Our Family Has Fallen

"Quick, there’s a clear footprint here!"

Laura didn’t waste words. The hawk on her shoulder seemed to sense something and leapt forward to fly.

Simultaneously, Laura moved without even needing a running start, effortlessly vaulting over the wall. Her agile body appeared as light as the hawk hovering beside her.

But Amanda and William could only obediently walk around.

"It must have been pressed down by the entire weight when jumping down."

However, when William wanted to compare, he noticed that Laura made no footprint when landing. Could she really fly?

The group compared the traces left behind. Based on the height of the footprints on the wall and the depth of the ones on the ground, they roughly inferred something.

"The suspect’s height is likely not shorter than Dismas, and taller than Laura."

"Judging by the traces, the person probably has a slender build, agile movements, and isn’t very heavy."

"It’s a woman..."

Amanda uttered this, her expression growing solemn.

Although supernatural power isn’t gender-specific, a female thief with such skills is rare.

Incidentally, the Romani people are matriarchal, and dancers trained into transcendent professionals fit the current clues well.

Fergus sniffed around the footprint, quickly returning to sit beside William and gave a soft bark.

"Woof."

"Fergus tells me the scent has been captured. I’ll follow it and inform the police to watch for suspects matching this condition."

Others didn’t understand why William could comprehend the dog’s communication, but it wasn’t the time for such questions.

Dismas chimed in.

"I’ll investigate the border for recent arrivals in town matching these criteria, then join you."

"I’ll find clues about the target in another manner, and we’ll reconvene to exchange information later."

Amanda didn’t know who it was, but she had to catch that person to clear her name.

Laura had no intent to speak, implicitly following William’s lead.

Because, of the group, William might be the least capable, good against ordinary mercenaries but vulnerable to professional Transcendent assassins.

Meanwhile, Laura could rely on the hawk to locate the target from the air, something Fergus couldn’t do.

There were no leads, so they temporarily split up to investigate.

After the others left, Amanda stood before the footprint, taking out the wax that had been scraped earlier.

This wasn’t some card-picking divination; clearly, she was going to demonstrate real prowess.

...

"Who do you think it is?" Grendel asked curiously.

"It doesn’t matter, just some pesky flies. William and the others will handle it."

Lance replied, indifferent.

Clearly, the theft was a matter for the police. Lance sending advisors showed sufficient concern, excessive interest would imply doubt in their competence, and he wasn’t free of engagements himself.

The theft news wasn’t broadcast; Grendel came because of potion-related issues.

She overheard Lance, leading to their earlier conversation.

Listening to this, she understood the implications and didn’t pursue the topic further, instead discussing the initial matter.

Recently, she and Paracelsus were busy researching and testing two types of potions. After countless mice sacrifices and daring experiments, a carefully formulated treatment potion emerged.

"These are the test results and our specified concentration standards..."

Grendel extracted part of the files and introduced them. Lance reviewed the documents.

Grendel’s talent made her highly competent in multiple areas, especially as a tribe-raised Priest, proficient in herbs and witchcraft, also possessing management skills.

But, Lance saw her as a scholar type, suitable for roles like Pharmacist or botanist, ideal for research.

Notable achievements were quickly evident when freed from peripheral troubles, garnering his praise.

"Not bad, nicely done!"

"It’s all Doctor Parla’s effort. I merely assisted her."

Grendel was humble, though Lance had a different view.

"I know Paracelsus’s caliber—we’re all aware of her. She’s adept at research, but only you can organize things so efficiently.

You wouldn’t believe how disastrous her project management is..."

Lance couldn’t help but complain about the doctor’s spontaneous methods.

While Paracelsus’s expertise was reliable, she lacked planned arrangements—being impulsively driven from one pursuit to another, advancing bit by bit without full commitment.

She had no sense of time, sometimes forgetting meals and eating whatever whenever hungry. Occasionally, Lance handed her tasks that led to all-night marathons.

This meant, without Lance’s intervention, she’d skip meals entirely; now, Susan delivers timely meals.

Paracelsus was naturally stubborn and indifferent, generally ignoring others’ feelings, with few tolerating her peculiar demeanor.

Having partnered with the doctor for a period, Grendel naturally grasped Lance’s meaning, even empathizing slightly.

Nonetheless, she refrained from gossiping, preferring to defend the doctor instead.

"The tasks you’ve assigned her, she’s completed well, hasn’t she? Plus, Miss Parla’s personality is simply that way, harboring no malice; her calm nature suits research perfectly."

Frankly, Grendel couldn’t exhibit Paracelsus’s detached attitude toward experiment subjects, let alone endure prolonged periods in such a somber environment.

She favored her garden, basking in sunshine and breezes amid flowers and nature.

"True, not everyone can manage this."

Lance, as the experiment overseer, understood situations thoroughly. Now with cultured lab mice, and procedure enhancements, prior inquiries seemed wild compared to the quest for human secrets, bordering insanity.

Fortunately, sensibility returned, due largely to Lance’s continuous counseling.

"I think we should assign her some assistants or relocate her to a spacious, bright environment; staying solo in the sanatorium for long will intensify her cold nature."

Lance initially aimed to jest about "plenty of company at the sanatorium," but refrained, realizing Grendel was serious.

In fact, Lance had contemplated this, although...

"To be honest, I’ve assigned assistants to her, but few withstand her aloofness; two couldn’t last long.

Also, many experiments must remain discreet, pertaining to Hamlet’s core secrets, known by few."

Yet, Lance recognized the issue and agreed.

"We should indeed consider a new location; the sanatorium, being in town, is inconvenient for numerous reasons. Regarding assistants, I’ll monitor potential candidates and engage her in regular discourse."

The problem involved multiple aspects, akin to encountering a ’code mountain’ with bugs—addressing usability before debugging.

Promptly shifting focus to the primary event, steering clear of solemnity.

"After establishing potion standards, were there tests conducted? What’s the potency across different tiers?"

Grendel, once an established Governor, grasped Lance’s comprehensive needs, opting against further discussion about the doctor. Instead, leading the conversation, utilizing provided files for elaboration.

"The first trial involved infected prostitutes..."