Location: Shelb Estate Workshop
The Shelb Estate's newest Workshop hummed with anticipation, the polished wooden floors reflecting the golden light of mana-powered chandeliers above. The air was thick with the scent of varnished wood and polished metal, underscoring the workshop's role as a birthplace of innovation.
At the center of the room stood Micheal von Shelb, commanding the attention of an audience composed of noble merchants and investors. His tall frame exuded authority, his tailored coat emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and tapering to a perfectly fitted waist. His platinum hair, tied neatly into a half-ponytail, caught the light as he turned his sharp blue eyes toward the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Micheal began, his voice carrying effortlessly through the room, "this is not merely a carriage—it is a revolution."
He gestured toward the mana-powered prototype behind him, its sleek design a harmonious blend of elegance and practicality. The deep metallic sheen of its frame reflected the craftsmanship that had gone into every inch of its creation.
"With this carriage," he continued, "we enter a new era of travel—faster, safer, and more reliable than ever before. Its mana-suspension system," he gestured to the undercarriage, "ensures a smooth ride over even the roughest terrain, reducing wear on goods and offering unmatched comfort for passengers."
Among the audience, Ronald Greystone sat near the front, his salt-and-pepper hair framing a face lined with years of experience. A shrewd businessman and father to Micheal's close friend Rupert, Ronald leaned forward in his seat, his discerning hazel eyes narrowing as he studied the carriage.
"How do you intend to produce these at scale?" Ronald asked, his voice low and measured, a test of Micheal's preparedness.
Micheal smiled faintly, nodding as though anticipating the question. "We've already begun identifying key facilities for production. The Shelb Estate's workshops will handle prototyping, while we're securing partnerships with independent manufacturers to handle bulk production. This decentralization minimizes risk and ensures scalability."
The room murmured in approval, the practical foresight impressing even the skeptics.
"And your target market?" Ronald pressed.
"Noble families seeking reliable travel," Micheal replied smoothly, "but also merchants and military supply chains. This carriage isn't just a luxury—it's a necessity for efficient logistics."
At the side of the room, Magda watched from the shadows, her crimson eyes locked on Micheal. He spoke with such ease, his passion and intellect shining through every word. His movements, deliberate yet unhurried, conveyed a sense of control that captivated the audience.
Her gaze traced the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips curved faintly as he answered Ronald's questions. Micheal was magnetic, and the realization filled her chest with a peculiar warmth.
She thought back to the temple deities she had admired as a child, their sculpted forms radiating power and grace. Micheal, standing before the gleaming carriage, seemed almost divine in his presence—a living embodiment of ambition and vision.
Magda's pride swelled as she considered how far Micheal had come. This wasn't just her husband—it was a man who had earned the Emperor's approval, not through favors or connections, but through sheer determination and brilliance.
Magda's thoughts wandered briefly, reflecting on the unlikely alliance between Micheal and Raphael. Her father, with his grandeur and steadfast traditions, had little in common with Micheal's pragmatic and innovative approach. Yet the horseless carriage had brought them together, proving that even the most disparate personalities could find common ground.
Micheal's voice cut through her reverie, answering another question with the precision of a master orator. "Our marketing strategy will focus on exclusive demonstrations for nobles, followed by partnerships with trade guilds to highlight its utility in commerce."
Magda smiled faintly, her heart swelling as she watched the merchants lean forward, captivated by Micheal's vision. His sharp blue eyes gleamed as he gestured toward the carriage, the light catching the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead—a testament to his focus and energy.
For a fleeting moment, as the investors nodded in approval, Magda allowed herself to dream. The way Micheal commanded the room, the way he spoke with conviction and purpose—it was easy to imagine a future where his vision reshaped not just their family's fortunes, but the very fabric of society.
Her gaze lingered on him, her thoughts growing warmer with each passing moment. As the light from the chandeliers illuminated his platinum hair, she couldn't help but think that Micheal von Shelb was more than a husband—he was a force to be reckoned with.
The meeting concluded with murmurs of approval and enthusiastic exchanges among the investors. Micheal's sharp blue eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he guided the group out of the workshop, exchanging firm handshakes and polite farewells. Once the last noble had departed, he turned toward Magda, his face softening.
