Peculiar House of the Goldsmith Family

Two years ago, on the day the first bridge connecting the two sides of Rosalka’s River was officially opened, thousands of people gathered to witness what was supposed to become a historic symbol of progress, commerce, and cooperation.

Instead, they witnessed something that nobody could properly explain.

The ceremony had begun as ceremonies usually did, with important people standing in important places while giving important speeches to an audience that had already spent far too long waiting for something interesting to happen. Then, somewhere beyond the bridge, movement appeared above the distant water.

At first, several witnesses mistook the shapes for birds, which was a reasonable conclusion until those supposed birds came closer and revealed themselves to have fins, tentacles, gills, and, in several particularly alarming cases, far too many teeth.

Transparent sea creatures rose from somewhere deep within the water and soared through the air. Fish of countless shapes and sizes swam through empty space, sharks circled above the bridge, and octopuses drifted between them with their tentacles moving through currents that nobody could see.

Then the crowd noticed the person among them.

A solitary figure dressed entirely in a white cloak flew between the creatures, guiding their movements with gentle sweeps of the hands, and wherever those hands moved, the enormous school followed as obediently as though the mysterious stranger were conducting an orchestra.

People screamed, pointed, stared, and questioned whether they were witnessing some elaborate magical performance, but whatever explanation they attempted to create became less convincing with every passing moment.

The creatures descended toward the bridge.

One after another, they vanished into its surface.

Fish, sharks and octopuses disappeared into stone without leaving so much as a ripple.

Only then did everyone understand that they had not truly disappeared.

They had become part of the bridge.

An enormous painting stretched across its surface, filled with such extraordinary detail that even experienced artists standing among the spectators struggled to comprehend what they were seeing. The creatures that had moments earlier been swimming through the sky now existed within a vast underwater world spread across the stone, every scale, shadow, and flowing tentacle carrying an almost impossible sense of movement.

By the time anyone remembered the person responsible, the white-cloaked figure had already vanished into the air.

The authorities were considerably less enthusiastic about the incident than the artists were, considering that decorating public property without permission remained vandalism regardless of whether the result happened to be breathtakingly beautiful.

The art and magic communities, however, cared rather less about such practical distinctions.

Thus began the legend of the mysterious illegal artist known as—

Florian Val.

* * *

“Lady Florian has done it again!”

Two years later, at the end of August, Third Princess Aurelia Aetherion nearly pressed her face against the newspaper as she admired the printed image on its front page.

Across from her, Michael remained seated inside the moving carriage with the rigid posture expected of a knight assigned to protect royalty, although maintaining an appropriately dignified atmosphere became somewhat difficult whenever the royal person in question behaved less like the Third Princess and more like a child who had just discovered her favorite story had received another chapter.

According to the article, a new case of artistic vandalism had appeared at the main entrance of Hotel Phoenix, and although the newspaper devoted a respectable amount of text to questions of legality, property rights, magical security, and the complete failure of anyone to catch the culprit, Aurelia's attention remained fixed upon the artwork itself.

“The composition is wonderful, and look at how naturally everything fits the entrance,” she continued, her emerald-green eyes shining with unmistakable admiration. “She never simply paints over a surface as though it were a canvas placed there for her convenience. She considers the surroundings and turns them into part of the work itself.”

Michael inclined his helmet toward the newspaper, apparently making a sincere attempt to share her enthusiasm. “It certainly appears impressive, Your Highness, although there is something I have wondered about for quite some time.”

Aurelia lowered the newspaper enough to look at him.

“Why do you always refer to Florian Val as ‘Lady Florian’ when nearly everyone assumes that the artist is a man?”

The carriage continued rolling peacefully down the village road while Aurelia stared at him as though he had just proposed replacing every painting in the royal palace with accounting documents.

“Michael, absolutely not.”

“Your Highness?”

“There is simply no possibility that Florian Val is a man, no man could possibly move with that kind of elegance.”

Michael's crimson eyes remained visible through the narrow opening of his steel helmet, and somehow, despite the rest of his expression being completely concealed, Aurelia could tell that he was unconvinced.

