Part 1
Elora's heart still pounded from the ambush as she rose unsteadily to her feet, aided by Natalia. All around them, the lane lay littered with bullet casings and the half-conscious men who had tried to waylay them. The battered motorcar hissed, its damaged mana engine leaking faint vapors into the early evening chill. Elora's gown—fine lilac silk from Avalondia—was now marred by dusty footprints and small tears, a far cry from the pristine elegance expected of a lady of her station.
Still, she compelled herself to stand tall. A Nernwick does not tremble, she reminded herself, inhaling to recenter. Only then did she notice the slim hand clasping hers: Natalia's, warm and unwavering.
"Are… are you hurt?" Natalia asked. Despite the clash, her voice was gentle with concern, golden hair stirring around her face like a soft halo. The orchard's final rays of sun lit the dust motes in the air, giving them an ethereal shimmer.
Elora blinked, momentarily taken aback. Natalia's lean form and athletic grace suggested a certain unrefined yet undeniably compelling "wild" beauty. A commoner, Elora thought, slightly unnerved. Few peasants could outperform her personal bodyguards. Visions of Natalia's lightning-fast takedowns replayed in her mind. The only other woman I've seen fight with such raw prowess was too pricey even for Grandfather. Part of her admired Natalia's skill; the rest of her felt threatened.
"I-I'm all right," Elora said, harnessing her practiced poise as she gently pulled her hand away. Her free hand smoothed the dusty folds of her gown. "Thank you… Miss." She paused pointedly, awaiting a surname—an unspoken courtesy in aristocratic Yorgoria. When Natalia offered none, Elora felt a flicker of relief. So she really is a nobody…
Natalia's face brightened, radiant as the orchard sun. "That's good. Master would've been heartbroken if something happened to you." Her voice brimmed with empathy, almost too intense for a mere servant.
Elora's brow twitched at the word "Master." It confirmed her suspicion that Natalia was only a servant, yet her tone about Philip seemed overly familiar. A swirl of pity mixed with annoyance. She recalled how devastated Philip had been by Lady Rosetta's canceled engagement—he might have sought "company" from any attractive woman, especially in his vulnerable state. Elora's gaze flicked over Natalia's toned silhouette. Indeed, it fits the pattern of a man nursing old wounds. The thought made Elora's cheeks heat with impropriety but also stoked her urge to claim her rightful place. To her, a Redwood mistress could come from any background, but a Redwood wife must be an aristocrat—like her. Any arrangement with this striking commoner, however useful she might be, was best kept peripheral.
Elora reined in her swirling emotions behind a courteous smile. "Yes, dear Miss… Natalia, was it? I'm relieved you aided him. But perhaps we should… clarify certain boundaries." An aristocrat ought to be delicate, but she let a note of steel underscore her words.
Natalia tilted her head, evidently puzzled. "Boundaries?"
Elora inhaled, invoking the refined authority instilled in her since childhood. A lady of Yorgoria upholds the hierarchy. "Philip and I share a longstanding connection," she said with measured composure. "A bond that, in time and by the proper custom"—she let her voice resonate across the orchard—"will lead to a marital union."
Natalia's eyes went wide with genuine curiosity; she clasped her hands together. "Me too! I also have a close bond with Master Philip. It's… special, so no laws really matter. I think you and Master Philip will make a wonderful family—if all goes well, you can trust me to guard him, always."
Natalia's bubbly sincerity stung Elora in a way she struggled to put into words. Natalia was effectively acknowledging Elora as Philip's future wife, yet her own role sounded permanent. Indignation flickered under Elora's poised exterior.
She spoke each word firmly, as if instructing a naive pupil. "We aristocrats don't take these matters lightly. Only one formal partner is recognized at a time." Her eyes narrowed, letting Natalia glimpse the steel behind her ladylike facade. "It's true that a nobleman might keep… companions, if he wishes. If that's your arrangement," she added with a smooth shrug, "I won't challenge it. I only expect you to know your place."
Natalia blinked, her gaze serene—almost unreadable. "Of course. My place is to watch over Master Philip and anyone important to him—like his future wife."
Elora felt her jaw tighten in astonishment. S-so straightforward! She cleared her throat to hide any lapse in composure. "W-well, precisely. I'm open-minded, but Yorgorian society demands clear lines."
