Regina turned, opening her mouth to reply, but the stranger—her unexpected savior—spoke first. His tone was cold authority, slicing through the confusion: “These bandits attacked the young lady. They are to be taken into custody without delay. As for you men, whose poor vigilance allowed such villainy, be assured the law does not turn a blind eye to failure. There will be consequences.” His words were sharp as a blade, and the police stiffened, some trembling under his magenta-eyed glare. "If the Empire’s peacekeepers are so easily bested in vigilance, you’d best prepare to defend yourselves before the Lord Provost.”

“Do your duty properly. Escort the young lady safely—now,” he commanded, his presence brooking no argument.

The guards blanched at his words, backs ramrod with dread. The chief swallowed hard, already sweating beneath his hat. “Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir,” he stammered, voice barely above a whisper. With swift gestures, he dispatched one of the younger men: “Escort the little lady to her family’s estate—see to her protection until she is safe behind locked doors and report back to me!”

As the remaining police began binding and dragging the cursing bandits toward a waiting wagon, Regina stepped forward, fixing the officers with an imperious stare. “Why, may I ask, have you been so remiss in securing the well-being of this district?”

One policeman, nervous, stammered, “We—we were investigating, madame. Another urgent affair…”

The stranger’s eyes narrowed. “Of what sort?”

A second officer, voice lowered with unease, replied, “M-murder, sir. There’s been a killing in the northern quarter.”

Regina’s gaze grew sharper, the shadows beneath her lashes darkening. “Very well. Get back to your work,” she said in clipped tones, her expression unreadable as she waved them off. With the police distracted and the alley beginning to empty, her sights returned to her mysterious protector.

He stood a little apart, lit by moonlight—a shock of golden hair gleaming above sharp magenta eyes, features carved with haughty elegance. Regina stepped closer, intending to thank him properly; her eyes, quick and calculating, took note of the emblem delicately embossed in silver on the arm of his cloak—a sigil not easily forgotten.

“Thank you…truly,” Regina began, her voice softer, guarded curiosity shaping her words as she drew back.

The stranger merely smiled, his gaze lifting to the moon that hung luminous above the rooftops. “See you soon, Leah,” he called, voice carrying on the midnight air as he turned and strode away, his silhouette quickly swallowed by the shadows of the winding street.

Regina froze, a chill running through her blood. Leah? she thought, pulse thrumming. That was the name her father alone had called her—a cherished echo from a vanished past, a secret never shared.

How does he know that?

-Regina's Study; Vendreich Estate, 7:16 AM-

A pale beam of morning light snuck through the leaded-glass windows, painting sharp angles of gold and shadow across the polished mahogany desk where Regina sat. The heavy air of her sanctuary was laced with the scent of bergamot from a half-finished cup, parchment, and the faint must of old vellum-bound ledgers.

Knuckles knocked gently on the tall door, and with a quiet breath of well-oiled hinges, Luke entered, his posture crisp, hair neatly combed, and a glint of intelligence alive in his eyes.

“Morning, Your Grace,” he announced, setting a stack of correspondence on a side table with quiet efficiency.

“Morning, Luke,” Regina replied, barely glancing up from the paper she annotated, the quill in her hand moving in small, precise strokes. The quiet scratch of the nib was a small percussion under the whispers of the house crest fluttering outside her window.

“Would you see to it that a letter of complaint is delivered directly to Lord Provost regarding last night’s debacle? Specify the inexcusable neglect among the city watch. Refer, of course,” she said, shoving aside a crisply folded copy of the day’s newspaper, “to the incident outside the riverfront.”

Luke’s eyes flicked over the headline—bold, inky text proclaiming last night’s affair. “Ah, yes!” he replied, “The one all Granzholm’s abuzz about: ‘The Young Master of Drosnik Aids the Guard—Murder of Skovrik’s Lord Solved Overnight!’ The whole city’s gossiping about his intervention at the scene, and your duel with those ruffians, Your Grace.”

“Exactly. I want no ambiguous words in the letter. Make it clear—these failures are to be rectified at once.” Regina’s voice rang clear, firm with command.

Luke nodded, mettle glowing in his response. “Understood, Madame.” He shifted the bundled documents closer to her, the weight of lists and letters evident. “Also—the candidates for Lady Vivian’s companion have been selected with utmost scrutiny. Only those of exceptional poise and skill remain for your final approval. I swear their service will be exemplary.”

