The noise in the hall began to settle, replaced by a more serious hum. The initial shock of the attack on Prime Minister Jian and the near-disaster with the candelabra was giving way to the need for answers. A stern figure, known throughout the kingdom as the Grand Chancellor, took charge. His name was Lord Val, and his presence commanded respect. He was a man of order, his dark robes perfectly pressed, his silver hair neatly combed. His face was etched with the lines of countless difficult decisions, but his eyes were sharp and intelligent. He was concerned, not just for Jian, but for the stability of the entire kingdom. An attack like this, in the heart of the palace during a time of celebration, was a serious matter.
Lord Val moved with a brisk, efficient purpose. He surveyed the scene, his gaze missing nothing. He saw the scattered debris of the candelabra, the worried faces of the royal guards, and the healers tending to Jian. He nodded to the head of the guard.
"Secure the area. No one leaves until dismissed. And bring me the dart that struck Minister Jian. I want it analyzed immediately."
His voice was deep and steady, cutting through any lingering panic. He was known for his methodical approach. He believed in facts, in evidence that could be held, measured, and examined. He would not be swayed by rumors or fear.
The investigation began right away. It was swift and thorough, but it focused only on what was visible. Soldiers carefully collected pieces of the candelabra, looking for signs of tampering, for a loose bolt or a weakened chain. The dart was taken to the royal armory, where skilled craftsmen began to examine its material, its fletching, and its point. They would try to discover where such a weapon might have come from.
Witnesses were questioned, one by one, in quieter corners of the palace. They were asked about what they saw, who they saw, and anything unusual they might have noticed. The focus was on the immediate events: the falling candelabra, the dart, and the brief glimpse of a shadowy figure. It was all about the "how" and the "who" of the physical attack.
Lord Val listened to the initial reports with a frown. It seemed like a straightforward, albeit violent, assassination attempt. The candelabra was likely a distraction, a way to create chaos and cover for the dart. He was focused on finding a disgruntled noble, a rival faction, or perhaps even an outside enemy who wanted to destabilize the kingdom. These were the kinds of enemies he understood.
When the healers reported that Jian was conscious but delirious, Lord Valerius went to see him. He entered Jian's chambers, a room filled with the scent of healing herbs and the quiet sounds of recovery. Jian lay propped up on pillows, his face still pale but his eyes brighter now.
"Minister Jian," Lord Val said, his voice gentler than usual.
"Can you tell me what happened? Who was behind this?"
Jian's eyes flickered towards Zhen, who stood quietly by the bedside, holding his hand. He tried to speak, his voice a weak rasp.
"It… it was no accident, Val."
Lord Val leaned closer.
"I know that. But who? A rival?"
Jian shook his head weakly.
"More… more than a rival. I… I saw them. They were… cold. Empty." He paused, struggling for breath.
"And I… I heard them. Or their message. About… the Archivist. About… erasing history."
Lord Val listened, his expression unchanging. He heard Jian's words, but he processed them through his own logical framework.
"Cold? Empty? Perhaps the poison… or the shock of the injury is affecting your mind, Jian. And 'erasing history'? That sounds like a metaphor. Maybe you felt your work, your legacy, was threatened?"
He spoke kindly but dismissively. To Lord Val, these were not concrete clues. They were the confusing words of a man who had been through a terrible ordeal. He patted Jian's hand gently.
"Rest now, Jian. We will find who did this. We will focus on the facts. We will find the truth."
After leaving Jian's chambers, Lord Val continued to direct the investigation. He ordered a thorough search of Jian's personal chambers, looking for any signs of sedition or secret correspondence. He questioned Jian's closest aides, trying to uncover any recent disputes or enemies Jian might have made. But his focus remained on tangible threats, on political motives. The "Archivist" and "erasing history" were dismissed as the ramblings of a weakened mind.
Meanwhile, Wen Zhi watched the official proceedings from a distance. He stood in a shadowed cubicle, his silver sight active. He saw the investigators meticulously examining the dart, the candelabra, and the floor. He saw them questioning the witnesses, their faces earnest. But his foresight showed him the results of their efforts. He saw them chasing down leads that went nowhere. They would find nothing concrete about the assassin's origin, nothing conclusive about who ordered the attack. They would label it a failed assassination attempt by an unknown enemy, a solitary act of violence.
Wen Zhi also felt a subtle shift in the flow of events, a slight nudging. It was like a gentle current pulling the investigation in a specific direction. He couldn't quite pinpoint who was doing it, but he sensed a deliberate effort to keep the investigators focused on the surface details, on the "how" and the "who" of the physical attack, and away from the "why" that Jian had tried to convey. He saw a chance for the truth to be buried under a mountain of irrelevant facts.
