Once out of the valleys of the eastern mountains of Lastria, in which the city of Wynthart was located, the trip by railroad until the capital would last approximately some six hours, taking in account the multiple stations in the way and the fact that they took the so called ‘scenic’ train, which while slower than the normal ones, also came with a much steeper price, and thus less passengers. It was relatively easy then to get an entire private wagon to themselves for the sake of security.

  Maran entered the cabin, careful of pressing the spellpaper back in the right place at the point where the door met the wall so that the room is once again soundproofed. Then she sighed and for the first time since they got in, took notice of the cabin. It wasn’t the most elegant in these trains, she knew it from experience, but it was a close second. The walls were of a wood so light-colored it seemed almost white, the ceiling had a painting of the Ascension of The Hero, in which according to the legends, on his deathbed, the hero went back to the world he came from; there was, behind closed glass doors, a full bookshelf, a minibar and she had checked earlier, several tabletop games. Rather well-equipped and comfortable for a medium distance trip. And finally, after checking the entire wagon personally, and arranging for their lunch to be brought in an hour, she could sit down and relax.

  Rose hadn’t noticed her entering, and she was thankful of that. While she wasn’t actually nervous, it would have been a lie to say that after seeing her fencing demonstration after the conversation in which she revealed her and the prince’s otherworldy origins, she wasn’t scared of her for reasons completely outside the whole ‘villainess’ thing. She was good, nightmarishly good. Maran didn’t like to think things like that, but young ladies shouldn’t have enough physical strength so slice a marble column with a blade, however in the Seven Punishments she did such a thing. Rose was looking outside, through the window, and seemed in awe.

  Outside of the few town’s they’ll go through, most of the trip from then on would be entirely surrounded by the enormous, fertile Lastrian plateau. Just leagues and leagues of green flat farmland as far as the eye could see, only occasionally interrupted by rivers, hills with small castles on top and some village or other in the distance.

  Finally, she seemed to notice when Maran sat down with a long and tired sigh. “Oh, Miss Rabineau, my apologies. I never knew this part of the country was so beautiful!”

  Maran arched an eyebrow, slightly.

  “Oh, my apologies again.” She seemed to blush a bit. Maran had barely seen her at a distance before everything that had happened, so she had never really expected her to be so bashful, specially given how hotheaded the seemed during their conversation in the training room. “When I came to the capital the first time, my family went in by airship, and when I moved, we went there by ship, first through the Stormwall sea, then through the Bidaraman straight and then up the Lomos river before picking up with my father’s military caravan.”

  “So you have never come by train?” Maran asked. It was small talk, it seemed to calm Rose a bit. During this past couple of days, since they talked, in every conversation she seemed ever so small, as if she was mentally shrinking herself. Maran knew that she didn’t believe what she said about them having reincarnated from another world, and she barely understood their long talk afterwards in the library. She thought she was trying to entertain her a bit, but it seemed like she had misunderstood everything in a way that would be difficult to untangle.

  Rose shook her head. “Father always insisted in that the whole family must travel together, he thought it was easy to get separated in trains, and did not want us to do such long travels by carriage. Specially since my sister was still very much a child when he passed.”

  She went quiet for a moment, glancing back at the window, it seemed like she wanted to keep looking at the landscape, but there was something gnawing at her mind.

  “You told my mother, and I trust you two were right, but may I ask why we are not traveling by air or sea?” She finally asked.

  “Getting a hold of a private airship in such a short notice is difficult, specially so out in the countryside. And having one sent from the capital would be a massive security liability, since that city is not yet safe. Much of the same applies to ships.” Maran answered, crossing her legs over her knees. She had managed to get both some suitable traveling outfits, ones that pointed to them as nobles, but still not anything remarkable, which was a good way of throwing off any suspicion. For all anyone cared, they were relatives of some paranoid noble that insisted them to not get mixed up with the rabble.

  “When I was sent back home, was it also in a train?” Rose asked.

  “It was in the Royal Wagon. We managed to get it in an extremely short notice, and it was a pain for his Highness to cover given the paperwork.” Maran said. “Which is also the reason why we are traveling in this and not in that, currently there is no legal justification for us to use it, and the security in the capital is getting tighter than it has been in a very long time.”

  Rose nodded and lowered her head, she seemed to be in thought. When she rose it again, there was a sweet smile in her face, although there was pain in her eyes. “I am making him suffer a good deal, am I not?”

  “After what we have done to you, we deserve it. And I hope you find ways for me to atone too.” Maran answered. She meant it.

  She lowered her head a bit more. There seemed to be a ghost of a happier smile in her face, Maran couldn’t quite tell why. When she rose her head, again, she seemed to be deeper in thought. “Miss Rabineau, if I may ask. What made you agree to us returning to the capital? You were in a discussion about it with Mother again, just three hours ago.

  Maran groaned, not loud enough for her to hear. “I did not agree, but I cannot refuse. The letter was indeed from his Highness, although there was an issue, and he thinks that it would be better to have you already there for the formal exoneration.”

  Rose tilted her head slightly, quizzical. “Was there an issue?” “Yes.” Maran cursed herself, silently, for having mentioned it. “While the letter was indeed his and he intended to send it, he did not give the order, and given the extremely low number of people who knew about its existence, just three including me, he is paranoid and thinks there was a mole. So he is this close to have the army surround the capital. I hope Lord Crato, if he is as trustworthy has his Highness says, will put some sense in his head.”

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  Rose seemed alarmed, understandably. “And, Miss Rabineau, are you not of that same opinion?”

  Maran shook her head. “No, I know who did it and why. But his Highness is far too naive and emotional to realize it.”

