The carriage door creaked open.
It moved with agonising slowness, as though the person standing on the other side was reluctant to witness whatever remained within. For a moment, the narrow opening revealed nothing more than a sliver of light, accompanied by the faint sounds of movement outside. Then, at last, the door swung wide enough to reveal the figure standing behind it.
A middle-aged man stood at the entrance, dressed in a flawlessly clean white uniform. A rifle was strapped across the front of his body, while several ammunition pouches were secured around his belt. Despite the violence that had evidently taken place, his attire remained remarkably immaculate, an incongruous sight amidst the damaged carriage and the lingering traces of bloodshed.
His expression was solemn, weighed down by an unmistakable sense of grief. He appeared to have prepared himself for an unpleasant sight, perhaps even expecting to find no one alive inside. For a brief moment, he stood motionless, his gaze sweeping across the carriage interior.
Then his eyes fell upon her.
The man froze.
His solemn expression faltered, replaced by an expression of sheer disbelief. He stared at her as though his eyes had deceived him, unable to reconcile the sight before him with whatever grim conclusion he had reached moments earlier. His lips parted, but no words came out at first.
Then, all at once, his composure shattered.
"The princess is alive!"
His voice rang through the carriage and carried beyond it, startlingly loud against the silence that had settled over the surroundings.
"Princess Reen is alive! Medic! She's wounded, her dress is bloodied!"
He turned abruptly towards the people outside, shouting the words with such urgency that anyone within earshot would have heard him. Almost immediately, the previously subdued atmosphere beyond the carriage erupted into a commotion. Footsteps hurried across the ground, accompanied by several startled voices calling to one another.
Meanwhile, she remained seated inside the carriage, staring at the man who had just addressed her.
Princess?
The word lingered in her mind.
She had anticipated questions about her identity, perhaps even suspicion regarding her presence in the carriage. What she had not anticipated was being recognised by a royal title.
Worse still, the man had called her by a name.
Princess Reen.
The name sounded strangely familiar. It was similar to her own name, Reen Magritte.
Before she could think further, hurried footsteps approached the carriage. Several figures appeared outside, their voices overlapping in a confusion of relief and urgency.
"Your Highness!"
"Please, Your Highness, you're bleeding! Oh, your head!"
"Where is the medic? Hurry!"
The sudden attention left her little opportunity to gather her thoughts. She had no idea how Princess Reen was expected to behave, let alone how she had behaved before this incident. For now, she could only remain composed and avoid revealing her unfamiliarity with the people surrounding her.
Beneath her clothing, the mysterious white ring remained hidden against her skin.
She sensed a presence nearby and glanced around, only to find the spirit still standing beside her, watching her with an untroubled expression. The commotion outside the carriage appeared to have done nothing to disturb it. Reen was reminded that, as a spirit, it existed beyond the reach of ordinary people. Neither could they see it nor could they touch or otherwise affect it. Regardless of the chaos unfolding around her, the spirit remained an unseen observer, seemingly detached from the physical world's concerns.
She remembered the spirit's warning and instinctively adjusted her collar, preparing herself for what this world is about to give to her.
...
The commotion surrounding the carriage gradually subsided, though the aftermath of the ambush remained far from settled. Soldiers continued to move through the area, issuing orders and attending to the wounded, while others maintained their positions around the convoy. Reen had scarcely gathered her thoughts when several soldiers approached her with a stretcher.
"Your Highness, please allow us to carry you to the medical station."
She glanced at the stretcher, then at the soldiers who had gathered around her. Although she felt no pain and could not identify any remaining injuries, she saw little reason to resist. Her present condition was difficult enough to explain without adding an unnecessary argument to the situation. Besides, refusing their assistance might draw attention to the very thing she wished to keep concealed: the fact that she appeared to have recovered from injuries that should have left her incapacitated.
She therefore allowed them to lift her onto the stretcher.
The soldiers handled her with considerable care, mindful of her status and the possibility that her injuries might be more severe than they appeared. As they carried her away from the carriage, Reen took the opportunity to examine her surroundings more closely.
What she saw only deepened her unease.
The buildings lining the street had sustained extensive damage. Walls had been torn open, windows shattered, and sections of masonry scattered across the ground. Some structures bore the unmistakable marks of sustained gunfire, while others appeared to have suffered damage from heavier weapons. Dust still hung in the air, mingling with the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Here and there, soldiers moved cautiously among the wreckage, checking the remains of the buildings for any surviving attackers.
Further away, numerous bodies lay scattered across the street and the spaces between the damaged structures. From their positions and the weapons still lying near them, Reen could reasonably infer that many were members of the force that had ambushed the convoy. She could not determine whether every one of them was dead, nor could she identify their affiliations, but the sheer number of fallen combatants suggested that the attackers had suffered devastating losses.
What struck her most, however, was the condition of the convoy itself.
Despite the apparent scale of the fighting, the majority of the vehicles remained intact. The soldiers escorting them likewise appeared to have suffered relatively few casualties. Their movements were orderly, and their formation, though temporarily disrupted by the attack, had not collapsed. There was little indication that the convoy had been subjected to a prolonged or evenly matched engagement.
Only two carriages appeared to have sustained conspicuous damage: her own and another nearby. The distinction was difficult to overlook, particularly when the surrounding buildings had suffered so extensively while the convoy itself had emerged comparatively unscathed.
Reen's gaze lingered on the wreckage behind her.
The attackers had apparently chosen their positions within the buildings, using them to launch an ambush against a passing convoy. Yet, whatever advantage their positions had initially provided, it had not translated into success on the battlefield. The bodies scattered throughout the area and the relatively orderly state of the escort suggested that the attackers had been overwhelmed before they could inflict substantial damage upon the convoy.
From a military standpoint, the engagement appeared to have been a catastrophic failure for the attacking force.
And yet, there was one detail that complicated that conclusion.
Her carriage had been targeted, and she had apparently died.
If the attackers had intended to eliminate the princess, then the loss of their own forces did not necessarily mean that they had failed in their objective. They might have been prepared to accept extraordinary casualties in exchange for killing her. In that case, the ambush could have been a tactical disaster for the attackers while still achieving its most important purpose.
