[WARNING: GRAPHICAL DESCRIPTION OF A DEAD BODY, MENTION OF BLOOD ETC AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.]
The nearest town which Ian mentioned was at least an hour's walk from the forest. Nilana had no problem with walking.
But Ian insisted on taking his horse there. She didn't even notice he had a stable at the back of the manor. Maybe she just didn't explore the whole manor yet.
The black stallion neighed as it stood in front of Nilana. As he seated himself, the horse responded to his weight, shifting slightly beneath him. Ian adjusted the reins, communicating his intent to the horse. His posture was erect, conveying authority and control. His eyes, fixed ahead, unreadable.
"You wouldn't object to sharing the horse with me, would you?"
"If there was any other option, I'd choose that. But as I don't have any. I think I won't object to your offer." She said, with anxiety trailing. "But before anything else, I have to confess to you that I never rode any mare. This stallion of yours is out of the question."
His indifferent gaze fell on her. "I believe that shouldn't pose an issue." With that, he extended his hand and waited for her to take it.
Nilana hesitated for a moment as she recalled everything that had happened to her last two days.
How it changed on a whim. How it..
"Miss Nilana?"
And there he was, distracting and making her forget her thought.
She locked her auburn with his silver eyes before taking his hand.
.
.
.
Nilana wasn't sure of many things that were going on with her life.
But she was definitely sure that she had never quite rode anything faster than this black horse. Her hands gripped the fabric of Ian's doublet tightly as her eyes clutched shut. The horse galloped at its best speed. The hoofs of it creating a sequence of beat sounds while it leaped through the forest. Large tall trees providing shade to them. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed as the air passed by.
"Don't be afraid. Look around." He said while he controlled the horse. His voice was faint due to the air.
Finding confidence in his words, Nilana slowly opened her eyes. The fast, gentle breeze of the air calmed her down. She rose her head, noticing numerous blue butterflies flying around. Her eyes captured the greenness of the tree after tree faded behind the background as seconds passed by.
Taking a breath of refreshment, she said, "The seamstress assumed me as your mistress,"
"That's hardly unexpected." Ian nonchalantly replied.
"Uhuh." She paused. "I told her I was your cousin."
"Good, that people of Windspire don't betroth their cousins, like they do in the Kingdom of Amadeus."
That caught her off guard. "Your kingdom marries people off to their cousins?!" Her eyes widened in shock.
"Uhuh." He mimicked her. "They do."
For the rest of the ride, Nilana fell speechless. She wasn't sure what she should feel, shock or disgust?
.
.
.
Even at 11 am, the town market was bustling with people. The market was right at the entrance of the town. As the horse entered, the clamor of voices and the energetic hum of activity enveloped Nilana, pulling her into a world of community.
Stalls and carts stretched as far as the eye could see, each one adorned with colorful banners, awnings, and flags. Vendors proudly displayed their wares, arranging fruits, vegetables, fabrics, and artisan crafts with meticulous care.
Amidst the colorful displays, shoppers bustled about in a lively dance, their attire reflecting the diversity of the town's inhabitants. Merchants in traditional Windspirean robes and turbans haggled with customers, while travelers in foreign attire huddled around exotic spice merchants and traders offering rare gems and jewelry.
Scents wafted through the air, each one more tantalizing than the last. Smell of food, flower, aromatic soap, and candles savored Nilana's smell buds as Ian led his horse through the market.
Nilana was amazed.
After a few minutes of lazy galloping, the black stallion stopped in front of the ladies' steam house as Ian pulled the reins. In a quick move, he got down from the horse and extended a hand to help Nilana. Her bare feet came in contact with the muddy ground.
"I have pressing matters to attend to. I'll escort you to the steam house. Once there, a carriage will await you, ready to take you wherever you wish to go, Miss Nilana." Ian said, his voice firm.
A flash of disappointment rolled over her. Without seeming too obvious, she replied, "Alright." Her words are tight together.
How foolish of her to think he would be with her, showing her the town. Of course, he had matters to tend to. She internally smacked her stupid brain.