"Shall we?" he asked, offering his arm.
Magda nodded, slipping her hand lightly onto his arm as they began the walk back toward her chambers. The cool evening air drifted through the halls, mingling with the faint scent of varnish and mana residue from the workshop.
Walking beside Micheal, Magda's thoughts were a jumble of nervous energy and Flora's teasing remarks about married life. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, her crimson gaze tracing the sharp lines of his profile—the chiseled jaw, the faint crease of concentration still lingering on his brow.
Her heart fluttered as she moved her hand closer to his. It rested casually on the table as they paused in the hallway, where Micheal had stopped to check a clipboard left by one of the craftsmen. Just as her fingers brushed the edge of his, Micheal lifted his hand abruptly to smooth back his platinum hair.
Magda froze, her cheeks warming as she pulled her hand back, clasping it nervously in front of her.
They continued walking, and Magda steeled herself for another attempt. This time, as Micheal paused by a bench to pick up the jacket he had left earlier, she reached toward his hand resting on the armrest.
Before her fingers could make contact, Micheal clapped his hands together, his sharp blue eyes lighting up with excitement.
"I've got it!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with triumph. "A safety mechanism for the carriage—perfect for traversing rough terrain. If I adjust the mana stabilizers to redistribute force—"
Magda let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, masking her embarrassment with a faint smile. "That sounds... wonderful, Micheal."
He turned to her, his expression alight with energy. "I should sketch it out before I forget. A moment of inspiration like this can't be wasted."
Magda nodded, her smile tightening. "Of course."
By the time they reached her chambers, Magda was thoroughly convinced of her inadequacy in romantic gestures. She sighed inwardly, watching as Micheal gave her a polite bow before stepping back.
"Goodnight, Magda," he said, his voice gentle yet brimming with the anticipation of his next design.
"Goodnight," she replied softly, her crimson eyes following him as he disappeared down the hallway.
Magda stepped into her chamber, her shoulders slumping slightly as the door clicked shut behind her. She sighed inwardly, her mind replaying the awkwardness of her failed attempts to reach out to him.
Am I unlucky? she wondered, brushing a stray lock of her dark hair behind her ear. Or am I just terrible at this?
Location: Micheal's room
Back in his chamber, Micheal closed the door with a quiet click, leaning against it as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. His breath came in uneven bursts as the image of Magda's hesitant gestures replayed in his mind.
Sliding down to the floor, he buried his face in his hands, his platinum hair falling loosely around his fingers. "What's wrong with me?" he muttered, his voice muffled and strained.
He had seen her shy attempts to reach for him—felt her warmth lingering in the space between them—and had deliberately avoided her touch. It wasn't that he didn't want her; on the contrary, the desire that coursed through him now was almost unbearable.
His mind drifted unbidden to the carriage designs he had been using as a distraction. In his thoughts, he imagined Magda seated inside, her crimson eyes wide and her cheeks flushed pink. She would call out to him in her sweet voice, vulnerable yet trusting, her every gesture drawing him closer.
Micheal groaned, running a hand through his hair as the heat in his chest threatened to consume him. "This is madness," he whispered, his voice tinged with frustration and longing.
For years, he had prided himself on his composure—on his ability to navigate the intricacies of noble life with unshakable resolve. Yet here he was, blushing and sweating like a schoolboy with a crush.
"Get a grip," he told himself, his voice low and firm. "You're Micheal von Shelb. A noble. A businessman. Not... whatever this is."
But no amount of reasoning could erase the image of Magda from his mind. The way her crimson eyes had searched his, the delicate curve of her lips as she smiled—she had unraveled him in a way no one else ever could. He knew he needed to hold himself back to rewrite the timeline. The revelation in the novel implied Magda would die of plague in five months, but his vision told him otherwise. She had died from poisoning, her life and their unborn children taken before they even had a chance. Though his father seemed less involved with the imperial court these days, Micheal wasn't willing to risk it.
He couldn't bear the thought of losing her or the future they might build. Contraceptives existed, but they were never foolproof. The idea of holding back tore at him, yet he knew it was the only way to protect her. He had grown closer to Magda than he ever thought possible, and the thought of losing her or their potential children made his chest ache with dread.
