Chapter Three: A Purpura In Studium

Wednesday, the 30th of October, 1889.

Coco almost dropped her cup at the startling sound of Pyrrha's scream. Merde, thought Coco as she ran to the parlour, that must've blown the eardrum of the poor man calling her. She entered the parlour and helped Pyrrha to her feet. She was sprawled on the floor and had broken down in tears.

"Mon cher, what happened?"

Pyrrha turned to face her, tears still streaming from behind her glasses.

"Arthur Watts has been found murdered; his butler found him just now and let me know."

Coco looked aghast at this development; the man had always been a polite and witty house guest.

"Is there anything I can do, Pyrrha?"

After a second's pause, Pyrrha's wits kicked in.

"Ring Exham and let my assistant know what's happened, and that I'll likely come in later on today, if at all."

"Sure thing, cher; I'll get onto it now."

As Coco picked up the telephone, Pyrrha retrieved some tissues and dried her eyes. As she did so, she remembered that Inspector Arc had given her his business card last night. Even though he wasn't too subtle about his intent, Pyrrha noted as she went upstairs to retrieve it, I'm actually grateful he thought highly enough about me to give me his telephone number. Finding it in her bedroom, Pyrrha made her way downstairs again as Coco was finishing up on the phone.

"Pyrrha, I've told your assistant the news. She'll cover for you at the museum until you decide to head in."

"My thanks, Coco. I'm now going to ring someone who can help with the investigation."

Coco left to take the breakfast things for washing inside the kitchen while Pyrrha picked up the receiver and rang Jaune's office.

Jaune had barely made it to the floor he worked in at Scotland Yard when he heard his phone go off. Cursing his luck, Jaune ran full pelt to his desk and picked up the phone just before it would've stopped ringing.

"You've reached Scotland Yard, Inspector Jaune Arc speaking."

"Inspector, it's Dr. Pyrrha Nikos. Something terrible has happened; Exham's head curator was found murdered this morning."

Jaune blinked, then got his wits into gear.

"I'm on my way, doctor; where does he live?"


The townhouse Watts lived in was located in Fulham, equidistant between Pyrrha's home and the north bank of the Thames. Pyrrha had taken the District Railway tube from Kensington High Street to Walham Green, arriving twenty minutes after she'd called Jaune. Making her way out of the tube station, Pyrrha moved with all due haste down the south side of Fulham Road until she saw the police cars parked outside her mentor's residence.

Jaune, who'd just finished securing the area, moved to enter the property and start his investigation, but his peripheral vision caught onto Pyrrha and steered his gaze towards a woman who was barely holding it together. Jaune looked ashen-faced at Pyrrha's state, and ran over with a tissue as she started tearing up again.

"My condolences, Dr. Nikos."

Pyrrha took the tissue and dried her face.

"T-thank you, Inspector. What have you learned thus far?"

"Well, Watts and his study are presently being kodaked and examined by the forensics men, so we'll learn later about what injuries he suffered. However, I've spotted already that the lock wasn't forced open, so we can tell that Watts knew the attacker."

Pyrrha nodded. "And what of his butler?"

"I was just getting ready to interview him when you came, so we may as well do that now, I guess."

Jaune led Pyrrha through the house, taking care to close the door to the study where Watts had been felled. Entering the back garden, Jaune beheld a sight he'd never seen before. Staring towards the Thames was the tallest man that either Jaune or Pyrrha had ever laid eyes on. He turned to face them, a stoic expression adorning his Japanese features. Jaune shook himself and set to work, motioning for both Pyrrha and the butler to sit down with him in the back garden.

"Mr. Daichi, correct?"

The giant nodded. "Yes. Feel free to call me Yatsuhashi," he rumbled in accented tones.

"I'm Inspector Jaune Arc, and I'm leading the investigation. Of course, you already know Dr. Pyrrha Nikos, whom you alerted first."

He nodded, and Jaune continued. "When did you find the body of Doctor Arthur Watts?"

"At the stroke of eight-thirty this morning sir; I'd just arrived when I caught the smell."

"So, what happened after Dr. Watts arrived home last night?"


Yatsuhashi concentrated as his memory kicked into gear. "To be honest, I don't know. I was actually given a night off, but I didn't take my leave until twenty to nine, when the cab arrived."

