The carriage wheels rattled over the cobbled streets, the cabin swaying gently with each uneven turn. Outside, dusk pressed in, cloaking Freybrook in a dim veil of purples and greys. A thin scatter of snow softened the rooftops and clung to window ledges, the cold glow of lanternlight flickering to life against the chill.

Scarlett sat in silence, her gaze drifting across the passing scenery. Her eyes lingered on the scorched husk of a building, its wooden facade half-collapsed, blackened beams jutting out like bones. One of the remnants of the Tribe's assault that hadn't yet been cleared away.

To her, it felt as though months had passed since then. In reality, it had been a week.

Much had happened.

The Kilnstone in the Forgotten Tower had returned their group safely to Freybrook. The officials stationed there had been startled when they appeared through the artifact, but the moment they recognised her, they hadn't barred her passage. She suspected her name was now noted somewhere in the Kilnstone network logs for unauthorised use, but that was a matter she could handle later, should it become an issue.

Securing a carriage for the final leg of the journey had proved more bothersome, honestly.

Arnaud and Raimond hadn't accompanied them. To avoid attention, they also hadn't returned directly to Elystead; instead, they'd teleported to a hidden Kilnstone near the capital, apparently under the Followers' control and known only to Raimond and a handful of others. Scarlett had found that curious but decided not to press the matter as they parted.

Both men would contact her again once they'd gauged the situation within their factions. For now, their focus was on Elystead — where the Undead Council, the Hallowed Cabal, and the opening of Beld Thylelion were no doubt still causing a ruckus. Scarlett could only imagine the state of things there.

"Some of these buildings are broken," came a small, flat voice.

Scarlett turned her head.

Opposite her sat Slate, draped in the deceptively plain black folds of the [Echo Without Voice (Legendary)]. The robe's hood shadowed most of the girl's pale face, but her emerald eyes gleamed faintly as she studied the streets beyond the window.

The words might have sounded like mere observation, but Scarlett suspected the homunculus was only just now distinguishing which buildings bore scars from the attack. Scarlett was surprised it had taken this long. Maybe Slate had intentionally not used her ability to form that conclusion.

"They were destroyed," the girl added. "By monsters. By the Tribe of Sin. By the Hallowed Cabal." She tilted her head slightly before looking at Scarlett. "Why?"

"You cannot discern that yourself?" Scarlett asked.

Slate shook her head.

"I see. It was to sow chaos. To destabilise the empire and weaken its defences."

Slate's ability to understand was potent, but it wasn't omniscience. At least, it hadn't been in the game. Its limits had never been made completely clear, but she could perceive the causality and meaning in certain things without context. As far as Scarlett knew, it was mostly arbitrary which truths she could seize and which remained beyond her, but maybe there was some hidden logic behind it.

Regardless, it was a valuable ability.

"The empire," Slate echoed. She fell silent for a moment. "The Graenal Empire. The emperor is Gartelnas Articius Verddun Teronia. The capital is Elystead. We are in Freybrook."

"Correct."

The girl nodded once, then turned back to the window.

Scarlett's gaze shifted to Slate's left, where Kat, Allyssa, and Shin sat pressed shoulder to shoulder in plain travelling clothes. To her own left sat the still-unconscious Rosa, with Fynn silent in meditation beside her.

Allyssa leaned against Shin, her chin resting on his shoulder as she stared out the opposite window. "…Do you think things are alright in Elystead?" she asked softly, not to anyone in particular.

Kat cracked an eye open, having apparently been feigning sleep. "I doubt it's worse than here. Even with all the trouble we just went through, Elystead has some of the strongest defences in the empire."

"It's also possible the Tribe and the Council pulled back once the Tribute was claimed," Shin added.

"Mm. I suppose." Allyssa breathed out, then glanced at Scarlett.

"I cannot say what the situation in Elystead is," Scarlett said. "Much is surely still in motion there, even if our enemies have begun to withdraw. But that is a matter for the empire's armies, the Guild, the Followers, the Assembly, and the mage towers to resolve. I do not intend to involve myself directly."

Raimond and Arnaud would have their hands full, as would most of the Empire. Scarlett's burdens simply lay along another front.

"What about Beld Thylelion?" Kat asked. "What'll happen to that place? Is it going to vanish again?"

"I…am not sure," Scarlett admitted. "Perhaps."

In the game, it should. But now…things were a lot less certain. Removing Fate might have cut away the edge her foreknowledge once gave her. Without a guiding force weaving towards that future, it was difficult to predict how the world would shift. Fate's influence had ruled this world since its inception. Maybe the changes would come swiftly, or maybe they'd be gradual.

She'd just have to wait and see.

At least, with so many already diverging from Fate's designs, its absence wasn't as crippling a disadvantage as it might once have been.

The cabin fell into silence again. Scarlett turned her eyes back to the window, watching the city roll past as the carriage carried them towards Freybrook's northern district.

