Capítulo 1273: Chapter 1273: Stone Statue Rumors
“No, no, I’m just curious.”
Shard defended himself and then couldn’t help but ask curiously:
“Are there craftsmen who specialize in making nude stone sculptures?”
“Of course, and carving a full nude is even harder than with clothes, considering the proportions and details of those private parts… Don’t look at me like that, I just heard it from a friend.”
Mr. Antonio said seriously, then lowered his voice to share an interesting tidbit:
“I even know someone who commissioned a famous local stonemason to carve a life-size woman statue, but the upper part was filled with soft cotton and silk, and the lower part… ahem, just consider it a local urban legend, don’t say I told you.”
Regarding such rumors, Shard didn’t even want to touch that Mithril Cube to verify it. But, regardless of the world or era, men’s interests really never change.
Since it was really too dark indoors, the gas lamps on the walls had already been lit, making the atmosphere at eleven o’clock in the morning feel somewhat like nightfall.
Shard moved his gaze from the wall’s oil painting:
“Let’s not talk about women statues, Mr. Antonio, I’ve heard that the Stonemason Guild once created a moving statue.”
“Yes, yes, these rumors appear every few years. There are many legends, such as the stonemason killing someone and disguising the corpse as a statue to hide it; or the soul murdered by stonemasons possessing the statue to take revenge on their enemies; or a girl died of a disease yearning for love, turning the statue made by her beloved into a real person… Lots of themes.”
Mr. Antonio knew even more about these stories than Shard, and even an Outlander found them interesting to hear:
“So what is the truth?”
“Mr. Watson, I’m just a writer, not a detective. I don’t care about the truth, I care about the story… Okay, I do care about the truth. Today I came here to gather material to write a new script with similar themes.”
Shard smiled:
“Sounds interesting, do you mind if I join you? I won’t steal your idea, but maybe I can adapt it into a popular detective novel.”
Mr. Antonio naturally didn’t mind.
The playwright didn’t have any good investigative leads either. He, like Shard, came to the Stonemason Guild with a let’s-see attitude.
So the two of them first went for lunch, and after lunch, they returned to the Stonemason Guild. At this time, the police officers standing at the gate hadn’t left, and Mr. Antonio waited until they walked out of earshot before saying to Shard:
“This time, the police will definitely make the association pay the price.”
“What price? You mean the assassination matter? But that couldn’t have been instructed by the Stonemason Guild.”
Shard said, the middle-aged man stroked his chin:
“But so what, the police don’t care who’s behind it. A friend at the police department told me that the assassin’s identity has been cleared up. He’s a victim of the Velindale Colossus collapse event over a decade ago, permanently disabled and unable to work, his wife left one rainy night eight years ago, and his only child died of illness three years ago… Personally, I tend to think the assassination of Prince William was for personal retribution, but if they insist on linking it to the Stonemason Guild, it’s not impossible.”
“So they want to double down on punishing the victim because they’re at fault?”
Shard said skeptically, Mr. Antonio glanced around nervously:
“Watson, don’t casually say things like that. And this thing couldn’t have been the Royal Family’s idea, it’s most likely people below trying to please those above. And since Prince William was attacked, they have to find someone significant to convict, or else the local police department will be held responsible…”
He gave Shard a “you know” look, Shard clicked his tongue, then turned to look at the police at the front gate, while Mr. Antonio continued to nervously remind:
“Be careful of the Grey Glove… they always have ways to find out what they want to know, let’s not get ourselves into trouble.”
When they returned to the Stonemason Guild in the afternoon, the two did not continue to look at those statues waiting to be sold in the hall. Mr. Antonio had no leads, but during Miss Thrasus’ help in collecting information, she found someone in the Stonemason Guild who claimed to have seen a moving statue, and it was last year, so the two decided to visit that eyewitness.
This time the target was the middle-aged stonemason in the Stonemason Guild, Mr. Peter Torfo, who didn’t have his own separate workshop and worked in the guild.
When Shard and Mr. Antonio met him, this somewhat dark-skinned, muscular stonemason was taking inventory in the warehouse with his two young apprentices. He originally didn’t want to waste time chatting with strangers, but after Mr. Antonio tossed a coin, he gladly stood among the densely displayed statues and enthusiastically answered their questions.
