Sherlock Holmes

Lord Dante has no military rank, nor is he an important political figure with command authority, but he just told the soldiers in the ancient Roman city that there is no need to patrol tonight, so 70% of the security personnel in the city will directly Left his post.

They didn't even know the reason for doing this, but it didn't matter. Lord Dante had spoken anyway.

Therefore, a few minutes later, the door to the emperor's residence was pushed open, and more than 30 deacons from the Judgment Department filed into the building. During this period, no patrol personnel blocked them, and no one reported to the superior officer. There may be someone I reported it, but the order I received was to let everyone go.

Wearing dark blue robes and bloody notices, these Holy See law enforcement officers walked through the deserted corridor and arrived at the reception room where Sherlock was. During this period, they passed the old butler standing at the edge of the corridor. There was a hint of displeasure in the eyes of the old man who had been with Mr. Franklin for half his life. Perhaps it was because of his bounden duty as a housekeeper that he naturally disliked these people who broke into the master's house without informing him.

But there is still no way, because this is Lord Dante's will.

In this way, Sherlock was surrounded. During the whole process, both the people in the Judgment Division and Sherlock were surprisingly calm. Handcuffs made of special steel were tightly cuffed on Sherlock's wrist, and a mixed gun A needle filled with powerful demon sedatives and soothing potions was pierced into Sherlock's blood vessels, and the cold liquid entered his body to limit the terrifying power of the third-level contractor.

Sherlock did not resist, but Master Dante stood in front of him. Although he was already one of the most powerful contractors in the world, he knew very well that he still could not defeat the old man in front of him.

He raised his hands and allowed the person next to him to tie up his joints with high-strength restraints, and then tied a restraint device with a thickness of 10 centimeters on his ankles, connected by a thick steel bar in the middle.

Back then, when I was at the bottom of the blood prison, I didn't get this kind of treatment.

Finally, after all the tools were used on him, the deacons of the Judgment Department seemed to relax, but the weird atmosphere in the room also reached a peak.

The empire is a place that respects the strong, especially in the military or in places like the Department of Adjudication. Everyone knows exactly what kind of person the man in front of them is, especially after he returned from hell, he became Almost comparable to the existence of human heroes, so the deacons did not have their usual arrogant posture at all. They just respected and even feared Shylock. And when they saw him being tied up as a prisoner, Master Dante personally gave the order. , these people's hearts were shaking with anxiety, and they didn't dare to guess what happened during this period.

A minute later, they silently escorted Sherlock out of the room, then walked through the corridor, across the courtyard, and finally pushed into a specially modified armored fighting vehicle.

At this point, only Lord Dante and Emperor Franklin were left in the reception room of the official residence.

For a moment, the old man's kind and calm face seemed to show extreme fatigue. His body, which was not very bendy just now, suddenly became rickets, and he let out a sigh like countless elderly people.

In fact, Lord Dante joined the army at the age of 16, fought on the battlefield until he was nearly 40 years old, and then went deep into the Antarctic continent alone, broke into the gate of hell, and then returned to the world. It has been more than thirty years since then.

In this day and age, people who live to be 80 years old are considered to have lived a long life. Front-line soldiers who can retire healthily are generally only around 60 years old. Year-round cold and fatigue, as well as the brilliance of injuries to their bodies, doomed them not to live too long. .

Lord Dante is almost 80 years old, and his powerful contract ability has not increased his lifespan.

This moment of carrying a lifelong sense of racial responsibility gave him unprecedented pressure and self-blame. He was afraid of death, afraid of making mistakes, and afraid that after he closed his eyes, the human society he had protected for decades would suddenly fall apart.

But no one else could empathize with all these emotions, and in the end they could only turn into a sigh.

"Where will they take Sherlock?"

Mr. Franklin, who had never said a word from beginning to end, suddenly asked at this moment.

"I just want to go to the prison of the Tribunal to stay for a while. No one will do anything to him. I just want to give him some time to think about it and hand over the responsibility and honor to a young man who is used to being free and easy. It’s true that I didn’t accept it so quickly.”

Lord Dante said softly, suddenly feeling a little dry in his mouth, maybe because he smelled the blues cigarettes that he hadn't smoked for a long time. Suddenly, he found that Sherlock really looked like him.

