Serious People, Who is Learning Magic at Marvel?

Geralt looked at the corpse in front of him and remained silent. The orange light of the stove reflected on his right cheek, and Shutong watched Baron Targaryen's corpse carefully, paying particular attention to his neck.

He Shenyan stood at the door of the morgue and did not choose to go in. Not because of the smell, the coroner in charge used a mixture of several herbs to make the room completely free from the stench of corpses. The Kaldwins, though vulgar, have a strange rigor in body preservation.

They even hired a few mages to work together to cast spells on the mortuary, every four months, to ensure the bodies could be stored at low temperatures. However, that's not the point.

"So, Master Witcher, have you read it yet?"

The royal coroner, wearing a heavy brown robe, wiped the sweat from his forehead and asked Geralt nervously. The witcher did not answer him immediately, but turned to look at He Shenyan who was standing at the door.

The mage nodded at him and stopped the coroner: "Mr. Berwick, please come with me."

"Of course, of course."

The coroner nodded and went out with the mage, but his nervousness was not relieved in the slightest.

He put the sweaty handkerchief into his pocket, and He Shenyan could see that the coroner was working hard to calm his trembling shoulders.

After calming down, he spoke in a respectful and difficult tone: "My lord, I can keep you here for thirty minutes at most. The person in charge of the burial of Baron Targaryen at the court will be here soon. "

"It's all right, Mr Berwick. We won't make it difficult for you."

He Shenyan smiled, gestured to the nervous coroner, and a blue light flashed: "Wait for us outside the door, okay? We'll be out in twenty minutes, and then you'll forget what happened today. thing."

The coroner's eyes became dull, he nodded, and quickly left. He Shenyan watched his back disappear into the corridor with a calm expression.

He pushed open the door, returned to the interior of the morgue, and asked, "Do you see anything?"

"He definitely didn't kill himself," Geralt said firmly. "It wasn't a noose on his neck. He was strangled to death. Barefoot doctors in the country could see this. I don't believe the royal coroner couldn't see that. He was definitely lying."

"Don't be angry with a little man, Geralt. Mr. Berwick has been in his office for thirty years,

Retire next year. What do you think he can do about the man behind the scenes? He was the 'Royal' coroner. "

He Shenyan walked to the cold iron platform where Baron Targaryen was lying. He stared at the obvious blue-purple marks on the Baron's neck, and said suddenly, "We should probably visit his house."

"what?"

"His home, Geralt. A single baron dies without a will. His money will obviously be taken by the king and put into the treasury. If we want any clues, his home is the best place to go. "

"You mean that all this is the work of the king?"

"Maybe." He Shenyan said noncommittally. "Just maybe."

"I hope it's just maybe, too," said the witcher gloomily. "But my gut is telling me the opposite, and I've never had a good impression of Henselt."

"Oh?"

"He's more of a thief than a king," the witcher answered briefly.

"Interesting review."

-------------------------------------

"Unbelievable."

A man in a tight velvet shirt stood in Baron Targaryen's little courtyard and exclaimed: "He lives in a place like this?"

Three guards stood in front of the courtyard gate, firmly guarding the only exit. The six servants in the palace are constantly going in and out, moving all the things in the baron's house out. His sofa, some art paintings in his collection, and even the iron pots and dishes in the kitchen have not been spared.

A carriage stopped in front of the door with two guards on it. The carriage would transport things to the auction house and sell them, and the money would be taken and charged into the treasury.

The man rubbed his stomach, and he drank a bottle of East East from Toussaint at noon. The wine was good wine, but it had some chemistry with what he ate. This made him sigh with some discomfort, and the golden ring on the right hand that was rubbing his stomach shone in the sunlight.

"Sir, things have been moved."

A servant walked up to the man, bowed his head respectfully, and handed him a document in his hand, while the other servants left the house, their work done: "This is the Baron's house document, do you want it? "

The man glanced briefly at the document, then at the size of the house, and finally shook his head.

"No need. Targaryen's house is not worth a lot of money, let's sell it. Send someone to the bank later to find out how much Targaryen's estate has earned over the past year and how much he has donated. In the afternoon we will go to the Temple of Meritelli and get back all the money he donated."

His casual and frivolous words made the servant turn pale with fright. He raised his head and his voice became shrill: "Sir? Going to the Temple of Meritelli to ask for money? But... ..”

"Yes, the king's order." The man smiled. "I don't want it either, but your Majesty our King, you know that he only wants money."

He waved his hand to let the servant go out, and the man's eyes moved to the baron's chair. He grabbed it and sat on it. He lay back and sighed comfortably.

"Returning the preamble, you live in a good place, Targaryen. You are a good man too."

He stared at the tree and whispered, "But good people don't live long."

Just then, the door was pushed open. He thought it was a coachman who was asking if he wanted to leave, but it was a witcher with a sword on his back, and an oriental man in a black robe with an extraordinary bearing.

"what happened?"

The man stood up and frowned, looking at the two uninvited guests. Where are the guards at the door? Why didn't they stop these two people? The man tilted his head slightly and glanced outside from the witcher's side, only to see three guards lying on the ground, not knowing whether they were alive or dead. The scene immediately made him shiver.

"who are you?!"

"Who are we? Well, he's a nosy witcher, and I'm a nosy mage."

He saw the eastern man who claimed to be a mage shrugged, and then his right hand lit up with a blue light, and the man didn't know anything about what happened next.

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