Early morning, November 21st, Old Calendar Year.
The streets of Evernight Town were shrouded in a thin veil of white mist, soft and ethereal in the dawn light. The air was damp, carrying the faint, crisp scent of dew-soaked grass. As Luther stepped out of the clinic with his motley group in tow, his arms loaded with bags, he paused briefly to take in the quiet stillness of the morning.
Elizabeth's carriage awaited them at the edge of the road, its sleek black body glistening faintly in the mist. The coachman, an elderly man with a stern but kind demeanor, tipped his hat as Luther approached.
Without much ceremony, Luther ushered everyone inside. Hailey climbed in first, clutching the edges of her hood tightly, her white-gloved hands gripping the fabric of her robe like a lifeline. Behind her, the Touch of Plague rolled along sluggishly, while Nawasir slithered forward in its usual grotesque manner, quickly claiming a quiet corner of the carriage to dissolve into.
The door shut with a soft thud, and the carriage lurched forward, wheels crunching against the gravel road as it rolled out of town, heading westward into the forest.
---
Inside the Carriage
Hailey sat quietly, her head bowed low. She avoided meeting anyone's gaze, her hands fidgeting with the folds of her robe. Despite the warmth of the carriage, her body trembled faintly, betraying her anxiety.
She was no stranger to Grent Province, she had been there before. But this time was different. This time, she wasn't Hailey the human. She was Hailey the… monster.
Last night, when Luther had told her they would be traveling to Grent Province, she had been overjoyed. For hours, she had buzzed with excitement, imagining what they would see, what they might find, and, most of all, what hope might await her there.
But as the journey began, reality set in. Now, as the carriage trundled along the old forest road, a storm of dread and fear churned in her chest.
Her mind was filled with dark scenarios. She imagined stepping into the bustling streets of Grent Province, only to feel the weight of countless stares on her. Would they sneer? Whisper behind her back? Would they call her a freak, a monster?
No matter how tightly she pulled her hood over her head or how low she bowed her gaze, she felt exposed. Vulnerable.
The trembling grew worse, and Hailey hugged herself tightly, willing her nerves to settle.
---
Luther, seated across from her, leaned back against the cushioned seat, his head turned toward the open window. The fresh breeze carried the faint scent of grass and earth, mingling with the rhythmic creak of the carriage wheels. It reminded him of the early morning hikes he used to take in his past life.
He closed his eyes briefly, savoring the simple, grounding sensation. Yet, as he peeked through half-lidded eyes at Hailey's hunched figure, he noted her discomfort. Her shaking hands. The way she clutched at her robe like a lifeline.
Still, Luther chose not to intervene.
"This is her fight," he thought. "No amount of reassurance from me will fix what's in her head. She needs to face it herself."
---
By noon, the mist began to clear, and the carriage entered Grent Province.
The sight of the city was nothing short of striking.
The architecture here was unlike anything Luther had seen before, even in the more peculiar parts of this world. Massive, towering buildings loomed against the skyline, their intricate designs blending the industrial grit of steampunk with the ornate elegance of Victorian craftsmanship. Smoke rose from countless chimneys, spiraling lazily into the air, while steam-powered machines whirred and clanked along the streets.
A pale white fog clung to the city, swirling gently around the feet of passersby, who were dressed in a mix of sharp suits and lace-trimmed dresses. Every detail, from the mechanical clogs on their boots to the brass buttons on their coats, was a testament to the city's fusion of style and industry.
Hailey, despite her fear, couldn't help but peek out from under her hood. The sights were mesmerizing, almost enough to distract her from her nerves.
Luther, meanwhile, glanced down at his own simple white robe. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he muttered under his breath:
"City people always know how to enjoy themselves."
---
The carriage rattled on, carrying them through the city center. The elderly coachman, evidently a local, began pointing out landmarks as they passed.
"There, that's the Parliament Building the seat of power in Grendel City. You'll find all the major decisions for the province made there," he explained, gesturing to a grand structure with imposing columns and a clock tower that loomed over the surrounding streets.
"And over there," he continued, pointing to another towering building with spires wrapped in brass gears and pipes, "is the Church of Science and Mechanics. One of the largest and most influential churches here."
Luther raised an eyebrow. A church dedicated to science and mechanics? That was new.
The coachman chuckled at his curiosity. "They've got roots deep in this city, but don't let their piety fool you, they're as much about power as they are about faith."
As the carriage rolled on, the coachman's tone grew more casual. "And those smaller buildings there are offices for the Investigation Committee. They handle all the supernatural and special cases in the city. You've got neighborhood disputes? Odd happenings? Pay them enough, and they'll solve it for you; within legal limits, of course."
Luther's gaze lingered on the Investigation Committee's headquarters; a tall, boxy building with a constant flow of people coming and going. He squinted, slightly baffled.
"An open, bureaucratic supernatural organization? What's next, a suggestion box for eldritch complaints?"
He muttered under his breath, "Aren't these kinds of organizations supposed to be secretive? Cloaked in shadow and mystery? What's the point of running an open office model like this?"
---
As the carriage passed through Fleming Street, the driver spoke up again.
"Miss Elizabeth has secured two properties for you here in Grendel City. One is right here on Fleming Street, close to the heart of the city. The other's a bit farther out, in the quieter Deloan District."
Luther mulled it over. Deloan sounded peaceful, but too isolated. Fleming Street, on the other hand, was bustling and lively; perfect for staying hidden in plain sight.
He made up his mind.
"We'll go to Fleming Street."
The driver tipped his hat. "Yes, my lord."
As the carriage trundled forward, Luther leaned back, gazing out at the city streets. The towering buildings, the steam-powered machines, the distant hum of activity, it was all so different from the quiet chaos of Evernight Town.
