“Someone wants to kill us.”
The girl rubbed a bit of rust that had risen up the carriage window between her fingers. A soft touch was enough for the rust to turn into blood, evaporate, and disappear.
The woman sitting across from her knocked on the carriage window and said to the coachman: “Sir, please stop the carriage.”
“What is it, miss? We are still far from Solvellon.” Though confused, the coachman obeyed, folding his eight mechanical legs and lowering the vehicle. He wouldn’t dare disrespect such distinguished clients.
The woman opened the door and stepped out with a black chest almost as tall as herself. She then extended a hand to help the girl down.
Outside, the girl looked at the green moon in the center of the sky.
She calculated that it was already noon.
The road was deserted, and the chance of encountering another spider-carriage was practically zero.
Apparently, they would need to find a place to spend the night, as it would be impossible to reach Solvellon before dark.
The carriage they were traveling in was like a vehicle with eight spider legs.
There were no horses pulling it, but a coachman instead.
Steam-powered mechanisms replaced the animals, but replacing people required something even more precious.
The girl thought about this while watching the woman beside her and smiling.
That "something," she had.
The coachman saw his passenger exit the car and approach him.
The girl made a graceful bow, with natural and elegant movements.
Not understanding what was happening, he forgot to return the greeting.
Before he could react, he heard the girl say: “Mr. Senda, my name is Charlotte von Eiberg, heir of Count Armand and a knight of House Eiberg. This is my companion, Caroline.”
The girl who introduced herself as Charlotte wore a black dress.
She was small and delicate, looking about 16 or 17 years old.
Her golden hair had a pinkish tint at the tips, a detail that revealed her noble origins.
She seemed like a lady straight out of a fairy tale, with movements full of elegance.
More surprising than her heir title was the fact that she remembered the name of a coachman.
Nobles were usually distant figures who didn’t even introduce themselves personally.
Beside her, Caroline wore a white shirt, a dark brown overcoat, and stood nearly two meters tall.
Her short white hair barely covered her ears.
She seemed at least ten years older than her young lady.
Her posture resembled more that of a detective than a maid.
Even in the dim light of the moon, Senda noticed similarities in their features.
He suspected there might be a blood relation between them.
After all, there were rumors that certain nobles used illegitimate children as guardians for their heirs.
Charlotte asked: “Sir, have you come into contact with any suspicious persons recently?”
“Suspicious persons… Well, the day before yesterday I transported some members of the Rats gang…” Senda stammered, wondering if those men had done something in the carriage.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Maybe he shouldn’t have accepted their money.
“And have you, by any chance, studied or come into contact with illegal magic? Something like red alchemy, witchcraft pacts, or false worship rituals?”
The accusation of practicing illegal witchcraft was one of the most feared.
For the convicted, the gentlest fate was the burning stake.
“Miss…”
“Do you admit to being a sorcerer?”
“That’s enough!” Rage overtook Senda.
He was just a humble coachman, but that didn’t mean he would accept baseless accusations, not even from a noblewoman.
“Do you think you can incriminate me just because you're nobles? I won’t accept this insult! I no longer want your money. Go on alone.” His eight mechanical legs spread open, preparing to leave the passengers on the road.
“Wait a moment, sir. I only have one more question.” Charlotte placed her hand on her chest, looking at Senda with compassion.
“Does your heart still beat?”
Senda finally realized.
He placed his hand on his chest, where his heart should be.
He felt magic controlling gears that echoed like thunder.
He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, red steam came out of his lips.
His iron ribs projected like insect limbs, tearing through his flesh.
Behind him, the carriage began to transform, manipulated by veins that covered it and formed a metal armor around it.
Charlotte took a step back and snapped her fingers.
A magical glow emanated from her hands.
The metal that had once seemed indestructible lost its shine, becoming fragile.
It was the only allowed form of magic: white alchemy.
Caroline, who had been silent until then, had placed the black chest on the ground.
When Charlotte stepped back, Caroline moved forward.
Silver light appeared from her fingers.
With one movement, the light transformed into threads.
With another, the threads became a net.
The net enveloped the coachman and the carriage.
There was no sound, no movement.
The fusion process between iron and blood ceased.
Under the green moonlight, they looked like a sculpture.
The wind blew through the leaves, producing a soft rustling sound.
The "sculpture" lost a piece, then collapsed completely.
The silver blade Caroline had shot from her fingers melted into liquid and returned to her body.
Caroline was not human.
She was a creation of white alchemy, a feat as magnificent as the steam machine: a doll.
In front of the mixture of blood and iron, Charlotte extended her hand, clenched her fist, and recited a sacred prayer according to the divine texts.
White flames emerged from the metal, purifying the filth.
Countless dust particles flew from the flames, gathering in Charlotte’s closed hand.
The flames went out.
Charlotte opened her hand and gently blew, scattering the dust into the air.
The glow reflected the light of the moon and stars, traveling in the direction from where they came.
“May the queen protect your soul. May the queen grant you eternal joy,” said Charlotte, watching the dust disappear.
Caroline grabbed a black chest and approached, stopping behind Charlotte.
Charlotte sensed her doll’s presence and asked: “If I had discovered sooner, would he still be alive?”
It wasn’t the first time someone had died before her, but she never grew used to it.
“When he became material for red alchemy, he was already dead,” Caroline replied.
“Who wants to kill us? Our movements should have been well hidden.”
“Sorry, miss, I don’t know. The travel plan was devised by the count, and less than ten people should know about it.”
“Ten people…” A deduction? Charlotte smiled confidently.
She was the daughter of the famous writer of detective novels, Charlotte Christie. Simple reasoning like that was no challenge for her.
All she had to do was eliminate all the wrong options, and what remained would be the truth.
It couldn’t be her grandfather, nor Ander, nor Eberlin.
In that case...
“Caroline, I’ve already deduced. Who revealed our location was…”
“It was you yourself, my lady.” Caroline shattered Charlotte’s illusions without hesitation.
“Huh?” Charlotte was stunned.
The suspect is the detective herself? No novel would ever be written this way! She had never read anything so strange!
“Miss, every time you introduce yourself, you say you are the heir of Count Armand. Now the entire city of Iris knows your identity.”
Charlotte blushed and retorted: “Revealing... I am a knight! A knight! Knights don’t hide their identities! They must raise their chests and proudly declare their lineage, conquering victories and glory for their family and the queen!”
Inspired by knight novels, she puffed out her little chest with an expression that said: This is how things should be.
“Miss, should I remind you that the title of Family Knight is just your position. The correct term is ‘lady’ or ‘lady knight.’ Until you join a knightly order, you shouldn’t call yourself a knight.” Caroline knew that with someone capable of using red alchemy to attack them, her identity would be discovered sooner or later.
But certain thoughts of her lady needed correction.
In fact, the secrecy measures for this trip weren’t very good.
The family’s enemies, three-hundred-year-old rivalries, were buried in the ruins of Kehaide.
Count Armand had no other heirs.
Whoever it was, there was no reason to kill her lady.
“What is clear is that your current situation is not safe. The best solution is to return to Iris, investigate the real culprit, and when you are safe, then go to Solvellon…”
“No!” Charlotte interrupted Caroline, speaking firmly: “We are going to Solvellon. My parents have been waiting for me for five years. I can’t make them wait any longer.”
“I must bring their bones back. I need to know who was responsible for their death.”
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image [https://i.imgur.com/wV9ni07.jpeg]