Silvie carefully surveyed the surroundings. In the darkness of the corners stood robed figures; it was safe to assume they were unkind.
"They have no taste in variety. They couldn't make it more obvious, wearing the same cheap mask and all," remarked Lady Evelyn, commenting disdainfully on the stalkers' apparel.
In any other circumstance, Silvie would've been nervous. Yet Lady Evelyn's unusual calmness helped her maintain her composure.
"Let's leave this place first. It's making me ill—come, Silvie."
The servant focused on following her mistress from her alluring behind, the way Lady Evelyn moved with her hips, swaying as if she was modelling, a charisma Silvie could only admire.
But she kept her guard up despite the distraction, weary of her surroundings as they moved through the crimson velvet-draped banquet halls.
She minded each step she took; the black heels were far from optimal for walking, and the maid's dress she wore made her resemble a doll, moving mechanically through the crowd of attendees.
Soon, the mistress and her servant arrived at the pavilion's designated exit.
The guards on standby carried flintlock rifles with a cursive "V" engraved on the handle, a detail that immediately caught Silvie's attention. "That was gorgeous," she murmured to herself, unaware she had spoken aloud.
"Silvie? Admiring the guards?" Lady Evelyn saw an opportunity for a tease.
"I meant the rifle, Lady Evelyn. I appreciate the design," A faint blush colored Silvie's cheeks as she quickly looked away.
In her mind, whoever had designed them was nothing short of a genius. The ornate rifles gleamed with polished wood, intricate gold patterns, and inlaid silver.
"You're interested in those kinds of trinkets?" Lady Evelyn noted. She hadn't expected someone like Silvie to pay attention to weaponry.
"It just looks... beautiful, Lady Evelyn. That's all," Silvie remarked, trying to end the conversation.
"I see..." Lady Evelyn didn't pursue the subject further, but she kept it in mind.
One of the guards approached; he bowed and handed her a black robe, which she draped over her black maxi dress, covering her shoulders. She then removed her glasses, slipping them into her purse.
Silvie, on the other hand, was surprised. She had thought Lady Evelyn was visually impaired; perhaps those glasses were merely a stylistic choice.
"Best not to hope for too much, Silvie," Lady Evelyn murmured, puzzling the servant with her vagueness.
As they stepped out of the pavilion, they were greeted by the dullest color palette of an old and faded painting.
Muted colored buildings loomed overhead, the people looked irritably miserable, and a thick, foggy haze was present in the air; they were on Duskrow Avenue.
Silvie let out a cough; she could almost feel the pollution settling on her porcelain skin.
Various vintage cars rolled by, marked with the name "House Blackthorn," a transportation company owned by a noble family.
But it didn't end there, numerous newspaper boys shouted headlines about something related to a war, while the streets filled with hurried pedestrians: some rushing past, others shouting in frustration as they bumped into one another.
If nightfall came, a poor soul was bound to get shanked, whether in an alleyway or behind locked doors.
"This is the district of Gravenhurst, in the pitiful Empire of Umbridge, a district that exuded nothing but doom and gloom." Lady Evelyn's words were flat, heavy with disappointment...
"Lady Evelyn... is there any other empire that's even slightly less miserable than this?" Silvie was baffled by that information.
"No~," Lady Evelyn's reply, inflicted bewilderment on the overwhelmed servant of confusion.
The lady then explained that Umbridge was the last empire of humanity, an empire of mixed races, divided into three districts:
Gravenhurst District: Home to the common people, often neglected and even exploited by the nobility.
Mireline District: The industrial and research district, where the common people seek employment, as there are many job opportunities, and the majority of the prominent companies are also controlled by the nobles.
Elysium District: The cleanest and most protected area of Umbridge, where the wealthy and nobility reside.
Silvie couldn't fathom the unfairness of this empire, but Lady Evelyn confirmed that Gravenhurst District was deliberately left in such a poor state by the aristocracy.
"What a cruel... world..."
The servant had more questions that needed answers. She felt the urge to ask them all, but realized that bombarding her mistress with too many questions at once would be poor manners.
Yet it wasn't too late. Silvie looked at her lady with gleaming eyes, hoping her curiosity would be understood without words.
Lady Evelyn took notice, even smiling. "Go on, what is it?" she said, giving the servant the signal to ask a question.
"My Lady, how did it end up as humanity's final empire? And the rest of the world, what became of them?"
"Hmmm~" Lady Evelyn hummed.
"Well, this isn't exactly the right place to talk about it, but—" she contemplated her words.
"Let's just say that the majority of the world is slowly drowning in... ink..."
?!
"My Lady... I—I'm at a loss." Silvie stammered her words...
The idea that the majority of the world was slowly drowning in ink was too absurd to comprehend, yet Lady Evelyn didn't seem like the type of woman to jest.
"Could it be that you don't believe me?" Lady Evelyn asked.
"No, My Lady! It's just... It's hard to understand how a large part of the world could be drowning in ink!" Silvie blurted out in genuine disbelief.
Lady Evelyn pointed just outside the Velvet Pavilion to a black-and-brown bulletin board labeled Blackthorn Times & Tribune. Silvie realized that a noble family might own both the transportation company and the news outlet, and the board's contents were protected by clear glass.
"Read those, and you'll understand better." At Lady Evelyn's words, Silvie stepped closer, her eyes reading the newspapers pinned to the board.
Headline:"Inkling Surge Threatens Vel Soria Base; Empire Deploys Exalted Forces to Counter Assault and Target the Black Tower."
Article:
"Vel Soria, Far West – Perched on the misty cliffs above the infamous Black Sea, Vel Soria's military base has faced a sudden surge of "inkling" incursions over the past week. These shadowy, ink-like sea entities have advanced steadily toward the outpost, forcing constant defensive actions by the Hurst Royal Army of Umbridge."
"In response, the Empress of Umbridge has issued an urgent directive: the Executors, the elite imperial force, along with the majority of the GPA personnel, are being mobilized to reinforce the region's defenses. Their mission is twofold: repel the growing tide of Inklings and prepare for a future strike on the Black Tower, a dark, fountain-pen-shaped structure believed to be the source of the Inklings' threat, looming ominously at the heart of the Black Sea."
This was an official news report from the Blackthorn Times & Tribune, and Silvie couldn't believe her eyes.
"Lady Evelyn... what kind of world was I awakened into?"
"And...what are Inklings?"
Silvie imagined dark tendrils writhing out from the sea, dragging soldiers into a murky abyss.
Chapter End...