“Yes, a moving statue. Last year, 1853, I can’t remember the exact time, it was probably around this winter season, I was drunk… I mean, after I came out of the tavern, I remembered I needed to take my work apron home to wash, so after greeting the gatekeeper, I came to this warehouse in the backyard, around this spot.”
He pointed to a section of the wall’s shelf, the side of the shelf welded with a row of hooks for hanging things:
“When I got my apron and was about to leave, I saw a shadow wandering in the warehouse. Oh, it sobered me up right away.”
Mr. Torfo probably has a talent for telling horror stories. After retiring from being a stonemason in his old age, he could still earn money by telling stories in taverns:
“Gentlemen, you are all dignified people and surely can’t imagine what the warehouse is like at night. To prevent fire, the gas lines in the warehouse are shut off at night, so you can’t turn on the gas lamps. I was carrying a kerosene lamp at the time, my God, I saw nothing but countless people in shadows all around me, watching me from all directions.”
“Sorry, I’m not doubting your story, but are you sure what you saw were moving stone statues and not shadows swaying because of your kerosene lamp?”
Mr. Antonio asked suspiciously, but the middle-aged stonemason shook his head firmly:
“I’m very familiar with these statues, how could I mistake shadows for statues? It wasn’t shadows, nor was it my eyes playing tricks, it was definitely moving stone statues!”
He had told this story to others many times, so he recited it in great detail.
“Be careful! Don’t you know the ground is uneven? Which bastard didn’t tie up the cart?”
Suddenly, the loud voice of the warehouse supervisor came from the side, and the three of them saw a nun statue sliding towards the warehouse door by itself, but fortunately, the flat cart beneath it was caught in time.
Mr. Torfo, feeling a bit embarrassed, still insisted:
“It definitely wasn’t like that at the time, I definitely didn’t see wrong… and it wasn’t because I was drunk, I know my own limit.”
His explanation only made his story seem more dubious.
“So, do you have any guesses about this?”
Shard then asked, and Mr. Torfo nodded again:
“It must be ‘Silent Old Fleming’ appearing again!”
“What’s that?”
Mr. Antonio asked further, and Mr. Torfo explained:
“Old Fleming was one of the founders of the Randall Valley Stonemason Association in the Common Era Calendar year 1108. He’s not much of a talker, only focused on his craft. The sculptures he created were all absolute masterpieces, and a few years ago, someone even auctioned one for a lot of money.”
He probably didn’t know the exact number, just heard it was a lot of money.
“This man was naturally low-key, and in that era, there were no cameras, so he didn’t even leave behind a portrait. He carved statues for countless people but never for himself. According to legend, Old Fleming disappeared one day, and from then on, no one ever saw him again. But since then, people have occasionally seen moving sculptures at the association at night; this is Old Fleming returning to take one last look at the place where he worked in life.”
“I’m a local too, so how come I’ve never heard of a Fleming among the founders of the stonemason association.”
Mr. Antonio raised his doubts, and the middle-aged stonemason replied sheepishly:
“These are just rumors among the stonemasons of the association; I’ve only heard the elders mention it. As for whether or not it’s true, I have no ability to investigate it. If auctioned statues are unidentified ancient pieces, they’re simply attributed to Fleming… but I’ve always believed there must have been an Old Fleming!”
This made all his previous words even more unbelievable.
“Is there any information one can believe?”
Shard asked, feeling the Mithril Cube in his pocket which had no reaction. Seeing the other continue to rub his coarse fingers, he grunted:
“I need to hear news first, verified news, not drunken tales or hearsay stories.”
Feeling embarrassed, the stonemason rubbed his hands:
“Credible news… of course there is. Recently, someone said a new gatekeeper was turned into a puppet; you could ask him.”
This matter was well-known to Shard himself:
“We are here to investigate the statues, not the puppets.”
He emphasized this point, and Mr. Antonio didn’t get distracted either.
The middle-aged stonemason then strained to think for quite a while before slamming his right fist into his left palm:
“I remember now, last autumn, the Sun Church sent some priests to conduct an investigation throughout the association, and they even performed an exorcism ritual in this warehouse. I was here at the time and watched the spectacle for quite a while.”