Agnellus now sat in the opulent confines of a private carriage, its polished interior surprisingly quiet despite the rumble of cobblestones beneath them. Across from him sat a pale girl with porcelain skin and hair that matched his own—both bearing silver strands, though his was neatly styled in a fashionable undercut, while hers fell in soft, disheveled waves. Her eyes, unlike his pitch-black, fathomless ones, were a ghostly green, tinged with faint, dull violet undertones, reflecting a deep, almost childish melancholy.
Mary sat quietly beside them, perfectly composed in her bloodless maid uniform, her eyes, once feral, now unnervingly serene as they tracked the passing, grimy brickwork of the cityscape. She was a silent, watchful shadow, accustomed to the intricacies of this unusual family.
The girl, Xenia, clutched a delicate cup of hot chocolate in her gloved hands, her knuckles white, looking profoundly upset, a picture of stiff, bewildered indignation.
With a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of millennia, Agnellus finally broke the tense silence.
"Xenia, I told you—I'm busy with work. Terribly so. I said I'd make time for us, on my own schedule, when the affairs of the world allow." His voice, usually so silken, now held a sharp edge of paternal exasperation. "So why, exactly, did you have to get yourself captured by those bumbling, idiotic fools? You know better than this."
His tone sharpened, a low, dangerous growl entering his voice, utterly devoid of the casual charm he showed Lux. "What if the Church had been there? Or worse, the Bureau of Magical Affairs? You'd be laid out on some cold, sterile table, poked and prodded like a specimen, while they slice you open to see what makes you tick. What makes you different. And I wouldn't be able to lift a finger to stop them."
"I know," Xenia muttered, cutting him off sharply, her voice raw with a mix of fear and petulance, the familiar defiance of a frustrated child. She refused to meet his gaze, staring instead at the condensation on her cup. "So if you don't want me turned into a science project, then maybe stop lecturing and focus on the road yourself, Father. Or whatever it is you do."
Agnellus closed his eyes, pressing a thumb and forefinger to his temple, the headache clearly mounting, radiating from the very core of his ancient being. The silence stretched again, thick with unspoken frustration and the complicated bond between them.
"Because of your little stunt, you missed your first day of school," he finally continued, his voice softer, laced with a weary disappointment that only a parent could convey. "Your Aunt Lux, believe it or not, took a teaching job there, you know? You were supposed to meet her. She's rather particular about punctuality, even after all this time."
Another sigh, heavier this time, escaped him. "Well, either way, we're heading back to Veridia Majoris. It seems you need a tighter leash, for now."
Xenia huffed, a childish puff of defiance, then began smoothing out the immaculate fabric of her school uniform—a crisp navy-blue skirt and blazer paired with a precisely knotted red tie, the standard for Class 1. She meticulously brushed imaginary dust from her lap, her discomfort evident in her rigid posture.
They soon boarded the grand airship bound for the towering, gilded spires of Veridia Majoris. Inside the opulent vessel, its polished brass gleaming under the electric lights, Xenia tossed her schoolbag onto an adjacent velvet seat with a dramatic thump and slumped into another, burying herself in its plush cushions. Mary had vanished briefly, a mere flicker in the periphery, but returned from the distant kitchenette with a silver tray holding a steaming teapot and an assortment of delicate cakes, her soft, almost imperceptible footsteps barely disturbing the thick, carpeted floor. She placed the tray silently before Agnellus, then resumed her vigil, a silent guardian.
Elsewhere, in a sprawling, mist-shrouded city within the Beastkin Confederation, Lux and Delta sat poised in an elegant, if somewhat scuffed, carriage bound for the opera. Lux wore an autumn-orange corset gown, the rich color a vibrant counterpoint to the gaslit gloom, her golden hair styled in a neat, intricate French braid, revealing the ash-grey streaks beneath. Delta, in an icy-blue variant of the same gown, mirrored her look with equal poise, her wine-dark hair cascading over one shoulder.
"You're certain he'll show?" Lux asked, her voice low and sharp with professional focus, not a hint of wistfulness, as she gazed out the window at the blurred, grimy city lights. "Our target, the ram beastkin. This is the third tip-off."
"I checked the divination more than once, Lux," Delta replied, her voice laced with a teasing lilt, a warmth that only surfaced around her sister. "Would you like to try it yourself? Perhaps your senses are keener than my arcane calculations."
Lux didn't answer, her gaze fixed on the passing shadows, her expression intent.
Later that evening, after the final, thunderous act at the sprawling, gilt-edged opera house, the two women, cloaked in shadow and silence, followed a suspect—a ram beastkin, distinctive by his curling horns and nervous fidgeting—through a labyrinth of narrow, piss-scented alleys. The path twisted through grimy backstreets, illuminated only by the flickering, unreliable glow of distant gaslamps, until it finally opened onto a bustling, dimly lit dockyard, permeated by the tang of salt, fish, and industrial grime. They tracked him to a dilapidated, echoing warehouse, its corrugated iron roof shedding rusted scales onto the damp ground. Minutes passed, stretching into a taut, breathless silence. The man emerged again, not alone this time, but flanked by a crew of brutish sorts: a hulking goat beastkin, a lumbering gorilla beastkin, and a few others whose faces were obscured by shadow and menace.
On the goat beastkin's massive, fur-covered shoulder was the girl they were after. A teenager, though painfully small for her age, her limbs dangling awkwardly. Her soft brown hair framed a pair of undeniably charming bear ears poking out from the top of her head, twitching with fear. She was gagged, a rough cloth binding her mouth, but thrashing wildly, her muffled cries a desperate, furious struggle, even as the brutes roughly hauled her toward their waiting, dark carriage.
Lux acted first, a blur of motion. Her concealed pistol cracked, the shot ringing out like a whip in the confined space, echoing off the iron walls. One of the thugs dropped instantly, a clean bullet wound between his eyes, collapsing in a dead heap.
Delta, a vision in icy blue, stepped fully into the stark, unforgiving moonlight that now sliced through a break in the clouds, her voice echoing mockingly through the sudden, stunned silence.
"Well, I see I finally have your attention, gentlemen. Took long enough for a pair of ladies to be seen around here, didn't it? What does it take for a girl to be acknowledged?" Her eyes, twin pools of cold fire, flicked to the struggling girl on the goat beastkin's shoulder, a flash of genuine fury crossing her face.
"Tch. That's no way to treat a lady," she hissed, her elegant form dissolving into a blur of motion, a predatory lunge as Lux unleashed a fresh volley of precise bullets, each one finding its mark, scattering the remaining thugs.
Gunfire erupted from the remaining brutes, a chaotic symphony of lead and desperation. The thugs scrambled for cover, their earlier bravado replaced by panicked terror. Delta reached the goat beastkin in a heartbeat, plunging a glinting blade into his throat before he could even register her presence. With a primal roar of effort, she hauled the struggling girl onto her back, using the falling brute's immense body as a shield against the hail of bullets as she made a desperate dash for the carriage—now already riddled with bullet holes.
"Hey there, young miss," Delta said breathlessly, a faint, weary laugh escaping her as she glanced down at the terrified girl clinging to her back. "Quite the show you've starred in tonight, wouldn't you agree?"
Lux, meanwhile, had conjured a blast of air magic, a powerful, invisible force that tore through the warehouse, kicking up dust, loose cargo, and splintered wood, creating a thick, disorienting smokescreen to cover their retreat. The gunfire died behind them, abruptly swallowed by the swirling, artificial mist as they vanished into the chaotic, moonlit dockyard.
Now on their way back to Veridia Majoris, the rescued girl lay curled asleep on the train, utterly exhausted. She hadn't lasted five minutes on the plush velvet seat before drifting off into the deep, dreamless sleep of trauma and relief.
"Think we'd get more if we requested a ransom?" Lux asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes, a playful jab at the seriousness of their mission.
Delta responded with a wordless glare—and a sharp, well-aimed knock to Lux's head, a gesture of exasperated affection passed between two ancient souls.