CHAPTER 215: CHAPTER 215 – MORNING IN A FOREIGN TOWN

The night finally passed in peace. After making sure Alicia and Stacia had drunk the healing potions, Sylvia lay down beside them. She allowed her body to rest against the soft bed, savoring the rare stillness in her life. The sound of her sisters’ steady breathing felt like a quiet lullaby, lulling her mind into slumber. For once, Sylvia let herself sleep without keeping watch, trusting that they were safe enough behind the inn’s walls.

By morning, the world stirred again.

Sylvia woke not to alarms or attacks, but to the bustle of the small town filtering through wooden walls. Merchants shouting as they opened their stalls, the creak of wagon wheels on cobblestone, and the distant crowing of roosters all mingled into an unfamiliar but soothing morning rhythm.

Her eyes opened slowly. For a moment, she almost forgot where she was. The soft bed, the thick woolen blankets, the sunlight seeping through pale curtains none of these belonged to her usual ancient castle. But when she turned and saw Alicia and Stacia still asleep on the other side of the bed, memory returned.

She sat up carefully, her long black hair falling over her shoulders. Her gaze first went to the large window, veiled in cream-colored curtains. Rising, she padded across the cold wooden floor and pushed it open.

Creaaak.

The hinges groaned as the shutters parted. Instantly, cold morning air rushed in, sharp and unforgiving. Sylvia flinched lightly, instinctively pulling her thin cloak tighter around her.

"...So cold," she murmured, though her undead body was immune to extremes. It wasn’t her flesh that shivered, but her mind and her brain still registering the frozen air as discomfort.

Through the window, she watched the small town come alive. Cobblestone streets filled with people: merchants pushing carts piled high with goods, children running with loaves of bread in their hands, and local soldiers patrolling with simple spears. White smoke rose from chimneys, signaling breakfasts being cooked.

Sylvia lingered, letting her crimson eyes sweep over it all. Ordinary life moving forward in a world otherwise ravaged. There was warmth in seeing it, though she knew peace like this was always fragile.

A soft rustle behind her drew her attention back.

Alicia stirred, blonde hair tangled, her pale-pink eyes slowly fluttering open. "Nnh... already morning...?" Her voice was hoarse, heavy with sleep.

Stacia shifted as well, trying to rise despite her weakness. Her face looked fresher than yesterday, her arm wounds no longer bleeding, only faint red lines remained.

Sylvia shut the window, sealing out the cold before it seeped further in. She returned to the bed, glancing between them. "How are you feeling?"

Alicia rubbed her eyes as she sat up. "Better. Still sore, but nothing like yesterday."

Stacia gave a small nod. "My wounds are closing. The potion worked."

Sylvia studied them closely. Their skin remained pale, always the mark of undead but something was different. Their faces no longer looked drained, their eyes brighter. Relief softened her expression.

"Good. That means we can start thinking about our next move."

She reached for her cloak and headed toward the door. "Wait here. I’ll fetch breakfast."

The wooden stairs creaked softly as she descended. The inn’s dining hall was already lively. Travelers filled the long tables, most still wrapped in damp cloaks from the snow. The air was heavy with the scent of baked bread, steaming soup, and smoked meat, blending with the hum of chatter.

Sylvia moved to the serving table near the kitchen, where the innkeeper, a stout woman with hair tied in a bun, was ladling soup. The woman glanced at Sylvia and gave a brief nod, saying nothing.

Sylvia took a wooden tray, added several pieces of warm bread, two bowls of oat porridge, and a small pot of herbal tea. She also filled a bowl of soup for herself more out of habit than need. After ensuring everything was in order, she carried the tray upstairs.

When she opened the chamber door again, Alicia and Stacia were already propped up, waiting though still pale.

"This morning is simple," Sylvia said, setting the tray on the table. "Eat. You need strength."

Alicia reached for the bread immediately, her face brightening. "Ah... finally, real food. So I won’t faint again on the road."

Stacia picked up her porridge bowl, blowing gently before tasting. "Warm..." she whispered, eating slowly.

Sylvia only watched for a moment before lifting her own soup. She sat by the table and sipped. The flavor was plain, nearly bland, but it reminded her faintly of human life.

The room settled into quiet, broken only by the clink of spoons against bowls.

After a few minutes, Alicia turned to Sylvia. "So... what’s your plan? About the Church."

Sylvia paused, her spoon hovering. She stared into the broth, exhaled slowly. "At first, I wanted to head straight for their stronghold. Burn it all. But seeing your condition... that’s not an option now."

Stacia’s eyes sharpened. "You’re delaying?"

"Yes." Sylvia met their gazes, her crimson eyes steady. "You’ll both come with me. We’ll face them together. But for that, you must recover fully first."

Alicia smiled faintly, though her eyes were weary. "I can’t tell if I should feel relieved or scared. But if you say we’ll do it together, I’ll trust you."

Stacia lowered her head slightly. "Me too."

Sylvia set her empty bowl aside, leaning back in her chair. "For now, we return to the castle. From there, we plan. The Church has marked us. They won’t stop."

No one argued. They all knew it was the truth.

Breakfast continued in silence.

