<font size="4" color="red" face="Arial"> Weiss Manor, Schwarzenberg, 1843 CE </font>
Valeska stands motionless by the arched window of her private study, hands clasped behind her back, her crimson hair a stark contrast to the monochrome yet picturesque view beyond the glass. Below, the town of Schwarzenberg hums like a well-oiled machine – plumes of steam rising from geothermal vents mingle with the woodsmoke curling from hundreds of chimneys, painting the winter air in shifting veils of white against the slate-gray sky.
Her gaze lifts, drawn to the mountain pass. There, a distinct trail of coal smoke etches a line against the pure white peaks. A vehicle. A private steam carriage, by the density of the exhaust and the pace of its progress.
Her crimson hair shifts as she tilts her head, observing the way the carriage's suspension adjusts to the uneven terrain with mechanical precision.
Too fine for a supply delivery... too slow for a courier... She thinks, narrowing her eyes slightly.
A sudden tink against the windowpane draws her attention downward – Amelie stands in the courtyard below, ankle-deep in snow and trying to look innocent, while clearly hiding another snowball behind her back. Her twin Alicia perches upside-down from a lamppost, black braid dangling like a pendulum as she blows rings of frosted breath into the frigid air. Both sets of red eyes track the approaching visitor with predatory interest.
Amelie's voice rings out, bright and teasing as she cups her hands around her mouth. "Mistress! It appears—"
"—we have visitors," Alicia's murmur finishes the sentence from her inverted position, her voice carrying an unsettling clarity despite the distance. She swings gently, her shoes scraping against the frosted iron of the lamppost.
Valeska exhales, watching the carriage’s progress. “So it seems.” The town ledger rests open on her desk, awaiting its newest entry—name, origin, purpose.
Let’s hope this one isn’t another charlatan.
Below, Amelie begins packing a new snowball with theatrical precision, her eyes never leaving the approaching carriage. Alicia drops silently from the lamppost, landing without a sound in the deep snow, already moving toward the front gates with unnaturally smooth strides. They move like mirror images of each other, their synchronized movements both beautiful and deeply unsettling.
The scent of chamomile and blood rose tea drifts from the delicate porcelain cup abandoned on her desk, its surface long gone cold. Another engineering applicant? A fleeing scholar? Or perhaps... Her fingers tap an absent rhythm against the window frame as the carriage disappears behind a row of frosted evergreens, its destination now unmistakable – Weiss Manor's front gates.
She watches as the twins take up positions on either side of the main entrance, Amelie brushing imaginary snow from her apron while Alicia stands perfectly still, her head cocked at an angle that would be impossible for a human neck. They're preparing their "welcome" – a thought that makes Valeska's lips twitch with something almost resembling amusement.
