Chapter 87: Mysterious Drug
With the driver dealt with, Aldwyn turned his attention to the grove, his silver eyes scanning the area for any sign of Lady Verdie's mysterious rendezvous. His breath misted in the frigid air as he approached.
As he ventured deeper into the grove, the silence was almost deafening, punctuated only by the occasional hoot of an owl and the distant howl of a lone wolf.
He spotted Lady Verdie standing by a twisted, ancient tree, the branches forming a natural canopy above her. Her fur-lined cloak had been cast aside, revealing a simple yet elegant dress.
A man emerged from the shadows, tall and lean with a sharp, angular face. His eyes were a piercing blue, and he wore a black suit.
"Lady Verdie," the man murmured, his voice a velvet purr.
Aldwyn remained concealed, his body taut as a bowstring. His senses were on high alert as he listened to the hushed tones of the conversation.
"You're late," Lady Verdie admonished, her voice carrying a hint of irritation despite her soft tone.
The man offered a small, almost mocking bow. "My apologies, my lady," he replied, his words dripping with sarcasm. "I would not want to keep you from your... duties."
Aldwyn's curiosity grew with each exchange. The unknown man produced a small, leather pouch from within his coat and placed it into Lady Verdie's outstretched hand. Her eyes widened slightly, and she opened the pouch, revealing its contents to be a collection of ancient runes.
"You know what you must do," the man instructed, his gaze never leaving hers.
Lady Verdie nodded solemnly, her eyes flickering to the runes in her hand. The tension in the air grew thick, like the scent of rain before a storm.
Aldwyn waited, his heart beating a silent drumbeat in his chest. As the man turned to leave, he slipped from his hiding place, his boots sinking into the snow. His approach was silent, a shadow closing in on prey.
The man's footsteps grew faint, but Aldwyn's pursuit was relentless. His eyes remained fixed on Lady Verdie as she clutched the pouch of runes tightly to her chest, her breath misting in the cold night air. The moment the stranger disappeared into the inky veil of the forest, she turned and hastened back to the carriage, her urgency palpable.
Aldwyn waited until she was out of sight before moving, his gaze shifting to the spot where the man had vanished. The trees grew denser, the darkness deeper, and the snow thicker underfoot, muffling his steps.
The trail was faint, but he could see the disturbed snow where the man's boots had crunched through the white expanse. His pursuit grew more intense with each step, the thrill of the hunt sharpening his senses. His eyes scanned the ground, noticing the subtle differences in the snow's texture and the occasional broken twig that pointed the way.
Then, there was a flicker of movement up ahead, and the man was in his sights again. He saw him, a mere silhouette against the starkness of the forest, and without a second thought, Aldwyn dashed forward, his shadow ability enveloping him. He moved like a specter, swift and silent, closing the distance between them in an instant.
As he reached the clearing where the man had stopped, Aldwyn grabbed him, holding the revolver to his head with a firm, unyielding grip. "Who are you?" he growled, his voice echoing in the quiet of the forest.
The man remained unflappable without fear. "A mere courier," he replied with a smirk, "bringing gifts to those in need."
Aldwyn's grip tightened. "Your name," he demanded, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the very trees themselves.
The man chuckled. "Call me Mr. Ornery," he said, his breath a cloud in the frosty air. "I'm afraid I can't be much more forthcoming than that, my dear hunter."
Aldwyn's grip on the revolver tightened. "Tell me who you are and why you're involved with Lady Verdie," he barked, his patience wearing thin. The man's smirk grew, his eyes glinting like ice.
"Ah, so you wish to know my secrets," Mr. Ornery said, his tone playful yet tinged with an underlying danger. "Very well, I am but a servant to a master who creates wonders. The runes I delivered, they're but a small sample of his talents. He crafts them to manipulate the mind, to induce visions, to stir the most primal of desires. Some call them 'The Whispers of the Night.' They're quite the delicacy in the right circles."
Aldwyn processed the revelation. "A drug," Aldwyn murmured, the word feeling foreign and yet all too familiar. The thought of Lady Verdie being entangled in such a dark affair was disturbing. "What does she hope to gain from these... whispers?"
Mr. Ornery's smile grew. "Ah, the eternal quest for excitement, for the thrill that eludes the aristocratic cage," he mused. "Her ladyship seeks an escape from the monotony of high society, the endless cycle of social engagements and political posturing. The whispers offer her a glimpse into a world of passion and intrigue she never knew existed. Each time she uses them, she's a new person, living a hundred different lives in the span of a single night."
„I understand... That would definitely explain some of her writings." He thought.
The implications of this revelation were not lost on Aldwyn. "And the side effects?" he pressed, his voice tight with concern.
Mr. Ornery's smile never faltered. "Ah, the price of pleasure," he said, his voice like the rustle of dead leaves. "Madness, if indulged in too much, too often. But fear not, she's quite the controlled customer."
„Could that be the reason, that she only visits this place every two weeks? Is that the limit to prevent her from going mad?" Aldwyn thought about the words and realized that they were fitting.
Aldwyn's mind raced. He needed to know more, to understand who was pulling the strings. "Your master," he said, his voice cold and precise, "his name."
Mr. Ornery's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Why so eager?" he taunted.
Aldwyn's temper flared like a struck match, and without warning, he spun the man around with a fierce jerk of his free hand. The smirk on Mr. Ornery's face morphed into surprise as he was forced to face the cold, hard reality of the situation. With a snarl, Aldwyn pulled his fist back, the fabric of his sleeve rippling like liquid darkness.
In a blur of motion, he struck, the force of the blow magnified by the shadow enveloping his hand. The impact was like a thunderclap in the stillness of the grove, the sound of fist meeting flesh echoing through the trees. The air around them seemed to shiver as Mr. Ornery's body bent with the blow, his breath leaving him in a whoosh as the wind was knocked from his lungs.
Mr. Ornery staggered, his hand flying to his mouth as he fell to his knees. He retched, bile and blood spilling forth onto the pristine snow, staining it crimson. His eyes watered with pain, and for a moment, the smirk was gone, replaced by genuine fear as he stared up at the figure looming over him.
Aldwyn brought the Black Elemental revolver back to Mr. Ornery's forehead, the muzzle pressing into his skin. "I'll ask once more," he said, his voice a cold whisper in the stillness of the grove. "Who is your master?"
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