Night had fallen like a velvet curtain, soft and serene. Outside my window, the moon floated in the sky like a silver coin cast upon an obsidian sea, its light diffused in a gentle glow across the landscape.
Within the manor, gas lamps cast a warm amber hue upon the halls and walls, flickering like languid fireflies trapped in crystal. Though this world had indeed discovered electricity, its reach remained confined to select districts within the capital—a privilege of progress that had yet to touch the countryside. Here, tradition still lingered in the soft hiss of gaslight.
I glanced at the ornate clock hanging above the hearth—seven o'clock, the late hour draped in calm expectancy. I turned to the calendar perched upon my desk. It read: 6th Day of the Week, 18th of the 8th Month, Year 1925.
Tomorrow would mark the 1st Day of the Week, the symbolic renewal of order, just as the Goddess Solanthis decreed in the scriptures.
A gentle knock tapped against my chamber door.
"Dinner is ready, my Lord," came the voice of the maid, muffled yet clear.
I rose and made my way to the dining hall, the polished floors echoing faintly beneath my steps. The aroma greeted me first—savory and rich, carried on the air like an invitation. Tonight's meal was a beautifully seared steak, garnished with a medley of vegetables both familiar and foreign. The meat had a tender, lamb-like flavor—succulent, delicate, and melting in the mouth.
After dinner, I retreated to my study. It was a high-ceilinged chamber of dark wood and warm candlelight, with shelves lined by tomes that whispered the lore of this world. I selected several books and settled by the hearth, reading deep into the night—subjects ranging from geography and history to the mystical studies of magic and the religious doctrine of this realm.
Through the pages, I reacquainted myself with Edward's memories, filling in the gaps of a life not originally mine.
This world, called Atlasia, was a single continent vast and diverse. To the north lay the Callan Empire, once five proud kingdoms now bound under a single imperial banner. To the south stretched the Southern Alliance, a coalition of six kingdoms: Westermoor, Volandria, Elmsworth, Thalberyn, Avenleigh, and Greymoor—each with its own culture and ambition.
Currently, both the Empire and the Alliance were in the 235th year of a five-century peace treaty—though tensions still simmered beneath the surface. The Callan Empire, burdened by unfavorable trade and internal decay, was slowly waning in power, while the Southern Alliance flourished in commerce and innovation.
Dominating the spiritual life of the continent was the Faith of Solanthis, the radiant Goddess of Light and Order. The calendar itself began from Year One, marking the birth of Elesh, her prophet and the harbinger of her divine teachings.
I closed the book softly.
The clock now read midnight.
"Enough for tonight," I murmured to the quiet room. "Tomorrow holds its own demands."
There was still a mystery to be unraveled—Edward's death. Or rather, the attempt on his life that led to my awakening in this world. Somewhere, someone wanted Edward Cain dead. If I were to live this second life in peace, I had to uncover the truth first.
I entered my bedchamber and climbed into the vast, cloudlike bed. The sheets were silky, the mattress indulgently soft, embracing my body like a lover's arms. As the warmth enveloped me, I allowed my thoughts to drift, and sleep soon claimed me.
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1st Day of the Week, 19th of the 8th Month, Year 1925
Morning light spilled through the curtains like molten gold. I checked my pocket watch—eight o'clock sharp.
Dressed impeccably in a dark suit, polished boots, and a stylish hat, I looked the part of a nobleman. In my hand was my trusted cane, its slender frame concealing the rapier within—a gentleman's weapon with a hidden bite.
I boarded my carriage, and the journey to Highmarch began. The familiar rhythm of hooves and wheels against stone carried me through the countryside until, an hour later, the capital's skyline emerged—stately and elegant.
As I stepped down onto the cobbled city square, I saw Osric waiting nearby, hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed and watchful.
"Good morning, mister noble sir," he said with a mischievous grin. "Are you prepared for today's thrilling adventure?"
"Good morning," I replied, smirking. "Enough with the jesting—we're friends, not diplomats."
"Alright, alright," he said with a chuckle.
"Have you eaten?" I asked. "What say you to a bit of coffee and bread before we begin?"
"Sure," Osric said, eyes gleaming. "So long as you're buying."
We made our way to a nearby café and bakery, a quaint little establishment with sun-warmed brick walls and the irresistible scent of freshly baked loaves wafting through the open windows. As we seated ourselves near the window, I caught sight of a sleek motor carriage humming down the street.
It looked like a vintage car to my eyes—curved hood, brass trim, and spoked wheels. But to the people of this world, it must have been the latest marvel.
"How much would one of those cost?" I asked, gesturing subtly toward it.
"You mean the motor carriage?" Osric replied. "No idea. Only nobles and industrial magnates own them. Commoners can't afford such luxuries."
I leaned back in thought. Perhaps I should acquire one myself, I mused. It would certainly spare me from the endless jostling of horse-drawn travel. A car would be far more agreeable.
Our coffee arrived—rich, earthy, and smooth. The bread was warm and soft, served with a pat of golden butter. We ate in companionable silence, watching the morning bustle of Highmarch unfold outside.
Once finished, we stood, brushing crumbs from our coats, and began our walk.
Today, we would meet Osric's friend—a trusted contact within the city's police force. More importantly, an insider connected to the Alabastar Mages.
Answers were drawing closer. And so was danger.