"How come you were out at that time?"

"My parents are presently visiting England during a cruise they're taking, and they're not due to leave until next week, when their ship returns to Osaka. They came here at half past five that afternoon, and asked if I was available to journey with them to visit and stay with my uncle that night."

"Where does your uncle live?"

"He runs a bed-and-breakfast in Hampstead. I'll give you the address and phone number if you wish to talk to him or my parents."

"That would be good," agreed Jaune, as Yatsuhashi handed him the relevant business card. Pyrrha then decided to ask the butler a question.

"Did you get to see Watts before you left?"

"Only three times that day, doctor. The first was during breakfast, where he seemed his usual self. The second occasion was when he returned briefly at six to get ready for the exhibition, that wasn't out of the ordinary. The third time, however, his behaviour was a little suspicious."

"How so?", Jaune enquired.

"He came back about half past eight that night, greeted my parents briefly, and then went into his study muttering to himself. When I walked into his study to offer him a drink before I left, he was saying something like 'The Eye's curse is coming'."

This rang alarms in Pyrrha's mind about Watts's reaction to the shield. Before she could respond though, Jaune pressed the matter a bit further.

"And you didn't see fit to ask him about this because … ?"

"I took my leave immediately afterwards, because I'd heard the cab approaching the front gate."

Jaune nodded as he marked that point down. "Alright, sounds reasonable. Just one question left, Yatsuhashi; did you see anyone else approach the house that night?"


A light went off in the giant's brain. "Yes, actually, I did. As we were leaving on the cab to King's Cross station, I saw two people in black dress and strange white masks approach Watts's front gate. One was thin and quite short, and the other was muscular and roughly up to my shoulder. I couldn't tell what genders they were, though."

Only Pyrrha noticed the brief flare of recognition in Jaune's eyes, before he nodded and put away his notebook.

"Very well, Yatsuhashi. I'll get one of my men to contact your kin to confirm your whereabouts the previous night. Until then, it'll serve your interests best if you stayed here for now."

The giant nodded; he knew the police were being thorough investigators.

"Constable Burns?", Jaune called out.

"Yes sir?", replied the grizzled officer as he ran over.

"Call this number," Jaune instructed as he handed over the hotel card, "and ask the proprietor about the whereabouts of Yatsuhashi Daichi during the previous night. Once you get an answer, let me know."

Burns saluted. "Will do, sir."

As both men walked inside, Pyrrha motioned for Jaune to stay outside with her.


"Jaune, did that description remind you of anything?"

Jaune nodded resignedly. "If I'm not mistaken, we're not entirely done with the Grimm yet."

Pyrrha looked non-plussed at this response. "The who?"

Jaune was about to brusquely enquire if Pyrrha lived under a rock, before he remembered that she'd been in Egypt digging them up for three months.

"They were a very audacious group of assassins, and they're known for targeting Weiss Schnee during a masquerade at the Clockwork Pavilion earlier this month. They tried to kill her by means of blowing the place up – which they didn't completely achieve, of course – and caused terrible damage and carnage in the process."

Pyrrha looked at him in horrified amazement. "They were brazen enough to do that? How ever did they evade detection after such a stunt?"

Jaune shrugged. "What ever they did, it wasn't enough. Their headquarters was at the Tenebrae Club on St. James's Street, which exploded due to a gas leak shortly before I caught the Phantom Gentleman. As far as we knew, the remaining Grimm had blown up inside it."

Pyrrha's features fell into a suspicious expression as she took this in.

"Well if that's the case, how come there seem to be survivors amongst the Grimm, going around killing whomever they please?"

"I honestly do not know. By the way, you tensed up when the 'Eye is cursed' bit came up. Was there a reason for that?"


Pyrrha blanched, then leant over so only Jaune could hear her whisper.

"Last night, after my presentation, I showed Dr. Watts something I was supposed to be unveiling today at the museum; currently, it's stashed in my upgraded safe. It's a bronze shield with hieroglyphs on it called "The Eye of Ra". When I showed it to Watts that night, his initial reaction was a smile that spared his eyes; they'd steeled themselves in recognition. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd have said he knew about the shield before I found it – and that doesn't make sense to me."

