"Ready for departure!"
The train conductor's call cut through the hiss of steam and the murmur of voices along the platform. The iron beast rumbled, cloaked in clouds of vapor as it prepared to depart. By dawn it would reach Backlund.
Onboard, the carriages were filled with people—poor and rich, desperate and comfortable alike—all bound by the same fragile hope. To them, Backlund was not merely a city but a promise, a place where fortunes could change and dreams might finally take shape.
In a small private compartment, a distinguished gentleman sat alone: William James Moriarty. The first-class carriage, with its velvet seats and polished brass fittings, exuded quiet opulence. The seats could be pulled out to form a broad, cushioned bed—comfort meant for long, thoughtful journeys.
Moriarty appeared absorbed in his newspaper, though the contents offered him little. He doubted any truly mystical or significant information would ever reach the public eye. Still, the pretense of reading allowed him to relax, to appear calm and ordinary. Ever since uncovering the Beyonder-related cause of his own death, he had felt eyes upon him—watchers hidden in plain sight.
Maintaining a façade that mirrored the original Moriarty was necessary. Yet certain hints had to be scattered, leading those unseen observers toward the truth of a mysterious force at work—just enough to intrigue, not to deter. A delicate balance, a prolonged dance of cat and mouse.
"I should ask the members of the Tarot Club whether any Beyonder pathways grant invisibility or teleportation—perhaps the ability to walk through walls," he mused quietly, eyes gliding over the print. "Such abilities would narrow the suspects. But that must wait until next week—the Fool's gathering is set for Monday, three in the afternoon."
He sighed softly.
"Even now, the honorary guest can't find rest. A Beyonder has no reason to target Moriarty unless someone well-connected, with a personal motive, has tied together the threads of this story—the killer, the victim, and the Green Aristocrat."
Empress Borough — Earl Hall Villa
Within the grand dining room of the Hall estate, golden light from the chandeliers shimmered across fine china and crystal. Only Earl Hall and his daughter, Audrey, were present for dinner. She was young, refined, and stunning—golden-blonde hair cascading like sunlight, and eyes green and clear as cut emeralds.
"Audrey," the earl began, his voice cool yet courteous, "due to certain circumstances, I won't be attending the Educators' Union banquet. I had hoped your brother might go, but he's occupied. Would you attend in my stead? I hear some of the professors have quite tasteful hobbies—ones that might appeal to you."
Audrey's brows lifted, though nothing could truly surprise her after the otherworldly encounter with The Fool she had recently experienced . If anything, she was intrigued. This banquet was a chance to widen her social web—future aristocrats, scholars, perhaps even those who dabbled in the arcane.
A warm, almost smug satisfaction stirred in her chest. After all, those she would meet were only beginning to peer beyond the veil. She had already stepped through it—already a member of a secret Beyonder gathering.