Chapter 4 Welcome to Mulberry!
Hours passed beneath a muted sun. The brief stops did nothing to lift Oscar’s gloom—quite the opposite; it only deepened. Then hours became days; each evening, they detoured through whichever city lay closest, stopping at luxurious inns within the walls. Sleeping in roadside taverns was too risky.
Oscar couldn’t help but marvel at the complex and varied organisation of each city they visited. Inside the inns, the horizons were less diverse—many nobles, also passing through, dined on fine meals. Had he possessed more courage, Oscar might have approached the friendlier among them.
Somewhere deep down, all that bustle he could not partake in for lack of time frustrated him.
After several days, the amber trees and wide, decorated roads grew scarce, revealing a more austere landscape. Far from Rivière’s vibrant hues or the ceaseless bustle of the central regions, the North now rose before the carriage—muted, populated by conifers.
Soon, Oscar could distinguish nothing but pines and a few trees whose species he did not recognise. Less greenery. More rock. An icy rain completed the portrait of his future home.
Gloomy.
What did his future wife look like? Was she… tall? Short? Dressed in elegant gowns? Oscar had never had much interest in women. He had other priorities than courting young noble ladies of the domain. No one had ever shown him affection either—he seemed too intimidating, according to the soldiers.
It was true he had never even held a woman in his arms. Let alone kissed one.
Would they have to sleep together? That was what was expected of a young couple. Then again, in his childhood, his parents slept separately.
A pothole jolted him from his thoughts as the carriage shook violently. Outside, the sky darkened.
“Sinister,” Abélie murmured, breaking the silence.
Oscar looked up, an eyebrow raised.
“You think so?”
“Of course. Compared to Eau-Claire’s lush gardens, these lands are… sad. I preferred it when we were passing through the regions near the capital.”
“So did I,” he shrugged. “But we’ll have to get used to it.”
“You’re remarkably optimistic.”
Despite the tension stiffening his shoulders, Oscar smiled at her.
“Think about it—you’ll be able to explore a whole new playground without my father breathing down your neck. A new castle, new challenges, new gossip to collect.”
She twirled a lock of hair around her finger.
“Hm… but no other maids to share my discoveries with. I’m not about to confide in servants potentially loyal to a demon.”
Oscar rolled his eyes, still unconvinced by these allegations.
“Maybe. But I might need a bit of information about this castle and its inhabitants.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Are you asking me to investigate for you?”
“It’s the perfect opportunity, isn’t it?”
For the first time during the journey, a hint of determination crossed her face.
“That’s true—and it would help you. You need to know what’s going on in that dark castle we’re about to set foot in,” she added, curling her fingers like a witch.
“Still on about your murder and cannibalism stories?”
“Of course. Every rumour has a grain of truth. Even if it’s not always what one expects.”
“And what truth should we expect behind accusations of cannibalism?” Oscar asked, crossing his legs.
“Perhaps she simply eats more meat than a proper lady—thus triggering the accusation. You’ll see. Watch how she eats; it’ll give us our first clue.”
At the seriousness of her tone, Oscar snorted.
“I don’t even know her. I don’t even know what she looks like!”
Abélie pondered for a moment.
“I’ve heard she’s a very beautiful woman. Perhaps a little too confident, according to some. Not everyone likes confident women.”
“Hm. Confident and beautiful—yet also cannibalistic and venal. I don’t know what to expect anymore,” he joked.
“You’ll find out soon enough. I think I can see the city lights.”
Indeed, in the distance, the fine rain was pierced by the glow of streetlamps. The gnarled silhouettes of trees stood out against the gloom. Daylight was fading, and a light mist crept over the land.
The road—now stone and earth—was coated in slush and mud. The grass was dull, and clouds veiled the setting sun.
Before them stood a city as large as Eau-Claire: Mulberry.
The dirt road turned to cobblestones still littered with mud and snow; the pavements gleamed beneath a layer of frost. Not a single gate nor rampart separated the city from the countryside, and suddenly they were in its very heart.
The shops, still open, had windows crusted with ice—impossible to see inside.
In the streets, people hurried along, shielding themselves from the rain with oversized coats and worn hats. Far from the preening populace of Eau-Claire, the people here appeared far less wealthy—or perhaps they simply favoured practicality over beauty. After all, the climate was harsh.
A few curious onlookers glanced at the passing carriage, but most simply continued on their way, their indifference heightened by the rain.
After several jolts over uneven cobblestones, the carriage slowed before a massive structure set back from the city. Before them rose a great iron gate crowned with sharpened spikes—and behind it, a castle.
Drowned in thick darkness, it was, as Abélie had so aptly put it, “sinister”. The gates opened as though moved by a will of their own. Gravel crunched beneath wheels and hooves, and brief glimmers appeared in the windows—as if a colossal beast had just awakened.
After a few uncertain glances, Oscar noticed two guards had opened the grilles. As for the lights, one detached itself from the main entrance. Looking closer, Oscar discerned a stoic humanoid silhouette beneath an umbrella—a thin, almost skeletal man. Torchlight reflected off the glass of his monocle.
The carriage came to a halt, and two servants hurried forward, umbrellas in hand. They opened the door with a bow, holding the umbrellas aloft.
Oscar stepped out. He expected the dampness that immediately soaked his clothes, but for the cold that bit into him viciously, he restrained himself from shivering. No matter—the servants, still bowing, guided him briskly toward the castle. The skeletal man with the monocle held one of the great wooden doors wide open and inclined his head.
“Welcome to Mulberry Castle, my Lord.”