A rare, genuine smile touched Regina’s lips, softening the winter in her blue eyes. “Thank you, Luke. I always said I could trust you with a crown’s worth of secrets.”

Buoyed by her praise, Luke executed a brisk bow. “Well then, I shall begin drafting at once.” As he turned to leave, the heavy air shifted abruptly—

Maria swept into the study, a vision in her embroidered morning shawl, golden hair pinned and a painted fan fluttering before her face. The muslin skirts whispered with feminine authority as she strode forward, the scent of freshly cut roses trailing her wake.

“Ah, Reginaaa! Why ever did you not tell me sooner that little Vivian was such a darling?” she trilled, voice echoing off the high ceiling. “Heavens above! I’ve been under the impression she was merely another Lillian—oh, but how wrong I was! She’s the sweetest—so gentle and dear!” Maria’s gloved hands pressed to her bosom dramatically.

Regina’s eyes narrowed, setting her pen aside with a deliberate tap. “Mother, why must you always be so judgmental, so quick to heap praises on one and not another? They are both children. Sisters. How can you indulge in such partiality?”

With an airy laugh, Maria flicked open her fan, eyes sparkling slyly over the intricate lace. “Oh, come now, darling, you know how it is. The finest blooms always draw the most admiring eyes. One cannot help but favor beauty and grace!”

“Perhaps in your world, Mother, but not in mine.” Regina’s voice cooled, her back straightening imperceptibly. “Both my daughters are equally precious to me. There will be no talk of favorites in this house—not while I wear this signet.”

“Hmph. Whateverr!” Maria huffed, clicking her fan shut with theatrical flair as she swept past, feigned offense radiating in her wake.

Maria, perched elegantly upon the velvet sofa, fanned herself with slow, calculated flourishes—her eyes ever watchful, glinting with the clever scrutiny acquired over years in the high ranks of imperial society. Her voice glided across the room, deceptively light and laced with mischief. “So, dear, do indulge your poor mother. Where did you come across such a little darling overnight? Surely it is no easy feat to draw such cuteness into this world’s net on a whim. Tell me true—whose daughter is she?”

Regina, poised behind the wide mahogany desk littered with ledgers, missives, and the pale scatter of correspondence, met her mother’s gaze with practiced patience. “Mother, you ask after my girls as though they were playing cards in a royal deck.” She curled her lips with a composed, weary amusement.

Maria ignored the rebuke, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes.

“And what, pray tell, are those angels of yours doing this fine morning?”Regina’s eyelid twitched at her mother’s game.

“What could they be doing?” Maria scoffed, sharp as a heel on marble. “When their mother cannot trouble herself to even join them for breakfast, perhaps it is little wonder you do not know.” Her tone dripped with the bittersweet honeyed acidity sharpened by long years in courtly salons.

Regina turned back to her desk with an inward sigh. When did she learn to twist even gentle inquiries into barbs? Was it all these years among the vipers of High Society? Or was it after she laid down her sword? Aloud, she spoke firmly: “Mother, truly—who taught you such twisted wit? It does not become the captain you once were.”

Maria’s white-gloved hand flicked through her fan as she replied in a sing-song hush, “Hoho~ Well, your little sprites are playing quite cheerfully with Vivi. Nyx seems to have developed an exceptional fondness for the puppy.” Her eyes glimmered with bemused approval.

Regina permitted herself a faint smile. “That comforts me,” she murmured, her tone softening as she took up the packet of correspondences—her salvation from the chessboard sparring with her mother.

Breaking the red wax seal, she unfurled a crisp leaf of parchment, each candidate’s summary penned in an elegant script. She scanned the documents with a discerning eye, the hush of paper and scratch of her nail briefly accompanying the crackle from the hearth.

Candidates: Companion-Speakers for Lady Vivian:

1. Miss Elise Martell

Specialty: Sign language interpretation, silent reading, children’s education.

History: Former governess to the youngest son of the Viscount of Torrith, born mute—praised for warmth, patience, and innovation in teaching nonverbal children to communicate not only through signs but subtle expressions and gestures. Awarded by the Imperial Child Welfare Society for excellence.

2. Mister Ansel Hendrick

Specialty: Morse code, tactile communication, medical liaison.

History: Served as hospital assistant during the Western Campaign. Developed techniques for wounded soldiers robbed of speech. His letters to the Granzholm Academy cited as pioneering work for civil application.

3. Mistress Gisella Voirin

Specialty: Lip reading, musical integration, emotional therapy through art.