The thought settled heavily in her mind.
The possibility that the attack had been an assassination was no longer a matter of idle speculation. The apparent concentration of damage upon her carriage, combined with the fact that she had been the intended occupant of a vehicle carrying someone of royal status, made the explanation difficult to dismiss. Although she could not yet establish who had ordered the attack or why, she could no longer regard her predicament as a mere coincidence.
Someone had wanted Princess Reen dead.
And, judging by the condition of the surroundings, that person had been willing to expend a considerable number of lives to accomplish it.
Reen quietly committed the observation to memory. For the time being, understanding the circumstances of the ambush would have to wait. She was still surrounded by people who believed her to be the princess they had been assigned to protect, and she had yet to learn enough about that identity to know how she ought to behave.
The stretcher continued towards the rear of the convoy, where a temporary medical station had been established.
At first glance, the station seemed almost excessive given the relatively small number of casualties among the escort. Several tents had been erected along the side of the road, their entrances kept clear to allow the rapid movement of stretchers and medical personnel. Supplies had been arranged upon makeshift tables, while attendants moved between the tents carrying water, bandages, and medical equipment. The area was crowded, but the personnel appeared accustomed to working under pressure.
A closer look made the necessity of the arrangement apparent.
The convoy's soldiers were not the only people requiring treatment. Captured attackers who had survived the fighting had been brought to the station, their wounds requiring attention regardless of the circumstances that had brought them there. Civilians caught in the crossfire had also been gathered from the surrounding streets and buildings. Some were being examined by medical personnel, while others waited for their turn, guarded by soldiers who remained alert to the possibility of further trouble.
The battle might have ended, but its consequences had not.
Reen was carried past the first few tents and brought into a section reserved for higher-ranking personnel. The soldiers lowered the stretcher with care before stepping aside to allow a medic to approach.
The woman who came forward appeared to be in the prime of her adulthood. Her uniform was practical and neatly arranged, and a collection of medical instruments had been secured at her waist. A faint magical glow lingered around her fingers, indicating that she was a mage trained in healing. Her expression was composed, though the moment her gaze fell upon Reen, concern immediately replaced her professional neutrality.
"Your Highness."
She inclined her head briefly before moving closer.
"Can you tell me whether you are in pain? Do you have any difficulty breathing, dizziness, or other discomfort?"
"No." Reen replied.
The medic paused.
"No pain at all?"
"None."
The woman's gaze travelled over Reen's appearance. Her dress was heavily stained with blood, and the amount of it was difficult to reconcile with the calm manner in which she answered. More troubling still was the blood covering her head and clinging to her hair. Even if some of it had come from another source, the state of her clothing strongly suggested that she had sustained serious injuries.
"Your Highness, I must ask you to be precise. You were found inside a damaged carriage following an ambush. Your clothing is covered in blood, and there is blood upon your head. Are you certain you have no wounds?"
Reen understood why the woman was asking. Under ordinary circumstances, such a question would have been entirely reasonable. Unfortunately, she could hardly explain that she had awakened with extensive injuries only to find them inexplicably gone.
"I have no wounds." She repeated.
The medic studied her for another moment, apparently uncertain whether to interpret the answer as an attempt to remain composed or a refusal to cooperate. Ultimately, she seemed to decide that neither possibility justified leaving Reen unexamined.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I have to check on your condition."
She began with a visual examination, carefully inspecting Reen's head and face before moving to her arms and hands. She then checked the exposed portions of her body, looking for cuts, bruises, swelling, or other signs of trauma. Reen remained still throughout the process, offering no resistance. She had nothing to hide from the examination itself, provided the medic did not notice the mark beneath her jaw.
After several moments, the woman's movements slowed.
She examined Reen's head again, parting the bloodied strands of hair to inspect the scalp. Her fingers moved with deliberate care, searching for the injury that should have been responsible for the blood covering it. Finding nothing, she checked the surrounding area once more, her expression gradually becoming more perplexed.
There was no open wound.
No swelling.
No indication of the severe trauma that the blood upon Reen's head seemed to imply.
The medic moved on to the rest of her body, conducting a more thorough examination. Yet the result remained unchanged. Reen's skin was intact, her limbs showed no obvious signs of injury, and she displayed none of the symptoms that would ordinarily accompany the wounds suggested by her appearance.
The woman straightened slowly.
For the first time since approaching the stretcher, she looked genuinely shocked.
"That cannot be..."
She stopped herself, then looked at Reen again, as though expecting to discover that she had overlooked something. Her gaze shifted between Reen's uninjured body and the bloodied clothing that surrounded it. The contradiction was too pronounced to ignore.
Then, quite suddenly, her expression changed.
It was not merely surprise now, but the look of someone who had recalled a possibility that might explain what she was seeing.
"Your Highness," she asked cautiously, "did you experience an awakening?"
Reen regarded her without answering.
The term was unfamiliar in this context, though the medic's tone suggested that it referred to something significant. Before Reen could ask for clarification, the woman continued.
"Or did you establish a connection with a spirit? Perhaps your healing is related to one of those circumstances?"
Reen felt an immediate tightening in her chest.
The medic had arrived at two possible explanations, neither of which she could confirm. Yet one of them came uncomfortably close to the truth, at least as far as Reen understood it. She had encountered a spirit in an inexplicable realm, and the injuries that had once covered her body had disappeared after that encounter. Whether the two events were connected remained unknown, but she could hardly deny that the timing was suspicious.
Beside the stretcher, the spirit remained present, watching the exchange with its usual composure. The surrounding medical personnel paid it no attention, and none of them seemed aware of its existence.
"Answer Yes." The spirit said.
Reen resisted the urge to turn towards it.
"Say that you have formed a connection with a spirit. Give her my name. I am Ecrivain."
The instruction offered her a convenient explanation, but it also presented a problem. She had no means of knowing whether the medic would accept such a claim, nor did she understand what consequences might follow from admitting to a spirit connection. Nevertheless, the woman was already suspicious, and an outright denial would do little to resolve the contradictions before her.
