Sherlock Holmes

This young postman has had only one mission over the years, which is to deliver newspapers to this town, or to Lord Dante;

Therefore, there are channels for knowing a lot of undisclosed information.

"Electricity?" After hearing this word, old Lord Dante was suddenly stunned. It seemed that it took a few seconds before he remembered this 'aristocratic energy' that was once a flash in the pan and has now been squeezed into the field of small machinery.

Then, almost subconsciously, he recalled the increasingly huge steam chariots over the past few decades, the steam pipes as thick as trains coiled on the other side of the Redeker Strait, and countless people who were killed by the high temperature of the steam armor. Coalition soldiers welded to death in armor.

"Haha." He smiled: "I have taken big steps, and sometimes it is not necessarily a bad thing."

The young postman barely kept his face calm, but in his heart he was constantly speculating on the intention of the old man's words.

Fortunately, Lord Dante had given up all his privileges the moment he left the battlefield, and promised never to interfere in anything between the imperial government or the Holy See.

For many years after that, he did manage to remain indifferent and quietly became an ordinary fisherman in the small town.

Otherwise, if he comes forward and expresses his preference for a certain party in the castling ceremony, then that person can almost directly ascend to the throne.

Even the Pope himself cannot have this kind of terrifying influence.

"Okay. It's not good to sit here for too long. Don't keep people who subscribe to the newspaper in town waiting." The old man said calmly.

"Yes!" The postman subconsciously wanted to raise his right hand to tap his chest, but he immediately held back.

He just bowed respectfully, then walked backwards and left the room.

One last look before closing the door.

He saw Lord Dante taking off his fishing coat and preparing to put on a cloth shirt for home.

The hideous scar on his back looked like it had been soaked in hot tar, which was shocking. On the left side of his chest, there was a small, imperceptible dark red scab.

Due to the need to frequently go fishing in the sea, Master Dante would occasionally expose shocking scars on his body. Some fishermen in the town had also seen them, but when they asked, they got the answer that they were only caused by a fire in his youth.

Only the postman knew that this ferocious body was severely damaged when he faced the evil god when he broke into hell.

Lord Dante encountered near-death twice in his life.

The first time, it was naturally the evil god from hell.

The second time, it came from a human being.

When the young postman heard this, he thought it was a joke made by Lord Dante. How could anyone harm the gods of the empire.

Until the old man sitting opposite pointed to the inconspicuous blood scab on his left chest...and told himself the story of that year as if chatting...

"This is the trace left by a bullet. It entered the gap between the fourth and fifth ribs from the front, and then shot out from the lower section of the shoulder blade. It passed through my body, chest cavity, and lungs. If it were an ordinary person, then this bullet would also will pass through its heart.

Fortunately, my heart is biased to the right side. There is a one in 10 million chance that I will survive. "

The old man in front of him said it very simply, just like an old fisherman recounting his experience of going to sea when he was young.

However, those who heard it felt as if they were stuffed into Big Ben by the Thames River, and their minds were filled with deafening buzzing.

“That was not an ordinary bullet, the gun was not an ordinary gun, and the person who wanted to assassinate me was certainly not an ordinary person.

In fact, there are too many amazing and talented people in this world, but they all exist in different fields.

For example, Emperor Augustine could still show prosperity in this environment.

For example, Miss Nightingale who traveled the empire and healed injuries and illnesses.

For example, General Patton was stationed along the Redeker Channel and was invincible on the battlefield.

I won't be hypocritical and say that I am an ordinary person and I know that I am very powerful, but if it comes to killing people alone, the guy who fired the gun is probably the most terrifying existence in the world. "

Lord Dante gave such an evaluation of that man.

And the reason why we call that person ‘that person’.

It's because so far, 'that person' has not been caught, and no one knows who he is.

A man who dared to assassinate an imperial god escaped.

Even though Lord Dante rushed to chase the killer with a gunshot wound at that time, blasting half of the killer's face and half of his body into rotten flesh, tearing off an arm on the spot, and probably shattering the leg bones into dregs, the opponent still remained Escaped.

After that, the top officials of the government and the Holy See seemed to have proposed asking for help from the Temple of Holy Light to find the assassin, but Lord Dante rejected it.

"Why did you refuse? That person committed the most unforgivable crime against you!" asked the young postman at the time.

However, the old man in front of him just smiled and shook his head:

"That man was seriously injured and should never be able to lift a gun again. Even if he is alive, he should be unable to do anything but beg for a living.

In this case, if he can appear again and kill me again, then maybe I should die. "

An old man who has been drifting in the long river of life for decades can always say something that young people cannot understand.

In fact, the young postman at that time could faintly hear some helplessness and expectation in these words...

"Okay young man, I'm just an old man, I don't want people to spend too much attention and experience on me.

It should be you who should receive the attention. "

After saying this, Master Dante patted the young postman on the shoulder.

To this day, he can still clearly remember those heavy touches, and at the same time, he can also remember Master Dante's words more clearly.

[In every field, there are people with amazing talents. 】

Of course... he definitely doesn't think that he is an amazingly talented person, and there is nothing "amazingly talented" about his field.

After all, I am just a soldier delivering newspapers.

The weather in the town is always so warm, with more than 6 hours of sunshine every day, but at this time, thousands of kilometers away in London, the weather is gloomier than before.

The cold air coming down from the north tightly wraps the water in the clouds, like a mother's full and swollen milk, anxiously waiting to be sucked.

The Grosvenor House Hotel is located next to the Municipal Gardens in London. It has an excellent location. You can overlook the Thames without being disturbed by the too loud bells. The specially selected window angle allows you to see clearly every time. Sunrise is one of the rare times of the day when you can feel the sunshine.

Today, the top floor of the entire hotel, with 110 rooms, a 300-meter-long open-air corridor, a luxurious banquet hall, and all facilities, are all closed and not open to the public.

In fact, if they were not important political figures, senior members of the Holy See, or other prominent figures, the entire hotel would refuse to receive them today.

It will be like this even for many days to come.

The reason is simple, because just today, a pope came to London and chose to live here.

This is undoubtedly a great honor. Even if the hotel owner pays two full months of business, he must create the quietest living environment for this distinguished guest.

Of course. For Pope Theodore Sloane, this piety did not attract his attention at all. A few days ago, he received a piece of precious information, that is, His Royal Highness the Son has arrived in London. So, he came to the city a whole month in advance.

At this time, he was sitting on the sofa wearing a satin gown, and behind him, a nun was massaging his temples.

His experience on the battlefield many years ago caused him to suffer from severe migraines. As he grew older, the pain gradually became an unspeakable torture.

The room was very quiet. The wind from the street blew through the window, leaving some subtle noises. Pope Theodore felt that the pain in his head was slightly relieved, so he slowly sat up straight:

"What's that man's name?"

"Sherlock Holmes is a detective in lower London. He has no background. He only had some interactions with Miss Catherine during the mission about Deacon Bader." The nun behind the massage lowered her eyebrows and looked respectfully. said.

After hearing this, Pope Theodore nodded casually:

"Then just arrange for someone to kill him when you find time. That family member sent me his name all the way, so I can't let him go all the way in vain."