The blurry, soft face in the light put him in a trance for a moment, a little unsure of what he was hearing:
"It's hard to believe, but from now on....This guy is the main man responsible for this murder."
The Sheriff looked confusedly at the beautiful woman under the light, then lowered his head and looked at Sherlock, who was still calmly smoking a cigarette.
He knew that Ms. Catherine would bring back a capable person who could solve the case this time, but he hadn't expected it to be such an unassuming civilian.
He couldn't speculate on the reason, and could only stand still and freeze for so many seconds;
But......
He seemed to sense that Ms. Catherine had little affection for the civilian, let alone an ounce of respect, which made the young magistrate's mood much more pleasant.
"I'm sorry," he said, hiding the resistance in his mind, "what should I call you?"
"Sherlock......Private Detective."
"Yes, Mr. Detective." He didn't call the other man by his first name, let alone his own, but simply continued in a very process-oriented manner:
"In that case, you should be aware of the nature of this case, so before you see the body, you must take an oath to the Holy Light not to reveal all the details of this case to anyone, including your closest relatives and loved ones......................................................................."
He deftly produced a long list of oaths, but the general content was one: "Rot this in your gut!
Sherlock had expected this procedure; for the people of the Upper City, civilians generally had little credibility.
He himself understood this viewpoint, after all, most people in the lower city were busy working for a living and credibility was really worthless.
So, it was no walk in the park to recite the oath one after the other.
When the oath was finished, there was just a slight click and a thin black card, about the length of a thumb, emerged from where the magistrate's arm had been armored.
It was a miniature phonograph record of the oaths that had just been taken; and all oaths would be sent to the Church Tribunal; if anyone broke it, a deacon would be sought and tried for it.
In the Church, of course, the oath cannot be a vain thing, three fingers up and you can beep; violating it will not be a joke of heavenly thunderbolts.
Rather, they are recorded, physical, and truly binding with a disciplinary effect.
Of course, the Tribunal will not really take every oath seriously, in their words, the Holy Light will not pay attention to those who are not important.
That's why the Tribunal never takes the initiative to investigate anyone, this organization is completely independent of the social system, even if a mayor, general, or even an emperor or pope wants to investigate someone and look at his or her oaths, he or she must present an absolutely reasonable and necessary reason.
......
Handing the freshly generated oath to a subordinate, the Sheriff turned and motioned for Sherlock to follow.
Not more than a few steps away, just where the light of the gas lamps couldn't shine, a deep alleyway was quietly hidden in the shadows.
At the intersection of light and darkness, several people dressed in clerical robes stood devoutly and humbly, their heads slightly bowed, holding brass pendants engraved with holy scriptures and chanting rhythmically.
And in front of these people, stood a tall middle-aged man, height of nearly two meters, no hair, beard is very dense, the body of the robe is mainly blue, but there is a wide and abrupt blood red cloth from the neckline has been extended to the hem, the night wind blew, the robe gently swaying, from time to time to outline the robe under that does not seem to be the human exaggerated muscle silhouette.
This outfit indicated that this person was an executive officer of the Judgment Division!
The purest enforcer of violence under the Church.
Unlike the Legion of the Holy Church along the Redeker Straits, these men focus on purifying the Empire from within: oathbreakers, rebels, blasphemers of the Holy Light, and those who have committed unforgivable sins, among others.
They have the cruelest tortures, the bloodiest methods, the harshest executions, weapons comparable to the legions of the Holy Church, authority over the laws of the Empire, and almost everything but mercy.
Therefore, in the eyes of most of the Empire's citizens, this group of men clad in blood-colored robes was even more terrifying than demons.
"His Excellency Badr."The magistrate's head hung extremely low, and despite the addition of the steel armor that made him much taller than the other man, there was only a clearly visible sense of humility."This is Sherlock, a detective called in by Ms. Catherine......".
The man known as Badr held up his hand, signaling that nothing more needed to be said; then he turned his head, his forehead bones high, his entire eyes shrouded in darkness, and just looked at Sherlock.
A few seconds later......
"I don't care about status, profession, mortal or indentured servant, I don't even care if you're a citizen, my wife is dead and I need the killer......alive!".
The voice was deep and there was no sadness to be heard, but Sherlock noticed that the moment the word "alive" was uttered, the magistrate beside him subconsciously shivered.
It was supposed to be a reminder of the tortures in certain church blood prisons that made life worse than death.
Having said this, Deacon Badri turned his body sideways and let the light from the street lamp shine into the alley.
Sherlock was presented with a shocking scene.
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