Reen decided that the spirit's suggestion was the most practical option available.
"I believe I may have formed a connection with a spirit," she said carefully. "Her name is Ecrivain."
The medic's expression shifted again, though this time her surprise appeared tempered by recognition.
"Ecrivain?" she repeated, as though committing the name to memory. "I understand, Your Highness."
She did not press Reen for further details, nor did she seem inclined to question the possibility outright. Whatever she thought of the explanation, she accepted it as a plausible starting point for her examination.
That did not, however, mean she intended to leave the matter there.
"Even so, I must examine you with magic. Please tell me where you believe you were injured."
Reen hesitated.
"I already told you that I have no wounds."
"I heard you, Your Highness. But I cannot rely on a visual examination alone." The medic's tone remained respectful, though there was no mistaking the firmness behind it. "Certain forms of healing can close a wound without fully restoring the affected tissue. Others may stabilise an injury sufficiently for the patient to remain conscious and mobile, only for complications to emerge later. Such healing may be enough to provide immediate assistance, but if the underlying damage is overlooked, the wound can worsen again."
She paused to ensure that Reen understood the seriousness of her explanation.
"Even if you feel perfectly well, I must confirm that your body has recovered completely. Please, tell me where you believe you were hurt, and I will examine those areas first."
Reen had little choice but to cooperate. The medic was performing her duty, and refusing further examination would only make her appear more suspicious. Besides, if her injuries had truly vanished without leaving any trace, there was little reason to believe a magical examination would reveal anything different.
She indicated her head first, then the other parts of her body where she remembered feeling pain when she had initially awakened. The medic listened carefully before placing her hands near the first area to be examined.
A soft glow gathered around her fingers.
The light spread gradually, passing over Reen's head before moving down through her body. Reen felt a faint, unfamiliar sensation as the magic took effect, but there was no pain. The medic's expression grew increasingly concentrated as she examined each area in turn, apparently searching for remnants of trauma that might have escaped ordinary observation.
The examination continued for several minutes.
At last, the light faded.
The medic withdrew her hands and stared at Reen in silence. She seemed to be reviewing the results, perhaps hoping to identify some overlooked irregularity that would make the situation easier to understand. Yet the longer she remained quiet, the more apparent it became that the examination had revealed nothing of the kind.
"Your Highness..." she began, then paused.
Reen waited.
"Your condition is perfectly normal. I cannot detect any remaining injuries, internal damage, or signs of incomplete healing."
The woman looked at her again, and the bewilderment in her expression had not entirely disappeared.
"Whatever happened, your body appears to have recovered completely."
Reen lowered her gaze, concealing her relief behind a carefully maintained expression of composure. That was one problem settled, at least for the moment. She had been examined, and the medic had found nothing that required immediate treatment. More importantly, she had not drawn attention to the white ring beneath her jaw.
After the medic had finished her examination, Reen was given little time to settle before the convoy leader approached her. The middle-aged man, whose expression had grown considerably more composed since discovering her alive, informed her that the convoy would be divided into two groups. One would remain behind to coordinate with the local authorities, establish the circumstances of the attack, and assist with the aftermath. The other, consisting of the princess's immediate escort and the remaining members of the convoy, would continue towards the royal palace. This time, however, the journey would be conducted under substantially stricter security arrangements. Reinforcements would be drawn from nearby military forces, with additional protection even from the private forces of other nobles in the surrounding territories. The route itself would also be revised to minimise the risk of another ambush. The man explained these arrangements with the utmost seriousness, as though the safety of the princess had become the sole matter of consequence in the world.
Before taking his leave, the convoy leader bowed his head and offered a fervent prayer of gratitude to the goddess for the princess's survival. He repeated that her return from such a catastrophe could only be called a miracle, his relief evident in the earnestness of his words. Reen listened without comment, though she could not help noticing the intensity of his reaction. His relief seemed to extend beyond the simple joy of having found a survivor. Perhaps he had been terrified of the consequences had the princess perished under his protection. Whatever the case, his prayer revealed something else of interest: this world had a goddess to whom even a man of his standing would appeal so openly. Reen filed the observation away as she was escorted back to the convoy.
Her new carriage was considerably less damaged than the one in which she had awakened. At first glance, it retained the familiar appearance of a luxurious carriage, with a spacious interior, upholstered seating, polished fittings, and curtains drawn neatly beside its windows. Yet, when Reen looked more closely, she noticed that the vehicle carrying it was not drawn by horses. Instead, the carriage rested upon a motorised platform whose operation appeared far more complicated than the vehicles she had known in her previous life. Beneath the polished exterior, an assortment of mechanical components worked together to carry the carriage forward with a steady, restrained vibration. The engineering was sophisticated enough to suggest that the technology itself was not particularly primitive, even if its design philosophy struck her as unusual.
From what she had seen of the surrounding world, firearms and motor vehicles were hardly unfamiliar concepts here. The rifles carried by the soldiers had been unmistakable, and the level of mechanical sophistication displayed by her carriage suggested a technological standard not far removed from the mid-twentieth century. Yet, rather than adopting conventional automobiles for personal transport, the wealthy appeared to have retained the carriage as a preferred form of conveyance, combining its traditional comforts with modern machinery. Reen suspected that such vehicles were expensive to construct and maintain, perhaps even requiring a degree of craftsmanship that prevented their widespread manufacture. Their intricate mechanisms seemed ill-suited to mass production, making them more likely to be possessions of the nobility and royalty than ordinary citizens. It was an interesting contrast.
For the moment, she was content to sit quietly and observe. The carriage had begun its journey towards the palace, accompanied by an escort that was noticeably more substantial than before. Through the window, Reen could occasionally glimpse soldiers moving alongside the vehicle, while the distant sounds of the damaged settlement gradually faded behind them. Inside, the compartment was otherwise silent, save for the subdued rumble of the machinery beneath the floor.
