Rain pattered against the roof of the carriage as it wound its way through the forest. Thick mist drifted between the pines, swallowing the road beyond the reach of the lantern that hung beside the coachman's box.
The wavering light cast long shadows among the trees while the steady clatter of hooves and wheels echoed through the darkness.
Aiya, this ride is taking a toll.
"Tsk." Whether from the chill in the air or the foreboding atmosphere, it is still the same.
The carriage rattled onward through the rain.
A part of Veridian's hair pops out. She immediately hides it, as well as lowering the cape of his head to cover her face with her cloak.
She sat motionless beneath the blanket, though her eyes rarely left the narrow window. Beyond the glass, the forest stretched endlessly into the darkness. Branches twisted together overhead, and the deeper the carriage ventured, the fewer signs remained that civilization had ever existed.
It was beyond boring.
"Hah. Ugh!"
Scratch that, she should have never said that, because the horses neigh violently, the scream of the coachman, at the same time, something struck the carriage.
The entire coach lurched violently.
As if she was buffed with adrenaline rush, she seized the edge of the seat to steady himself.
"Assassin!" The coachman shouted. The cry was followed by the crack of a whip and the frantic pounding of hooves.
"Hold fast!"
Before she could rise, the carriage door burst inward.
A gust of freezing wind swept through the cabin, extinguishing the lamp.
Darkness swallowed everything.
For a heartbeat of rain.
Then came steel.
Instinct moved faster than thought.
Her hand slipped beneath her cloak, fingertips brushing the silver locket pressed against her chest. With subtle pressure, they found the hidden catch.
A sharp click fractured the silence.
The ornament split open, metal unfolding to reveal a slender blade gleaming in the dark.
The strike followed instantly, swiftly, and mercilessly.
A flash of steel cut through from the outside. She twisted aside, still maintaining his hood, and just as the assassin's dagger stuck there, he had been.
"You are destined to die here."
The assassin uttered coldly. Very certain.
She let out a short laugh.
"Is that so?"
Another strike.
Another miss.
The carriage rocked beneath them as blades met with a sharp ring of steel.
The assassin pressed forward relentlessly. He was skilled, perhaps even elite. Each attack sought a vital point, leaving no wasted movement.
Yet she yielded ground only when necessary.
Rain blew through the open doorway. Water slicked the floorboards. The coach pitched and swayed over the uneven road while steel flashed again and again within the cramped confines of the cabin.
A blade tore through her hood, and a lush of viridian hair spilled into view.
The assassin froze. Not because of the hair, as he expected, but by the face.
Only for an instant.
But an instant was enough.
"…You."
Disbelief was evident in the assassin's voice. "You're Kestrel."
"Kestrel?"
That voice was not a woman's tone.
"Ah, yes, that is my alias." Her, no, his expression shifted as he raised his head slightly. The half-torn hood shadowed the bridge of his nose and eyes, but a glimpse of verdant hair slipped free, framing the lower half of his face. From his nose down to his chin was all that remained visible beneath the concealment.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"It's been a long time since I've heard that name."
With practiced ease, he swept back the strands of viridian hair, tucking the expensive wig into an inner pocket of his cloak. When he lifted his face, the hood still veiled his brow, but from beneath its shadow his eyes glowed, deep brown, smoldering faintly like embers. Dark hair, and was tied into a neat bun, his build was leaner than the broad-shouldered men of the northern lands.
Veralis, put the veridian hair carefully inside his cloak,
The assassin's eyes grew even more catlike as his stans grew alert and took a step back.
"Those people must order you, and it seems they are aware of the princess."
Only a few know him; most of the time, he is handpicked, yet this man instantly recognizes him.
How lovely.
Then, "What shall I do with you now? Veralis asked lightly."
"Besides, you know what happens if you fail, don't you?"
The assassin tightened his grip. Fear flickered across his face.
Then it vanished.
He lunged.
Their blades collided. This time, neither held back. Steel rang as they clashed together, but Veralis moved with unnerving precision. Every feint concealed another trap.
The assassin's breathing became increasingly difficult.
Veralis remained steady.
Yes, this is what he needed.
The assassin drove forward in a final, desperate thrust aimed straight at Veralis' heart.
A simple notion.
"Your mistake."
As soon as Veralis uttered those words, his blade slipped between the man's ribs, a wet, muffled crack as steel tore through flesh and bone. The sound was sharp yet subdued.
For a heartbeat, the man remained standing, breath caught in his throat, eyes wide with disbelief. Then his knees buckled, the weight of his body folding inward as the ember of life flickered and became gradually duller.
Then blood spilled from his lips.
"You…why…"
Veralis watched silently as the man collapsed onto the floor of the carriage.
Rain drummed against the floor.
"What do you think?"
Veralis asked back.
A dull thud marked the fall, drowned in the splash of puddles beneath him.