“I saw her myself during the opening of the new museum exhibition,” Aurelia continued, abandoning all attempts to restrain her excitement. “She appeared from nowhere wearing that characteristic white cloak, and then, with only a movement of her hand, she covered the walls and ceiling with her art without touching any of the exhibited paintings. Everything followed her movements as though the entire room belonged to her, and she controlled it like a queen with gestures that were gentle but completely decisive.”

Michael listened without interruption until Aurelia finally paused, at which point he gave a small nod. “You truly admire her, Your Highness.”

“I do,” Aurelia admitted, and the faint warmth reaching her cheeks caused her to raise the newspaper slightly. “For some reason, whenever I see her work—or her, for that matter—I simply cannot take my eyes away.”

Fortunately, the carriage provided another subject before Michael could comment further.

Their destination today had nothing to do with mysterious artists, because Aurelia was traveling to meet someone whose name was famous for an entirely different reason.

Iris Goldsmith—Magia Proxima, a human who had awakened an exceptional magical talent, although the circumstances behind that awakening were anything but fortunate.

During the Erebo-Virus pandemic, Iris had lost her mother, and the resulting stress had awakened her talent when she was only ten years old. As the result of the newly awakened power the illness got wiped out entirely.

She is also the only daughter of the Goldsmith family, founders of the Goldsmith Company, which had grown into the largest merchant company on the continent.

Aurelia's excitement faded as she remembered the first part of that history, and her fingers unconsciously reached toward the small pendant resting against her chest, where a golden star gleamed between them.

Losing one's mother at ten years old was not something that titles, wealth, or extraordinary magical talent could make insignificant.

Before that thought could carry her too deeply into memories of her own, movement beyond the carriage window announced their arrival.

Carriages loaded with trading goods traveled constantly in both directions around an enormous building that towered above its surroundings, and Aurelia leaned toward the window as the Goldsmith Company's main store—and, rather unusually, the family's home—came fully into view.

What immediately captured her attention were the spiral towers built along both sides.

“Are those roads?”

Michael followed her gaze. “For carriages, apparently.”

The answer became undeniable when their own carriage entered through the right pillar beneath a large sign reading Entrance and began climbing through the spiral structure.

Aurelia watched the changing height with open fascination. “They built the carriage route vertically into the building itself, which means every floor can be accessed without leaving the carriage. Very simple, yet it saves considerable ground space.”

By the time they reached the fourth floor, a guard approached to inspect their carriage, although the examination became brief once he noticed the royal emblem: a crown above a crossed sword and wand upon a shield, with angel wings spread behind it.

After receiving permission to continue, they entered the fourth-floor parking area and stepped from the carriage.

Aurelia immediately approached one of the windows, where the view made their height considerably more apparent than it had seemed during the climb.

“The Goldsmith family really does have innovative ideas,” she remarked. “Allowing carriages to reach the upper floors directly creates additional parking space without forcing the building to occupy more land, not to even mention the magnificent view.”

“I am delighted to hear Your Highness thinks so.”

The unfamiliar voice came from directly behind them.

Michael's armored hand moved toward his sword before Aurelia had even finished turning around.

Standing there was a young woman dressed in a black-and-white maid uniform, complete with a fitted dress, white ruffled apron, and traditional headpiece, although the numerous belts and utility pouches around her waist made the outfit considerably more practical than conventional. Her short black hair formed a messy bob around her face, with vivid hot-pink streaks showing underneath, while equally striking magenta-pink eyes regarded them with a gentle and somewhat knowing smile.

Michael's hand remained near his weapon. “Who are you, and how did you approach us without announcing yourself?”

“My deepest apologies for startling our honored guests,” the maid replied with exaggerated formality, placing a hand against her chest. “Appearing without being noticed is unfortunately a bad habit of mine. I am Tikka, the super duper all-works maid who fears no form of employment whatsoever, and on behalf of the Goldsmith household, I welcome you and thank you most sincerely for coming.”