A quiet breath of relief escaped Natalia, and her shoulders loosened. "I see. Then we have no conflict. I'll stay with Master Philip for as long as he needs me. All I want is for him to be happy."
Elora's calm quavered under a fresh wave of vexation. No conflict? The nerve! How dare she trivialize the arrangement… She forced a tinkling laugh, tinged with sarcasm. "Indeed. But let's be realistic, dear," she continued in that gently patronizing tone so typical of Yorgoria's elites. "Men's… spur-of-the-moment passions can fade. A lady's youthful charm is fleeting—especially one of, let's say, simple origin—while status, wealth, and lineage are enduring." She stepped closer, letting her lavish lavender-lace perfume from Avalondia waft forward, silently proclaiming her pedigree. "You may find thriving in our world… challenging."
For a moment, Natalia's brow furrowed; evidently, the barbs weren't entirely lost on her. "Modest beginnings?" she echoed. "Well, my origin isn't so simple—honestly, I barely understand it myself… But I'll do what I can to fit Master Philip's world and serve him."
Elora's pride flared. Is she really so naive, or so bold, as to brush me off? "Serve him how?" Elora asked coldly. "That's quite a claim. If I knew no better, I'd call you his paramour."
Natalia merely nodded, as though absorbing a routine lesson. "If Master Philip's content, I can be anything." Her unwavering earnestness disquieted Elora more than if Natalia had snapped back.
Elora almost choked. So confident in her youthful allure and sincerity? Youth fades, but fortune and influence prevail. She steadied herself, voice taut. "And if he tells you to leave Redwood Estate tomorrow? You'd go quietly, I assume?" Her question sliced the orchard's hush like a honed blade.
For several beats, Natalia seemed thoughtful. A gentle, almost wistful softness entered her expression. "Given how our bond works, I'm not sure I could, but… if he truly wanted me gone…" She trailed off, then murmured, "Though I can't imagine him ever not needing me."
A flush of anger heated Elora's cheeks. How dare she imply he'd keep needing her even after marrying me? She swallowed, hiding her rage behind aristocratic calm. "We shall see," she said, her tone edged. "A man might enjoy a fleeting fancy, but in our society, real bonds hinge on family name, property, and lineage."
Natalia offered a serene smile, seemingly unperturbed. "Good to know."
Elora's eyelid twitched. Had Natalia been noble, Elora would brand her a calculating rival. Instead, Natalia seemed simultaneously naive and cunning—like a lamb with a wolf's reflexes, or a wolf disguised as a lamb. Elora fought to keep her composure.
Before the friction mounted further, footsteps crunched on the gravel lane. Both women turned to see Lydia approaching, eyes darting warily between them. "Ladies," she said softly, "are… we all right?" Beneath her calm presence lurked the concern that if she didn't intervene, Natalia might accidentally her origin.
Elora wore her best aristocratic smile, all courtesy incarnate. "Why shouldn't we be? We're merely chatting." She placed a subtle emphasis on chatting, glancing at Natalia.
Natalia nodded brightly. "Yes! Lady Elora was kind enough to explain how I'll fit into her future marriage with Philip."
Elora nearly lost her composure. A flush spread over her cheeks. Meanwhile, Philip ambled into earshot, catching only Natalia's last words. "I… see," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, face reddening. "That's… good, I guess?" He clearly hadn't expected aristocratic courtship to leap forward so fast; only hours had passed since he first encountered Elora. It really redefined what speed dating was for Philip.
A distant crow cawed, shattering the uneasy quiet. Sensing an opportunity, Lydia steered the topic toward lighter matters such as dinner plans. Nearby, Albert and Mia directed Redwood guards to gather the wounded attackers, while Albert rummaged for a working mirror phone to notify the local police. To separate Natalia from Elora, Lydia proposed taking Natalia ahead to the estate under the pretense of preparing for Elora's welcome. She flashed Elora a quick wink implying this would grant her some private time with Philip. Both Elora and Philip agreed, relief on his face and triumphant delight on hers.
Elora cleared her throat with dignified grace, flicking orchard dust off her gown in a dismissive motion as Lydia led Natalia away. She offered Natalia a final, civil smile that carried both politeness and a veiled challenge. We'll settle this, her expression seemed to say.
Part 2
Mia quietly shut the heavy library door behind her, careful not to jostle the stack of papers under her arm. The estate's private library—built of dark walnut shelves and lined with gilt-edged volumes—normally felt cozy under the soft glow of mana-lamps. Yet tonight, a low tension hung in the air, as though the ancient tomes and carefully dusted ledgers sensed that events on these grounds were anything but normal.