This kind of thought rippled in his heart, and then expanded rapidly. The old man subconsciously began to recall the few meetings he had with Sherlock over the years, the reports about each other in the newspapers, and the newspaper delivery person's thoughts on this guy. comments, as well as hearing that he broke into the gate of hell and returned like a god after disappearing for more than a year.

The old man raised his head and looked at the empty seat in front of him. He didn't know what happened. Suddenly, a feeling of powerlessness and loneliness surged into his heart. This feeling lasted for a long time, until he realized what was happening and looked at the empty seat again. Next to him, he found that Franklin had disappeared. Standing there was an old housekeeper who was about the same age as himself.

"Where is His Majesty the Emperor?" Dante asked subconsciously.

"Your Highness has important things to do tomorrow and needs to rest. I don't want to disturb you, sir, so I left first." The old butler lowered his gaze slightly and responded.

"Oh." Dante nodded sadly.

"Sir, do you want to stay at the mansion tonight?"

"No, I. I'm going out for a walk." Dante continued, standing up from the sofa with difficulty, walking alone and without any support through the room and corridor where Sherlock was taken just now, and finally in In silence, he pushed open the door of the mansion, and his back disappeared into the night of the ancient city.

A few kilometers away, an equally lonely armored fighting vehicle was driving on the streets of the city. The surrounding buildings looked so majestic and heavy during the day, but at night, they looked so cold and thin, as if Even the starlight in the sky cannot fall on the surface of those stone walls.

That's right, this central area that carries the political operations of the entire empire must be as cold as a machine.

Friends, lovers, and families can all have feelings, but society as a whole cannot have feelings, because if there are feelings, there will be deviations, and if there are deviations, there will be instability.

The autumn wind passed by, occasionally bringing down a few leaves that had not had time to turn yellow. The light from the few stars in the sky was submerged under the pale street lights before it fell to the ground. Some government workers who had just had time to get off work wrapped their coats and walked Walking through the night road, which was intertwined with light and dark, I watched a car drive towards the emperor's palace, and then new armored combat vehicles continued to merge from the side road, more and more, until a convoy was formed, quietly heading towards Walking through the wilderness outside the city. .

An executive officer of the Adjudication Department was sitting in a dark carriage, looking at the man who was tightly bound in front of him, the panic and uneasiness in his heart never dissipated.

Just around his waist, there was a large-caliber hand cannon filled with melta bombs. He kept his arms by his waist, not daring to move away even a little bit. The entire vehicle was filled with demon sedatives, even in the Several of the surrounding vehicles also carried several third-level demons in case of unexpected situations.

Normally, it would be hard for him to imagine that this formation was just for escorting a person who had been restrained.

But now, he still feels dangerous, and he doesn't even dare to look at the face of the person in front of him for a long time.

at this time

"Haha~"

The person in front of me smiled, and that Mr. Sherlock Holmes actually smiled!

It was so scary. A few drops of cold sweat instantly broke out on the executive officer's forehead. He pressed his hand firmly on the hand cannon and his heart was beating wildly.

"What are you laughing at?"

the executive asked.

"It's nothing. I just feel that I have lived a fulfilling life in the past few years, so I am very satisfied." Sherlock twisted his stiff neck, causing the shackles on his body to rattle. His hands were tightly cuffed, but fortunately his fingers He could still move, so he stretched out two fingers: "Your Excellency, Executive Officer, I have a pack of cigarettes in my left coat pocket. Could you please light one for me?"

The executive officer's face became even more nervous, and he shook his head: "I'm sorry, sir, unless it's an emergency, I can't get close to you, let alone touch you. This is the rule."

Sherlock's expression was very serious: "Believe me, I am in a good mood now, so I need a blues to keep my mood going. This is yours at this stage. This entire convoy, and even the entire empire, is the most urgent situation.

Please light a cigarette for me.

I need to keep my mood together.”

However, the executive in front of him simply couldn't understand how a blues cigarette could be connected to the entire empire. He was so nervous that his heart was beating so hard that it was beating out of his throat.

Subconsciously, he tightly held the hand cannon at his waist:

"Mr. Holmes, please be quiet. We have been assigned the task of sending you to the trial court. In the meantime."

"I want Root Blues." Sherlock interrupted: "He's in my pocket."

"sorry sir."

The executive officer in front of him finally spoke in a more stern tone: "Also, please, be quiet!"

so.

shylock

It became quiet.