She felt the estate before she saw it.

The Loci's presence brushed against her awareness, stirring at her approach, almost welcoming. A small smile tugged at her lips when she caught Slate tilting her head, what might have been curiosity flickering across the girl's otherwise emotionless face. The homunculus must have sensed the house spirit as well.

Scarlett hadn't realised how much she'd missed that presence. The quiet weight of it at the back of her mind was surprisingly comforting.

She kept her gaze forward, and soon the Hartford estate emerged past a bend in the road, the carriage climbing towards it beneath the wash of moonlight. Nostalgia stirred faintly in her chest at the sight, catching her off guard. It mingled with something else — an odd, unfamiliar sensation that she couldn't quite place.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Two imperial soldiers in steel-trimmed armour, not her own guards, approached as the carriage rolled up to the gates, their spears glinting in the light. They were from the detachment assigned to guard the pylon raised on the grounds. Their surprise was clear when they saw Scarlett, evidently under the belief she was already inside. Still, they allowed her passage readily. Too readily, perhaps. She made a mental note to remind their superior to be more careful in the future. It wasn't impossible to impersonate others in this world, after all.

Slate's gaze fixed on the mansion's facade as the carriage moved up the frost-laced gravel path and stopped before the arched entrance to the courtyard. Scarlett and the others disembarked into the chill air, her pyrokinesis weaving warmth around them. She turned to Fynn, who carried Rosa's unconscious form.

"I will have Miss Hale taken to her room. Fynn, see to our other guest."

He nodded. Rosa vanished from his arms with little fanfare—spirited away by the Loci to her chambers to the hired coachman's shock—while Fynn moved to the back of the carriage. He opened the rear compartment and drew out a bundle wrapped in thick blankets.

Inside was a restrained Nol'viz.

They had debated how best to transport her without Raimond's oversight, but the priest apparently had a variant of his invocation that lingered even in his absence. Glowing chains wound tightly around the Cabal girl's body, hidden beneath the coverings. Allyssa had also dosed her with a concoction that induced sleep. None of them knew how long that would work, but the young alchemist claimed she'd used enough to put a young dragon to sleep. Theoretically.

Still, they had to be careful. Fynn wasn't really in shape for a proper fight, but with the potions they'd poured into him, he at least looked less like a bloodied gladiator straight out of the arena. Here, on Scarlett's home turf, him keeping guard should be enough for the time being.

Though she would need to set up a proper room for containing Nol'viz soon.

"Keep watch over her," she instructed. With a flick of her wrist, Fynn vanished, brought to one of the underground chambers in the west wing's basement.

The coachman looked even more alarmed, but Scarlett waved him off. "You have our thanks for bringing us here. You may go."

The man swallowed, bowing his head. "Y-Yes, Your Ladyship."

He flicked the reins, and the horses snorted as the carriage rolled away.

Kat let out a light chuckle. "Is all the ballyhooing really necessary?"

"Ballyhooing…?" Scarlett frowned slightly. Was this Rosa's influence manifesting in invented vocabulary?

The woman's mouth quirked. "You know. The parading. The grandstanding. The bragging."

Scarlett raised a brow. "No."

The Athame bloomed into her hand. She let it fall through the air, and a seam of flame tore open before her. Without another word, she stepped through, reappearing in the mansion's foyer. She paused, waiting as the others followed.

When Kat emerged, Scarlett met her eyes. "But I will admit, it is satisfying."

Kat snorted, shaking her head.

"My Lady."

Scarlett turned to find Garside descending the stairs, his gaze sweeping over the group. Impeccable as ever, his dark grey hair was neatly combed to his shoulders, his moustache trimmed, and his black suit free of a single crease. She'd notified him through some simple interference from the Loci, but even so, his presence brought a flicker of something she'd both expected and hadn't.

She had missed him.

"You have returned," Garside said. "However, Miss Hale and Master Fyntrarth…?"

"Rosa is in her chambers," Scarlett replied. "Asleep. She overexerted herself. Fynn is seeing to another guest. I will brief you on that later."

"I see. Very well, My Lady."

He stopped at the landing, hands folded neatly behind his back. Scarlett regarded him in silence.

"Garside Nunnally," Slate spoke suddenly at her side, studying the older man. "Mage. Butler. Confidant of Bartholomaeus Hartford and Castor Hartford. Seventy-six."

The butler's eyes widened before narrowing slightly as he turned to her. Scarlett's attention followed, her brows knitting.

It was the first time she had ever heard his surname aloud. She'd seen it in staff records, but it felt strange hearing it. And Bartholomaeus Hartford…that had been the original's grandfather. She hadn't realised Garside's ties went that far back.

"…My Lady, if I might ask—"

"Do not," Scarlett cut in, voice firm. She met his gaze evenly. "None may know of her presence here. Understood?"

He was quiet, then inclined his head. "As you wish, My Lady. Does that include the staff as well?"