History: Former instructor at the Imperial Academy. Known for introducing music as a bridge for orphaned children to express themselves. Lauded for her kindness and ability to inspire laughter even from the most withdrawn.

4. Monsieur Paul Renard

Specialty: Multilingual communication, legal documentation, noble etiquette.

History: Private secretary to the Dowager Countess of Montmire. Worked to integrate mute wards into court society; skilled in discretion, ceremony, and the disciplined poise required among Granzholm’s elite.

Regina’s gloved finger traced down the list, pausing at the flowing letters of each name. Impressive backgrounds…their talents clearly measured by more than words.

The mantle clock chimed gently, startling her from thought. Maria’s gaze, languid but sharp, remained fixed. “Well? Have you found a suitable soul to speak for our little nightingale? Or will you question their pedigrees thrice before you even meet them?”

Regina allowed herself a gentle laugh, not unkind. “I will meet them, each in turn. One must not trust credentials alone, but the spirit behind them. If I am to entrust my daughter’s voice, it must be to someone with both skill and heart.”

From beyond the walls, faint echoes of childish giggles and the quick yapping of Vivi filtered in with the scent of dew-soaked gardens, softening the morning’s edge. Regina’s heart eased—her girls at play, a house finally brimming with more than shadows and duty.

She placed the list atop her desk, gazing out the tall window where rosebuds gleamed in the dawn. For Nyx, for Lillian, and for every child denied a voice—here, in this estate, compassion shall always outrank pedigree and pride.

Regina spun away from the sprawling desk, eyes sharp and questioning as she faced her mother, who lounged coquettishly upon the velvet settee, a delicate lace fan fluttering before her lips. “Wait a moment,” Regina said, voice steady but edged with suspicion. “How is it you know I am seeking a companion for Vivian?”

From behind her fan, Maria’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Haha~ I merely inquired of Luke this very morning before breakfast with your little dears. A mother must always be informed, must she not?” Her laughter was light, but a serpent’s glint lurked beneath its sweetness.

Regina cast a sidelong glance, suspicion tightening her gaze like a steel wire.

“Oh! Have you not heard the news?” Maria continued, voice lowering, edged with the delicious thrill of scandal—“The murder of Lord Skovrik last night—the city’s most whispered mystery. And how the heir of Drosnik solved it with a flair none dared imagine! Quite extraordinary, unbelievable even.”

Unbelievable? Regina’s mind spiraled inward—What exactly did this man do? The mention of his name stirred a quiet unease. “What do you mean?”

Maria’s smile deepened, sharp as a viper’s fang as she lowered the fan to reveal perfectly painted lips curling in satisfaction. “Oh, my dear, how long will you clutch that sword and hide beneath the veil of ignorance? The Society, Regina—the court, the shadows where destiny moves—are you truly so blind to the currents beneath you?”

“Motherr!” Regina’s frustration cracked the calm of her poised facade. “Just tell me~!”

The air thickened with the scent of heated wood and mingled spices from a nearby brazier as Maria recounted the tale with relish and crystalline precision.

“It began—the gruesome discovery at dawn’s first light—Lord Skovrik found lifeless in his own chambers, his body sprawled grotesquely across the intricately woven Persian rug, a thin dagger thrust deep into his chest. The city buzzed with fear and whispers—was this a rival noble, a disgruntled servant, or something far darker?”

She paused, casting a sly glance to gauge her daughter’s grip tightening on the arm of her chair.

“The police were stumped—blindsided by questions they could not untangle. Step by step, the heir of Drosnik arrived—not draped in finery, but with eyes sharper than any falcon’s swoop. Quiet, observant—a king in the guise of a mere man.”

Maria’s voice lowered to a conspiratorial murmur. “It was he who traced the faintest footprint, the subtle smudge upon a silken curtain, the whispered call of a raven witness. He summoned the guards, directing them with the poise of a born commander. Little details others dismissed, he wove into a tapestry revealing the killer’s mask. Even the Lord Provost bowed to his insight—accepting the heir’s arrest warrant with a solemn nod.”

A flame of suspicion spread through Regina’s chest, tempered by the cold steel of duty. So, the heir worked as judge and detective, bending law to swifter justice. How come? How can a man overnight possess such ability? I've never seen him in society before, but he seems to have earned fame faster than any nobleman I've ever encountered. His swift rise to prominence is remarkable, given that he's managed to achieve such a level of notoriety in a relatively short time. It makes me curious about his background and the circumstances that have led to his rapid ascension in society.

To be Continued...