When Courtesy Catches Fire

The disaster of the burning carriages had been contained, but the consequences were immediate. The flames had been spreading so rapidly that, had they not been contained when they were, every carriage in the courtyard would have been consumed.

By order of the king, the entire summer residence was placed under lockdown.

No noble, royal, servant, or attendant was permitted to leave until the mystery had been solved and whoever was responsible had been brought to justice. The grand hall descended into chaos.

Accusations flew from one end of the room to the other. Old rivalries resurfaced within minutes.

Civilisation, it seemed, was remarkably fragile when inconvenience became danger.

Nobles pointed fingers, insults were hurled back and forth, and several guests loudly demanded that their carriages be inspected first. King Andrew had finally had enough.

"CALM DOWN!"

His voice thundered through the grand hall, magically amplified by Erasmus until even the chandeliers seemed to tremble. Silence fell almost instantly.

Andrew stood at the front of the hall, one hand resting firmly upon his cane.

"You will each enter the adjoining room one at a time and submit to questioning."

His vivid green eyes swept across the gathered nobles.

"The interrogations will be conducted by Lord Harold and myself."

Nobody argued further.

*****************

Harold's office had been transformed into an interrogation room for the night. Only a handful of lamps remained lit, casting a muted golden glow across the dark wooden walls.

Heavy indigo curtains embroidered with curling threads of gold covered the tall windows, shutting out the commotion beyond. A long polished table stood at the centre of the room.

King Andrew occupied the chair in the middle, his cane resting within easy reach. Harold sat to his left with several pages of notes spread neatly before him.

On the opposite side stood a single chair. Beside the table, Leo sat operating a strange magical device.

Thin enchanted bands were fastened around the suspect's wrists and connected to Leo's crystal device. It was useful but imperfect, accurate roughly four times out of five and sometimes inconclusive.

Duke Seinfeld sat stiffly in the interrogation chair. He was a middle-aged man with a stern face and deep wrinkles around his eyes.

Even under suspicion, he carried himself with the rigid pride expected of the head of House Carrington. Harold asked the first question.

"Duke Seinfeld, do you know why you are the first person to enter this interrogation room?"

Seinfeld's expression remained unchanged.

"When word spread that several extravagant royal carriages had been set on fire, your name was mentioned more than once."

"I beg your pardon, Lord Harold?"

Seinfeld leaned forward slightly.

"If a quarry or wheat mill were set ablaze, would your name immediately be mentioned?"

Harold's eyes narrowed.

"I understand what you are suggesting. House Carrington is known for manufacturing royal carriages."

"We, the proud lineage of House Carrington, do not resort to such cheap tricks."

"Surely not," Harold replied. "But greed has a way of changing people."

"You believe this is about money?"

Seinfeld laughed.

"We unveil a grand new collection of carriages every year, and royal families are placed on waiting lists months in advance."

His amusement faded.

"Our workshops already struggle to meet existing orders, Harold. Why would I destroy perfectly good carriages merely to create demand I cannot fulfil?"

The crystals beside Leo glimmered faintly. Leo studied them for a moment, then he nodded.

The device registered his answer as truthful.

After Seinfeld left the room, King Andrew sighed.

"I don't think it was him. His explanation is solid, and my sources tell me the waiting lists for Carrington carriages are notoriously long."

Harold nodded in agreement.

A faint rustle came from behind the thick indigo curtains covering one side of the office.

"Ah, Sybill, scoot over."

Elena nudged Sybill further into the narrow space.

The two girls had been hiding there throughout the interrogation, safely concealed beneath one of Sybill's spells.

"Duke Seinfeld may be arrogant, but his wealth remains second only to the king's," Elena whispered into Sybill's ear.

"To the king's," Sybill repeated, nodding solemnly as though she knew Seinfeld and House Carrington very well.

The door opened again. Duke Nigel was summoned into the interrogation room.

The enchanted bands were secured around his wrists. This time, the king spoke first.

"For someone who is currently my most favoured candidate for Elena's hand in marriage, this situation does not reflect well on you, Nigel."

Nigel blinked in disbelief.

He had admired Elena for years, but this was the first he had heard of the king's intentions. His ears turned a shade of crimson.

Behind the curtain, Elena stiffened. Her hand immediately found Sybill's and tightened around it.

Nigel had always been kind and quiet. Elena did not dislike him.

If she disliked him, the answer would have been easy.

The most important decision of her life was being discussed—and possibly made—without her involvement.

Her heart began to race.

Sybill sensed the sudden change in her. Without saying a word, she wrapped one arm tightly around Elena and pulled her close.

Elena leaned into the embrace, but her grip on Sybill's hand did not loosen.

Nigel cleared his throat before answering.

"My liege, I am honoured, but I do not understand what has caused your concern."

"Your kingdom supplies the magical water-resistant paint used on royal carriages," Andrew said. "It also provides seat stuffing, raw materials, and metal rims for the wheels."

Nigel blinked nervously, but his surprise was quickly replaced by seriousness.

"My lord, if you believe this was done for money, Winland has several successful industries capable of sustaining its treasury. We have no reason to resort to such cheap tricks."

He turned towards Harold.

"Lord Harold can confirm that. The Eastern Frontier is one of our greatest agricultural rivals."

Harold gave a reluctant nod.

"That much is true."

Leo glanced down at the device. The crystals remained steady.

Another nod.

The device registered Nigel's answer as truthful as well.

He was questioned for several more minutes, but neither Harold nor Andrew found anything that connected him to the burning carriages. Eventually, he was dismissed.

The door closed behind him.

Behind the curtain, Elena finally released the breath she had been holding. Sybill continued hugging her.

"I am the not letting go until your heart stops the running."

Despite everything, Elena almost laughed.

"I think you mean until it stops racing."

"Yes. That."