Investigation of the Court

The halls were practically empty by the time Claire and the Professor returned to the Violet Palace. They hung it up for the night and tried to get comfortable on their bedless floors. Claire passed out in no time, suggesting to the Professor that she could really use a trip that focuses on relaxation and full nights of sleep. That thought carried him to sleep, and it carried him into the morning when he awoke to find Claire was already gone to study the temple.

"The early bird gets the worm, I suppose," he commented to himself. "Although in her case, it's probably more likely the early bird dies young from sleep deprivation. Oh well!" He slapped the floor and pushed himself to his feet. He straightened his ascot and said to no one, "Let's go see what's happening in Violet City today."

As he passed by a particularly statuesque, stone door, he suddenly stopped himself and backtracked a few steps to examine the door more closely. The door included a beautiful sculpture of a woman dressed in decorative robes and appearing subservient. But something about the room called out to the Professor. He tried pushing on the door, but it would not budge.

"Locked, eh? Well, I do love a challenge."

Revealing his sonic screwdriver from his pocket, he pointed the geode at the wall and swiped it downward, drawing the light across the door's frame. Instantly, the door began to slide backward.

"I take it back. That wasn't much of a challenge at all."

Then his sonic screwdriver caught his attention. The sensor incidentally picked up something while it was active. The results of the scan were inconclusive, but something was out of place. He was right about there being something behind this wall.

But he was not fully prepared for what he found.

The room was filled with more than a dozen women, fully clothed in elegant silks like those worn by traditional geishas, and every one drop-dead gorgeous if not for the look of fear and confusion that contorted their faces. Clearly, he did not belong here.

"A harem? In Violet City? I never expected that."

Suddenly, a woman much less attractive in the face and dressed more like a twentieth-century bouncer approached the Professor and declared, "You have desecrated an inviolable space. Leave immediately or you will be put to death." The woman's name was Ariel, and she was tasked with supervising the Emperor's concubines.

But the Professor couldn't hear what Ariel said to him. He walked right past her with his eyes stuck on one thing, and it wasn't any of the women who scrambled away from him. In the center of the decadent room rested a fountain. The fountain was nothing special, but the sculpture on the central pedestal was hard to believe. It was shaped a bit like a mollusk with a helical shell and a dozen tentacles positioned out front. The water sprayed from under the tentacles at high speed, bounced up, and then fell back into the pool behind the sculpture.

"Is that an omanyte?" the Professor asked, partly to Ariel and partly just to himself.

"It is a pokémon. Now please leave."

"A pokémon," he repeated. "An extinct one that isn't supposed to have existed here for millions of years…" He leaned in closer and watched the way the water bounced off the tentacles—almost like they were covered in some biological oil that helped repel the water straight into the air. It seemed unusual for a stone-carved fountain.

"Are you certain that's a statue?"

"Get out!"

With a bit of pushiness and twisting his arm sharply at the elbow, Ariel managed to muscle the Professor out of the harem and shove the door shut behind him, locking and sealing it.

"That hurt a bit," the Professor admitted aloud to no one while vastly understating the pain in his arm. He acted as if ignoring the pain made it go away faster. Silly as that notion may be, he was able to ignore the pain when he thought about that omanyte.

"That's now two pokémon at the center of time-space anomalies within twenty-four hours of one another. There's clearly a reason I was brought here. I just need to figure out what it is."

He figured he'd start the day with a visit to the Emperor. He started through the building and noticed the halls were basically empty even at this hour. Physically, people were still wandering around completing their daily tasks like they always did, but emotionally, they were all someplace else. The Professor received hardly any acknowledgement at all from them. Something upset each and every servant in the palace. And he learned what it was when he reached the throne room.

The entire royal court gathered in the throne room, all wearing dark clothes and sullen expressions. All heads angled downward toward the ground in a show of grievance.

"What's with the distraught faces?" the Professor asked cheerfully. In an effort to bring everyone out of their apparent slumps, he jokingly asked, "Who died?" His attitude changed quickly when the royal guards whipped out their swords and threatened his chin. "Someone important, I'll wager," he uttered.

"Order arms!" shouted the chief of the chamber. "The Professor is Emperor Alph's special guest."

