Chapter 14: I Will Definitely Kill That Bastard |
Stalvan?
The moment he heard that name, something seemed to explode in Allen's mind.
He remembered.
The legend of Stalvan.
A terrifying tale of madness, obsession, and a family massacre.
Stalvan was a tutor.
He was hired by a noble family to be the private tutor for their young lady.
Through their daily interactions, this middle-aged man developed inappropriate feelings for his young student.
Even more tragically, he deluded himself into believing the young lady reciprocated his affections, interpreting every polite smile, every ordinary greeting, as a signal of love.
Until that day.
The noble lady brought a young man home, linking arms with him, walking up to Stalvan with a radiant smile.
She said, "This is my tutor, Uncle Stalvan. He's a nice old man."
Old man.
In that instant, all his fantasies shattered.
She didn't see him as a lover, or a future husband. She just saw him as an elderly man.
That was all.
On a certain night afterwards, Stalvan raised his butcher's knife.
He slaughtered the entire noble family—the young lady who had "deceived" his feelings, the master who hired him, the mistress who never looked at him properly, the innocent servants... not a single one was spared.
Afterwards, Stalvan fled to Darkshire, hiding in a dilapidated cottage.
Later, he became one of the Undead.
Allen's thoughts raced like lightning.
So it seemed Stalvan likely learned necromancy through some means, and that letter could very well have been sent by him.
In the World of Warcraft game, this was a classic quest from Duskwood. Back when Allen played the game, he would just click the mouse frantically, skip through all the dialogue, never read the quest descriptions, only caring about the experience and rewards. That's why he hadn't connected the dots earlier.
Although Allen had already deduced the true culprit through his knowledge of the game's plot spoilers, he couldn't just tell Varian outright. So he remained silent and continued to cooperate with Varian and the others in digging up the other graves.
Shaw once again found the tombstone of a servant from the de Montmorency family. Holding up the lantern, he illuminated the simple wooden marker and was about to call the others over.
Allen's gaze fell upon the tombstone.
He froze on the spot.
Milana
May she rest in peace.
No surname, no position, no dates of birth or death. Just this one name, and a brief blessing.
But Allen knew her.
In Goldshire, at the Lion's Pride Inn, the banshee who had spared him.
Her pallid face, her hollow eyes, and those tear-filled eyes appeared vividly before Allen's eyes at this moment.
She said her name was Milana.
She said she had no wishes of her own.
She only wanted to fulfill her young mistress's wish, to let her be united with her beloved.
So she was a maid of the de Montmorency family?
Was it just for such a selfish, such a beastly reason that she was slaughtered alongside the de Montmorency family by Stalvan?
After death, her soul was still tormented by Stalvan, turned into a terrifying banshee wraith, forced to wander day after day in that inn, denied a peaceful end...
The diligent Shaw had already shouldered his shovel, ready to dig, but Allen grabbed his wrist.
"Wait."
Shaw turned back, puzzled. "What's wrong?"
"Pick another one," Allen's voice was a bit hoarse. "Pick a different person."
Stella stood to the side. Seeing Allen's reaction, her large, azure eyes blinked, as if she had also realized something.
"It can't be... right?" she whispered, her small hand covering her mouth.
Wen Lei had chased after them at the time and hadn't witnessed that scene in the inn room. He looked at Stella in confusion, his eyes filled with question marks: What happened?
But Allen spoke first.
"I owe the owner of this grave a favor," his voice was soft, yet firm. "The favor hasn't been repaid yet. I don't want to disturb her now."
Varian looked at him.
Under the moonlight, this peer's expression was completely different from before. Something in his eyes had sunk, like a stone dropping into deep water.
Varian didn't ask further.
"It's fine," he patted Allen's shoulder. "Then we'll pick another one."
Shaw nodded, picked up the lantern, and continued searching. A moment later, he stopped before another grave mound.
"This one," he said. "Emily Barker—also a maid of the de Montmorency family. According to the injury report, she was basically among the last to be killed. Perhaps we can see more."
Everyone gathered around.
Another round of digging. The shovel entered the earth, the coffin was pried open, and the corpse was exposed to the moonlight.
Allen took a deep breath and once again chanted that ancient incantation.
The corpse sat up.
Allen stared directly at the corpse and asked bluntly:
"Was it the tutor, Stalvan Mistmantle, who killed you and the de Montmorency family?"
The corpse shuddered violently.
Hatred and venomous fire seemed to ignite in her eye sockets.
"Yes," her voice was hoarse, each word seemingly squeezed out from between clenched teeth. "I saw it with my own eyes."
The onlookers were somewhat surprised.
The murderer... was just a tutor?
An ordinary tutor hired by the de Montmorency family, why would he slaughter all seventeen members of that household?
"Why did he do it?"
"Because he harbored twisted feelings for the young mistress, but the young mistress did not love him."
When it came to this, something unexpected happened to Allen.
After identifying the culprit of the massacre, Shaw didn't show excitement. Instead, he revealed an indescribable expression. There was no joy of solving the case in that expression, only... disappointment.
He turned his head, leaned close to Varian's ear, and whispered something.
The night wind howled. Allen couldn't hear what he said, but he saw Shaw's mouth movements and guessed the content of those words:
"What now? The culprit isn't some Horde remnant, just a tutor."
The implication was all too clear.
If the murderer was just an ordinary killer, then this case was just an ordinary murder case.
It wasn't worth the King of Stormwind personally investigating.
It wasn't worth investing so many resources.
It wasn't worth spending so much time and effort.
Allen frowned, looking at Shaw with disbelief, but then he saw...
Even in Varian Wrynn's eyes, there was a deep sense of disappointment.
"You... are you going to withdraw?"
Allen was silent for a moment.
Then, he let it go.
Indeed, from the very beginning, it was his own deduction that had misled Varian.
It was he who said the letter involved necromancy, suspecting the de Montmorency family was harboring Horde remnants; it was he who said this case might involve orc warlocks or Death Knights.
The reason Varian invested such great enthusiasm, the reason he formed a special task force despite pressure, the reason he personally came to the unmarked graveyard to dig up graves in the middle of the night, was because he thought the shadow of the Horde lurked behind this.
Once uncovered, it would be a major case that could shake all of Stormwind.
Now the truth was revealed. The culprit was just a pervert who went on a killing spree because he couldn't have his student. It was only natural for Varian to be disappointed.
Allen took a deep breath. The night wind rushed into his lungs, icy and piercing.
He remembered the pallid face of the banshee in the Lion's Pride Inn, remembered the last words she said—
"Thank you... thank you, Allen Prestor."
He had promised Milana he would fulfill her last wish.
Her Mistress Tiroia had already died tragically at Stalvan's hands.
The only thing he could do now was to make Stalvan pay, to avenge them.
Allen raised his head and looked at Varian.
Moonlight shone on his face. His expression was eerily calm.
"It's fine," he said, his voice soft, yet carrying an undeniable firmness. "Thank you for all your help along the way."
He paused.
"From here on, I will ensure these victims receive justice."
His gaze passed over Varian, over Shaw, landing on that simple wooden marker in the distance, Milana's resting place.
"I will personally kill... that bastard Stalvan Mistmantle."
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