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There were some unspoken mysteries surrounding the royal castle. Like the leaky faucet on the second floor, the disappearing books in the royal library, and the horror behind why Bruno’s loaned books always came back with tea stains at the corner. The third prince glared at the fourth, and Leonhard merely whistled a fanciful tune. Gathering papers into a sloppy stack, nearly tipping over a lit candle. Oh yes, such secrecy as to why Bruno and Leonhard were together at three in the morning was meant to remain a secret, and not a flame nor accident could damage the reason why they were in the same bedroom at this ungodly hour. For detective reasons, of course!
“Remember, inside voices,” Bruno reminded his brother. “I’m well-aware that you listen to what you please, but I’m asking kindly. Not as your brother, but as your intellectual partner in mock-crime.” With that, Bruno shushed Leonhard before gathering the evidence. The evidence was all written down on a sheet of paper. Why was it residing inside a manila folder? Well, Bruno wanted this first detective session to be somewhat serious while Leonhard was perfectly willing to exaggerate his gasps and awes at the horrors hidden on the other side. In short, both brothers pulled their weight in gathering evidence, whether the evidence was conclusive or not.
“Okay, okay. Can we just hurry up? Beauty sleep is only skin deep.” Leonhard was about to open the folder, but Bruno stopped him.
“We need a name.”
Leonhard cocked his head. “Okay. I’m gorgeous and you’re steadfast .”
Bruno paused for a moment. Basking under the glory of that name, but he mentally slapped himself. “Not this time, but we need a name for what we’re doing.”
An imaginary cracked light-bulb flickered over Leonhard’s head. “Sleuthing?”
“Perhaps something that doesn’t have a perceived negative connotation,” Bruno suggested, adjusting his spectacles. “We are attempting to solve an unsolved mystery.”
“I don’t get that part!” Leonhard puffed out his cheeks in defiance. “If it’s an unsolved mystery, there’s probably a good reason as to why it is that way.”
“ ‘Attempting.’ We are not solving it, per se.” Bruno moved the lit candle farther away from Leonhard. No, scratch that. Bruno moved the candle to his side of the table. “Keep your voice down. People might hear us.”
“Oh please.” Leonhard slouched back in hi seat. “No one’s awake, except us.”
“Can this conversation redirect to its given course?” Bruno sighed. Leonhard looked at his brother with a raised eyebrow. Ah yes, Leonhard had some trouble with figurative language. Layman's terms would have to do for now. “Can we come back to the topic? Please?”
“If you say so…” Leonhard’s voice trailed off.
Bruno adjusted his spectacles, a glare reflecting off the lens. Sent a chill down Leonhard’s spine, and the foolhardy prince sat a little straighter in his seat.
“On this session of ‘Unsolved Mysteries’, we'll be discussing ‘The Unsolved Mystery Behind The Royal Tutor’s Height.’ With the help of my brother, Leonhard von Granzreich, and I, Bruno von Granzreich, we have uncovered the hidden truths and conspiracies behind the childish-stature of my--”
Leonhard stared at his brother. Not confused on why Bruno was addressing an unknown audience, but confused as to why his brother suddenly stopped. Bruno was on a roll, and he sounded so cool and professional with his monologue but now...Why was he hesitating? Leonhard poked his brother, but Bruno was under some sort of trance. The third prince swallowed more saliva than he could make, eyes shaking behind his spectacles. He had to make this as professional as possible, but he already indirectly referred his Master with a possessive term. What more? It was the informal and singular use. No, Bruno knew better. He had to stay as omniscient as possible. Act as if he had no connection to his Mas-- no, Professor.
“You’re going to get wrinkles if you’re thinking that hard,” Leonhard whispered. No response. Bruno was waging a war with himself, and there was no way of stopping it until...Well, Leonhard didn’t mind taking the speech-torch for himself. Not sure as to where the unknown audience was, Leonhard stared into the darkness. Hoping that nothing was staring back at him. “Piggybacking off of my brother, we have uncovered the hidden truths and conspiracies behind the childish-stature of Heine Wittgenstein.” Leonhard smiled. He sounded cool as a cucumber. Perfect. Was Bruno proud of him? He glanced to his right, and Bruno seemed normal. All was well.
Bruno presented his analysis towards the Royal Tutor, straightforwardly. There were a few hiccups. He kept referring to the Royal Tutor as “my Master” but other than that, it was a smooth, cold-read and Bruno looked so cool while saying it. A glint in his eyes, the power behind his whispers, and Leonhard felt himself leaning closer and closer to his brother so that he wouldn’t miss a single word. He ended up missing every word, but the fourth prince had a twinkle of an idea of where Bruno was heading.
Onto the conspiracies, Leonhard grasped this part of the conversation like it was his calling.
“Vampire.”
Bruno facepalmed himself. “Your reason?”
“Okay, think about it. When Father mentioned his and Heine’s past, he specifically told us that Heine’s height hadn’t changed one bit. Not a centimeter here or there, but I guess his fingernails and hair will still be growing.” Leonhard grew quiet before adding, “Hair and fingernails still grow on corpses, right?”
“To a certain extent of time, but vampires require blood as sustenance. I don’t recall my Mas--I mean, I don’t recall our Royal Tutor consuming anything of the sort.”
“He could drink it at night. There’s definitely bottles in his room. He wants us to think it’s booze, but it’s blood!”
Bruno gasped. “How dare you make such accusations towards my Mas--I mean, towards Heine Wittgenstein! He is a scholar with much ahead of him and--”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that he has red eyes?” Leonhard asked, cutting Bruno off in mid-sentence. “Vampires in folklore have been known to possess normal colored eyes, but they turn red after a feeding. The only reason why we haven’t seen anything suspicious about Heine is because he’s feeding before he meets us.”
“Your conspiracy would make sense under normal circumstances, but there is a fatal flaw in your evidence.” Bruno slammed his hands over the table, nearly tipping over the lit candle. “He has amber eyes, not red!”
Leonhard elbowed his brother’s gut. “And you tell me to keep my voice down. You should swallow your own words, or do you want me to feed them to you personally?” Sighing under his breath, Leonhard crossed his arms. “Besides, how would you know his eye color?”
A glare reflected cleanly over Bruno’s glasses. “I am his apprentice so naturally, I have to know these things.”
“To that detail? Yikes…” Rocking his legs back and forth like a child on a pier, Leonhard asked if Bruno had a better conspiracy. In fact, he did. It was not just a conspiracy, but a careful observation and listening ear.
“From what we know about Heine Wittgenstein’s past, he grew up in poverty. Struggling to make an ends with what he had. It wouldn’t surprise me if his stature was caused by malnutrition.”
“So...You’re saying that this wasn’t an unsolved mystery at all, and the answer came from science? Then what’s the freakin’ point of staying up this late to talk about this?!” Leonhard smashed his forehead against Bruno’s table. “If the answer was that easy…”
“Perhaps genetics had something to do with it,” Bruno suggested. “His parents or perhaps one of them was quite short, and he inherited that. On the same token, perhaps his short stature was due to a recessive trait. But still, malnutrition seems to be the more compelling case so far.”
“I’m willing to bet he’s a vampire,” Leonhard mumbled.
“But with all due respect, this mystery forever remains unsolved.” Bruno closed the evidence folder. Simple things like biology and science may uncover the hidden truths behind a person, but one would never know if one was afraid to ask.