Ecrivain sat opposite her, watching her with an expression that was difficult to interpret. The spirit had remained conspicuously quiet throughout the examination and the subsequent arrangements, seemingly content to observe the proceedings without offering any explanation. Now, with the two of them finally alone again, it appeared that her patience had come to an end.
"I believe I owe you more explanations," Ecrivain began. Her gaze shifted towards the window, where the scenery passed in a blur beyond the glass. "Worry not. We have the time."
Reen did not answer immediately. She studied the woman seated opposite her, taking note of the calm manner in which she spoke and the peculiar familiarity with which she regarded Reen. There were still too many uncertainties surrounding their encounter for her to accept the spirit's explanations without question. The woman's appearance alone was already difficult to reconcile with what Reen knew of herself, and her presence within this strange world raised more questions than it answered. Nevertheless, Reen had no intention of dismissing information merely because she could not verify it. She would listen, remember what she was told, and decide for herself what to believe.
Who exactly are you?
Ecrivain turned her gaze back towards Reen. "I am Ecrivain," she replied, as though the answer were sufficient in itself. Then, after a brief pause, she tilted her head slightly. "And what is your name?"
"Reen Magritte, Hiregrea."
"Reen Magritte, Hiregrea," Ecrivain repeated, rolling the name over her tongue as if committing it to memory. She gave a small nod before returning to the subject at hand. "As I was saying, I have been dead for an immeasurably long time. Longer than you could possibly imagine."
She spoke without any particular solemnity. There was no tremor in her voice, no sorrowful hesitation, nor any indication that the statement carried a weight she could not bear. She simply stated it as a fact, one so distant from her present circumstances that even death itself seemed to have lost much of its significance.
"I am Ecrivain, an Ancient Goddess associated with life, birth, and the development of life itself. Once, I held a divine nature that allowed me to exert influence over these concepts. That existence, however, ended long ago." Her eyes drifted towards the window again, following the passing landscape without appearing to pay much attention to it. "I have been dead for longer than most things in this world have existed. Whatever remains of the world I once knew has changed beyond recognition, and the plans I set in motion have endured through an age I could never have witnessed."
Reen listened in silence. An Ancient Goddess. The title was extraordinary, but the spirit had already demonstrated abilities that Reen could not readily explain. That did not make the claim true, of course. Anyone could make grand assertions, and Ecrivain had offered no evidence beyond her own words. Still, Reen had no reason to interrupt her before hearing the full account.
"Even so, my plans remain," Ecrivain continued. "Though I have long since died, I am preparing something that will allow me to experience the world again as though I were alive. To see it, to feel it, to take part in it once more. My former existence is beyond recovery, but that does not mean I must remain a mere remnant of what I once was."
There was a subtle change in her expression as she spoke. For the first time, a trace of genuine anticipation seemed to surface beneath her otherwise composed demeanour. It was not quite the excitement of someone looking forward to a new adventure, but rather the quiet determination of someone who had waited an impossibly long time for the opportunity to resume something left unfinished.
"And now, you have become involved in that undertaking."
Reen's attention sharpened.
"Your survival is important, and so is what I intend to accomplish through you. Provided that you can stay alive and that I am able to carry out my part, I am willing to assist you. I will help you grow stronger, guide you through the things you do not understand, and offer you opportunities that would otherwise be beyond your reach. If you wish to pursue your own ambitions, I may even help you achieve apotheosis."
The word was unfamiliar enough to catch Reen's attention, though she kept her expression neutral.
"Of course, there are conditions." Ecrivain's tone remained light, as if she were discussing an ordinary arrangement rather than proposing a partnership with a being who claimed to be a dead goddess. "You will need to follow my plans and arrangements. I cannot promise that everything will be easy, nor that you will always understand why I ask you to do something. But I assure you that this will benefit you as well. You have much to gain from cooperating with me, Reen Magritte."
The offer was undeniably substantial. Guidance, strength, and even the possibility of apotheosis were not things Reen could casually disregard. Yet the more extraordinary the promise, the more carefully she felt it should be examined. Ecrivain was asking her to place her trust in a being whose identity, motives, and capabilities remained largely unknown. Even if the spirit genuinely intended to help her, that did not necessarily mean their interests would always align.
And if they do not?
Ecrivain's lips curved faintly, suggesting that she had heard the unspoken question. She did not answer it directly.
"Ah, and there is one more thing. The flower you touched in the spirit realm—the one with the decaying petals. Keep an eye on it. Check on it from time to time, and do not simply forget about it."
Reen recalled the peculiar flower at once. Its partly withered appearance had been at odds with the overwhelming power she had felt when she touched it. Even now, she could remember the sensation of something vast and incomprehensible flooding through her, a force that had seemed capable of swallowing her consciousness whole. The memory was enough to make her wary of the subject.
You keep telling me what to do, but why should I believe you? Do you have any proof that you are who you claim to be?
Ecrivain giggled.
It was a light, unrestrained sound, distinctly amused rather than offended. She seemed to find Reen's suspicion more entertaining than troublesome.
"Oh, I have been dead for a very long time. Records, or anything else that might justify your trust in me, have long since vanished. Everything that could have served as evidence has been carried away and washed clean by the waves of time." She gave a small shrug. "I can hardly produce a document bearing my name, can I?"
Reen found little comfort in that explanation. It was certainly plausible that records of an ancient being might have disappeared over such an immense span of time. But the absence of evidence could not establish the truth of Ecrivain's claims, either. As far as Reen was concerned, the spirit had simply admitted that she could not provide the proof being requested.
Ecrivain appeared to recognise this. Her amused expression lingered for a moment before she turned thoughtful, as though searching her memory for something that might offer Reen a more convincing answer.
"Let me think. Is there anything I can show you that might make you trust me a little more?"
Her gaze settled on Reen.
"Ah. The flower."
She leaned back against the carriage seat, folding her hands in her lap before continuing. "That flower originally belonged to me. It was mine long before you ever encountered it, and it was the very thing you took from me as we descended from the spirit realm."