"Well, how could someone answer when the remaining evil light in their eyes dies?
"Such a shame."
Veralis wiped his blade clean.
When he stepped outside, he found the coachman slumped over the box seat, long since dead. The rain washed crimson streaks from the man's coat and carried him into the mud below.
For a while, Veralis stood there.
The forest stretched in every direction.
Dark.
Silent.
Seeing the coachman dead, he took the reins.
"Well then, let the forest of Adiand keep their dead."
Soon, those beasts would come out.
Whoever finds the bodies, he doesn't mind at all.
***
Ostenian Duchy
Riverside Estate
The furnace beneath the Riverside Estate continued to roar even after dusk.
From atop the hillside overlooking the smelting chambers, the orange glow of molten iron painted the night in dull crimson. Smoke climbed endlessly into the dark sky while laborers dragged carts of coal and ore below like restless ants.
Far from the overseers and guards, several servants had gathered near a rocky slope hidden behind tall grass.
Their work had only ended an hour ago.
Soot clung to their clothes. Their hands were blistered from carrying furnace molds and oil barrels throughout the day. One servant groaned as he collapsed onto the ground.
"My arms are dead."
"You say that every week."
"Because every week feels worse."
Laughter spread through the group.
Another servant pulled a small pouch from his sleeve before carefully loosening the knot.
The others immediately leaned closer.
"No way…where did you get that?"
"Old Bren from the lower kitchens. Said the refinery workers traded it for salt."
"Nan herb?"
The servant grinned proudly.
"The good kind, too."
A younger boy beside him whistled.
"You're jesting. The nobles have been buying all of it lately."
"Exactly why this cost me nearly all of my pay!"
"Idiot."
Despite the insults, all of them looked eager.
The servant poured a pinch of gray-green powder onto a folded scrap of paper, then mixed it with crushed sugar crystals.
The sweet scent quickly spread into the cold air.
"Hahh…"
One of them exhaled slowly after taking a breath from the rolled herb.
"Told you. Good thing."
Another laughed quietly, shoulders finally relaxing after the exhausting work.
"For once, I can't feel my back."
"You should thank the duke for overworking you, then."
"Oh, yes. His Grace is truly generous."
More laughter followed.
Beside them sat a small iron braizer used for heating kettles and pipes. The weak flame inside flickered violently against the wind.
One servant clicked his tongue.
"The fire's dying."
"Add more oil."
"The cheap one or the furnace one?"
"The cheap one barely burns."
A narrow barrel was dragged closer.
Dark liquid sloshed within it.
Hakkan oil.
The smelting houses used it regularly to maintain high furnace temperatures during iron refinement. It burned hotter than coal and lasted longer, though the lower-grade residue was often discarded after refinement.
The servants had long since learned to steal leftover portions for personal use.
Heating fires.
Cooking pots.
Lamp oil.
Anything to survive the cold nights.
One servant carefully poured some into the braizer.
Fwoosh.
The flame suddenly rose brighter.
"There we go."
"Told you, it works better."
"Careful," another muttered while waving smoke away from his face. "That smells worse every pot."
"That's because this came from the refinery pits."
"The black sludge?"
"Mm."
The youngest among them frowned.
"They say furnace workers sometimes faint handling that."
"Only stupid ones do."
A servant lazily flicked ash from his Nan pipe.
The ember landed beside the brazier where thick black sediment had leaked unnoticed from the oil barrel.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then came a strange hissing sound.
"…Did you hear that?"
One servant leaned forward.
The sludge near the burner had begun bubbling violently.
"What in the—"
The hillside exploded.
A deafening roar shattered the night.
Flames erupted across the slope, and earth and stone blasted outward with terrifying force. The servants never even had the time to scream properly before they were thrown apart.
"Hey, hey, hey! Ahh!"
A loud explosion occurred.
The brazier was blown into fragments.
Fire consumed the dry grass instantly.
Far below, guards shouted as the furnace of Riverside Estate trembled from the impact.
Only one servant survived.
Barely, as he went to take a piss.
His body had been thrown against the boulder, blood pouring down the side of his face, while his hearing rang endlessly.
Smoke drifted across the ruined hillside.
Then footsteps approached slowly through the flames.
The estate butler emerged from the darkness, several guards following behind him.
Unlike the others, the older man's eyes did not linger on the corpses.
Instead, he crouched down. The blast left a great hole in the hillside.
The remaining black sediment still burned strangely along the shattered earth.
The butler narrowed his eyes.
"…Gather everything."
"Sire?"
"Every fragment. Every barrel involved."
The guards hesitated.
"You think this was intentional?"
The old butler stared silently.
"No," he said. "But I believe we are seeing something valuable. I'll also let the Duke know."
"What do you mean, sire?"
"We shall put it to the test first."