Princess Zhen, standing near Wen Zhi in their shared observation point, also felt a strange disturbance. While the investigators were busy collecting physical evidence, she was picking up on something else with her amber sight. It wasn't strong like the echo of the assassin or Jian's fall, but it was there. A faint, almost invisible whisper in the background noise of the investigation.
She focused her amber sight, trying to perceive the thoughts and feelings of the people involved. She saw the guards' loyalty, the healers' concern, and Lord Val's stern determination. But beneath it all, she felt something else. A subtle, almost undetectable wave of an idea. It was as if someone were carefully planting certain thoughts, certain assumptions, into the minds of the investigators. Not directly, but through the questions they asked, the evidence they emphasized, and the conclusions they were nudging towards.
"They are focused on the wrong things," Zhen murmured, more to herself than to Wen Zhi.
"They are looking at the fallen candelabra, at the dart. But Jian… he tried to tell us."
Wen Zhi turned to her, his expression thoughtful.
"My sight agrees, Princess. The investigation will be thorough, but it will not find the true source of the danger. It will be like searching for a shadow in the sunlight. They are looking for a tangible enemy, a political motive."
Zhen nodded, her gaze drifting back to Jian, who was now being moved on a stretcher, his eyes closed, his breathing still shallow. She remembered the echo of his final, urgent whisper. "Archivist. Erasing history." And the chilling emptiness of the assassin.
She walked back towards the spot where Jian had fallen, near the scattered remains of the candelabra. She needed to sense it again, to be sure. She closed her eyes, letting her amber sight reach out. The echoes were still there. The clang of metal, the rush of air, the thud. But now, she focused on the subtle details.
She noticed something near the dart wound on Jian's robe. It was a faint smudge, barely visible against the fabric. The investigators, in their haste, had likely missed it or dismissed it as dirt from the fall. But Zhen's amber sight picked up a faint echo from it. A cold, metallic echo. It felt similar to the coldness she had sensed from the assassin's echo.
"Wen Zhi," she called softly, beckoning him over.
He joined her, his gaze following hers to the smudge on Jian's robe.
"What is it, Princess?"
"This," Zhen said, pointing.
"Look. The investigators missed it. But when I look with my sight... I feel an echo. Cold. Metallic. Like the assassin."
Wen Zhi looked closely, his silver sight perhaps offering a clearer, more objective view of the physical detail, but it was Zhen's amber sight that provided the emotional and historical resonance. He saw the smudge. He trusted Zhen's perception of the echo.
"Cold and metallic," Wen Zhi mused.
"Like the dart, perhaps? Or something else the assassin touched?"
"It felt… deliberate," Zhen added, her brow furrowed.
"As if the smudge was made by something that was meant to be there or something that was missed. And Jian's words… Archivist… erasing history. It feels connected."
Wen Zhi looked from the smudge to the distant, heavily guarded wing of the palace where he had seen the archive in his vision. He saw the Grand Chancellor directing his men, his face set in determination, but his mind was focused on the wrong path.
"The Grand Chancellor is looking for a tangible enemy, a political motive," Wen Zhi said, his voice low.
"He will not find it by looking at broken chains and official records. If Jian spoke of an 'Archivist' and 'erasing history,' then that is where the true danger lies. And that smudge, coupled with your echo of the assassin's coldness… it suggests a deliberate act, maybe even by someone trying to leave a misleading trail or having an alarming detachment."
Zhen felt a growing unease, but also a sense of purpose.
"So, the official investigation is a distraction?"
"It seems that way," Wen Zhi confirmed.
"They are looking for a crime that happened. We must look for the crime that is about to happen, or the one that has already been hidden."
He looked at Zhen with recent respect in his eyes.
"Your amber sight has shown us a detail the investigators missed, and Jian's words, though dismissed by the Chancellor, align with my own foresight. We cannot trust the official inquiry to find this 'Archivist' or understand the threat to history."
Zhen met his gaze, her own determination hardening. The fear was still there, but it was now mixed with a steely determination. She was grateful for Wen Zhi's calm presence and his clear vision of the future. He seemed to understand the true weight of Jian's warning.
"Then what do we do?" Zhen asked, her voice steady now.
"We need to find out who this Archivist is. And what history is being erased."
Wen Zhi looked towards the heavily guarded wing of the palace, the place where he had seen the archive.
"We start by finding out more about this Archivist. And that archive… it feels like the key. Possibly, Princess, we must conduct our own investigation."