  Lady Wynthart practically jumped in her seat, loudly pounding her hands on the table. “You do?! Who?” She seemed less like someone looking for a criminal and more of a gossipy lady, Maran felt silent for a moment. In this short time getting to know her, she wasn’t entirely sure she liked her, although apparently, as far as she could tell, the sentiment wasn’t the same in both sides.

  “Obviously, it was Lord Vivrul.” She answered, getting a bit out of the way as Rose stood there, flabbergasted.

  “The minister of justice?” Rose asked, in complete disbelief.

  “Yes, the minister of justice.” Maran looked through the window. The landscape was indeed rather beautiful, if boring. She ignored Rose as she asked a barrage of obvious questions, and finally, sighed. “He sent it because he is an Old Golden Vulture.”

  Rose visibly didn’t understand it.

  Maran sighed, again. She understood it, but dealing with people who were not aware of the linguistic shorthands used in most of High Society was always a bit of a pain.

  “An Old Golden Vulture is a type of noble that ostensibly has not existed for generations, although there is always one or two in every new cycle. They perceive themselves as powerless when compared to their peers, so they set traps, nothing straight up illegal or violent, of course, and when another noble falls, they ready to prey on them to get rewards. In the end, they are little more than rich bullies.” Maran explained. “And the duke sees the prince as someone he can prey on in an incredibly stupid gamble.”

  “I do not know what you may have with the minister, Miss Rabineau, but he seemed an honest man to me.” Rose said. Maran thought, yet not let her face show, that she was naive to a fault, much like her temporarily estranged boyfriend.

  “I am not saying that he is not, Lady Wynthart. You can be honest and still a bully.” Maran answered, and seeing that Rose still seemed not to understand, she asked a simple question, “The reason for why I think it was him is rather simple, he has much to gain from this situation, why do you think that is?”

  Rose was at a loss. She couldn’t think of anything that such a powerful man would want out of merely sending a letter.

  Maran sighed, again, and explained. “The current line of succession in Lastria consists of three people in total, barring cousins of the late king who are kings of other countries, of course. First, her Highness the princess, who is currently away studying, and is a complete unknown to much of the population. Second, his Highness the Regent, and the third is a lady by the name of Calesta.”

  She had heard the name at a couple of parties. Rose closed her eyes for a moment to recall, and remembered an older woman, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties, with gorgeous black hair and a beautiful heart-shaped face. They had probably introduced her to her at some point, she wanted to think it was done by Rull himself. To think she was also an heir to the throne made Rose nervous. She wasn’t cut for royalty, despite her position as the prince’s fiancee.

  “Calesta is the current duchess of Vivrul.” Maran clarified.

  Rose blinked.

  “To be more specific, she was the second wife of the previous duke, and inherited it upon his passing. He was also part of the battle in which his Majesty and your father passed.” Maran explained. “The current duke married her little time after, it was a minor scandal given that their age gap was of a bit over forty years, and many thought that he was taking advantage of her grief to court her. In fact, they married merely eight months after they were first seen together in public.”

  “I see why you see him as a bully then, Miss Rabineau.” Rose said, her voice small.

  “To be entirely fair to his character, while he may have done it to obtain a degree of power, it was not that much given that he was already an Old Margrave himself.” Maran blinked. “An old Margrave is...”

  “I know what an Old Margrave is. Noble houses from before the kingdom expanded after the Dark Age. They are lower than dukes, but higher than their modern equivalent, the marquis, am I right?” Rose said. “I am aware of my dim knowledge of noble society, but please, Miss Rabineau, House Wynthart was an Old Margraveship before we lost our titles.”

  Maran nodded. She knew that, and had only explained out of what now felt like a reflex. “Regardless, it was not that much of a change for him, and as far as I know, he is a perfectly kind gentleman for his wife and a wonderful father to their son.”

  Rose felt silent for a moment. “That old man and her have a child?”

  “Not together, Lady Vivrul has famously had trouble conceiving a child and is currently under treatment for it in Rothlem. It seems to be working. Their child, who currently must be around the age of seventeen or so, had been adopted by the previous duke.” Maran explained. She wasn’t too comfortable having this conversation be so close to gossip of the caliber that only cheap yellowprints would spread.

  “Anyway” Maran continued, “As I was saying, she is probably the reason why he has done this.”

  “You still have not explained.” Rose interjected. Maran blinked.

  “It is actually quite simple. The princess is away and the general public does not care about her at all, never mind that the little things known about her are not particularly inspiring for the literati of Lastria. On the other hand, the conservatives hate the Regent for furthering the democratization of the country and having signed the full peace treaty with the Garasii. So, as you probably know, one year before the coronation, the Enshrinement of the Sword will take place, and there an objection to the Crown can be sent given that neither the late king or queen will be present to advocate for the continuation of their direct line. If it is done, there will be a public vote on who in the line of succession becomes the new heir, and if the prince is publicly embarrassed further, he is likely to lose.” Maran explained. “He is already risking things by all of this being made unfortunately public, and as we both know, he is not going to fight for his right to the throne because he does not want it.”

  Maran took a deep breath when she finished explaining, and noticed that Rose didn’t seem to be paying attention at all. She was looking through the window, an expression of worry in her face.

  “Miss Rabineau” She began. “The highrain season has already ended as you told me, right?”

  “Yes, Lady Wynthart, it ended some three weeks ago, earlier than normal, why do you ask?” Maran asked, a small smile in her face. She was trying to be reassuring.

  Rose pointed outside and Maran turned to look. On the distance, but seemingly approaching, were some of the darkest storm clouds she had ever seen.