Reen's thoughts returned to the flower's strange appearance, its decaying petals, and the overwhelming force that had followed her touch. She had not known what it was when she reached for it. At the time, she had been drawn towards it without understanding the consequences, and the experience that followed had left her with more questions than she could answer.
"Do you know what it represents?" Ecrivain asked. "Life. Not merely the existence of living creatures, but the concept itself, in a form that is deeply connected to my former divine nature. It is no ordinary flower, and it was never something a mere mortal could safely handle."
Her voice carried a note of certainty that had been absent from some of her earlier explanations.
"The flower and I share a profound connection. It was bound to me long before my death, and that connection has never truly been severed. In a sense, we are inseparable. That is why I was drawn along with you when you took it as we descended. You may have been the one who touched it, but you were not the only one connected to what happened afterwards."
Reen considered the explanation carefully. It offered a possible reason for Ecrivain's presence, though it still depended entirely on the spirit's account. If the flower really had belonged to her, and if their connection had survived her death, then perhaps the circumstances of their encounter were not as accidental as Reen had initially assumed.
Ecrivain continued before Reen could settle on a response.
"Because I am its original master, I retain a considerable degree of influence over it. Compared with the way it responds to you, a complete stranger, the flower is relatively tame when I am involved. Even now, despite my present state, my connection to it allows me to exert control that you simply cannot."
She paused, allowing the distinction to settle between them.
"Consider what happened when you touched it. The flower's power was far beyond anything you could have endured on your own. You were a mortal with no understanding of its nature, and you reached out to something that was never meant to be handled so casually. Had I not been there, the initial impact would have been much more severe."
Reen remembered the torrent of power that had flooded her consciousness. It had felt less like touching a flower and more like coming into contact with something that existed on a scale her mind could not comprehend. For a moment, she had been surrounded by presences that seemed ancient beyond measure, their attention bearing down upon her with an intensity that made her own existence feel insignificant. Whatever the flower was, it had not behaved like anything she could understand through ordinary experience.
"Even with me present, the initial contact was dangerous," Ecrivain explained. "But my presence softened the impact enough for you to survive it. I was able to intervene before the flower overwhelmed you completely, and I helped calm its power further. Then, I stabilised it and guided its incorporation into your body."
Her gaze moved towards Reen's neck.
"That mark beneath your jaw is the result. The flower is no longer simply something you touched in the spirit realm. It has been incorporated into you, and the mark is evidence that the process succeeded."
Reen instinctively became aware of the thin white ring hidden beneath her collar. She had been warned repeatedly not to reveal it, and now Ecrivain was telling her that it was not merely an unusual mark but the outward sign of a transformation that had taken place within her.
"And because the flower is associated with life," Ecrivain continued, "its influence extended to your body. The injuries you suffered were fatal. Under ordinary circumstances, you would not have survived them. But the flower's power, once incorporated, restored you. It repaired the damage that would otherwise have ended your life."
The explanation gave Reen a possible answer to the most immediate mystery she had encountered since awakening. She had been gravely wounded, yet she had recovered without even the slightest lingering pain. The medic's examination had confirmed that there was no remaining damage, internal or external. Whatever had happened to her, the result had been complete.
Ecrivain watched her for a moment, then asked, "Tell me, would you have survived long enough to incorporate the flower by yourself?"
No.
Reen answered quietly.
The response came without hesitation. She had no reason to pretend otherwise. The power she had experienced was far beyond her capacity to control, and her injuries had already left her on the brink of death. Without Ecrivain's intervention, she could not imagine how she might have survived either ordeal.
A thought followed almost immediately.
If the flower was so dangerous, why did you tell me to touch it in the first place?
Reen paused, but only briefly. The answer seemed obvious once she considered the circumstances. She had been gravely wounded, surrounded by the aftermath of an ambush, and had little reason to expect that her body could recover. If the flower was the only thing that could save her, then the risk of touching it might have been preferable to the certainty of dying without it.
Reen returned her attention to Ecrivain, keeping her thoughts to herself. She would remember the explanation, along with the promises that had accompanied it. For now, the spirit had offered her a coherent account of the flower, her miraculous recovery, and the mark she had been told to conceal. It was more than Reen had known before, even if it was not yet enough to settle every doubt.
Ecrivain, meanwhile, seemed entirely untroubled by the scrutiny. She simply watched Reen with that same faintly amused expression, as though she had expected the questions and had already decided that, in time, Reen would come to understand.
Ecrivain seemed satisfied with Reen's answer. She did not press the matter further, instead allowing a brief silence to settle between them as the carriage continued along its route. The steady vibration beneath the floor and the occasional clatter of its mechanisms filled the compartment, while the landscape outside passed by in an uninterrupted stream. Then, as though recalling something else worth mentioning, Ecrivain turned towards Reen once more.
"Would you like to know what happened here? I mean, the circumstances surrounding your current predicament."
Reen looked at her. The question was unexpected, though hardly unwelcome. There were still considerable gaps in her understanding of the events that had led to her awakening, not least the attack on the convoy and the identity of the people who had attempted to kill the princess whose body she now occupied.
How would you know?
Ecrivain smiled faintly, as if she had anticipated the question. "You have the flower, remember? And through it, I am connected to its domain."
She raised a hand and gestured vaguely towards Reen's neck, indicating the concealed mark beneath her collar.
"My present existence is that of a spirit. I cannot simply wander wherever I please, nor can I perceive everything that happens in the world as I once might have. My range and the extent of my influence depend on the flower, its domain, and the reach of the power that remains accessible to me through it."
Reen listened attentively. The explanation seemed to follow naturally from what Ecrivain had already told her about their connection, though she remained uncertain about the precise nature of this supposed domain.
"The flower's domain extends beyond the flower itself," Ecrivain continued. "It possesses an interpretive property through which its influence is expressed and distributed throughout the surrounding environment. Through that property, I can perceive certain things occurring within its reach. Not directly, of course, and certainly not with the clarity or completeness I once possessed. I must rely on what the domain conveys, then interpret and process the information it provides."
She paused, apparently considering how best to explain the limitation.