The chief of the chamber was a heavyset man named Oliver, whose lifestyle among the higher levels of the empire shaped his body much like an overturned egg. One look around the room told the Professor that many of the men enjoyed an abundance of foodstuffs, even if the serfs sometimes had to hungry.

"Thank you for that," the Professor said as he stretched his back and straightened his ascot. "Not a fan of having sharp, pointy things aimed at me."

"Apologies, Professor," said Oliver. "There is terrible news this morning. Emperor Alph perished during the night."

The Professor simply stared unblinkingly while he processed the comment. "No, that can't be right."

"It is," spoke Omar, the butler with the long face and the exceptionally large bridge in his nose. He bowed deeply and admitted, "I saw him myself. And I know what dead looks like."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," the Professor replied. "Has an investigation begun yet?"

One of the men wore the uniform of the Emperor's samurai guard, minus the helmet and mask. His face was narrow and his head was bald, revealing one long scar across his scalp. Named Harris, he answered the Professor, "We were just about to begin."

"Good," said the Professor with great enthusiasm. "Has Alph been moved since he was found?"

After reprimanding him for being disrespectful, Oliver said, "The Emperor was found in his meditation room last night. He has already been taken to be entombed."

"Fitting end for an honorable man, but it is a bit annoying to have the crime scene contaminated. Although I guess I should point out I don't have a kit for fingerprints or gunshot residue, and none of you knows what I'm talking about anyway so let's move on. You say it happened inside the meditation room during the night, yes?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then begin by gathering everyone with access to the building. That will mean gathering the entire royal court including all staff members, servants, and livestock. I would especially like to talk to the doctor who examined the body."

With a nod from Harris, samurai messengers dispersed throughout the palace to locate and gather all personnel. Harris looked slightly confused at the Professor when he asked, "Livestock?"

"Just in case a mareep or something wanted revenge for last night's lamb chops."

Locating and calling on every person with overnight access to the palace didn't take long. Every butler, maid, samurai, judge, family member, and concubine lined up inside the state room, which was big enough to hold everyone while the Professor paced back and forth in front of them trying to put pieces of an investigation together.

"Tell me this first," he said, still pacing. "Who found the Emperor?"

The butler Thomas raised a single finger to draw attention to himself. He was very lanky and had a bit of a hunch from his years of constant bowing and never looking a superior in the face. "I did, sir."

"Great. What were the circumstances of the discovery?" Thomas didn't seem to understand the question and so he rephrased it as, "What were you doing when you discovered him?"

"Delivering a message."

"What message?"

Thomas was caught off guard by how quickly the Professor spoke—specifically that he began speaking before Thomas finished answering the question. That made him slow to answer the second question, which made the Professor even more impatient.

"Come on. We haven't got all day. What was the message?"

"Apologies, master. The Lady requested his presence."

"Right. Lady. Which lady? There are dozens of ladies in the palace."

"It was I, Professor," offered the primary wife reticently. Her face was obscured by tear-streaked makeup, but the Professor recognized her readily. "I requested my husband return for the evening. I thought he was with the harem."

"He was meditating in his room," Thomas clarified.

"Yes, thank you, Thomas," the Professor said, already moving on. "Let's go here then: Why were you concerned about your husband being with the harem?"

Looking down as if in shame, she answered very softly, "It was my night."

"Your night for what?" Now everyone looked down at the floor, ashamed even to consider the question. Only one thing made everybody that nervous: "Oh. Of course." He waved an apology to Iset, Alph's primary wife and Jomon's mother. "Never mind the question. Instead, answer me this: How often did Emperor Alph spend the evening alone in meditation?"

"Regularly," answered Oliver. "Meditation before bed helped him sleep well through the night. He suffered from digestive problems and achy muscles. The bellflowers also helped to soothe his pains."

"I see," said the Professor as he stroked a beard that was nonexistent on his face. "Who examined the body?"

An elderly man of thirty-five wearing long robes with the sash undone raised his hand. This man had glasses on his face thick enough to increase visual acuity four times. "I did."

"Dr. Asher, right? I believe we met last night."

"Yes, Professor."

Thomas suggested, "I saw his body, too."

