Forty eight

We say our graces to Ildi and step outside into the balmy evening night. Graham was right, even though the winter is still in full swing, the air is warmer. A lot warmer than expected.

We descend the few round steps at the front of the house, and then onto the paved road where the carriage awaits drawn by four majestic horses.

The carriage is made of gilded wood, with cobalt trimmings, colourful detailing added along the edges, depictions of foliage, and a wide variety of flowers. It is dazzling, to say the least, but neither of us has commented on it since Ildi has followed us to see us out. I bet she can't wait to get rid of us.

I throw a glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of the house we just stepped out of, and I realise that it's not a house. It's a manor, sprawling as far as my eyes can see through the murky night.

Mason's hand falls on the small of my back as the coachman holds the door open, waiting for us to climb in.

" Good even my Lady. Gentleman," I want to laugh at the use of the honorific. I'm not a lady, and neither men standing on either side of me, are far from being gentlemen.

Mason is the one to speak first.

" Good evening," He dips his head and lends me a hand to help me climb into the carriage.

The moment I take a seat on the cushy bench, upholstered with rich cobalt velvet, and silver silk, I get another chance to see the sprawling manor. It is bigger than anything I've ever seen in my life. With large latticed bay windows overlooking the city, saccarian architecture is predominant in every detail, highlighted by thick sculpted limestone columns, and bold inlaid boards.

I feel even more out of sorts, as both men slide into the carriage with me, and the click of the carriage door shutting behind them brings me back to reality.

" What the hell is going on?" I ask, and both men give me a non-committal shrug.

" We have no idea. This has been the theme of the day," Graham supplies looking unfazed.

On my right Mason hums," It's true. Although this doesn't apply to the rest of the denizens by the looks of it, though. Maybe this is how they treat their guests," Mason says, but he doesn't seem convinced by his own explanation.

" And there are no cars ?" It's absurd that there are no cars.

" Oh, that's normal. Gallassos is considered a heritage city in the Takkarian district, and no cars are allowed. But there are other options available for long-distance travelling," Graham offers and somehow that puts me at ease. Understandably, they want to protect something uniquely beautiful. Even though I didn't see the rest of Gallassos, I can only imagine how beautiful it must be.

After visiting Takka, Meza and Gallassos, I find Takkara to be a strange amalgam of styles. So, different from Morston who is far more uniform, and compared to Gallassos and Takka, rather plain, and boring.

We pass through a set of what can only be described as a gargantuan set of wrought iron gates, bearing the crest of Takkara. Believe it or not, it's a stoat. I want to laugh when Graham supplies that tidbit of information, but I refrain. As far as I'm aware any type of monarchy has been abolished, and it's nothing more but a distant memory. Something that none reminisce about since most of the customs and practices have been long lost. It appears that once each district has become independent, things have changed.

We sit in silence, while the coach takes to us the Little Palace. I catch glimpses of houses lining the road, all of which share some of the same traits as the manor we just left behind. There is no sign of anyone lacking, or of a house in shambles. Everything looks perfect. Too perfect. And all of a sudden it feels like we are willingly walking right into the belly of the monster. In some sense we are.

As a result of that thought, I feel every muscle seize. Sensing the tension, Mason squeezes my hand reassuringly.

" You worry for nothing. If they wanted to crucify us, they've had plenty of opportunities to do just that since we got here, " I grimly smile up at him. Have I become so paranoid that I see danger everywhere I look? That I see an enemy in everyone I cross paths with.

" Possibly, " I mumble under my breath. Seemingly, all sense of logic has abandoned me, a long time ago.

The carriage slows and eventually pulls to a stop in front of Little Palace, and no surprise there, there's nothing little about it.

I lean over Mason to have a better look, " Let me guess if this one is the Little Palace, the other one is the Big Palace," I say mockingly, while Graham plants his palm on my forehead and pushes me back in my seat.

" Sometimes," He shakes his head, clearly amused, " I wonder if we are related," I hide my smile behind my hand just as the coachman opens the door, for us to climb out of the carriage.

Mason cuts in front of me, taking the coachman's hand, Graham silently chuckles, eyes sparkling with amusement, while Mason stands next to the coachman offering me his hand instead.

With a bow, the man steps aside. He has received the message.

Sliding my hand into Mason, I slide out of my seat, placing a sandled foot onto the step of the carriage, while Mason carefully guides me onto solid ground. I'll have to watch my footing tonight. It wouldn't be very pleasant if I land face-first at the feet of some rich nincompoop, and made a fool of myself.

Graham slides out of the carriage, taking my other side, I hook both arms through theirs, and we offer our thanks to the coachman, who informs us that he will be waiting to take us back.

" By the way where is Shay?" We got so caught up in everything that I didn't even notice he disappeared out of the apartment.

Graham shrugs," He has learned a few new tricks. I actually don't know,"

I eye Graham cautiously for a long minute, " That can't be good," I say under my breath as a man wearing a white tailcoat appears in the doorway.

" Change isn't always bad, sweet cheeks. Always, so negative about everything. No wonder Micah is out to get you. You could bring about the end of the world solely with your pessimism," Mason chuckles at my side, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

I lightly tap his shin with my foot, and he stiffens, " You're supposed to be on my side," I say as we begin to climb the stairs. Not the right place to argue.

" I-,"

" Good evening My Lady. Gentlemen," The doorman, or butler, hard to tell what position he was holding at the time, interrupts us, and we all stand a little bit taller at his authoritative demeanour.