"Think of it as a means of gathering impressions from the world around you. The flower does not simply show me everything that happens. The information it conveys is incomplete, and my ability to interpret it depends on how much of its power I can access. At present, both the range and the potency of this process are limited. There are things I can discern with reasonable clarity, others that remain vague, and still more that I cannot determine at all."
Reen considered the distinction. Ecrivain was not claiming omniscience; rather, she seemed to possess a means of gathering information through the flower's influence, albeit one constrained by her present condition. If the flower's domain really did extend throughout the surrounding area, it might explain how the spirit could learn about events beyond the immediate confines of the carriage without being physically present to witness them.
"And naturally," Ecrivain added, her expression turning a little more serious, "while I was making use of this connection, I came across information concerning the ambush."
That immediately caught Reen's attention. The attack had been too organised to dismiss as a random act of violence. The destruction along the road, the number of bodies, and the disproportionate damage inflicted upon her carriage had already suggested that the convoy had been deliberately targeted. Now, the possibility that Ecrivain had gathered information about the incident offered a chance to understand what had actually happened.
Reen shifted slightly in her seat, directing her full attention towards the spirit.
"Very well," Ecrivain said. "Let us begin with what I was able to learn."
Ecrivain settled more comfortably into her seat, appearing rather pleased with herself now that she had Reen's attention. "First, let us establish who you are supposed to be. Or, more precisely, who the person whose body you now inhabit was."
Reen waited.
"Princess Reen Magritte, Hiregrea, fifteen years old. A prominent member of the Hiregrea Archducal House, and the first of the Archduke's two children. You were on your way to the Hiregrea Archducal Palace, the principal residence of the archducal family, following your mother's funeral. She died of a fatal illness, and you were returning home after the ceremonies had concluded."
The Princess is only a year younger than me…
Reen thought.
Ecrivain paused briefly before continuing. "Your father, the Archduke, did not attend the funeral. He has offered no detailed explanation for his absence, either, which has naturally given rise to considerable speculation among the public. There are those who have their own theories about why he failed to appear, though I cannot vouch for the accuracy of any of them."
Reen listened without interrupting. The details were beginning to give her a clearer picture of the person whose life she had inherited. The princess was not merely a noblewoman travelling with a lavish escort. Her position within the archducal family alone would have afforded her considerable importance, but there was more to it than that.
"Of course, your status extends well beyond your birth," Ecrivain continued. "You are also the crown prince's fiancée. Assuming nothing changes, you are destined to become the next queen."
Reen's expression remained composed, though the revelation was difficult to ignore. She had already suspected that the scale of the convoy's security indicated a person of high standing, but she had not anticipated that the body she now inhabited belonged to someone expected to marry into the royal family. It explained the urgency with which the soldiers had reacted upon discovering her alive, as well as the extraordinary measures being taken to protect her on the journey home.
"Now you understand why the response was so immediate," Ecrivain said. "The people here are loyal to their archduchy, and the princess is not someone they can afford to lose. The moment word spread that you had been attacked, the local forces mobilised. The nobles in the surrounding territories were hardly going to sit idly by while the lady destined to become their future queen lay in danger. Reinforcements were dispatched, protection was arranged, and everyone who could contribute to your safe return was eager to do so."
She gave a small, almost playful smile.
"After all, losing the future queen would hardly be a trivial matter."
Reen understood the reasoning. The convoy's revised security arrangements were no longer excessive in light of her position. The involvement of local forces and the private troops of neighbouring nobles was not simply an expression of concern for a member of the archducal family. It was also a matter of political stability, and perhaps of loyalty to the crown itself. Whatever the precise balance of those motives, the princess's survival clearly mattered to a great many people.
"However," Ecrivain said, her smile widening slightly, "this is where things become interesting."
Reen turned her attention fully towards her.
"You see, the princess should never have been killed in the first place. In fact, the ambush itself should never have happened."
She let the statement hang in the air for a moment before elaborating.
"Your convoy was not travelling without precautions. Among its vehicles was a forward reconnaissance vehicle equipped with a magical device capable of scanning a considerable area for potential threats. Such equipment is standard for a convoy of this importance. Its purpose is straightforward: detect hostile forces before they can approach, identify suspicious activity along the route, and give the escort sufficient warning to respond. With a system like that operating as intended, an ambush of this scale should have been detected well before the attackers could reach the convoy."
Reen recalled the damage she had seen at the scene. The ambush had involved a substantial force, yet the attackers had apparently been repelled without inflicting comparable losses upon the escort. The most conspicuous damage had been concentrated around her own carriage and another nearby vehicle. At the time, she had interpreted the destruction as evidence that the princess had been the primary target. Now, Ecrivain was suggesting that the attack should have been prevented altogether.
"Yet the device issued no warning," Ecrivain continued. "The convoy proceeded directly into the ambush, apparently unaware that a hostile force was waiting for it. That leaves us with a rather unpleasant question. Was the device sabotaged, rendering the operators blind to the approaching attackers? Or did the operators themselves know what was coming and deliberately allow the convoy to proceed?"
Reen's attention sharpened. Either possibility implied something far more serious than an ordinary attack on a travelling noble. If the equipment had been deliberately disabled, someone had needed the means and opportunity to interfere with a critical security system. If the operators had been complicit, then the breach was already within the convoy itself. And if neither explanation were correct, there would have to be another reason why a device specifically intended to prevent such an incident had failed so completely.
Ecrivain did not give her much time to dwell on the first problem before raising another.
"Even if we set the reconnaissance system aside, there was still the matter of your carriage. It was not an ordinary vehicle, Reen. A royal or archducal carriage travelling under military escort would be equipped with a powerful magical barrier. Its function is to protect its occupants from hostile attacks, and it is designed to activate immediately when a threat is detected. Even if the attackers had somehow escaped the attention of the forward reconnaissance vehicle, the barrier should have responded once the ambush began."
She glanced towards Reen, watching for her reaction.
"But it did not appear. Your carriage was struck, and the barrier that should have protected you never activated."
