05-13-2017, 01:07 AM
I haven't quite finished my book yet when a dark-haired young servant in a gold-trimmed black dress comes to notify me that the Duke requests my presence . She freezes when I open the door to her knocking and calling, stunned by the sight of my lustrous grandeur. I can't help but take note of the expression on her face - a mixture of wide-eyed fear, which is familiar, and other emotions which I can't place, a species of uneasiness I've never seen before.
I suffer a moment of indecision. The truth is I'd like to finish reading, but as pleasant a distraction as this room and its contents have been, the prospect of the unique insights to be gleaned by speaking with the one at the top of this valley's social hierarchy is a much sweeter lure.
Besides, the sooner I visit the Duke, the sooner I can move on to more immediately gratifying pursuits.
I drop the mostly-empty book, the few remaining pages rattling as it falls. They remind me of the sounds Dawnika Snow made when my hands were around her throat, and the recollection makes me smile. The servant-girl takes a step back, the balance of her expression shifting more firmly in favor of terror at the sight of my teeth. She's entirely eclipsed by my shadow.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" I demand, stepping into the hallway and cornering her against the wall. "Take me to your Duke... And while we're walking, tell me everything there is to know about yourself."
As it turns out, the walk from my room to the Duke's hall is a short one. I barely have time to pry any information from the servant at all – just her name, and that she spends most of her time running errands throughout the castle. Her nervousness and constant humble courtesy make even the simplest exchange a chore (though I do look forward to exploring the root of such deferential behavior. What is it like to be a servant? I can't even imagine, but if I'm to thoroughly appreciate the ruin of Harnburg Castle, its something I need to understand).
The girl – Annette – leads me through a short series of increasingly opulent corridors, stone giving way to wood paneling and burgundy carpets trimmed with gold, until we reach a set of finely crafted wooden doors with a guard beside them. Annette curtsies (which is bizarre little word for an equally strange custom), and hurries away to perform some other, less important task.
The guard moves to open the door, but I've waited long enough already. I shove the man aside, and I shoulder my way through. The doors bang open, leading to a little sun-lit sitting-room the color of sea-foam, furnished with a low ivory table hosting sofas and chairs in deep-ocean shades of green. It reeks of lacquer. The walls are home to expansive paintings and tapestries – and one in particular to a bevy (an odd little way to say 'group', but one I think I like) of clear crystal windows, opposite the sofa. The ceiling is blue, and the carpet is flecked with gold.
It's a triumph of interior design, synergistic and insightful, and my need to set it on fire is very close to overwhelming.
Rounding out the furnishings is Chatterly, standing in the corner, sinister and silent, but it's the other man in the room who draws my attention. The Duke is thin, with a large head, messy hair, and a pinched face. His clothing is fine, though too large for him, shimmering black with little patterns of gold. There are rings on his fingers, and a jade pendant around his neck. He's reclining on the sofa, with one booted ankle crossed over the opposite knee and his arms extended to either side, resting on the back of his seat.
“Ah,” he says, apparently unfazed by my sudden entrance. “This must be King Ghidorah, then...You are quite a specimen, aren't you. Would you like to sit down?”
“No,” I tell him, unimpressed. The Duke's expression wavers slightly, and his muddy brown eyes gain a sharpness that wasn't there before.
“Very well,” he says. “Though I feel it behooves me to mention that when one is offered a seat by a peer, it's usually wise to accept. Has my man filled you in on what it is I require of you?”
“If you're talking about Chatterly, and your designs for Shatterdun, and the elves, then yes. He's given me the broad details - and provided you give me what I want in return, I wholeheartedly accept.”
The Duke smiles, and folds his hands in his lap. “What is it that you want, then?”
It's my turn to smile, and I'm heartened to see his shrink in response. “I want to know about life in your valley - All of the little nuances and subtleties of the people's lives, and how they come together. I want power – and towards that end, I want Omnilium, as much as I can get, as much as you can give me... also, I want to eat more books.”
William Conrad van Harnburg's smile collapses altogether, and his brow furrows. “You mean read, surely.”
“That as well,” I respond. The Duke just stares. Chatterly clears his throat in the ensuing silence.
“I believe, my Lord, that that can also be arranged.”
“Excellent,” says the Duke, recovering his composure. “In return for your services, then, I will provide you with a handsome bounty, and free reign to satisfy your curiosity. Within reason.”
I scowl, stalking over to the nearest window and looking out at over the lake. “What does that mean?” I demand. “I don't like limits.”
“It means”, says the Duke, patiently, “That you not terrorize my serfs. I've heard about what you did to those men from Holmwood – do what I ask of you, and I guarantee the people of Harnburg valley will answer your questions readily.”