Aurelia blinked.

Super… duper?

Tikka turned with absolute confidence. “If Your Highness and Sir Knight would kindly follow me, my master is already awaiting your arrival.”

They followed her through a corridor filled with decorations interesting enough that Aurelia repeatedly had to remind herself that staring at everything was probably not the most dignified way to begin an unofficial meeting.

Eventually, Tikka stopped before a pair of doors and opened them.

“Master, our guests have arrived.”

“Thank you, Tikka.”

A tall, broad-shouldered man rose from behind his desk, his sturdy frame and somewhat unruly dark-brown hair making him look more like an experienced adventurer than the chairman of the continent's largest merchant company. His neatly kept beard framed a confident expression, and his striking blue eyes carried authority without any hint that he intended to use it to look down upon his visitors.

He welcomed Aurelia with the etiquette appropriate to her position before introducing himself as Edmund Goldsmith, chairman of the Goldsmith Company, and then invited both guests to sit.

“Tikka, could you please—”

“Prepare the tea, Master?” Tikka supplied pleasantly.

Aurelia looked toward her hands.

An entire tea set was already there.

Michael's helmet turned slightly toward the maid, then toward Edmund, and finally back toward the tea set as though he were attempting to reconstruct the previous several seconds and determine when reality had stopped behaving properly.

Edmund, by contrast, showed no surprise whatsoever. “Thank you. In that case, could you also—”

“Bring the young lady here? She will arrive momentarily.”

“Thank you again.”

“With pleasure, Master.”

Tikka excused herself and closed the door behind her.

Silence remained for several moments while Aurelia and Michael continued staring at the place where she had been standing.

Edmund glanced between them before gesturing toward the tea. “It would be unfortunate if it became cold.”

Michael accepted the suggestion first, although his caution disappeared remarkably quickly after the aroma reached him. He took a measured sip and paused, clearly surprised by how naturally balanced the flavor was despite the absence of sugar or any additional ingredients.

“I am glad it suits your taste,” Edmund said. “Our head maid is a woman of many talents.”

Aurelia took a sip of her own tea before asking the question that had gradually become unavoidable. “Chairman Goldsmith, if you do not mind my asking, we have not encountered any other household staff since arriving.”

“Ahh.. We used to employ more maids, but Tikka has exceptionally high standards, and most of them resigned within approximately two weeks. Afterward, she informed me that she would simply handle everything herself because she was, in her words, a ‘super ultimate all-works maid.’ Since that arrangement also reduced household expenses, I agreed, but...”

“I-I see…” Michael replied, and what made his hesitation particularly concerning was that he sounded as though he had already accepted that Tikka might actually be capable of it.

“Would that not cause her to overwork herself?” Aurelia asked.

“I had the same concern initially, but I have never seen her sweat from work, much less appear exhausted.”

Michael stared toward the door. “Is she truly human?”

Edmund laughed. “That possibility has crossed my mind as well, although I admit I did not expect such a comment from the newest member of the Sixteen Squares, the Helmed Knight Michael.”

Michael's crimson eyes widened slightly. “I did not expect the chairman to recognize me. It seems the information network of merchants should never be underestimated.”

“Information has value, after all, although I was equally surprised to learn that someone of your position would accompany Her Highness to an unofficial meeting.”

“In light of the recent incidents, His Majesty considered additional protection appropriate.”

Edmund's expression became more serious. “The Velvet Reaper?”

Michael nodded. “According to the known history of the victims, the murderer exclusively targets nobles, so His Majesty has increased security around the royal family until the culprit can be apprehended.”

“Then I assume the investigation has produced little progress.”

“Unfortunately, yes, and matters are further complicated because our information suggests that the murderer is most likely—”

“Michael.”

Aurelia's interruption was gentle but immediate.

The knight froze.

“I believe we have reached the point where the information becomes classified.”

Michael remained silent for a moment before lowering his head. “My apologies, Your Highness. I occasionally have a tendency to speak more than necessary.”

Occasionally?

Aurelia decided that correcting him would not improve the situation.