Albert stood near an ornate reading table, already bent over a large chart dotted with scribbled notes. He lifted his head when Mia entered, his eyes reflecting both curiosity and the fatigue of the day's ordeal. Outside the door of the library, two estate guards lingered, ensuring no one would disturb them. After everything that had transpired, caution had become second nature.
Mia set down her papers next to Albert's chart. "All secure?" she asked, voice low enough not to carry beyond the tall shelves.
Albert nodded. "Yes. Lydia made sure that Lady Elora gets her private feast with Master Philip without disturbance." A faint smile played on his lips. "It seems everyone wants to celebrate surviving an assassination attempt by indulging in roast pheasant and brandied pears."
Mia let out a tight chuckle. "Well, I suppose they deserve some levity. Meanwhile, we get to rummage through blood-stained evidence." She tapped a finger on a tattered dossier they had compiled from the latest attack. "At least we know the suspects have been handed over to the police. That was quite the stress."
Albert's brow furrowed. "Yeah." He recalled the moment they woke—each assassin bit down on something hidden in their teeth. Poison, presumably. By the time the police arrived, half of them were either convulsing or lost to unconsciousness. A miserable business. The investigators questioned all present at length, especially the estate servants and guards. Albert sighed and shook his head gravely. "Good thing we gathered some evidence before the police."
"Just hope this evidence will help with figuring out who wants Master Philip's head on a silver platter," Mia agreed. Her amber eyes flicked to a small scatter of items on the table: a bullet casing, a scrap of cloth from an attacker's coat, a half-burned letter. "We've gleaned next to nothing from the men themselves."
Albert leafed through the scraps of notes. "All using false names, of course. The one calling himself 'Jacob Markham' had a forged Yorgorian identity card so poorly done it's almost comedic—like he wanted to be caught. Another used an Avalondian cavalry rank on his forged documents, but the rank and uniform were out of date by at least a decade." He made a frustrated gesture. "Professionals who didn't mind leaving behind contradictory clues. Or perhaps they wanted us to chase half a dozen false leads."
Mia grimaced. "And they were good. Real assassins, not mere street toughs. That sedation trap only half-worked; if Natalia and you hadn't intervened, I'm not sure I'd be standing here, sorting evidence. They definitely used high-grade weaponry from multiple sources. Professionally trained retainer assassins or merely assassins for hire?"
"Richly funded, that much is clear," Albert murmured, pressing a fingertip to the bullet casing. It gleamed faintly under the lamp, etched with a stylized crest neither recognized. "And well-equipped. None of this petty contraband from black markets in Yortinto. This is top-tier, specialized gear."
Mia's eyebrows rose. "Then that means a sponsor—someone with money, influence, or both. So who? Prince Einhard? That's a stretch." She took a seat, crossing her legs in an unusually ladylike gesture. Typically, Mia carried herself with the no-nonsense air of an ex-soldier. But the evening's tension had her leaning more on the refined manners she'd picked up as a bodyguard to upper-class elites. "Or admirers of the Empress, perhaps?"
Albert's expression soured. "I hate to suspect Prince Einhard and Lady Rosetta—she and Master Philip parted ways on not-terrible terms, at least legally. But let's not disregard the possibility. She was once intimately tied to Redwood Estate finances. If anyone would know how to sabotage Philip…" He gave a halfhearted shrug. "Though why would she risk her reputation like this? She's almost intentionally stayed out of the media ever since the canceled engagement."
Mia tapped a pen on the table. "Right. No major hints that Rosetta harbors lethal grudges. The rumor mill says her new circle is more about philanthropic pursuits these days. Unless she's become an expert at feigning innocence."
Albert frowned, turning that angle over in his mind. "It's possible. But she really has no real motivation for killing Philip. After all, she canceled the engagement. Another possibility might be some crazy fan of the Empress. Master Philip did, by some people's perception, desecrate her—though inadvertently—by that prolonged… hand-kissing fiasco. A wealthy, fanatical devotee of the Empress might get upset. These sorts of twisted admirers exist, no matter how civilized we claim to be."
