Fantasy Carriage Company Novels & Stories

Amy had never seen such a carriage, so she shook her head and admitted, “I don’t know.” At that moment, Aiden’s deep and gentle voice filled the air. “This isn’t a princess’s carriage. It belonged to Emperor Derya of the Fucian royal family. He used it during his campaigns.” “You’re so smart, Mr. Lewis,” Star said excitedly. Aiden chuckled and pointed at a nearby sign. “I’m not smart. It’s all written here.” Hearing this, both children tiptoed to read the sign. However, it was in Fucian, which puzzled Star. She turned and asked, “Night, what does it say?”

The carriage rolled to a deliberate stop in front of the grand estate, its lacquered black frame gleaming faintly beneath the fading light. The crest of the Velmour family—two wolves entwined around a blood-red rose—was etched in silver across its door, a sigil that announced influence before the passenger ever emerged. The coachman descended swiftly, his gloves pristine, his manner crisp with the rigid training demanded of one who served such a house. With a deft motion, he opened the door, and a polished black boot stepped down onto the gravel drive.

A strange scent permeates the air, oversweet and pungent. My breath hitches when I catch sight of the source. It’s a carriage, a sight grander than any I’d ever laid eyes on. Even the horses themselves are ornate, with long, braided manes and feathering around their lower legs that shimmies as they trot. The carriage gleams in the morning sunlight, its windows boasting a breathtaking design with colorful panes of glass, inlaid with sparkling crystals. Even the Moon Goddess temples are not so ornate. The wooden spoke wheels are so highly polished, it must have taken an entire day of scrubbing to reach that shine.

Heads turned as one. A sleek black carriage rolled into view, its surface lacquered to mirror-brightness that reflected the afternoon sun in cold, deliberate flashes. No horses pulled it. Four huge bound wolves strained against enchanted harnesses, their monstrous forms rippling with contained fury, their giant paws striking against the warded cobblestones. "The Fenrir crest," someone whispered, the awe audible. "Alpha Jaxon's personal transport," another breathed, the recognition spreading through the crowd like wildfire. The carriage slowed to a halt at the courtyard's center. The passenger door swung open with practiced theatricality, and a silk-stockinged leg descended, delicate, deliber

​The Imperial carriage did not travel; it glided. Its wheels were enchanted to hum over the rugged terrain of the North, turning the jagged rocks into a smooth, mocking lullaby. Inside, the air was chilled by crystals and scented with expensive, artificial lilies—a smell that made my stomach churn with memories of Isabella.

Victor asked, concerned. "Fine. Just... family business." The lie tasted like copper. Leah didn't have a family; she had a contract. In the shadows of a narrow alleyway behind the tavern, a sleek, black carriage waited. It bore no crest, but the horses were terrifying massive, soot-colored beasts with eyes that glowed a faint, predatory amber. The door opened before she reached it.

They reached the end of the red carpet and a carriage is waiting for them. Sumire was nailed on the ground. Gaped, she didn't expect to ride it again not only on the set of the drama they were shooting before. Truly, this is a better chariot. Ten huge black stallions pulled the royal charcoal-gold carriage. The chariot is very overwhelming in size and beauty. The ten horses look very dangerous and intimidating. Sumire felt that Death rose from the underworld and picked her up. She liked the feeling. "Sumire, are you scared?" Dreygur asked worriedly and look closer into her face.

When we felt a brush of magic against our flesh, we both expelled a heavy breath. The city was beautifully decorated with flowers of all kind. Fae lights bobbed in the air in different colors, harnessing the rays of the sun to shoot a spectral of colorful beams to guide our path. The ground was littered with soft black petals which shifted every time a light breeze disturbed their peace. Two stunning black stallions attached to a carriage awaited us. Said carriage was obsidian with gold trimmings. The only color on the carriage came from the arch of followers above the entrance where a guard stood.

Once the tears have stopped falling, she takes the locket from me, and draping the cool gold chain along my neck. “The perfect finishing touch,” she comes around to the front, looking at her handiwork. “Now let’s get you to your ceremony before Charity has both of our heads on a stick.” ************** Walking outside the house, my jaw drops to the ground at the mode of transportation. Standing before me, is a two white thoroughbred horses pull a covered sleigh behind them. The most beautiful wildflowers lacing the back. Where did they even find them in the middle of winter? Walking the shoveled and salted path, I climb in after Charity and Elle; the door closing behind us. The entire top is

My father says and his expression is something else as he looks at me. "Is there a carriage that fits like ten people? Because we are all going to go as we get to know about the past. And it is going to be one nasty ride," Monica says. . . . . We didn't have a carriage that fit ten people. But in the short time that we have, all we did was join two carriages as one and break one side down so it's open. And then joined the two sides and made it into one big carriage that has the capacity to fit maybe twelve people since there are no obese people in the supernatural world.