Michael apparently reached the same conclusion and hurried toward safer territory. “Speaking of our purpose here, where is Lady Iris?”

“She has been here for some time.”

Aurelia nearly spilled her tea.

Tikka was standing in front of the door.

Neither she nor Michael had heard it open.

The maid bowed apologetically. “The young lady was awaiting an appropriate opportunity to enter, although I fear I may have waited somewhat too long before interrupting.”

Edmund merely nodded. “There is no problem, Tikka. Please let her in.”

The door opened, revealing a young woman whose appearance immediately made Aurelia think of an exquisitely crafted doll.

Iris Goldsmith carried herself with formal grace, her extremely long silvery-white hair falling well beyond her hips. Her pale complexion and delicate features only strengthened the doll-like impression, while her large pale-blue eyes remained calm to the point of seeming almost lifeless.

She introduced herself politely and took the seat beside her father.

Aurelia found herself staring.

Iris noticed.

“If Your Highness is curious about my eyes, I inherited them from my mother,” she explained in an even, courteous voice. “I am aware that some people believe they resemble the eyes of a blind person, although I assure you that my vision is perfectly clear.”

“Oh, please forgive my staring,” Aurelia replied quickly. “Your eyes are very beautiful.”

That was true, although they were not the reason Aurelia had been staring.

The actual reason was floating behind Iris.

It was small.

It was purple.

It had tentacles.

And it was flying.

An octopus? A squid?

Aurelia maintained her royal smile while her thoughts began collapsing into complete disorder.

Why is it flying?

Neither Michael nor Edmund nor Tikka reacted.

Iris herself behaved as though nothing were there.

Aurelia therefore reached the only socially safe conclusion available to her: asking about the mysterious airborne purple cephalopod that apparently nobody else could see would have to wait.

Instead, she turned the conversation toward the academy, where both she and Iris would soon begin their first year.

“It seems we shall be classmates very soon.”

“It will be a great honor to begin my studies in the same year as Your Highness,” Iris replied politely.

Aurelia continued the conversation while maintaining the pleasant expression expected of a princess, yet she gradually developed the distinct impression that every sentence entering Iris's ears immediately escaped through some invisible exit on the other side. The young woman answered whenever appropriate, but her attention seemed to exist somewhere entirely separate from the room.

Unfortunately, Aurelia's own concentration was hardly superior.

The purple creature had discovered Iris's tea.

It lowered itself toward the cup and began drinking without any hesitation.

But Aurelia still kept smiling.

First there had been Tikka, the maid who appeared without making a sound and seemingly performed several jobs before anyone else realized those jobs needed doing, and now there was a detached merchant heiress accompanied by an invisible flying purple squid that stole tea.

The Goldsmith household was peculiar.

There was simply no more diplomatic way to describe it.

* * *

Several hours later, Aurelia sank deeper into the warm water of the Goldsmith household's enormous bath and released a long breath as the heat loosened the tension in her shoulders.

The meeting had ended, although if someone had demanded that she repeat the latter half of the conversation, she suspected her royal education would have suffered a humiliating defeat.

She barely remembered what they had discussed.

Her attention had been divided between Iris, the purple creature, and the increasingly desperate effort to determine whether she was somehow the strange person in that room.

Then, immediately after the conversation ended, Iris had hurried away with astonishing speed for someone who did not appear particularly athletic, while the purple creature vanished along with her. Even Edmund had looked somewhat concerned by his daughter's sudden departure.

Aurelia rested her head against the edge of the bath.

Something about these people was strange.

To make matters worse, she had intended to leave and clear her thoughts during the journey home, only for heavy rain to begin without warning despite the earlier absence of clouds. Traveling under those conditions had become unreasonable, leaving Aurelia and Michael with little choice except to remain overnight.

Naturally, the Goldsmith household already possessed suitable sleepwear for her.

Apparently, when one owned the largest merchant company on the continent, the phrase we probably have one somewhere became a perfectly viable solution to most material problems.

Aurelia touched the golden-star pendant still hanging around her neck.