Jaune nodded. "Me neither, doctor. And do you think this so-called curse is something he genuinely believed in?"

"Well, if Yatsuhashi's account was accurate, then it's likely he did. But then again, he was a godless man through and through, and I've never known him to be superstitious at all."

Pyrrha leaned her head onto her left hand in frustration; like she was massaging a bruise on her forehead.

"This just isn't making any sense; why did this awful business have to happen?!"

Jaune felt a strong rush of empathy overcome him. Poor woman, he ruminated; she clearly had an excellent mentor and friend in Dr. Watts, and he's now been cruelly taken from her. Even though it isn't my place, I really should try to comfort her as best I can throughout this. He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. She glanced upwards at a grim, yet determined smile on Jaune's face.

"Fear not, Pyrrha. We'll find the ones who did this and bring them to justice."

For the first time that day, Pyrrha managed a smile, albeit with pain in her eyes. That's the first time anyone outside work or family's referred to me as Pyrrha without prompting, she realised; even Coco needs to be reminded to drop formalities occasionally these days. Inspector Arc's really trying to look out for me, isn't he? At that moment, Constable Burns returned.

"Inspector!"


Jaune withdrew his hand sharply and stood up. "You managed to get through to the Daichi family?"

The beat cop nodded. "That I did sir; the family have corroborated Yatsuhashi's story."

Jaune nodded encouragingly. "Good to hear. Now, have the forensics men finished their business?"

"Yes sir; they're merely waiting for the ambulance to arrive. You may enter."

Jaune and Pyrrha walked into the town house, and this time entered the study. Watts's body was covered in a white sheet on a stretcher, and the bloodstains had just finished getting removed by the lead forensic examiner. He was lanky, spiky-haired, and slightly dishevelled.

"Find anything unusual about the scene, Doctor Oobleck?"

"Asides from the blood-stains and corpse," the Scotsman started, "the only thing out of the ordinary, Inspector is that the room wasn't very disturbed at all. Only one drawer was open – according to the butler, it was were the late doctor kept his diary."

Pyrrha and Jaune were surprised at this revelation; there were plenty of valuables to take from this house and none of them were missing.

"They took his diary?", Jaune asked incredulously. "Why on Earth would a pair of anarchistic cads want a diary?"

"If there was something specific placed inside it, perhaps?" Pyrrha suggested.

Jaune gave the suggestion some thought. "You might be right, Pyrrha. But what would he have placed inside his diary?"

"I can answer that for you." The three of them looked towards Yatsuhashi. "It didn't seem important at the time, but I noticed when approaching him that he'd put his presentation ticket within the diary."

The pair looked at each other and nodded.

"They're after the Eye of Ra, aren't they Pyrrha?"

"We'd better get to the museum, and quickly."


The last sixteen hours had been a sordid affair for Lie Ren. This largely hinged on the fact that the person he was sent to meet the previous night had been murdered before he arrived. To put it simply, the Chinese man despised the act of killing. It was an odd attitude for a member of what had been the single most dangerous assassin's guild in all of London – the Creatures of Grimm.

However, the Grimm weren't always assassins for hire; Ren himself had joined what was an ordinary mercenary company, after his flat feet kept him from joining the English military. Then the leadership changed, and the company with it.

Discovering the murdered corpse of Dr. Watts wasn't a welcome experience to Ren's partner as well, although his reasons were a little more macabre.

"It should have been me who snuffed him out."

Ren shot his cohort a dirty look. "Enough with that talk, mystic. His death was only meant to be a last resort if he attacked us first; we both know that."

The mystic scoffed arrogantly, as he paced around the abandoned flat they were hiding in near Croydon Airport.

"When my leader tells us he wants somebody silenced, then that's what he usually means."

Ren's patient demeanour started to crack.

"Listen; we've got no idea who got to him. Keep quiet, and wait until our comrade returns with news."

Ren sat down and started to clean his pair of modified green Reichsrevolver pistols that he'd called Stormflower, after the manor he'd lived in prior to migrating as a young man. The name also stemmed from the ammunition he built for his guns, which were compressed verdant Dust crystal rounds. He could fire through eight full rotations of the revolver's six-chambered magazine before needing to reload, meaning that he could afford to be economical with the Dust he used.