But amidst the awe, Luther's mind sharpened. There were mysteries to unravel here, and he had no intention of leaving Grent Province empty-handed.
The carriage came to a slow stop in front of an elegant two-story villa nestled within a charming courtyard. It was the kind of place that, in another life, might have been described as "quaint"—a home of quiet warmth and understated beauty, now veiled in the soft glow of the afternoon sun.
The elderly driver climbed down, handing Luther a polished brass key before tipping his hat. "Your property, my lord," he said, his voice calm but tinged with exhaustion from the long journey. With that, the man turned and climbed back into the carriage, leaving without another word.
Luther stood for a moment, studying the villa. Its warm brick façade and arched windows gave it an inviting charm, but a faint unease lingered in the air, as though the house had secrets buried deep within its walls.
He turned the key in the lock and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Hailey and the rest of their unconventional "family" trailed behind him as he stepped inside.
---
The living room was a vision of warmth and comfort, decorated in an elegant Western style. The walls were painted in muted orange and brown tones, creating an earthy ambiance that blended perfectly with the rich wooden furniture. At the center of the room, a fireplace crackled softly, its golden flames casting a welcoming glow and a soothing warmth that banished the lingering chill of the morning mist.
Nearby, several plush sofas were arranged in a cozy semicircle around the fireplace. Hailey wasted no time; as soon as her eyes landed on the sofas, she darted forward and flung herself onto one, sinking into its cushions with a long, relieved sigh.
For the first time in hours, the tension in her body seemed to melt away, replaced by a rare moment of calm. Luther couldn't help but smile faintly as he shook his head.
"She's already claimed her territory," he muttered under his breath.
---
As Hailey stretched luxuriously on the sofa, Luther's eyes wandered to the corner of the room, where a wooden door was half-hidden in shadow. He strode over, pulling it open to reveal a narrow staircase leading down to the basement.
He gestured for the ghoul to follow, its heavy steps echoing as they descended. The basement was a cluttered space, filled with forgotten belongings left behind by the villa's previous owners. Dusty crates and faded trinkets were stacked haphazardly, their contents long since abandoned to time.
Luther scanned the room briefly but showed no interest in its contents. He turned to the ghoul, directing it to settle in one corner before making his way back upstairs.
---
When he returned to the living room, a sharp, acrid smell hit his nose immediately. He paused, his expression hardening. The scent was faintly chemical, laced with something unpleasantly sour.
Hailey, now crouched by the fireplace, was warming her hands, her face lit with the soft glow of the flames. At the sound of Luther's footsteps, she glanced back at him, her expression curious but cautious.
"What are you looking for?" she asked quietly.
Luther didn't answer right away. His gaze swept the room, his mind ticking as he tried to pinpoint the source of the smell.
Before he could identify it, Hailey's attention shifted to something that had rolled to her feet; a strange, fleshy object. She picked it up tentatively, her gloved fingers squeezing it experimentally.
"This…" she muttered, frowning in confusion. "This feels… familiar."
Not far from her, Nawasir emerged from its spittoon, its gelatinous body shimmering faintly in the firelight. The ancient being seemed to vibrate with indignation as it caught sight of Hailey holding its "treasure."
"Heh… You dare touch the stewed meat I saved? You foolish mortal. You court death!"
Nawasir attempted to whisper malicious suggestions into Hailey's mind, but its plot was abruptly cut short when Luther's hand shot out, grabbing the blob mid-wriggle.
Lifting Nawasir effortlessly, Luther narrowed his eyes at it. "When did you bring the spittoon here? Didn't I tell you this morning not to move without permission?"
The gelatinous entity quivered in his grip but made no response.
Luther sighed heavily. "Fine. Since you're here, make yourself useful. Absorb all the bad smells in this villa."
Nawasir twitched, clearly reluctant, but obeyed. The pungent chemical odor that lingered in the air didn't bother most people of this era, but Luther recognized it instantly. Formaldehyde.
"Can't risk that," he muttered to himself. "I'm not about to invite sickness into my life, not here."
---
Once Nawasir had finished its task, Luther got to work organizing the villa. He brought all their belongings upstairs, placing them neatly in the study on the second floor. Then he turned his attention to cleaning the house.
The bulk of the chores, however, fell to the Touch of Plague. With its many writhing limbs, it was perfectly suited for tasks like mopping floors and wiping windows.
"You're in charge of the daily cleaning now," Luther informed it sternly, pointing at the blob. "I want this place spotless. Always."
Nawasir, perched smugly on the edge of its spittoon, watched the Touch of Plague intently. It had been given explicit instructions to supervise and report any signs of laziness. If the smaller entity so much as faltered in its work, Nawasir was ready to snitch at a moment's notice.
---
Meanwhile, Hailey retreated to her room upstairs. Though the journey hadn't been particularly grueling, the emotional toll it had taken on her was undeniable. Exhausted, she curled up on her bed and soon drifted into a light but peaceful sleep.
---
Back in the living room, Luther reclined on the sofa, a book in his hands. He had found it earlier in the study, a weathered volume about the myths and legends of Grent Province.
"Better to learn the local culture before diving headfirst into anything," he murmured, flipping through the pages. Traditions and expectations varied widely between regions, and Luther knew better than to assume familiarity.
The room was quiet save for the soft crackling of the fire, and for a brief moment, the villa felt like a sanctuary.
Then came a sharp knock at the door.
Luther straightened, setting the book aside as his sharp gaze flicked toward the entrance. A lazy but distinctly feminine voice called out from the other side:
"You going to make me wait all night, or can I come in?"