Morning sunlight spilled across the grounds of my estate, gilding everything it touched in golden warmth. The rays kissed the dew-dappled hedges, shimmered upon the cobblestone paths, and bathed the mansion's stone walls in a regal glow. My estate, bathed in brilliance, looked like a painting sprung to life—a scene from a world that had forgotten sorrow.
I sat on the balcony just outside my chambers, savoring the quiet comfort of a fresh cup of coffee. Delicate steam curled into the morning air as I nibbled on crusty bread and a handful of sweet biscuits. From this vantage point, I overlooked the front courtyard and the rhythmic choreography of daily labor—gardeners tending to trimmed hedges, stablehands grooming horses, and maids ferrying linens and baskets with quiet precision.
Peaceful. Almost idyllic.
Then, a distant hum broke through the stillness.
The low growl of engines, foreign in this world of horses and carriages, slowly grew louder—more assertive. Two motor carriages approached, the sound of their combustion engines echoing down the forest-lined road. One was a modest, functional machine; the other gleamed like obsidian, polished to a mirror sheen.
My chest lifted with anticipation. So, it has arrived.
I signaled to the guards at the front gate. With practiced movements, they swung the iron gates open, allowing the vehicles to roll smoothly into the courtyard.
I descended from the balcony just in time to greet the two men who stepped out—the salesman from Vennette & Sons and his assistant.
After polite greetings and a firm handshake, the salesman launched into a brief but informative tutorial on how to operate the motor carriage. I listened carefully, nodding where appropriate. I'd already understood most of the mechanics intuitively, but appearances must be kept.
"Are you sure you know how to drive it properly, my lord?" the salesman asked cautiously.
"Don't worry," I said with a smile that likely bordered on smug. "I'll manage just fine."
He offered to arrange a professional driver on retainer, someone skilled in the care and handling of the motor carriage. I politely declined. "I prefer to drive it myself."
Satisfied, the salesman handed over the keys, and after signing the remaining documents, both men took their leave, departing in their modest vehicle.
I turned to admire my new machine—a marvel of early modern engineering, by this world's standards. Sleek curves, silver trim, leather seats, wooden accents… A beautiful machine. The only drawbacks were the absence of air conditioning and the surprisingly loud engine.
Still, in this fantasy world where magic ruled and electricity remained scarce, it was a technological wonder. I would make do.
As I stood admiring the motor carriage, a crowd began to gather. My maids, servants, and groundskeepers all emerged from their stations, murmuring in awe and fascination at the mechanical beast before them. To them, it was an artifact from the future. To me, it was merely a vintage automobile.
I turned to the assembled staff and made an announcement. "From now on, the horse-drawn carriage is at your disposal for errands and travel needs. But this one"—I gestured toward the gleaming machine—"is mine alone. Only I will drive it."
A ripple of nods and excited whispers passed through the crowd. I caught the subtle sigh of relief from my coachman—no doubt fearing his dismissal. I simply offered him a reassuring smile.
---
Later that morning, after completing my usual routine, I dressed in a crisp black suit, matching hat, and polished shoes. My hidden sword cane rested in my hand—both a symbol of elegance and a concealed weapon. Tucked under my arm was one of the case files that had piqued my curiosity the most.
Osric had asked to join me on this investigation, both out of curiosity for the cases and intrigue over my unusual abilities. I didn't mind. It was better to have a companion who could wield magic if needed.
I slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The motor growled to life, eager and untamed. Estimating my speed at around 30 kilometers per hour, I left the estate behind, the gravel path crunching under the wheels. The country roads were rough and riddled with potholes, making for a bumpy ride—but still faster than a carriage.
Twenty minutes later, I entered the capital—Highmarch. The roads improved slightly, but the streets were clogged with traffic. Horse-drawn carriages, merchant carts, wandering pedestrians, and even the occasional pack animal all clogged the streets. Many of the townsfolk walked in the middle of the road as if it belonged to them, oblivious to the machine now weaving carefully among them.
Eventually, I pulled into the city square where Osric stood waiting. He raised an eyebrow, visibly impressed.
"Oi! You already bought a motor carriage!?" he exclaimed, walking a slow circle around the vehicle, inspecting it with admiration. "Nice…"
He opened the passenger door and climbed in.
Without a word, I handed him the case file.
"Read this," I said.
He flipped it open and began reading aloud:
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Victim Profile
Name: Lord Cassian Velloren
Age: 27
Cause of Death: Fatal injuries inflicted by an unidentified mystical beast.
Location: Duskwither Forest, Thornhearth.
Details:
Lord Cassian Velloren, firstborn son of Duke Alaric Velloren of Thornhearth, ventured into Duskwither Forest accompanied by a retinue of armed men. The purpose was a traditional noble's rite of passage—combat training via mystical beast hunting. According to the survivors, a vicious beast attacked without warning. The men were unable to identify the species despite their expertise. Lord Cassian perished in the assault.
---
"Thornhearth," Osric muttered. "That's four hours by horse-drawn carriage."
"Lucky for us, we're not using horses today," I said. "You'll be my navigator—I've never been there before."
"Never?" he asked, surprised.
"Not once," I admitted. The previous Edward wasn't much of a traveler.
"Well," he said with a grin, "I've been there. Once. I trained by slaying mystical beasts in the forest. Don't worry—I know the route."
"Perfect. We should arrive in half the time with this motor carriage. But first, we'll need to fill the fuel tank and pick up a few backup canisters. Fortunately, the trunk has ample storage."
Osric chuckled. "Aye aye, Captain."
The case file contained everything—maps of the area, photographs of the victim and his family, testimonies from the survivors. Every detail was laid out with precision. If there was a secret hidden in that forest, I would find it. My All Power ability, would ensure that nothing escaped me.
We stopped by the nearest fueling station and filled the tank. I purchased several extra cans of gasoline and loaded them into the trunk.
Once everything was secured, Osric climbed back into the passenger seat, map in hand.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Always," he said, eyes twinkling with anticipation.
And so, with the roar of the engine and the scent of oil lingering in the air, we began our journey to Thornhearth—toward mystery, danger, and perhaps, the truth behind the shadows that hunted this world.
---