Reen remained silent. She had awakened inside that very carriage, surrounded by shattered fittings and the aftermath of an attack. At the time, she had assumed that the attackers had simply overwhelmed the vehicle's defences. Yet Ecrivain's explanation suggested that those defences had never been brought into play at all.
"Which raises another question," Ecrivain said. "Was the barrier also sabotaged? Was it disabled beforehand, or had someone arranged for it to fail at the critical moment? Perhaps the answer lies with the people responsible for maintaining the carriage. Perhaps it lies elsewhere. We cannot yet say for certain."
Her tone was almost conversational, but the implications were anything but trivial.
"Consider the sequence of events. A convoy equipped with a threat-detection system fails to detect a substantial hostile force. The princess's carriage, which should possess its own automatic magical protection, fails to deploy that protection when attacked. The attackers then succeed in killing the princess, despite the extensive security measures that should have made such an outcome exceedingly difficult."
Ecrivain folded her hands together.
"Any one of these failures might conceivably be explained away by unusual circumstances. But when they occur together, and when their combined result is the death of a person as politically significant as you, it becomes difficult to regard them as mere misfortune."
Reen felt the pieces begin to fit together. The convoy had been ambushed on its way back to the archducal palace after the princess had attended her mother's funeral. Her father had been conspicuously absent from the funeral, and the reason for that absence remained unclear. Now, the princess had been attacked despite the existence of multiple layers of security designed to protect her. None of these facts alone established a conspiracy, but together they suggested that the attack had involved more than a group of opportunistic assailants.
Ecrivain's expression lost some of its amusement.
"The conclusion is fairly obvious, isn't it? The convoy was likely infiltrated, or at the very least compromised from within. Someone had the opportunity to interfere with its security arrangements, and someone else was prepared to take advantage of the resulting vulnerability. Beyond that, there are people within the archduchy who wanted you dead badly enough to make the necessary arrangements."
She paused, then added, "Whether those responsible for the sabotage and those who organised the ambush were the same people remains to be seen. They may have worked together from the beginning, or someone may have provided the attackers with an opportunity without knowing the full extent of the plan. We should not assume that every part of the conspiracy was handled by a single person."
Reen absorbed the information, her thoughts turning towards the people she had already encountered. The convoy leader, the soldiers, the medics, and the nobles whose forces had now been mobilised were all part of a world she barely understood. She had no way of knowing who could be trusted, and the possibility that the original princess's own entourage had been compromised made the situation considerably more dangerous than she had first imagined.
Yet one point stood out above the others. Whoever had arranged the attack had apparently succeeded in killing Princess Reen Magritte, Hiregrea. Had Ecrivain not intervened, and had the flower not been incorporated into the body, the princess would have remained dead. The convoy would have returned to the archducal palace without her, and the people responsible might have believed their objective accomplished.
Instead, Reen had awakened in the princess's body.
And now, whether she wanted the responsibility or not, she was travelling towards the very place where the people behind the attack might still be waiting.
"Say, do you think that, with the flower's interpretive property, you could identify the culprit or find those connected to them?"
Ecrivain regarded Reen for a moment before giving a small, thoughtful hum. "Possibly. But not in the way you might imagine." She leaned back against her seat, her gaze drifting towards the window. "The flower allows me to perceive and interpret certain information within the reach of its domain. It does not grant me unrestricted access to the thoughts of every living being, nor can I simply point to someone and know everything they have done. What I can discern depends on the information available to me, the nature of that information, and how much of the flower's power I can bring to bear."
She paused, tapping a finger lightly against her armrest. "I might be able to identify unusual movements, discover traces of an individual's activities, or recognise connections between events that would otherwise appear unrelated. If someone involved in the ambush left behind sufficient traces within the flower's domain, I may be able to follow them. However, the process is neither immediate nor infallible. The more distant or obscure the information, the harder it becomes to interpret, and there is always the possibility that I will overlook something or draw an incorrect conclusion."
Reen considered the answer. It was not quite the effortless solution she might have hoped for, but it was still a useful lead. If Ecrivain could uncover even a fragment of information about the attackers, that might provide a starting point for a proper investigation. The difficulty lay in distinguishing meaningful evidence from uncertain impressions, particularly when the person offering the information was a spirit whose abilities Reen had only begun to understand.
"Besides," Ecrivain added, her lips curving into a faint smile, "we must first establish what you mean by the culprit. The people who carried out the attack may not be the ones who arranged it. Those who sabotaged the security systems may have acted under orders, while the person who gave those orders may never have approached the convoy at all. Finding one participant would not necessarily reveal the entire chain of responsibility."
She turned her attention back to Reen. "Still, it is worth investigating. I cannot promise that I will find the person responsible, but I can at least try to uncover what information the flower has preserved. For now, that is the most sensible place to begin."
Ecrivain turned towards the window, allowing her gaze to follow the scenery passing beyond it. For a short while, she remained silent, seemingly contemplating something before she spoke again. "There is another matter you ought to concern yourself with, Reen. You need to familiarise yourself with this world as soon as possible. You cannot rely on me to explain every little thing you encounter, and sooner or later, you will have to learn to navigate this place on your own."
She gestured towards the window. "Start with your surroundings. Observe the buildings, the roads, the vehicles, and the people you encounter along the way. Pay attention to how they dress, how they conduct themselves, and how they interact with one another. Even a brief journey can tell you a great deal about a society, provided you know what to look for. You might be able to infer its technological capabilities from its infrastructure, or learn something about its culture from the way its people live. You need not understand everything at once. Simply begin by paying attention."
Reen glanced towards the window. The suggestion was reasonable enough. She had already noticed that this world possessed firearms and motorised vehicles, yet retained the traditional appearance and comforts of carriages for its wealthiest inhabitants. Such details offered a glimpse of the society she now inhabited, but they were hardly sufficient to establish its broader technological level or cultural values. If she intended to survive here, she would need to observe far more carefully than she had so far.
"Still," Ecrivain continued, "I suppose I can make things easier for you by providing some context first."