He laughed bitterly under his breath, shaking his head as he leaned back against the door. "I'm behaving like a stallion in rut," he muttered, his tone laced with self-deprecation.
Even as he tried to suppress the overwhelming feelings, Micheal couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to let her reach him—to hold her hand, to let her see the depth of his desire. For now, though, he remained on the other side of the door, caught between his growing feelings and the fear of losing control.
Location: Imperial Palace
The soft morning light filtered through the ornate windows of the Imperial Palace, casting golden patterns on the polished floors of Flora's chambers. The air was still, save for the rustling of papers as Flora unfolded the letter that had arrived only moments ago, her emerald-green eyes scanning the neatly written words.
Dearest Flora,
Time is not on your side. The Council of Lords is preparing to vote on the marriage bill, and should it pass, your union with Fredrick could be rendered void unless it is legitimized beforehand. There are two paths available to you: secure the seal of imperial authority—either from Papa or myself—or seek approval through the temple. But beware—the temple is slow, and their processes could take up to a year.
I am sending Calista to escort you to the North. She is my most trusted mage, and I have explicitly instructed her to protect you. Treat her as you would a sister, for she is as dear to me as you are.
If you cannot secure the seal from the temple in time, and no other authority is available, I will find a way to come to the Duchy myself. But do not wait. Every moment counts.
With love and hope,
Magda
Flora's hands trembled as she set the letter down, her mind racing. Magda's words carried both warmth and a quiet urgency that sent a chill through her. The faint scent of lavender lingered on the parchment, a subtle reminder of her sister's presence even from afar.
"She would come herself," Flora murmured, her voice barely audible. The weight of Magda's devotion settled over her like a protective embrace, but Flora knew she couldn't allow that. Magda had her own burdens—her own battles to fight.
The thought steeled her resolve. With a sharp inhale, Flora rose from her chair and began packing her belongings, her movements quick but purposeful.
Calista entered the room just as Flora was fastening the clasps on her traveling cloak. The mage's emerald-green eyes gleamed with intelligence, her practical braid of auburn hair streaked with faint silver strands catching the morning light. Her demeanor was calm but firm, a quiet strength emanating from her every step.
"Lady Flora," Calista said, inclining her head. "I am here to escort you to the North as per Princess Magda's instructions. The journey will be perilous, but I will ensure your safety."
Flora straightened, her own emerald eyes meeting Calista's. "Magda trusts you implicitly. That's enough for me."
Calista allowed a faint smile to grace her lips. "Thank you, my lady. The carriage is ready whenever you are."
Flora nodded, her heart pounding as she glanced around her chambers one last time. The memories of her life in the capital, the laughter, the moments of quiet reflection—all of it felt distant now, as though belonging to someone else.
"I'm ready," she said firmly, lifting her chin.
As they descended the palace steps, Flora clutched the letter tightly, her mind replaying Magda's words. There was a strength in her sister's encouragement—a reassurance that even in the face of uncertainty, Flora was not alone.
The carriage awaited at the bottom of the grand staircase, its polished frame gleaming under the morning sun. Servants hurried to secure the last of Flora's luggage as Calista inspected the vehicle with a meticulous eye.
Before stepping inside, Flora turned to Calista. "I will treat you as a sister, as Magda instructed. But I also ask that you tell me if you sense any danger. I won't be coddled."
Calista inclined her head, her green eyes steady. "Understood, my lady. And know that I will protect you with my life."
Flora's lips curved into a faint smile. "I see why Magda trusts you."
As the carriage began its journey, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against cobblestone filled the air. Flora sat by the window, her gaze fixed on the receding view of the palace. The golden spires of the capital shimmered in the distance, a stark contrast to the unknown path that lay ahead.
Magda's letter sat in her lap, the words etched into her mind. Time was not on her side, but with each passing moment, Flora's determination grew. She would do what was necessary—not just for herself, but for the life she had chosen and the future she hoped to build.
Beside her, Calista's presence was a steadying force, a reminder that even on the loneliest roads, she was never truly alone.