Crowned With Crime

Epilogue

The reception hall of the Linderberg family estate is packed. Guests continue to arrive in great numbers, dressed in their finest attire: velvet clothes, fine silk, sumptuous jewelry, and expensive perfumes.

Everywhere, on the enormous table, are delicate dishes, luxurious wines, platters overflowing with food, and not a single glass remains empty for more than a second. Good music, good food, good times, everything in abundance. And at the center, a man stands, drawing all eyes upon him, dressed like a prince, and speaking like one:

"My grandmother passed away at the age of 125. The people of the town called her 'the Yellow Witch,' and that wasn't entirely untrue. She inspired terror and misfortune. Mothers would tell their children stories to scare them, saying that if they misbehaved, the witch Linderberg would come and eat their eyes. Which was completely false, by the way, because she hated children's eyes. Her potions were made from the eyes of young virgins, slaughtered on their birthdays. But anyway, I digress...

I am Victor Linderberg, and today this dinner is in her honor. Henry Linderberg, my ancestor, Castille Linderberg, my grandmother, and here we all are, gathered together.We have fought, some have died, of course, but today, let us forget our past quarrels and celebrate our new friendship with these delicious dishes and good music.

What a joy it is to see you all here, gathered together, far from your homes, in one place, in our residence, far from your guards. This is what my grandmother would have wanted; this is what my family would have wished. But as a friend, I will only ask one thing: be careful as you leave, the nights are cold and dark, and it is said that wolves attack people in the evening..."

A good speech, one that touches the heart and soul, is always punctuated by screams, overturned dishes, shattered glasses, wine spilled on the tables, and blood on the clothes. Elevated by the orchestra, bodies collapse and pile up in a kind of macabre waltz. It's impossible to distinguish the blood from the wine; both flow freely, giving the scene the true look of a Greek tragedy...

"Being a leader is like playing chess. It requires patience, composure, and strategy. But you know, the best way to win at chess isn't to take the opponent's king, but to slit their throat. Careful with that sword, you might hurt yourself, and don't forget not to spill the wine; those goods are so expensive these days."