"For now, yes."

"Then I must inform you that I have already sent someone to notify Young Lady Evelyne. She is likely on her way."

"That is no problem." Scarlett waved a hand, turning to Slate. "I will have you brought elsewhere. Wait for me there."

The girl gave no reply, which Scarlett took as assent. The Loci whisked her away.

Scarlett refocused on the butler. "I trust there have been no issues in our absence?"

"None, My Lady. As instructed, I maintained oversight of the runes you left in my care. Neither they nor the Loci have indicated intrusion."

"Good."

While it had felt unlikely, she had feared the Cabal might strike at her estate while she was gone, or that someone like Malachi could grow impatient and act recklessly. It was a relief to hear otherwise.

"My Lady…" Garside's voice drew her attention again. Something unreadable flickered across his features before settling. "…May I assume your excursion achieved what it intended?"

"In large part, yes."

"I am heartened to hear it." He paused. "And you, My Lady? Are you well?"

Her brows rose faintly. "I am. Why do you ask?"

"You simply seem…slightly different. Forgive my saying so."

"…I see."

Footsteps sounded from above. Evelyne appeared at the top of the stairs, auburn hair brushing her shoulders, a maid trailing behind. She stopped when she saw them. "…Scarlett."

Scarlett met her eyes.

Evelyne descended the stairs, scanning the group. "Are you all all right? Where are Rosa and Fynn?"

"We're fine," Allyssa answered tiredly. "Just worn out. Rosa's already in her room, and Fynn is…handling a guest?"

She glanced at Scarlett.

"Thank Ittar." Evelyne's eyes returned to Scarlett. "I've been worried sick since you left. I feared you might—" She stopped, her gaze searching Scarlett's face. "…Is something wrong, Scarlett?"

Scarlett was silent for several seconds, then shook her head. "No. Apologies. I was merely reminded of something, that is all."

She looked to the others. "Our return is timely. Use the night to rest. We will convene in the morning to discuss matters further. Until then, you are free to do as you wish." She turned to Evelyne. "You may join us, of course."

The younger woman hesitated, then nodded. "All right."

Scarlett looked to Garside. "Inform Lady Withersworth of our return. I will meet her tomorrow. Until then, I am not to be disturbed."

"I will see to it, My Lady."

With that, Scarlett passed him and climbed the stairs, leaving the others in the foyer. Her steps carried her through the quiet halls of the mansion — her home. She could have had the Loci deliver her instantly, but tonight she preferred to walk.

Soon, she stood before the ornate door to her office. She opened it and stepped inside. Familiar bookcases lined the walls, her desk sat at the far end, and behind it hung the painting The Gentleman had once gifted her.

Despite the familiarity of it all, that strange distance she'd felt since approaching the estate hadn't faded. In fact, it had grown stronger. An odd, subtle estrangement, as though she were walking through a place remembered rather than lived in.

Only now did she recognise its source. It came from herself — from Amy. From the part that was no longer as restrained by the system's traits, slipping through in dissonant ways.

It was weird that, at this moment, she felt more at home with the Scarlett part of herself than the Amy part.

A dry, humourless breath escaped her that might have been a laugh.

Her gaze shifted to her left. Slate stood there, motionless.

"You may take a seat," Scarlett said, gesturing to the chair Rosa often used in the corner.

The girl studied it for a long while. Then she approached, placed a hand on the armrest, and tried to lift the chair before letting it fall back into place. Next, she raised one foot onto the seat, only to frown faintly and step back, as if realising the action was incorrect.

Scarlett allowed herself a quiet chuckle. Was this the first time she had ever even seen a chair? She seemed to struggle parsing what 'taking a seat' even meant.

Letting the matter rest, Scarlett crossed the office.

At her desk, she set down her [Pouch of Holding] and extended a hand. Her [Charm of Expeditious Change] activated, and the [Bag of Juham] appeared in her grip. She placed it beside the pouch and unfastened the flap. The [Crown of Flame's Benediction] also shimmered into being on her brow as she fed it a thread of fire, bolstering her strength. Reaching inside, she summoned all her strength to haul free a dense, matte-grey cube of metal. It struck the desk with a heavy thud that made the wood groan.

Thainnith's Array Forge.

She studied the relic, then moved to take her seat, only to stop.

A pair of clear, amethyst eyes watched her from the armchair behind the desk.

Empress lay sprawled across the leather, perfectly at ease, and gave a languid meow before stretching in a slow yawn.

Scarlett regarded the cat for several seconds.

"Come in," she said — just before a soft knock rapped at the office door.

There was a beat of silence, then it opened. The measured tap of a cane touched the wooden floorboards as The Gentleman entered, removing his top hat in greeting. "Baroness. Pardon the intrusion."

Scarlett looked at him. "…You are excused." She gestured to the chair opposite her desk. "Sit. I believe we need to talk."

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