Outside, the small town bustled on. Market sounds grew louder, carts rumbled along the cobblestone. Pale sunlight pierced the fog, glinting faintly through the window panes.

But for Sylvia, Alicia, and Stacia, this morning was no mere routine. It was a fragile pause before the storm they knew would come.

When the meal ended, Alicia and Stacia looked a shade healthier, though still pale. Sylvia remained seated a moment, ensuring they had eaten enough, then sighed and rose.

"Rest again afterward," she said quietly. "I’ll go down there are things I need to arrange."

Alicia lifted her head, a little worried. "You won’t go far, will you?"

Sylvia brushed her shoulder lightly. "No. I just need to prepare something so our journey home won’t be difficult. Don’t worry."

Stacia’s eyes lingered on her, as if wanting to ask more, but she stayed silent. Sylvia only gave a slight nod in return before leaving the room.

The inn’s lower floor buzzed with activity. Hunters hauled sacks of spoils, merchants haggled at the desk. Sylvia moved through them in silence, heading straight for the counter where the innkeeper stood.

"Excuse me," Sylvia said, her tone calm but firm.

The middle-aged woman in a faded apron turned, smiling warmly. "Ah, our guest from the largest room. How are you? I hope your sisters are better."

"Yes," Sylvia replied curtly. "I need to ask something. Where can I buy a carriage in this town?"

The woman blinked in surprise. "A carriage? Hm... most travelers rent. But if you wish to buy, there’s a carriage workshop on the west side, near the main gate. They sell both new and used."

Sylvia nodded. "Thank you."

She stepped outside, her black cloak whipping in the cold wind. The town’s main street was alive: food stalls steaming, the scent of roasted meat and bread thick in the air. Sylvia glanced once, tempted, but quickly dismissed the thought.

"Not the time for indulgence," she muttered flatly.

She continued west. The streets grew quieter, lined with warehouses and stables. Soon, she spotted the workshop, a large building with a wooden sign: Muller’s Carriage House.

Inside, the air smelled of fresh wood and oil. Carriages lined the hall, from plain wooden carts to lavish ones with velvet cushions and polished metal trim.

A stout man in a leather apron approached, smiling broadly. "Good morning, miss! Looking for a carriage?"

"Yes," Sylvia answered. "I need one that is spacious, sturdy, and comfortable. For a long trip."

The man stroked his beard. "Ah, then I have a few choices. But... the finest would be a luxury king-size carriage. Steel wheels, enchanted suspension, velvet seats. Perfect for long journeys. Though..." his eyes flicked over her attire, "expensive."

Sylvia didn’t flinch. "How much?"

"For a new one... forty gold."

She nodded without expression. "I’ll take it."

The man blinked in shock, then quickly recovered. "O-of course! You have fine taste, miss. It’s usually pulled by two horses, but I can pair it with a strong set."

Sylvia glanced at the stable. Her eyes scanned until they landed on a dark brown horse sturdy, calm, obedient. She turned back to him. "That one horse is enough."

The man frowned. "One? Miss, this carriage is heavy. At least two are needed."

"One is enough," Sylvia said flatly. "I have a way to keep it from tiring."

He hesitated, but her aura left no room for argument. "V-very well. If you’re sure."

Minutes later, a black carriage with silver trim rolled out. Its velvet interior gleamed, steel wheels catching the morning sun.

The brown horse was harnessed at the front, snorting softly. Sylvia approached, touching its neck. Her nails lengthened faintly. With a quick, subtle prick, she injected her corruption.

The horse shuddered. Veins darkened beneath its hide, eyes turning pale gray. Its breath grew steady, unnatural.

A zombie horse obedient, tireless.

Sylvia whispered, "Understand?"

The horse bowed its head. Sylvia smirked faintly. With this, there’d be no need for reins or rest.

"Good," she said, then turned to the merchant. "I’ll take it now."

She handed over forty-five gold forty for the carriage, five for the horse.

Soon, she sat inside, brushing the black velvet curtain. "Luxurious enough."

The carriage rolled smoothly, the undead horse pulling it with ease. Townsfolk stared, surprised at the sight of a single horse dragging such weight, but none dared question.

At last, Sylvia stopped in front of the Silver Moon Inn. She descended, entered, and climbed to the second floor.

Inside the chamber, Alicia and Stacia sat by the window, still tired. As Sylvia entered, Alicia turned. "You took a long. Where did you go?"

Sylvia shut the door, her lips curving faintly. "Preparing for the trip home. We won’t walk or rely on normal horses."

Stacia frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sylvia nodded toward the window. "A luxury carriage. Large enough for you both to lie down during the journey. And the horse... won’t tire."

Alicia’s eyes widened. "Don’t tell me you..."

"Yes," Sylvia cut her off calmly. "A zombie horse. Fully under my command. No driver needed."

Stacia fell silent, her expression a mix of relief and unease. "...Excessive. But considering the distance, perhaps the best choice."

Sylvia stepped closer, her crimson eyes steady. "I won’t let you suffer again on the road. All you need is to sit back. Leave the rest to me."

Neither sister argued. Only faint smiles tugged at their lips a mixture of relief and awe at Sylvia, who always carved a path even in hardship.