“Mum would be shocked if she saw all of this.”

Whatever else could be said about the Goldsmith household, however, their bath deserved praise, because the warm water was comfortable enough that Aurelia finally felt the confusion of the afternoon beginning to loosen its grip upon her thoughts.

Then she opened her eyes.

On the opposite side of the bath, the purple creature was relaxing in the water.

A tiny towel rested on its head.

Aurelia stared at it.

The creature remained comfortably afloat.

She slowly looked away.

It is the heat.

That explanation was ridiculous, but ridiculous explanations had become surprisingly competitive today.

I have been thinking about that creature for too long, the bath is extremely warm, and my mind has decided to combine those two facts into something absurd.

The creature began swimming toward her.

Aurelia closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, determined not to acknowledge it.

It’s just heat. It’s just heat.

But then…

…Something slimy touched her body.

Her patience collapsed.

“What in the world are you doing, you perverted squid?!”

Aurelia seized the creature with both hands, but its soft body contracted almost instantly before slipping between her fingers with infuriating ease. It launched itself away from her and scrambled toward the edge of the bath.

“Come back here!”

The creature fled directly through the wall.

Aurelia stopped pursuing it only because the laws governing walls had apparently become optional.

She approached the place where it had disappeared and pressed her hand against the surface, finding nothing except perfectly ordinary solid material.

“How did it pass through this?”

“Your Highness?” Tikka's voice came through the door from the changing room. “I heard shouting. Has something happened?”

Aurelia immediately straightened. “Everything is perfectly fine! I was merely surprised by how comfortable the bath is.”

There was a brief pause.

“I am delighted that it pleases Your Highness, although I would respectfully advise against remaining in the water for too long.”

“Of course. I shall leave in a few more minutes.”

“Your sleepwear has already been prepared. Are you certain you do not require assistance changing?”

“I appreciate the offer, but I can manage by myself.”

“Understood, Your Highness. Then I shall take my leave.”

Aurelia waited until Tikka's footsteps disappeared before returning her full attention to the wall.

She inspected every visible section and pressed experimentally against several places, yet nothing suggested the existence of a passage.

Then her fingers accidentally pushed something inward.

A click answered.

Aurelia looked down just as the floor beneath her disappeared.

“…Eh?”

Her scream followed her into darkness.

The hidden passage twisted into a spiral, sending her sliding downward faster and faster until she finally shot from the end and landed upon something mercifully soft, the cushion beneath her doing very little for her dignity but considerably more for her survival.

After recovering enough to sit upright, Aurelia looked around.

She appeared to be inside a hidden room, perhaps somewhere underground, although determining its exact location seemed considerably less important than understanding what surrounded her.

Paintings filled the chamber alongside brushes, books, pigments, containers, and countless pieces of artistic equipment. Finished and unfinished works occupied nearly every available space, and as Aurelia slowly rose, her irritation over being swallowed by a secret passage gave way to fascination.

These paintings were beautiful.

More importantly, something about them was familiar.

Her attention moved from one work to another until it reached an enormous panorama covering an entire wall, depicting a vast valley overflowing with flowers.

A voice came from nearby.

The artist was speaking quietly to herself while working on the panorama.

Aurelia turned.

Her breath caught.

It was Iris.

Yet the young woman standing before the painting felt almost nothing like the lifeless doll Aurelia had met several hours earlier.

Iris painted with her bare fingers, and every movement carried an excitement that had been completely absent during their conversation. Her previously pale, empty-looking eyes now shifted through brilliant colors like a living kaleidoscope, while passion animated every part of her expression as she worked with an intensity that made the rest of the hidden room seem insignificant.

Aurelia knew those movements.

She knew that freedom.

She knew the sight of someone creating whatever she desired as though rules, walls, permission, and common sense were inconveniences meant for other people.

She had seen that spirit before.

There could be no mistake.

“Florian Va—”

A heavy THWACK struck the back of Aurelia's head before she could finish the name, and the hidden workshop disappeared as consciousness was torn away from her.