She stepped closer to the carriage, peering at its covered load. The faint smell of papers and wood wafted from it and a very familiar smell that made her frown, but it revealed little else.
"Let me make this clear," she said, her voice steady and authoritative. "Manni has served this castle faithfully for decades. Treating him with suspicion is disrespectful, especially when there is no evidence of foul play. I will take responsibility for this delivery. Allow the carriage to pass."
The guards hesitated, their loyalty and sense of duty warring with her command. Finally, one of them nodded. "As you wish, Your Grace. But we must insist on offloading the goods here and inspecting them before they are taken further into the castle."
Salviana waved her hand dismissively. "Do as you must."
The guards began unloading the carriage under Manni's watchful gaze. Salviana crossed her arms, watching as crates and bundles wrapped in cloth were carefully placed on the ground.
"Your Grace," one of the guards said after a thorough inspection, "there appears to be nothing dangerous. The goods seem to consist of fine wood, canvas, brushes, and… flowers."
"Flowers?" Salviana repeated, perplexed.
Manni finally spoke up, his tone cheerful. "Indeed, Your Grace. Flowers and other items for a special project. But I'm afraid I must keep the details a surprise."
Salviana gave him a long, searching look, her curiosity now thoroughly piqued. "Very well. Have the items brought to my chambers. I will wait for my husband to return and shed light on this mystery."
The guards complied, carrying the goods to her chambers. Salviana followed, her mind buzzing with questions.
Once everything was placed neatly in her sitting room, she dismissed the guards and maids, leaving the crates untouched.
She circled them, her hands brushing the delicate material wrapping the goods.
As the afternoon wore on, she found herself glancing at the door, waiting for Alaric's return.
Whatever this was, it had his mark all over it. And if it was a surprise, she knew he would delight in keeping her guessing for as long as possible.
Seating herself near the window, Salviana let the scent of the flowers calm her impatience, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Whatever her husband had planned, it promised to be something extraordinary.
~~~{────────
~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
The atmosphere was heavy, the kind of oppressive stillness that only the dead of night could conjure.
Salviana lay on the bed, her gaze tracing the intricate patterns of the canopy above. Her voice broke the silence, soft but tinged with a quiet determination.
"So, would you tell me?" she asked, her words hanging in the air.
Alaric, standing by the window with his back to her, turned slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Tell you what?"
"About the other presence I've noticed occasionally in these chambers," Salviana said, her tone steady, though a frown creased her brow.
Alaric's smile turned into a smirk, though there was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. "A presence, hmm?"
"I know there's something," she pressed, sitting up slightly. "And I was thinking… you know what it is, don't you?"
Alaric sighed inwardly. He regretted trying to feign ignorance, knowing Salviana wouldn't let it go.
He leaned casually against the bedpost, crossing his arms. "It's a ghost," he said abruptly, his voice laced with mock seriousness.
The words sent a chill racing through Salviana. She paled visibly, her hands clutching the fabric of her gown as her mind raced.
"Relax," Alaric said quickly, lighting a candle on the bedside table. The warm glow did little to dispel the eerie tension in the room.
"He was a ghost, and—"
Before Salviana could press further, a sharp, disembodied voice cut through the room like a blade.
"Alaric, she's dying," Lucius's voice rang out, cold and urgent.
Salviana froze, her eyes widening as she scanned the room. "What? Who's dying?"
Alaric stiffened, his hand gripping the edge of the bed as he turned swiftly toward the door. "What?! Who?" he demanded, his voice low and edged with dread.
"It's here, isn't it? I want to see it too," Salviana said, her voice breaking as she tried to mask her fear with curiosity.
Her eyes darted around the room, wide and expectant.
Alaric turned back to her, momentarily forgetting Lucius. "I've never seen it myself," he admitted, his voice softer now, as though to soothe her.
"So… it's really a ghost," Salviana whispered, her breath hitching.
"Pretty much," Alaric replied, though his attention flicked back to the empty doorway where Lucius's voice had come from.
"Shut up, both of you!" Lucius's voice screeched again, sharp and insistent. "Pumpkin is down!"
"Miss Goliath is down!" he added, his voice carrying a sense of urgency that pierced through the thick air of the room.
Salviana gasped, her hands flying to her chest. "Jean? What happened?" she asked, her voice rising as she shot out of bed. Her wide eyes flickered between her husband and the empty space where the voice had come from.
Alaric's gaze was fixed on the unseen presence, his jaw tightening.
He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Salviana let out a strangled cry.
She bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding like a war drum.
The room was silent, the oppressive stillness replaced by the faint patter of rain against the window. Her breaths came in shallow gasps as she glanced around, her mind reeling.
It had been a dream.
But it didn't feel like one. The fear clung to her, heavy and real, and her heart raced with a sense of impending doom.
Her thoughts immediately went to Jean. Was this a vision? Was something terrible about to happen?
She glanced at the window. The sky was ink-black, the storm clouds threatening to burst at any moment. A shudder ran through her as she hugged herself.
"Where is Alaric?" she whispered to the empty room. Her voice trembled as the flickering shadows cast by the candle seemed to dance menacingly across the walls.