"Thank you, Thomas, but I'm more interested in the medical perspective. So tell me, Dr. Asher, have you examined the Emperor on any previous, recent date, perhaps for a physical wellness exam?"

"Yes. Every week."

"And have you ever noticed any unnatural bruises, puncture marks, or boils that you and the Emperor could not explain through his medical difficulty?"

"His skin was prone to light bruising, but he and his wives increased the number of servants in order to reduce his need for physical exertion. Of the last two years, he has performed no activity that would give him the kinds of wounds you described."

The Professor nodded. Dr. Asher confirmed his suspicions. "And when you examined the Emperor after he was found last night, did he have any wounds that could not naturally be explained?"

Dr. Asher shook his head. "No physical wounds were present anywhere on the body."

"No wounds. Hmm." He began pacing rapidly. "That does increase the difficulty. How about fingerprints? No, wait. I'm centuries too early on that one. So what can we do instead? We need to figure out what happened to cause the Emperor's death. If it is murder, proving it won't be easy until we know what happened. I suppose it could have been poison, but proving it will be difficult without the ability to perform toxicology reports. Of course, we are talking about a man who was fifty-three years old—ancient relative to the day's average lifespan—so maybe murder isn't the correct cause of death. But, fortunately for all of you, Emperor Alph was a friend of mine, so I'm going to solve this case for you."

Bowing as he spoke, Jomon said, "You bring honor to my father."

"Yes," said the Professor, suddenly focused on Jomon. Approaching despite his suspicion, he said, "You're the older son, correct? So with the Emperor's death, you now ascend the throne." Stepping back and pointing dramatically, he added, "You had everything to gain by killing your father!"

Immediately, Harris shouted, "Arrest him!" Four samurai guards surrounded and detained Jomon, much to the silent chagrin of his servants and supporters.

"Jomon," his mother Iset uttered. "Is this true? Did you really kill your father?"

"I did not," Jomon insisted. "I swear to you all, I am not guilty."

"A trial will determine the truth," Oliver asserted. "In the meantime, Penta will ascend the throne temporarily."

The Professor eyed Penta warily. "Will he? You know, it seems to me that you, Penta, have quite a lot to gain by your brother's arrest. If you killed your father, you must have known the blame would fall upon Jomon, and then you could ascend the throne in his stead!"

Immediately, Harris shouted, "Arrest him!" Four more samurai guards surrounded and detained Penta, now drawing the crowd into stifled murmurs. Penta's mother Tilly was disapproved particularly with the accusation as she muttered a few colorful curses in the Professor's direction. Harris directed another samurai to detain her and suggest, "Perhaps you killed the Emperor to place blame on Iset. Everyone knows you despise her for being first wife."

Not so certain with that motive, the Professor rubbed his uncombed hair and said, "I'm starting to see why the means-motive-opportunity model became so popular." More to the crowd, he suggested, "Why don't we let everyone go until we have evidence to suspect someone is guilty? I'm sure if we looked, everyone has a motive and the opportunity to kill the Emperor. Otherwise we end up with a lot of preposterous suggestions."

"It's a coincidence that he should die during the night after you arrived," Penta pointed out.

"Like that one. Hey, wait!" The guards began to detain him, as well. He resisted their embrace and jerked himself free. Harris signaled for them to let him be for the moment. "I'll thank you not to wrinkle the ascot."

Oliver pointed out, "This is not helpful. Do you have any advice for locating the Emperor's killer or not? Now is an excellent time to prove your innocence. After all," he chuckled nervously, "it is an incredible coincidence that you showed up again just before the Emperor passed."

"Yes," the Professor uttered. Everyone could see from the look in his eyes the wheels spinning rapidly inside his head. "It is an incredible coincidence for something to show up only hours before the Emperor was killed, and without a mark on him." He looked over to Harris. "Where did you put that specimen you brought back from the Temple of Alph this morning?"

"The glyphic Pokémon? It is downstairs in the veterinarian's laboratory."

The Professor clapped his hands together. "Then that's where we must go."

"Why, Professor?" Tilly asked. "Are you saying a Pokémon could have killed my husband without leaving a single mark?"

"I'm saying, Your Highness, that it's about time your people learned the power of psychic-type Pokémon."