Die Melusine - Chapter 26

“Are you sure it’s okay for her to come with us?”

One of the maids seated across from Anne in the cramped carriage whispered cautiously, ensuring Melusine wouldn’t overhear.

Anne nodded silently to reassure her fellow maid. The trip to the city had originally been planned for four, but with Melusine joining them, the already small carriage was packed to the brim.

It’ll be fine, Anne thought. After all, the mermaid had insisted on coming along. Her body still seemed far from fully recovered, yet she had stubbornly refused to stay behind.

Anne had hesitated but eventually reported the request to the head maid. Through the steward, they received permission from Count Lutherne, acting in the duke’s absence. Even the coachman was carefully selected for the task.

Determined to keep a close eye on Melusine, Anne adjusted the velvet cloak and oversized hood concealing her mistress’s striking pink hair and unique features. It was a precaution against drawing too much attention.

Unaware of the precautions, Melusine had been brimming with excitement from the moment they left the castle. She was now glued to the tiny carriage window, marveling at everything outside.

“What’s that? The thing with red seaweed on its head?”

“Uh… that’s a rooster,” Anne replied.

Melusine couldn’t tear her eyes away from the waddling rooster, its plump body bobbing as it walked on stubby legs. She gasped in awe at a bird soaring through the sky, at a rabbit hopping across a field, and even at the strange fruits dangling from trees.

Watching her wide-eyed wonder, Anne chuckled, reminded of her youngest sibling, who had been similarly curious at that age.

The carriage slowed to a stop at their first destination. The maids had a tight schedule, with six shops to visit in half a day.

“Mermaid, I’ll be back soon. Please stay close to the carriage, okay? We won’t be long,” Anne said.

“Okay!” Melusine replied enthusiastically.

After repeatedly instructing the coachman to keep an eye on her, Anne hurried off with the other maids.

But as Anne feared, Melusine quickly grew bored waiting in the carriage. Curious about the bustling market sounds, she stepped outside.

The marketplace was alive with activity, crowded with people and filled with a cacophony of sounds. Melusine listened carefully, but the language spoken here differed from what she was used to hearing in the castle.

The squeals of pigs, the quacks of ducks, human laughter, and occasional shouts all blended into a noisy symphony. The rich aromas of various foods reminded her of mealtimes at the castle but were even more diverse and overwhelming.

This world is so different from the calm sea, she thought. So this is the kind of world Kieron lives in—full of sounds and scents like these.

Lost in thought, Melusine suddenly heard a faint, familiar melody. It sounded like a song from Bérezède, the island of mermaids, though the tune carried a sadder, haunting quality. Her chest tightened unexpectedly, and tears pricked her eyes.

Unconsciously, she began to follow the sound.

“Hey, miss! You can’t just wander off like that!”

The coachman, realizing she had left the carriage, hurried to follow her. He had no idea who she was—only that his superior had stressed the importance of looking after her.

Though he wanted to drag her back immediately, he couldn’t risk handling what seemed to be a noble lady too roughly. Keeping his distance, he trailed behind.

As Melusine drew closer to the source of the melody, the faint smell of the sea grew stronger. Though the market wasn’t far from the coast, the scent’s sudden intensity was strange. As if entranced, she kept walking.

“Help me! Oh, I’m dying! Someone save me!”

The melody abruptly stopped when Melusine arrived at a small crowd gathered around a commotion.

In the center of the circle was an old woman lying on the ground, clutching her stomach and writhing in apparent agony. Some children ran circles around her, pointing and laughing.

The old woman’s clothes were tattered, her long, gray hair hung unkempt past her waist, and her body emitted an unpleasant odor.

Most onlookers did nothing but pinch their noses and mutter in disgust. Scenes like this were common in the market—beggars faking ailments to garner sympathy and coins. But the old woman’s state seemed genuinely pitiful.

She rolled on the ground, groaning in pain one moment, then suddenly sprang to her feet, cackling. Her eyes rolled back as she began muttering incomprehensible phrases.

“They waited… I waited… but it was so sad… so very sad…”

Finally, she squatted down, stomping her feet and wailing like a child. The crowd shook their heads, clicking their tongues in disapproval.

Without hesitation, Melusine approached the old woman and gently patted her trembling shoulders.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” she asked softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

The appearance of a mysterious woman, draped in luxurious clothing and carefully concealed, immediately drew the attention of the bustling market. People whispered among themselves, but Melusine paid them no mind. Instead, she leaned closer to the sobbing old woman, her concern etched on her face.

“Or are you hungry?”

“Hungry? Oh, yes! Starving! So hungry, I’m about to die!”

The old woman, who had moments ago been shedding tears, suddenly shouted with excitement. Her ragged breaths carried a salty scent, sharp and distinct. Melusine, more attuned to such things than the average person, knew immediately: this woman wasn’t human.

