The coachman was a composed and professional man. His six-foot frame was as sturdy as an oak, and his weathered face was etched with the stories of countless journeys.
As he helped Shin settle into the carriage, he extended a hand. "George Applebee, at your service. I'll be your driver for this journey."
His demeanor was polite, yet Shin sensed a guardedness, a reluctance to reveal too much too quickly, a wariness that flickered in his deep-set eyes.
"A long road," Shin observed, more to himself than George.
George inclined his head slightly. "Indeed. And one that seems to grow longer with each passing year." There was a hint of something else in his voice, a trace of melancholy or perhaps regret.
Shin almost revealed his true name, a slip George acknowledged with a silent lift of his brow, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes about his attentiveness and perhaps a past filled with similar encounters.
"My apologies," Shin murmured, catching himself.
George's eyes, sharp and perceptive, flickered for a moment. "No need. It happens on long journeys. Though, I admit, it sounded...exotic."
Their journey showcased rolling meadows, where wildflowers painted the landscape in vibrant hues of crimson, gold, and sapphire, and distant farms, their stone walls like stitches on a patchwork quilt, each a testament to the hard-working people of the land.
The air was alive with the scent of fresh earth, a rich, fertile aroma that spoke of growth and renewal, mingling with the delicate fragrance of wildflowers that dotted the roadside, their delicate petals swaying in the gentle breeze.
As they rode, Shin, his gaze fixed on the intricate workings of the carriage, couldn't suppress his curiosity. "This carriage... and the metal steeds... it's quite a marvel. I've never seen anything quite like it."
George chuckled, a warm, resonant sound. "Aye, she's a beauty, isn't she? A marvel of engineering, they say. Though, to me, she's just Bess."
"Bess?" Shin raised an eyebrow.
"Aye," George nodded, a fond smile gracing his lips. "Every vehicle needs a name, don't you think? Gives her a bit of personality." He patted the polished metal of the carriage. "She's a reliable one, Bess is. Been with me through thick and thin."
"She handles well," Shin remarked, recalling the smooth, almost effortless way George had navigated the winding roads.
"She does," George agreed, his eyes gleaming with pride. "A bit temperamental at times, mind you. Needs a firm hand and a gentle touch, much like a spirited horse." He launched into a detailed explanation of the carriage's mechanics, his passion for the machine evident in every word. He spoke of gears and pistons, of the subtle interplay of energy and motion, his voice a low, steady hum that blended with the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels.
Shin listened intently, absorbing the information, his initial curiosity evolving into genuine fascination. He peppered George with questions, eager to learn more about the intricacies of the vehicle. George, in turn, seemed pleased by Shin's interest, his explanations becoming more elaborate and detailed.
At Shin's urging, George explained how to drive the carriage's metal steeds, patiently detailing the intricate controls and the subtle nuances of handling the powerful machine. After a bit more persuasion and a few words of caution, he briefly let Shin take control, a gesture of trust that hinted at a growing camaraderie between the two.
The wind whipped through Shin's hair as he guided the carriage, the power of the machine surging beneath his hands. He felt a thrill, a sense of exhilaration he hadn't expected.
"Not bad," George conceded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as Shin relinquished the controls. "You've got a knack for it."
"Thanks," Shin replied, a grin spreading across his face. "Though, I think I'll stick to admiring your skills for now."
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, the conversation shifted to their destination.
"So," Shin began, leaning back against the plush seat, "this family we're visiting...the Lichtensteins, was it? What can you tell me about them?"
George's expression shifted, the earlier warmth replaced by a shadow of unease. He hesitated for a moment as if choosing his words carefully. "The Lichtensteins are...an old family. Powerful, influential. But power, as you know, can corrupt."
"So I've heard," Shin replied, his tone neutral, but his eyes sharp. "Rumors, mostly. Whispers of cruelty, of...unnatural practices."
George sighed a heavy sound that seemed to carry the weight of unspoken secrets. "Rumors are often rooted in truth," he said quietly. "The Lichtensteins...they've become isolated over the years. They keep to themselves, deep within their estate. Outsiders are rarely welcome."
He paused, gazing out at the passing landscape, his face etched with a mixture of apprehension and resignation. Then, he continued, his voice low and steady.
"There's a tale they tell in the nearby villages. A story about the family's founder, a man named Baron Heinrich Lichtenstein. He was said to be obsessed with power, with extending his life beyond its natural limits. He delved into forbidden knowledge and made pacts with... things best left undisturbed. His heir runs the estate now."
He took a deep breath before continuing. "The villagers believe the family is cursed, their bloodline tainted by the family's dark dealings. They say the Lichtensteins possess a monstrous hunger, a thirst for power and control that can never be quenched. This hunger has driven them to commit unspeakable acts."
George fell silent for a moment, the only sound the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels on the winding road. The air grew heavy, thick with the weight of the unspoken horrors he had alluded to.
"People whisper of strange rituals, of sacrifices made in the dead of night. They say the Lichtensteins experimented on living beings, twisting flesh and bone, defying the natural order. There are rumors of dark magic, of pacts with unholy entities, of a lineage forever bound to shadows and blood."
Shin listened, his expression grim. He had heard such tales before, of course. But there was something in George's voice, a raw authenticity that made this story feel different.
"But these are just stories, right?" Shin asked, though he already knew the answer.
George shook his head slowly. "Perhaps. But stories often serve as warnings. And in the case of the Lichtensteins, I fear the truth may be even darker than the tales."
Ready for what awaited, a prickling unease settled in his mind, a bad omen whispered on the wind after hearing George's tale of disappearances and unexplained departures.
As the night deepened, they made camp. The fire crackled merrily, casting dancing shadows on the surrounding trees. George, weary from the long journey, settled down near the fire, his breathing soon becoming deep and even.
"I'll take the first watch," Shin offered, his gaze scanning the darkness beyond the firelight.
George nodded gratefully, his eyes already half-closed. "Much appreciated. Shout if you see anything out of the ordinary."
With George deep asleep, Shin settled beside the fire, the warmth a small comfort against the growing unease in his heart. He pulled out the job receipt, the parchment feeling strangely cold to the touch.
The illusory writing shimmered in the firelight, revealing the true purpose of his mission: assassinate the corrupt family. A task that weighed heavily on his conscience, forcing him to confront the moral complexities of his profession.
As Shin examined the receipt, his brow furrowed in concentration, he whispered the ancient syllables of the illusory writing. The words felt strange on his tongue, yet they resonated with a power that vibrated in the air around him.
Suddenly, the parchment flared with an ethereal glow, the flames leaping higher as if drawn to the arcane energy. A figure began to materialize before Shin, coalescing from the swirling light and shadows.
The figure was tall and imposing, clad in ornate armor that seemed to shift and shimmer like quicksilver. His face, stern and resolute, was that of a seasoned warrior, his eyes burning with an ancient wisdom and a hint of weariness.
Shin instinctively reached for his orb in his pocket, his senses on high alert. But the figure raised a hand, a gesture that was both commanding and reassuring.
"Fear not, hunter," the figure said, his voice deep and resonant, like the tolling of a great bell. "I am Guild Master Davis. Or rather, this is a recording, a magical construct left to convey a message in my absence. Time is of the essence."
Shin lowered his hand slightly, his eyes still narrowed with suspicion. "A recording?"
"Indeed," the figure continued, his gaze unwavering. "The receipt you hold is more than just a contract. It is a conduit, a temporary link, a means for this recording to reach you. You possess a rare gift, the ability to perceive the illusory script. A gift that marks you as one of the few who can truly understand the nature of the task that lies before you."
"The Lichtensteins," Shin said, his voice low. "The receipt says they are corrupt."
Davis's image nodded grimly. "Corrupt is...an understatement. They have delved into forbidden practices and twisted the very fabric of life to serve their own twisted desires. Their depravity knows no bounds, and their influence spreads like a poison, infecting everything it touches."
The recording stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You must accept this mission, hunter. You must witness their crimes firsthand. Only then will you understand the true horror of what they have become."
His image softened slightly, though the urgency in his voice remained. "When your task is complete, seek me out. I will be waiting. There is much we must discuss. The fate of many may depend on it."
As quickly as he had appeared, Davis's image began to fade, his form dissolving back into the swirling light and shadows. His final words echoed in Shin's mind, a solemn warning and a desperate plea.
"Seek me when this is done...we must speak..."
The light vanished, and the parchment in Shin's hand turned to ash, crumbling into nothingness. The fire crackled and popped, the silence that followed heavy with the weight of Davis's words.
Shin stared into the flames, his mind reeling from the encounter. He frowned, trying to make sense of what he had just witnessed.
If Guild Master Davis was telling the truth, then something was seriously wrong. With renewed determination, he resolved to uncover the full extent of this family's corruption and find out exactly what was going on.