Chapter 213: Finally Back.
Here, the air lost its thick scent of sweat and rancid grease, replaced by the cleaner aromas of fresh sawdust, pressed linen, and expensive horseflesh.
The frustration from her encounter at the gates still simred beneath her skin, a prickly heat that made her travel cloak feel stifling. She needed the sanctuary of her family estate. She wanted a place where she could think clearly and dismantle the Wolf King’s subtle blockade.
With a sharp, imperious gesture, she signaled a passing carriage. It was a polished vehicle of black lacquer, the kind that frequented the more affluent boroughs, pulled by a chestnut horse moving at a brisk, professional trot.
The driver, a man sporting a tidy grey beard and a well-maintained coat, saw her and guided the coach to the curb. The horse gave a soft, yet audible huff as it ca to a halt, its breath misting in the cooling afternoon air as its hooves beat a final, precise impression against the stone.
"Where to, milady?" the coachman inquired. His voice was the neutral, practiced tone of a man used to high-society whims, yet his eyes were sharp, taking in the quality of her garnts faintly visible behind the clock.
"Central District. And do not spare the horse," Victoria commanded. Not bothering to even haggle a fitting price, she flicked a single gold coin into the air. It pirouetted through the grey light, like a brilliant, spinning sun against the backdrop of timbered buildings.
The coachman’s hand darted out with surprising agility, snatching the coin from its arc. For a fleeting second, his professional stoicism crumbled; his eyes widened as he felt the sheer weight of the gold. It was ten tis the standard fare, perhaps more. He tucked it deep into his breast pocket, his surprise instantly hardening into a profound sense of urgency. "Right away, Miss. We’ll have you there before the sun dips," he promised, his voice now vibrant with newfound dedication.
The coachman hopped down from his seat, his cloth giving off the sound of weathered leather. He then swung open the lacquered door with a practiced flourish.
Victoria swept into the carriage, settling onto a bench of plush, midnight-blue velvet. The cabin’s interior was not half bad, looking like a sensory sanctuary, slling of fresh lemon polish, well-oiled leather.
The door clicked shut with a satisfying, heavy thud, insulating her in a world of muffled, jostling motion as the driver reclaid his perch above.
A sharp, authoritative crack of the whip echoed through the street, not a cruel strike, but a signal of intent. The carriage lurched, its iron-shod wheels beginning their rhythmic chatter against the cobbles.
Urged by the driver, the chestnut horse transitioned into a confident canter that quickly picked up speed. They blurred past the sprawling avenus, skimming by shopfronts where bolts of shimring silk and ticking clockwork displays glead behind glass, and past taverns where the first lanterns were being lit for the evening crowd.
Despite her demand for haste, Victoria found the swaying dimness of the coach surprisingly serene. The pace was brisk and unrelenting, yet it stopped short of being reckless.
The coachman was clearly a master of his craft; he didn’t drive the beast into a bone-jarring, panicked gallop. Instead, he navigated the turns with a fluid hand, steering clear of the deeper ruts and choosing the smoothest lines of stone to ensure the cabin didn’t rattle her teeth. It was a display of deep-seated professional instinct.
He understood intuitively that providing a jarring, undignified ride to a woman who dropped gold coins like copper pennies would be a catastrophic mistake. Her comfort was no longer a matter of common courtesy; but a service he was now bound to protect with every ounce of his skill.
Outside the small, curtained window, the city’s skin began to shed its comrcial grit. The architecture grew taller and more pretentious, with stone facades adorned by intricate crests and brooding gargoyles. The teeming crowds thinned, replaced by the occasional high-born pedestrian or a liveried servant hurrying on a late errand.
They soon approached the massive wrought-iron gates that marked the threshold of the Central District, the ancestral heart of nobility, where high-ranking figures and the wealthy rchants usually resided.
Enforcer knights clad in polished breastplates, draped in the city’s official colors, stood like statues at the entrance.
The coach slowed its roll but never truly stopped. The lead guard caught sight of the subtle crest on the carriage door, but it was the brief glimpse of Victoria’s face through the glass that settled the matter.
He offered a curt, respectful nod and signaled his n to stand down. They were waved through in a silence that spoke volus.
No questions, no inspections, no delays. Victoria watched the heavy gates recede, the driver bore witness to how easily na and blood could bypass the barriers of the common world. She on the other hand could only think of what to do right after returning ho.
Minutes later, following a terse instruction she called up to the box, the carriage ca to a graceful halt. She hadn’t directed him to the grand, gated maw of the Montgory estate, but rather to a quiet, tree-shrouded lane, several blocks away.
Discretion, for Victoria, was a reflex as natural and necessary as breathing.
"This will suffice," she said, stepping out before the driver could even clear his seat.
She didn’t linger for the inevitable shower of gratitude; the gold coin had already functioned as both her paynt and her goodbye. She stepped onto the sidewalk and simply vanished into the crowd, appearing as nothing more than another well-to-do shadow among the trees.
The walk to the estate’s periter was brief. She moved with naturally without seeming too odd so as not to draw attention, her dark cloak blending into the long, stretching shadows cast by the old trees.
Reaching the sa secret passage way she’d used before, which looked indistinguishable from it’s surroundings, she paused. Her eyes scanned her surroundings with a predator’s caution.
Only after concluding that none was watching did she let down her guard. She slipped through in
to the private, manicured wilderness of the Montgory gardens.
User Comments
0 comments from readers