Startled by Melusine’s genuine question, the old woman grabbed her slender wrist with surprising strength, her bony fingers curled with long, gnarled nails. The nearby onlookers let out cries of disgust at the sight of the grotesque hand.

The old woman’s deep blue eyes locked with Melusine’s, and in a hoarse, broken voice, she muttered, “Sister… bring me… please….” Her foul breath carried a mixture of desperation and decay.

But Melusine wasn’t repelled by the smell or the woman’s disheveled state. Perhaps it was the faint resemblance to one of her own kin. Or perhaps she simply couldn’t bear to ignore anyone’s hunger—she knew too well the pain of emptiness.

“Alright! Wait here, just a moment!”

With that, Melusine sprang to her feet, pushing through the crowd and darting away. She followed the aroma of fresh fish wafting through the air, zigzagging through the market stalls.

“Miss, you can’t just run off like that!” the coachman called, quickly blocking her path.

“I need fish! My sister is starving!” she said urgently, her determination as unwavering as her misunderstanding of the situation.

“Sister…? What are you talking about—wait!”

Despite her small frame, Melusine was shockingly swift. Before the coachman could grab her, she deftly dodged him, weaving through people, livestock, and carts with the grace of someone accustomed to the fluidity of water.

When the coachman finally caught up, panting heavily, he found her standing before a fish vendor’s stall, pointing at the wares.

“Five of these!” she exclaimed.

“Five whole fish? Oh, well, thank you, Miss! Shall I gut them, trim the tails, and—uh…”

The vendor trailed off, his jaw dropping in astonishment. The woman before him, who looked every bit a noble lady, had grabbed four of the wriggling, still-alive fish in her hands. With a beaming smile, she clutched the squirming creatures tightly as their tails flapped and sprayed fishy water everywhere.

“Thank you!”

Before the vendor could say another word, Melusine turned and dashed off.

The bewildered coachman hastily paid for the fish and collected the prepared fillets the vendor had begun working on. By the time he looked up again, Melusine was already out of sight.

Fortunately, he knew where she was headed. But as he retraced his steps, he noticed a commotion farther down the main road, away from the market’s center. His instincts told him something troublesome had happened.

With a weary sigh, he followed the noise and came upon a scene far worse than expected.

A grand white carriage, adorned with gold detailing, was parked conspicuously on the side of the road. Mounted guards encircled it protectively, their ornate uniforms marking them as the escort of someone of great importance.

The head guard, seated atop his horse, was barking orders, his sword drawn and pointing at the source of the disturbance.

And there they were.

The old woman sat on the ground, noisily chomping on a raw fish, while Melusine stood beside her, holding three more fish in her hands, her hood slipped back to reveal her distinctive pink hair.

“Move aside immediately! Do you have any idea who is passing through here?” the guard bellowed, his face red with fury.

Despite repeated warnings, it was clear his words weren’t registering. The old woman was too engrossed in her meal, and Melusine remained rooted in place, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

The coachman froze in horror. Whoever was in the lavish carriage was undoubtedly someone of immense rank—perhaps even a guest of the duke himself. Acting rashly could cause significant trouble.

He gulped, trying to gauge the best way to intervene without drawing ire from either side.

“Just wait a little longer! She’s just hungry! She’ll finish soon!”

Though Melusine offered an apologetic smile, she clearly had no intention of clearing the road. Instead, she focused on the old woman gulping down the fish and even handed her another from her grasp.

The spectators murmured louder, unnerved by the bizarre and wild scene unfolding before them.

“What kind of lunatic women are these? Get them out of the way—now!”

At the man’s command, the soldiers stationed around the ornate carriage dismounted, their expressions grim. It seemed they were prepared to forcibly remove Melusine and the old woman blocking the road.

One soldier, clad in a violet uniform, grabbed Melusine’s arm firmly.

Now the coachman had reason to intervene. No matter how high the rank of these strangers, this was the Duke’s territory, where his authority was absolute. Steeling himself, the coachman reached for the sword hidden at his hip, ready to act.

But then—

A sharp whinny cut through the air, followed by the thunderous pounding of hooves against the ground. The crowd scattered as a black horse, its rider cloaked in the dust it stirred, charged through the throng and came to a halt beside Melusine.

“Let go. Now.”

The low, resonant voice reverberated with such weight that the soldier stiffened immediately, his face paling to match the color of his uniform. He glanced upward at the man who had dismounted before the horse had even fully stopped.

The figure strode forward, casting a long shadow in the afternoon sun. Dark hair, as black as a raven’s wing, framed his imposing presence. Each deliberate step carried an air of authority and danger, like a herald of death.

Still clutching Melusine’s arm, the soldier couldn’t seem to summon the will to move, caught between fear and confusion.

The man, now only steps away, fixed his gaze on the trembling soldier. His voice dropped, quiet but cutting.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”