He took a glance at her. Her blonde hair was messy due to the intense horse ride, sprinkles of mud stained her vivid white cotehardie. Her feet were bare.
"I will see you at the Manor." With that, he held the reins. His right hand grasped the saddle horn, and he placed his left foot in the stirrup, securing his balance. With a fluid, almost effortless motion, he swung his right leg over the horse's back, settling into the saddle.
Mentally, he noted to stop for women's boots and shoes before going back to the manor.
Nilana could just nod forcefully at his departure. She then realised he was the only person she knew in this entire place.
She turned to see the wooden board above. It read, 'Lousia's Aromatic Oasis'. She frowned at the name.
With nowhere else to go to, Nilana gripped the knob of the door. A bit hesitant, before she gave in and turned the knob.
.
.
.
It was a fine day for Journalist Cedric Greenwood. After all, he was getting promoted as the chief editor at the only newspaper publishing company in the Kingdom of Windspire.
His happiness lasted until the royal advisor's guard barged inside his house, stating that Royal Advisor Thornehaven has ordered them to bring Cedric to him.
The journalist was shaking constantly, because of the fear that what might happen as the two guards sat beside him in the carriage.
"You ought to have reconsidered before penning derogatory remarks about our King Maximus, where does you loyalty stray commoner?" One of the guard barked, "The newspaper enjoys wide renown; nearly every nobleman and even the literate working-class citizens like ourselves peruse its pages." The other one added.
"What I wrote was not derogatory in any way. It was a presentation of facts and the truth." Cedric murmured.
"You should never cross paths with royals. It doesn't end well,"
The carriage had halted to a stop and the guard to his left announced, "Move, commoner, that we have reached the estate of Lord Thornehaven."
The security guards at the front gate had stopped them from entering with the suspicious journalist.
"His Lord had ordered us to bring this journalist to him after the break of dawn."
"But no orders were made after he went to his chambers last night."
"His messenger had sent a note to us while we were asleep." The guard held the journalist with one hand and searched the pocket of his blue tabard.
After he found the small note with the royal advisor's seal in it and gave it to the security guards.
It read,"Fetch Journalist Cedric for me once the dawn has arrived, and ensure he comes to my chambers alone and that he's the first person I'd see after I wake up."
After inspecting the note thoroughly, they let them inside.
Cedric was still nervously shaking as the guard lead him, climbing up the staircase of the grand estate of Thornehaven.
As they reached the Royal Advisor's chambers' door, the two of the guards stood firmly as Cedric weakly pulled the door handle.
They slammed the door shut as he took minimal steps inside. It was eerily quiet as the chambers of Thornehaven stretched enormously. It was an extravagant display of wealth, with every cabinet, divan, and low table shining from the expensive furnishings. The minimal but lavish chandeliers lit up the space.
Cedric frowned as he took steps forward. The candle lights were lit, even though the evidence of the day reflected through the large windows.
He passed his bed, but didn't find him there. Cedric was confused, questioning whether the royal advisor was here or not.
Right at the end of his chambers, Cedric stopped at the door of Thornehaven's study. He knocked on the slightly closed door a few times.
"Lord Thornehaven...?" He asked. But the eerie silence followed with no response. "Are you there, Lord Thornehaven? You summoned me, though I question the purpose of my presence."
The journalist at last gave in as he slightly pushed through the dark mahogany door. The door creaked open.
He made his way inside the study. "Lord Thorneha-"
His mouth stammered, unable to produce any words, nor a single sound. His eyes widened as he took in the gruesome scene before his eyes.
Half of the Thornehaven's body was turned blue, a foam of white substance drooled down his gaped mouth. His lifeless body sat in his lavish chair, with his neck bend, and slit. His wide eyes read of shock, fear and regret. Blue arms hanging beside him. The study flooded with his blood.
"I- A- A-" Cedric stuttered, citric and tangy smell of poison mixed with blood poked his nose.
And then the whole estate erupted with his shriek.