Chronicles of Mystery

A sinister workshop

Back in the hallway, Maude at their head, the group had resumed its way through the mansion.

The servant took them up two flights of stairs. With each floor climbed, the next was even more dusty and abandoned. There was less and less light and the silence was thicker and thicker.

It was as if, as they ascended, they entered another universe, cut off from the real world. A much darker and scarier universe.

When they arrived at the top floor of the house, Maude stopped in front of a trapdoor in the ceiling and she pulled on a ring that was hanging on it. Immediately, the hatch opened, releasing a folding staircase that hit the ground with a thud.

They climbed one by one the steps leading to the attic. Maude grew quieter and quieter. She seemed frightened again by something the other two couldn't see. They were sure they were alone with her in the room, but it was as if something else, something only Maude could see, was constantly in the air. There seemed to be no way to chase this thing away.

The attic was the darkest part of the house. If the rest of the mansion already looked grim, it was nothing compared to this place. The place did not even have remains of decorations, past ornaments, to try to compensate for its decrepitude. It seemed to have always been that way. It was as if no color could exist in this place. The darkness made the place look gray, as if everything was covered in ashes.

The walls were bare and cracked. You could see a few holes at ground level, probably the home of mice. The floor had no carpet. It was squeaky, rickety, and covered in a heavy layer of dust. There were no chandeliers, not even lamps on the ceiling. No light source. No furniture, no objects or trinkets.

The attic gave a bit of the impression of a cage, of a timeless prison, where reality had no hold. Time seemed to have stopped flowing. All seemed idle. The winds infiltrated through cracks in the roof and came pushing pitiless bellows in the framework, deep and muffled organ sounds. Like a complaint, a cry in the distance. A call for help.

It was cold up there. Never had the heat of a chimney fire reached such disproportionate heights. One felt penetrated by the chilling breeze that was freezing to the bone. It felt like one could never warm up again.

Maude then pushed open the only door there. The one that led to the Count's workshop. When it opened, it made no noise. Just a slight slip, like the body of a snake against the ground.

She stepped aside again to let the others pass in front of her. The room they found was pitch dark. All the windows were covered with thick curtains that let no light through. It was located just under the roofs and the frame reduced the height of the ceiling.

On the ground, the more one advanced, the more one distinguished sheets of paper covered with illegible notes, mysterious scribbles. Pieces of automaton parts were also strewn on the floor. Disjointed arms, fingers without hands, legs thrown here and there, faceless heads with empty eyes. In the dark, you could almost mistake them for parts of human bodies.

A little further, several work plans were covered with parts, tools, instruments to assemble the robots. Everything was in an indescribable mess and formed a shapeless mass on the surface of the worktops.

They continued exploring the studio. The ground creaked under their every step. It produced terrible creaks.

At the far end of the room, strange capsules filled with a fluorescent green liquid glowed in the dark. These capsules were the size of a human being. They were empty and only God knew what they might have contained.

One of these capsules had been slightly cracked and had leaked some of its shiny liquid on the ground.

On the walls around, strange symbols had been carved. Lines, like those found in prison cells. There were dozens and dozens, so many that you couldn't count them. There were also inscriptions, phrases that one could not read. They seemed to have been written in a fit of rage. The letters overlapped,becoming unrecognizable. You could no longer see the meaning.

Some sentences seemed to have been repeated several times. As if the person who carved them with a knife had pressed them on many occasions, had driven their blade again and again into the wall. Filled with hate, pain, fear? Or taken with enthusiasm by his discoveries?

Just at the foot of the capsules, one saw strange traces, as if blows had been exchanged there.

Suddenly, Maude's voice, like a whisper from beyond the grave, resounded in the silent laboratory.

 - It's here. This is where the Earl died and his body was found. At the foot of this capsule.

She pointed to the one that had been cracked.

Alistair leaned over it and studied the traces of blows as well as the place where the glass of the capsule had been broken.

Lucy, meanwhile, cast rather anxious glances in the direction of the inscriptions on the walls. She didn't know why, but something about this place made her uncomfortable. It was as if the echoes of the dead man's voice sounded still within those narrow walls. As if his cries of pain had been written on the walls.

The air felt heavy, too heavy with past emotions and thoughts. She felt like she was suffocating. She felt oppressed in this tiny workshop, black as an oven. It was as if the walls were going to close in on her. She was only waiting for one thing, it was to leave this place.

Alistair carefully examined the only clues he had. It was very little. From these exchanged blows and the broken glass, he was unable to deduce anything about the assassin or the conditions of the murder. He had to ask Maude for details about the Count's body. What had they done with it? Was he already buried? Were there signs of a struggle on his body as well?

 - Maude, what happened to the Count's body?

 - I buried him. But it will be almost a month. I don't think you'll be able to find any clues on his corpse. To tell the truth, I would prefer not to exhume him, in order to spare the Countess and her son a little.

Alistair nodded.

 - I understand, of course. Did you see any particular marks on his corpse, like blows?

 - No, replied Maude coldly enough. I did not examine his body when I found and buried him immediately, as we were unable to obtain the services of a medical examiner.

Seeing the servant's tone, Alistair preferred not to insist.

He took a last look around him. This place could tell him nothing more about the count's murder. It was just raising new questions. Besides, he didn't have the impression that Lucy felt very comfortable in this setting.

 - If you don't see anything else to check, she said, could we leave? This place gives me goosebumps.

 - Yes, let's go.

They quickly left the room and they went down quickly out of the attic. Each floor seemed to bring them back to light and life. After going to hell, they joined the earth. Even the dim light on the first floor seemed dazzling compared to the darkness of the attic. The place immediately looked less sinister.

Lucy took a deep breath, happy to finally be able to breathe fresh air a little less laden with dust.

This first day of investigation was exhausting. And yet, they still hadn't discovered anything.
Their advantage was that the count had closed in on himself in his home, no longer receiving any visitors. This greatly reduced the number of suspects. But that was also a concern; who, among the few people who could have reached the count, could have wanted to kill him?

One of the people of the village? One of the servants? So far, they had only met Maude. Was she the only servant in the mansion?

The two detectives were already feeling exhausted.

Shortly after their visit to the studio, Maude led them to their rooms. They were simple guest rooms that were communicating with each other, so that both partners could easily chat.

Lucy was quite disappointed. She had expected a sublime apartment, worthy of the reputation of the residence; instead, she was left with nothing less than an ordinary hotel room.

So far, her stay at the Averley home was far from magical and strayed from what she had imagined.