“That will be three golden and two silver outis coins.”

“Huh?!” Roger’s jaw dropped to the pavement.

“What’s wrong,” Owen asked as he grabbed the coins from his bag.

“Since when was it ever more than two golden outis coins to get to Walisburg?”

“Prices are jacked because of the festival. It’s bound to be more expensive," Owen said.

"Jacked? This is a robbery!"

Roger didn’t look happy. I didn’t know why since he wasn’t paying. We were filthy rich anyway, so why did it even matter?

"Apologizes," the carriage man said with his hand over his heart. "I have no control over the price. All the other carriages are the same."

Four other carriages were stationed, waiting for people like us to hop on. Almost everyone who planned on going to the event was already there. That would explain the lack of customers.

"No, I should apologize for my friend's rudeness," Owen said, returning the gesture. “Would you be so kind as to tell us which city entrance we’ll be at?”

It's an odd question, but it did intrigue me.

“O’, which city entrance, eh? Normally, I would enter through the main gates, but because of the ample traffic at the security gates, I’d aim for the western entrance. It’ll be a bit of a walk before making it to the city’s heart.”

The bald carriage man leaned against his brown horse. Its coat reminded me of Rexy's, a horse back at the Bariac Cult.

“Will it take us longer to get there,” Tim asked.

“Ehhhh, maybe an extra twenty minutes. I will have to go up one of those hills near the city. But I’m sure it’ll be better than sitting in traffic for an hour.”

His words struck my head with force.

The hills? It couldn’t be.

I quickly stepped in. “Do not take us through the hills.”

“Oh, and why is that,” asked the man, who tipped his circular hat.

“Let’s just avoid it.”

He grinned as though he had gained something valuable. “Perhaps you are anxious about what lies on the hill? Could you tell me about the place?”

My heart thudded louder than usual. Was he toying with me? Did he see through me? Was he talking about what I think he was?

I had to make sure. I couldn’t let myself sleep if I didn’t question him.

“The House with Answers.”

“So you are familiar with it. I hate to tell you, but it’s just a story some nutjobs made years back. People speak about it, but no one has ever lived to pass the tale. Do you, perhaps, believe in this house?”

No one has lived to tell their stories about the house. That must be because of the SCAR agent that brutally murdered those who attempted to enter.

“Hey Jill, what is the House with Answers?”

I turned to Tim. I’d never spoken about it, so I didn’t know if they knew.

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“Do you wish for me to tell them?” Asked the carriage man.

I refused and told them myself.

“On a hill near Walisburg lies the House with Answers. It’s a place where one would go to find any answer that the world holds. The only issue was that the house was said to be cursed. Those who pushed their luck, trying to find answers, were never to be seen again. It was like they vanished along with the puddles after a sunny day. Some think the curse is just a fantasy. Others think otherwise. I do not want to take any chances. That was why I wish to avoid the hills and to avoid the house.”

There was also another reason—one they didn’t need to know.

“Let’s avoid that place,” Tim’s friend stated while looking into the distance. He unusually spoke when least expected.

“Do you believe that it's cursed?” I questioned.

He put his finger to his chin. He was about to speak but was interrupted by Tim before he had a chance.

“Ugh, who cares! Can we just get going?”

Wasn’t he the one who asked?!

After we all agreed to go through the main entrance, we were one step closer to going to the musical city.

***

“We’re almost there! I can see the Royal Palace from here!” Tim exclaimed.

“You moron! Stop shaking the carriage!”

“Hey Roger, I’m surprised you haven’t broken the carriage yet.”

“If that was a sorry attempt for a fat–joke, it isn’t going to work. And I’m more muscle than fat.”

“No, you’re just fat.”

Owen stepped in, concerned for his well–being. “Am I considered fat? It’s a bit flabby around my stomach.”

“You’re more skinny–fat. It will be difficult for you to get a woman with that physique.”

“No, it’s not. Right, Jill?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

I ignored the rest of their conversation and peered my head up and above the two horses. It was an open wagon so that I could see everything.

There they were—the miniature walls for security purposes. They almost looked like the walls that sheltered Ionia, but much smaller.

Flames ignited the city's outskirts, casting light for the oncoming travelers. We were in line at the main entrance, which stretched longer than I thought it would.

The carriage–man turned around. “We’ll be here for a bit.”

I gave the nod and accepted fate. There was nothing I could do but ponder.

After the machine left, the boys acted like nothing had happened. It ticked me off. They didn’t have a single care in the world. How often did one see a fly machine? Close to none. And they acted like it was no big deal.

I asked Tim’s friend, who sat directly across from me.

“How do you know so much about flying machines?”

“I’ve seen it a few times, so I have a general idea of how they operate.” His response wasn’t what I hoped to get.

Looking back at it, I wished I had interrogated him further. Something about him just seemed off. His perfect reunion with Tim, how he knew a good amount of information about Walisburg, and now this. I couldn’t put it into words, but something was strange.

Maybe I was overthinking it. Tim poured his trust into his friend. For Tim’s sake, I wouldn’t speculate about him any further. The problem could be me.

But even so, I had to ask.

"Back at the carriage station, you were going to say something before Tim interrupted. Do you remember what?"

He turned towards me with a scrunched face. "I don't recall."

I leaned forward. "Do you believe that the House with Answers is cursed?"

"Not cursed... just misunderstood."

My eyes narrowed. "Meaning?" There was a sense of urgency behind my voice.

That place wasn't "misunderstood." Being misunderstood is when people have the wrong idea of someone or something. There was no wrong idea about this place. Two people died because of me at that place. A brutal SCAR agent awaits, blocking me from my dream. How is that being "misunderstood?"

He smiled and looked at the scenery to his right. "This entire world is misunderstood..."

I looked in the direction he faced. The lush slopes soared up, attempting to reach the clouds. I gazed at the sky that the slopes were desperately trying to reach. Pink sparkles were scattered around, intermixed with crimson and orange colors. They had the look of a soft rose petal.