Although only allowing for half the stopping power of crimson Dust, such was Ren's rate of fire that a short burst of lightning bullets served him as well as his main weapons – the throwing daggers that he'd trained with extensively as a youngster.


A long series of knocks drew Ren's attention as he finished cleaning his revolvers. He answered the door, and beheld a young woman in the same black garb that he and his partner had donned. "Boys, I've retrieved some things from the doctor's office; our leader asked me to deliver them to you personally. Until we meet again, don't draw any attention to yourselves." She handed Ren a leather-bound, A5-sized writing pad with a ticket sticking out of it, then closed the door.

"What did she give us, mercenary?", asked Ren's cohort.

Ren examined the book. "Looks like a diary of some sort, mystic. Shall we read it?"

The other man responded with a faint giggle. "Ooh yes, let's do that!"

The two sat down alongside each other on a pair of old dining chairs, and spread the book between them.

Dear reader, this isn't a conventional diary of sorts, detailing my day-to-day life curating a museum, as one might have expected to find. Instead, I, Doctor Arthur Mordred Watts, will be marking down a number of secrets which need to be preserved and protected within these annals – preserved by those smart enough to protect the rest of the world from them. If you are faint of heart, then do not read onwards.

Almost twenty-three years ago at the time of writing (20/12/1888), I fell off the docks near the city of Luxor during the middle of one night's drunkeness. I would've likely drowned in the Nile, had it not been for the kindness bestowed upon me by a stranger in a paddle boat. The woman was a gaunt and white-haired Egyptian, and her deathly pallor and red eyes marked her out as someone who suffered from albinism. She led me up a small inlet which lead to a cave.

Within the cave, I beheld more of her people. They weren't albinos, but had the tell-tale facial features of the Egyptian race. Fortunately, I'd spent most of my youth growing up in Egypt, and was able to converse reasonably fluently in their tongue. In return, the albino woman asked to be taught my native language, and so I duly obliged. I spent the better part of a year with the tribe – they called themselves the Grimm, if I recall rightly.


"The Grimm? How can that sacrilege be?!", exclaimed the mystic.

"Let's find out," Ren replied calmly.

Eventually, the woman and I knew each other biblically, and sired a daughter together. She looked exactly like her mother, but without the pale skin or hair; indeed, she looked thoroughly Middle Eastern in appearance. However, most strangely, her eyes were so vivid a shade of brown as to appear like burnt embers – a far cry from both her mother's pink-ish red and my green. We named her Emerald, because the tribe's elder claimed that she reminded him of an image of Cleopatra carved from an emerald.

"Emerald ..." Ren breathed.

"I'm not sure I want to read more, but I think we'll need to," the mystic stated.

Ren nodded and turned towards the page.

Eventually, I had to rejoin the wider world, so my daughter and I moved to the city of Luxor. That way, she'd be close to her mother and native ancestors, yet be raised amongst the wider world alongside me – and her mother agreed to these terms. But alas, fate had other plans in mind. From the minute she knew how to walk and talk, I knew that Emerald wasn't right in the head. She was polite and well-mannered enough towards adults and adolescents alike, but children never went near her alone. As it turned out, she'd taken to stealing toys from the other kids and manipulating people to do her bidding.

My trying to teach her differently never worked, either. Desperate for answers, I took her to see her mother and her tribe, hoping that they could provide answers. What they did to try alleviating my concerns was to spend two days with Emerald and educate her on their way of life – in effect, teaching them about the religious beliefs that they had. This included an object they revered – an ancient shield of bronze called "The Eye Of Ra", which lay in an ancient Egyptian tomb near the Valley of the Kings. Legend had it, so they said, that if anyone were to try stealing it, then a sudden storm would come for them and claim their lives.


The mystic's hazel eyes widened. "Emerald's told me that story before. I had no idea it was actually true ..."

"You and me both, mystic. Let's press on."