I scrape one of my fingernails down the windowpane, admiring my golden reflection in the glass. It's hideous of course, but still far more beautiful than any of the other creatures in this valley. My claw scores the glass, giving forth a grinding screech, which I find I quite enjoy.
“... fine. So long as they co-operate, they won't be harmed.”
It's a shame – I was looking forward to leaving more walking ruins in my wake – but there will be other opportunities. The details are what's important here, not necessarily the method of acquiring them. The final fulfillment of my grand canvas of destruction upon these lands will require appropriate consideration and execution, of course, and careful selection of sequence and method, but that's a different part of the process entirely.
“Then we have a deal.”
I turn away from the window, facing the Duke, and imagine the look on Chatterly's face if I were to just vaporize him. I don't, but the idea is beginning to dawn that his doom in particular is going to require some extra element of sophistication.
Even moreso than other people, I don't think I like him.
“My man will escort you to the edge of the Western forest, and give you all of the specific information we have on the elven squatters.”
He pulls a handkerchief from a pocket and sniffs it. I catch a faint whiff of something rancid. He smiles placidly.
“What you do after that... well, I'm sure I have no idea.”
I suffer a moment of indecision. The truth is I'd like to finish reading, but as pleasant a distraction as this room and its contents have been, the prospect of the unique insights to be gleaned by speaking with the one at the top of this valley's social hierarchy is a much sweeter lure.
Besides, the sooner I visit the Duke, the sooner I can move on to more immediately gratifying pursuits.
I drop the mostly-empty book, the few remaining pages rattling as it falls. They remind me of the sounds Dawnika Snow made when my hands were around her throat, and the recollection makes me smile. The servant-girl takes a step back, the balance of her expression shifting more firmly in favor of terror at the sight of my teeth. She's entirely eclipsed by my shadow.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" I demand, stepping into the hallway and cornering her against the wall. "Take me to your Duke... And while we're walking, tell me everything there is to know about yourself."
***
As it turns out, the walk from my room to the Duke's hall is a short one. I barely have time to pry any information from the servant at all – just her name, and that she spends most of her time running errands throughout the castle. Her nervousness and constant humble courtesy make even the simplest exchange a chore (though I do look forward to exploring the root of such deferential behavior. What is it like to be a servant? I can't even imagine, but if I'm to thoroughly appreciate the ruin of Harnburg Castle, its something I need to understand).
The girl – Annette – leads me through a short series of increasingly opulent corridors, stone giving way to wood paneling and burgundy carpets trimmed with gold, until we reach a set of finely crafted wooden doors with a guard beside them. Annette curtsies (which is bizarre little word for an equally strange custom), and hurries away to perform some other, less important task.
The guard moves to open the door, but I've waited long enough already. I shove the man aside, and I shoulder my way through. The doors bang open, leading to a little sun-lit sitting-room the color of sea-foam, furnished with a low ivory table hosting sofas and chairs in deep-ocean shades of green. It reeks of lacquer. The walls are home to expansive paintings and tapestries – and one in particular to a bevy (an odd little way to say 'group', but one I think I like) of clear crystal windows, opposite the sofa. The ceiling is blue, and the carpet is flecked with gold.
It's a triumph of interior design, synergistic and insightful, and my need to set it on fire is very close to overwhelming.
Rounding out the furnishings is Chatterly, standing in the corner, sinister and silent, but it's the other man in the room who draws my attention. The Duke is thin, with a large head, messy hair, and a pinched face. His clothing is fine, though too large for him, shimmering black with little patterns of gold. There are rings on his fingers, and a jade pendant around his neck. He's reclining on the sofa, with one booted ankle crossed over the opposite knee and his arms extended to either side, resting on the back of his seat.
“Ah,” he says, apparently unfazed by my sudden entrance. “This must be King Ghidorah, then...You are quite a specimen, aren't you. Would you like to sit down?”
“No,” I tell him, unimpressed. The Duke's expression wavers slightly, and his muddy brown eyes gain a sharpness that wasn't there before.
“Very well,” he says. “Though I feel it behooves me to mention that when one is offered a seat by a peer, it's usually wise to accept. Has my man filled you in on what it is I require of you?”
“If you're talking about Chatterly, and your designs for Shatterdun, and the elves, then yes. He's given me the broad details - and provided you give me what I want in return, I wholeheartedly accept.”
The Duke smiles, and folds his hands in his lap. “What is it that you want, then?”
It's my turn to smile, and I'm heartened to see his shrink in response. “I want to know about life in your valley - All of the little nuances and subtleties of the people's lives, and how they come together. I want power – and towards that end, I want Omnilium, as much as I can get, as much as you can give me... also, I want to eat more books.”
William Conrad van Harnburg's smile collapses altogether, and his brow furrows. “You mean read, surely.”
“That as well,” I respond. The Duke just stares. