"An explosion occurred at the former head's location—Richard," the voice announced, the words hanging in the air like a thick fog. Most of the room responded with casual indifference, their disbelief evident in the dismissive scoffs that followed.
Yet, amidst the murmurs, both Henri and Alphonse paused, their expressions tightening with concern.
"His death wasn't accounted for, though, unfortunately, a few train attendants were caught in the blast," the voice continued, its tone somber and detached.
A simultaneous sigh of relief escaped the two men, their shoulders visibly relaxing as the tension eased.
"He doesn't seem sad," Henri muttered under his breath, a hint of suspicion coloring his voice.
"How big was the explosion?" a woman inquired, her tone probing, each word laced with the subtle undertones of an ulterior motive.
"I see through your little game, but—" Beaugois started, his voice tight with impatience, trying to steer the conversation away.
"You don't have a clue," she interrupted sharply, her words slicing through his like a blade, leaving no room for doubt.
Beaugois, sensing the shifting tides, swiftly changed the subject. "Lydia, your necklace is fantastically crafted," he remarked, his eyes settling on the intricate piece around her neck.
Lydia's attire exuded a blend of modern sophistication and ancient reverence. She wore a sleek, tailored blazer in a deep charcoal gray, its sharp lines and minimalist design reflecting her razor-sharp intellect and forward-thinking sensibilities.
The fabric was a luxurious wool blend, rich to the touch, with a subtle sheen that caught the light in all the right places.
Beneath the blazer, she wore a fitted blouse of the finest ivory silk, the delicate material draping over her form with a fluid grace that bespoke timeless elegance. The blouse was adorned with an intricate pattern of geometric shapes—
Her trousers, crafted from the same charcoal wool as her blazer, were the epitome of refined tailoring.
The high waist and straight cut lent an air of classic sophistication, the subtle pleats along the front a delicate homage to the traditional garments she once wore.
The trousers ended just above her ankles, revealing a pair of polished black loafers, each one meticulously crafted with intricate stitching. The loafers were a modern choice, Around her neck, Lydia wore a simple yet striking silver pendant shaped like a stylized olive branch,
Her hair was styled in a sleek, low bun, every strand meticulously arranged, secured with a small, ornate clasp that echoed the intricate designs of her previous life.
The clasp, a masterpiece of craftsmanship. She adjusted her glasses, the movement graceful, almost imperceptible. "Thank you," she said, her voice cool and measured. "Now, back to the question at hand—any information on the cause?"
"Could you hush? I have an appointment after this," Lady Xiu interjected, her gaze sharp and unyielding. She spoke with an air of authority, her words laced with a seriousness that demanded attention.
[You can skip] Lady Xiu's appearance was nothing short of regal. She wore a grand cheongsam, crafted from the finest silk in a deep, royal blue—a color that spoke of power, of grace, of an imperial lineage that ran deep within her veins. The fabric was embroidered with elaborate patterns of phoenixes and dragons, symbols of imperial power and grace, each stitch a testament to the skill of the artisans who had brought it to life.
The gown's high collar and fitted bodice accentuated her refined stature, the rich fabric clinging to her form with a grace that was at once commanding and elegant.
The flowing, floor-length skirt flared gracefully as she moved, the golden thread of the embroidery catching the light with a subtle sheen, enhancing the gown's regal allure.
At her waist, she wore an ornate sash, intricately woven with gold threads, each strand shimmering with the richness of its material.
The sash was adorned with jade and pearl embellishments, the precious stones carefully selected for their luster and purity.
The sash was fastened with a large, carved jade clasp, a piece of exceptional artistry, its surface inscribed with auspicious symbols that reflected both her high status and the cultural significance of jade in her homeland.
Over her gown, she draped a xuanyi, a traditional Ming-era outer garment, its wide, flowing sleeves and straight, knee-length cut lending her an air of dignified elegance. The xuanyi was made of a sheer, pale gold silk, its edges delicately embroidered with patterns of lotus flowers and clouds, symbols of purity and transcendence.
The garment was held in place with gold-threaded silk ties, the fabric falling in soft, graceful folds, adding an extra layer of sophistication to her already impeccable attire.
Her head was adorned with an elaborate hairpin, a quintessential accessory of the Ming era.
The hairpin was a work of art, crafted from gold and set with a cluster of colorful gemstones—sapphires, rubies, and pearls—each stone carefully selected for its brilliance.
The design was intricate, resembling a blossoming chrysanthemum, a symbol of nobility and longevity. The hairpin secured her elaborately styled hair, which was arranged in a traditional updo, the loops and twists of her hairstyle framed by delicate tendrils of hair that softened her commanding presence.
Her jewelry was both striking and refined—a golden necklace with a large, central pendant of carved jade, surrounded by a halo of smaller, brilliant diamonds. Her earrings were simple yet elegant, each featuring a single, dangling pearl set in gold, the subtle movement of the pearls catching the light with every turn of her head. On her wrists, she wore a set of thin gold bangles, each one engraved with intricate designs and set with small gemstones, the jewelry a perfect complement to her gown.
Her footwear consisted of embroidered silk slippers, dyed to match the deep blue of her gown. The slippers were adorned with delicate, hand-stitched patterns of peonies and butterflies, symbols of beauty and grace. They were both comfortable and elegant, their softness allowing her to move with the stately grace befitting her status.
"People died, Lady Xiu?" Lydia asked, her voice tinged with shock.
"My family didn't die, so what's the problem?" Lady Xiu replied, her tone dismissive, as if the deaths of others were of little consequence.
"I'm sure you wouldn't know, since you left your 'dynasty.' heritage should be considered superior," Lady Xiu continued, her words pointed, a sharp rebuke
"Your archaic ideas will be the death of you. Kokoro was the first to fall, and you both ultimately share the same values," Lydia shot back, her voice dripping with disdain.
"You're amusing," Lady Xiu replied, though her words were strained, the tension between them palpable. Lady Xiu's entire appearance seemed to contradict her words, the veins on her face bulging with barely suppressed anger.
"Your husband won't like that..." Lydia says slowly..
"Oh, I suppose you're right," Lady Xiu responded, her tone suddenly calm, the change in demeanor jarring
.
The atmosphere in the room shifted sharply with that comment, the air thick with unease, even Lydia taken aback by the sudden reversal.
"White robes were found by 'Fredrick'," the voice continued, breaking the tension.
"White robes?" Alphonse echoed, his brow furrowing in concentration. "Where have I seen that before? I can't remember, sadly."
"Ah, Fredrick—are we certain he's reliable?" Sir Eadric asked, his skepticism evident.
"Have you met him?" Beaugois shot back, his tone challenging.
"No, but my knight—"
"Then hush," Beaugois cut him off.
Sir Eadric's posture shifted, a subtle change
"The type of clothing might help to identify," Lydia suggested, turning to Alphonse.
"Yes, but perhaps not right now... Wasn't it slightly blue?"
"Plain, unrequited white," the voice corrected.
" never mind then," Alphonse replied gesturing his hands upwards, a note of finality in his voice.
"See, Lydia?" Beaugois chuckled softly, the tension in the room easing, if only slightly.