So after educating her about all of this, they led Emerald up to the burial chamber, and left her there alone for the next day. The idea went like this:"If she accepts responsibility for her crimes and actions, then she may live with whom-so-ever she pleases. However, if she tries to steal the Eye, then you must take her away from this place." No sooner had I agreed to their proposal than I heard a flash of thunder. Myself, the tribe's elder, and Emerald's mother sped up the ladder to find what remains the most haunting sight of all time; Emerald, all of nine years old, standing on top of Tetesheri's sarcophagus with the Eye of Ra in hand, with perhaps the scariest smile any of us ever beheld.

It was as if she was trying to summon a dragon with the Eye. Shocked into mute anger, the albino picked up the shield, and struck me upside the head with it. As I shrugged off a concussion, she told me in no uncertain terms that I had to leave, and that Emerald was going with me. What I did next still haunts me. With my brother owning a set of rooms in Mayfair, I moved out from Luxor the following month and travelled back to London by train … and abandoned Emerald in France on the way there. I knew full well that whatever efforts I would have made to keep her in check would have been fruitless, so I left her behind and hoped she'd never come to England.

Ren and his cohort exchanged utterly shocked glances. This explains a great deal about her, their eyes seemed to say.

But even then, I knew I had to be prepared for her to come. Ten years ago, I founded the Grimm Security Force, a group of mercenaries who worked in the security trade. I'd long since delegated the task of co-ordinating that group to a police officer friend of mine who had grown sick of the frequent robberies in his district. And sure enough, six years after they were founded, they caught Emerald in a bungled attempt to kill me. They brought her before me, and I was stunned by her condition. Many years of street life had made her a walking skeleton; her hair had been dyed green, and she looked for all the world like a zombie.

So I made her an offer; I'd already been head curator of Exham Museum for the preceding thirteen years, and had earned enough through that means and the security trade to purchase a townhouse by the Thames in Fulham (which no-one was ever told about). If we promised to keep away from each other, I in turn would hand her the Grimm Security Force and the set of rooms as a means of earning income doing a respectable job in London. She accepted, and I moved out of my rooms as soon as I could allow. And it's worked to each other's advantage ever since.


"Is there more?"

"Let me see, mystic."

Ren flipped over to the next page, which had the ticket taped to it.

18/11/1889: I've learned the most horrible news. The Grimm company were responsible for the disaster at the Clockwork Pavilion earlier this week. Agreement or no, I stormed up to the Mayfair rooms to confront my daughter, and discovered that Emerald had long since sold them off. I was told that she'd purchased the Tenebrae Club in St. James's Street. I hailed a cab and made my way down there with all haste.

By the time I got there, a single Grimm employee was dying of a stomach wound while the building was being shot up. I hauled him down a side street and asked him who he truly served. With his last breaths, he explained that the so-called Creatures of Grimm believe in a dragon-god of destruction who makes them sow anarchy. His symbol is the Eye of Ra, apparently. After this, he expired, and I was just able to dash out of there before the club was set ablaze.

Below it, was written one more entry, and the mystic was beginning to shake.

30/11/1889: PYRRHA NIKOS HAS TAKEN THE EYE! THE CURSE IS HERE! I'M DOOMED NOT BY A FALSE GOD, BUT BY A WRATHFUL TRIBE!

"NO!", screamed the mystic, gibbering into his hands.

Ren turned to him. "What's wrong?"

The mystic convulsed as he bent backwards and yelled at the ceiling.

"I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS BLASPHEMY! PYRRHA NIKOS MUST DIE AT MY HANDS!"

He jumped up and began his hunt. Ren stood up and tried calling him back.

"WAIT! TYRIAN!"

But it was too late. Tyrian Callows ran out with the ticket, screaming like a wounded animal.

The autumnal rain provided a backdrop that equalled the melancholy within Ren's mind at this moment. May whatever god who's listening out there condemn that mad man, Ren mentally cursed as he left for East Croydon station, with his weapons and Watts's diary in hand. I've got something crucial to do, and I'd better start moving before he reaches the address on that ticket.


A/N: First up, the title is "A Study In Purple". No points for guessing where that's from.

Secondly, the plot is starting to thicken up. Who are the murderers of Doctor Watts, and what is their goal?

Third, I hope the origin story of Emerald and the Grimm was satisfactory.

And last, the soundtrack song for this chapter is "Ji" by Periphery - lyrically, it matches (or closely aligns) with the Grimm.