Mia made a face. "I recall some fan clubs in Yortinto that built shrines to the Empress and were asked to stop by the Empress herself through a really sweet yet firm formal letter. But would they hire professional assassins? That's a big leap. And the Empress herself is famously lenient—killing a man over a social gaffe isn't her style. Plus… given her power… she wouldn't even need assassins if she wanted Philip dead. So maybe a renegade worshipper with deep pockets or some group within the imperial hierarchy." She exhaled. "Still, something about that doesn't click. If it was purely related to the Empress-worship fiasco, they'd probably want to make an example of Philip through some untraceable yet blatant threat. Instead, we got contradictory gear, false IDs… it feels more like they're hiding their true purpose."
Albert inclined his head. "Yeah, given how… inadvertently attractive Master Philip was, there's a web of old emotional entanglements. Any of those could be behind this." He fiddled with a small envelope until he tugged out a half-crumpled slip of parchment discovered in one assassin's coat pocket. "And then there's this," Albert said grimly.
Mia scooted closer, her curiosity piqued. The slip bore a single paragraph of text in spidery script. She read it aloud softly, eyes narrowing:
"One day, the Great Creator looked upon His creation and was repulsed by the despicable ways humanity harmed one another and all living things. Thus, it had been decreed that humankind shall one day be replaced by their own creation."
A chilly hush descended. Mia's voice trailed off, gooseflesh creeping across her arms. She exchanged a sharp glance with Albert. "This is a verse from an ancient heretical text." She swallowed, recognizing the archaic phrasing. "Before the Holy Book was codified centuries ago, fringe groups wrote all manner of apocalyptic 'prophecies.' That line is from the rumored Book of Narys, if I'm not mistaken—a direct contradiction to mainstream church teachings."
Albert's eyes widened with impressed surprise. "You're certain?"
Mia mustered a wry grin. "Bodyguarding the biggest nerd… I mean greatest scholar… in the Empire forces a bit of passive knowledge acquisition. I had to listen to Lady Elora rant passionately about all manner of topics: unnatural science, antediluvian history, even the art of female seduction and theological theses. Don't let the pistol fool you—I'm about as learned as the average undergrad."
Albert gave a thoughtful nod, the slip of paper trembling between his fingers. "So a heretical prophecy about humanity destroying itself, overshadowed by its own creation. The text implies that the Creator allowed humankind to fade—or was it punishment?"
Mia pursed her lips, recalling half-forgotten lore. "The Book of Narys depicts humans as inherently violent, bent on dominating all creation and inflicting terrible suffering on one another and all living creatures through unimaginable cruelties, just to wring value out of each other and the environment. Its central teaching says the Creator is linked to every part of His creation, experiencing all their experiences—like how one feels sensations through their own hands. Once the cumulative suffering of creation outweighs its collective joy, the Creator feels it all and decides to end that suffering, for Himself and for them. But because the content is too heretical, it was shunned by reputable scholars, especially in aristocratic circles throughout the civilized world."
Then Albert asked curiously, "Hmm, that does offer insight into the assassins' worldview. But it still doesn't indicate their exact motive for the attempt on Philip."
Mia gave a mysterious smile. "Oh, on the contrary, it might. Because, though the Book of Narys is shunned by the elites publicly, it's still influential. Just not in the way you might expect."
His curiosity sparked, Albert prompted, "What do you mean?"
Mia continued in a faintly conspiratorial murmur, "It inspired a group of high-placed individuals who aim to prevent the prophecy from ever coming true, even if they don't literally believe it themselves. In other words, they're committed to ensuring humanity is never replaced, destroyed, or subjugated by its own creations. They carry this quotation as a symbolic reminder of their mission."
Albert was stunned. "Are you certain? That sounds too outlandish."
"How do you think they enforced that global agreement limiting Realm Guardians?" Mia said, calm and deliberate. "It was members of that group working behind the scenes. Why else is summoning living creatures banned in the Empire? Do you honestly believe any summoned entity drawing on a single mage's private mana reservoir can even stand a chance against the Empress, who draws on an entire empire's mana well? It's not because they fear being toppled by some mage's familiar. It's because they fear widespread use of summoned living creatures that will one day … possibly replace their masters."
She paused between questions, giving Albert time to process her logic. "In other words, someone in that group—or maybe the group as a whole—views Philip as a threat for some reason…" Mia's gaze suddenly flicked to Albert.
She studied Albert's face. "You know him best. Has Master Philip done anything that might raise eyebrows among those hawkish elites?"