Chapter 99: The Eccentric Mistress
"It’s a great privilege to join Lady Vivian on such a crucial mission... even if it involves so many weapons," Morris said, eyes flicking nervously between the stacked rifles and polished pistols lining the carriage walls. He shifted in his seat, careful not to let his elbow brush against a trigger or bayonet. The smell of gun oil clung to the air, sharp and oily, at odds with the plush velvet seats and gilded wood panels that framed the interior.
Across from him, Vivian and the others—Logan, Voros, Oscar, and Jane—were all business. They checked weapons with the smooth, mechanical grace of people who’d done this a hundred times before. The quiet clicks of locking mechanisms and the rasp of blades sliding into sheaths filled the space. Nobody spoke. Tension hung heavy, as if even breathing too loudly might trigger something neither mechanical nor entirely rational.
The carriage jolted hard, throwing Morris slightly off balance. A long rifle clattered against the side wall. He reached instinctively, then stopped short—better to let it fall than grab the barrel. Around him, the others barely reacted, just adjusted their grips, eyes scanning, minds already miles ahead. He cleared his throat and sat straighter, determined not to look too green.
"Excuse our eccentric mistress, Sir Morris. Despite her gun-loving tendencies, the situation we are walking into may turn a bit perilous," Logan replied to Morris’ comment.
"I do hear the lady’s pistol firing every morning at the range. Such dedication to one’s weapon is commendable," Morris said.
"Thank you for your words, sir. Maybe we can go shooting together one day," Vivian replied with a sweet smile.
"I would love to, my la—"
Just as Morris was about to give his approval, he noticed that everyone was looking at him dangerously, some making an X with their fingers, others shaking their heads frantically without Vivian spotting them, and others whispering "don’t" at him.
"Truly! I’ll take you on at your word then."
On the other hand, Vivian was already hyped for a new shooting competition against a worthy victim, someone whose soul wasn’t crushed on the gun range yet, in order to squeeze some SP out of the occasion.
Morris felt a chill running through his spine, but who was he if not someone brave and adventurous? For that, he would take the L like a champ, but that’s an occasion for a later date. Right now, it was time for him to squeeze out some information for his faction.