2 In Pursuit of the Truth

With his eyes locked on Charlotte, who was riding her horse with reckless abandon, Aldric thought, "Maybe I ought to have gone back to the Barony and claimed the title instead of my brother."

"I don't think you'd make a very convincing Baron with that attitude," Charlotte shot back, her eyes hinting at taunting even as she smiled playfully.

Their teasing was cut short, however, when Charlotte's communication orb glowed brilliantly. When Charlotte brought the sphere up to her ear, her expression changed.

She smiled and said, "Hello," thinking it was her brother.

Charlotte was silent for a moment, her face growing pale as she paid close attention.

"What did you just say?" Her fingers clenched around the sphere as her voice faltered with disbelief.

"Your brother did not make it through his last mission," the orb's voice said seriously.

"Hey Charlotte!"Aldric yelled.

There was no quick response, and tension mounted as Charlotte continued to be unresponsive. Aldric got off his horse, feeling the urgency, and approached her warily.

Charlotte's voice broke through the silence, her words ringing with anger that stunned everyone in the silence. "Don't lie to me, you bastard!!"

Aldric felt his heart sink when he heard the depth of her pain resonating through the air and the anguish in her voice. For a little period, he stood motionless, trying to process the seriousness of the situation.

The orb responded softly, "I'm sorry," hardly heard Charlotte's cries of pain.

Charlotte's voice trembled as she tried to make sense of the impossible. "Nothing about this makes sense. How could my brother... There is no way he would..."

She staggered on the horse, nearly losing her footing as tears filled her eyes and clouded her vision. Instinctively, Aldric moved quickly to grab her before she collapsed.

"Charlotte," he whispered, his voice full of concern as he hugged her close, feeling her pain.

Charlotte lost control of her overpowering feelings and started crying, her anguish overtaking her. Her cries resounded in the peaceful surroundings, creating an incredibly heartbreaking scene.

Charlotte wept as memories of her beloved brother flooded her thoughts in a rush of emotions—moments both joyful and heartbreaking.

Charlotte passed out, her body growing limp in Aldric's arms. He held her tight, his face filled with confusion and anxiety.

Aldric realized he had to take rapid action because Charlotte was unconscious and the circumstances were unclear. He gently picked her up and took her back to Marquise Ashford's mansion.

Charlotte woke up in a panic the next morning, her heart racing violently. She felt a wave of bewilderment as she blinked out of sleep, seeing her ceiling and Eliza, her maid, looking worried.

Charlotte sprang up suddenly and ordered, "Get the bath ready, quick." Her voice was raspy.

Eliza exited the room quickly, sensing Charlotte's anxiousness. A thick, ominous aura enveloped her like a shroud, and the mansion appeared abnormally quiet.

Charlotte groped for her bedside table, her hands shaking as Eliza rushed around. She felt anxious and baffled as a stray tear made its way down her chin.

Charlotte was startled as a gentle chime broke the silence. She rushed out of bed, frantically searching for the cause of the noise.

"Where is this coming from?" Muttering to herself, Charlotte shuffled objects around her room, trying to figure out where the noise came from.

She murmured "Not here... Nothing here..." as her heart fell after each hopeless search.

Then she realized what had happened. "It's coming from somewhere low," she whispered, her gaze fixed on the bottom drawer of her bedside table.

Charlotte opened it hurriedly and saw an unusual sphere that was unlike anything she had ever seen.

"Another communication orb?" Charlotte whispered, a sudden wave of hope coursing through her heart. "Is that my sibling? Let it be him, please, please, please!"

Her hands trembling, she turned on the orb. Amidst the cacophony of crackling sounds, a voice that was known to everyone screamed out, "Charlotte!"

She felt a wave of joy go over her. "Marcello!"

Charlotte barraged him with inquiries, desperate for clarifications. "How are you doing? What's taking place?"

Marcello's voice became strained and weaker. A bead of chilly sweat appeared on Charlotte's brow. "The link is weakening, Marcello. Tell me where you are."

Once more, the voice crackled. "...is dangerous... someone... be careful... not safe."

With growing frustration, Charlotte attempted, but failed, to use her magic to stabilize the link.

"Remain composed. She mumbled under her breath, trying to make sense of the circumstances, "Keep it together, Charlotte.

"The people here said he's dead, but he's alive..." Her insides ached with anxiety.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Eliza said, "Mi'lady, your bath is ready," but she spoke carefully.

With her mind racing on what to do next, Charlotte quickly got ready and left her room.

Into her father's study, Charlotte walked, not waiting for permission.

"Charlotte? What's wrong?" Her father, Lorenzo, looked up, startled by her sudden appearance.

"My brother is alive, and all you're doing is sitting here?" Charlotte's eyes were flaming with resolve, and her voice was cutting.

Lorenzo began to clarify, but Charlotte interrupted. "He's alive, and I'm heading straight to Castello d'Oro." I'm not going to lose him."

Seeing the seriousness of her belief, her father wavered. He gave in when he saw the communication orb in her palm. "Just come back safely, Charlotte, with everything intact."

Lorenzo realized that he had no choice but to let his daughter follow this route because he was aware of her determination. "It's best to let her go," he concluded, conceding to her willpower.

It was tense in Dante Vittorio's luxurious study in the royal capital of Crepuscolo, the mysterious First Prince. His sharp eyes scanned the room as he took in the disturbing information from his reliable assistant.

"So, our goods and funds got stolen?" Dante had a soothing voice, yet it also had a hint of cold.

His assistant, an old hand with a submissive bearing, positioned herself on the sidelines so as not to incite more ire. He replied, his tone measured, "Yes, in Castello d'Oro."

Dante's forehead furrowed, revealing a rare moment of thinking. He asked sarcastically, "And who is in charge?"

"Marco." The aide, picking his words carefully, said, "He was found dead at the scene."

The room's atmosphere appeared to shift after the disclosure. Dante's eyes grew a little narrower as he thought about what that meant. "Castello d'Oro," he muttered to himself, the word reverberating menacingly in the silence.

Observing his master's demeanour shift, the aide cautiously ventured, "You're not just going to let it slide, are you?"

A sardonic smirk twisted across Dante's lips. "Get everything ready. We're leaving. I bet they're probably waiting for me..."