She settled back into her seat, her expression taking on the air of someone about to recount a familiar subject. "You are currently in the Taran Kingdom, the most powerful state in the world at present. Its influence extends well beyond its borders, and its standing is built upon more than military strength or material wealth. The kingdom places considerable importance on prestige, intellectual pursuits, honour, morals, principles, and rationalism. These are not merely virtues praised in formal speeches. They are ideals that have shaped the kingdom's institutions, its customs, and the standards by which its people judge one another."
Ecrivain paused briefly before elaborating. "Naturally, people do not always live up to the ideals they profess. No nation is entirely free of hypocrisy, corruption, or foolishness. Nevertheless, within Taran, individuals are expected to conduct themselves in a manner considered civilised. One is expected to exercise restraint, demonstrate sound judgement, uphold one's responsibilities, and behave in accordance with the principles one claims to follow. Strength without discipline is regarded with suspicion, while intelligence without moral consideration is hardly something to be admired. A person who disregards these expectations may find themselves losing not only the respect of others, but also the social standing they have worked to establish."
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked out at the passing landscape.
"As for those who behave like savages, they are rarely tolerated. Taran has little patience for individuals who abandon reason, disregard all principles, and resort to brutish conduct whenever it suits them. Such behaviour is considered a rejection of the very standards upon which the kingdom was founded."
Reen listened carefully. The values Ecrivain described were not entirely unfamiliar to her; prestige, morality, and rationalism were hardly unique to any one civilisation. What interested her more was the emphasis placed on them as a collective ideal. If these principles truly permeated Taran's institutions and social expectations, then they would influence everything from political conduct to ordinary interactions. They might also provide a useful means of understanding how people here would react to certain situations, although Reen suspected that the distinction between professed values and actual behaviour would prove just as important in this world as in her previous one.
"And there is a reason for that," Ecrivain said. "You must understand that Taran was not founded merely to unite a collection of territories under a single ruler. Its origins lie in a particular ideal, one that has endured for four hundred years."
She turned away from the window and looked directly at Reen.
"The kingdom's first monarch established it with clarity as its guiding principle. The objective was to extinguish evil deeds and bring an end to the conduct that allowed them to flourish. The monarch believed that a proper state should not simply possess the power to govern, but should also establish a clear distinction between what was acceptable and what was not, then act upon that distinction with reason and conviction. The kingdom's emphasis on rationalism, moral principles, and civilised conduct grew from that founding ambition."
Ecrivain's voice remained even, but there was a distinct emphasis on the word clarity, as though it held a significance beyond its ordinary meaning.
"Over the centuries, that ideal became deeply embedded in Taran's identity. Its people inherited not only a kingdom, but also the expectation that society ought to be governed by reason rather than impulse, and that wrongdoing should not be permitted to persist simply because confronting it is inconvenient. The interpretation of those principles has doubtless changed with time, as all things do, but the founding ideal remains a central part of how the kingdom understands itself."
Reen turned the information over in her mind. A nation founded upon the ambition to extinguish evil sounded admirable in principle, but the practical meaning of such an objective depended entirely on how its rulers defined evil, how they determined guilt, and what measures they considered justified in its eradication. A society that prized rationalism and moral principles might develop strong institutions and a disciplined legal system. It might also become intolerant of those who challenged its established understanding of proper conduct.
For now, however, she lacked the knowledge to judge Taran itself. Ecrivain had given her an outline of the kingdom's ideals, not a complete account of its history or the realities of its governance. Reen would need to see the nation for herself, observe its people, and learn how closely their actions aligned with the principles they professed.
The carriage continued towards the Hiregrea Archducal Palace, carrying her deeper into a world whose rules she had yet to understand. Reen returned her attention to the window, this time with a more deliberate interest in the landscape beyond it.
Reen turned towards the window and began to examine the passing scenery with greater attention. The architecture was the first thing to catch her eye. The buildings lining the route possessed a refined elegance, their designs bearing a striking resemblance to the European architectural traditions she had known in her previous life. The facades were carefully proportioned, with ornate cornices, decorative stonework, tall windows, and imposing entrances that conveyed both dignity and permanence. Even the less conspicuous structures appeared to have been designed with deliberate attention to their appearance, rather than constructed solely to fulfil their immediate purpose.
Being French, Reen was familiar with the architectural sensibilities of Europe, and the similarities were difficult to overlook. Of course, resemblance alone did not establish any direct connection between the two worlds. She had already encountered enough unfamiliar things to know that superficial similarities could be misleading. Nevertheless, the architecture suggested a society that valued more than mere functionality. The buildings seemed intended to communicate something about the people who had commissioned them, as though the quality of one's surroundings reflected the competence, resources, and discernment of those responsible for their creation.
There was a particular emphasis on refinement. The structures did not appear ostentatious for the sake of extravagance alone; their ornamentation was generally integrated into the overall design, giving them an air of considered craftsmanship. Even the larger public buildings, where the scale and decoration might easily have become excessive, seemed to follow a consistent aesthetic standard. Reen gained the impression that the people of this nation wanted their infrastructure to be seen as valuable, carefully planned, and constructed by capable hands. Whether that attitude arose from cultural convention, the influence of the kingdom's founding ideals, or the preferences of its wealthier classes remained uncertain, but the result was evident in the streetscape before her.
Unfortunately, there was little else to observe. The security measures surrounding the convoy were so extensive that ordinary traffic and pedestrians had largely disappeared from the route. Soldiers maintained a watchful presence along the way, and the area immediately surrounding the carriage remained clear. The arrangement was understandable, given the recent ambush, but it severely limited Reen's opportunities to study the local population. She could examine the buildings and the roads, yet had little chance to observe how ordinary people dressed, behaved, or interacted with one another.
Still, Reen saw no reason to hurry. She had only just arrived in this world, and trying to understand an entire civilisation from a single journey would be an exercise in futility. For the moment, she could content herself with observing what was available to her, remembering the details that seemed significant and leaving the rest for later. There would be ample opportunities to learn more once she reached the palace and could move about with greater freedom.
She continued watching the architecture pass beyond the window, quietly taking in its details as the carriage carried her towards her new residence.
...