Since coming ashore, Kraft felt as if he'd barely walked a few steps on Westminster Castle's streets. He kept repeating the same routine of getting into a carriage and getting out again, jumping from one scene to another as if in a montage.
The carriage was not large, but it was drawn by two tall, powerful draft horses. Its windows were tightly covered and intricately carved. They let in no light and were hardly lightweight; tapping them produced an uneven, hollow sound, as if they were made of composite layers.
"There's iron inside." Martin latched the windows on both sides, lit the candles fixed to the carriage walls, and sat across from Kraft. "They're decorated with a layer of wood on the outside. They can stop arrows from piercing through, so you're perfectly safe."
"I don't think this is the first time you've promised me that."
The carriage began to move, but its sturdy cabin did little to reassure its passenger. The initial assassination attempt by the Heretics might have been explained away as a freak occurrence. But after the disappearance case, with its Deep Layer aura hanging over it, no promise could make him feel safe.
"Any leads on the Heretics and that handful of Devil Cherries?"
"My esteemed professor, it's only been half a night. I doubt two hours is enough time for anyone to come up with results." Martin smiled ruefully. He noticed Kraft's gaze repeatedly straying to his cheek, so he raised a hand and wiped it. Sure enough, his fingers came away red.
Apparently, Martin hadn't spent all of those two hours on business. He was quite the master of time management.
"If the two matters are connected, whoever's behind them is working a lot faster than we are." Kraft held his left arm and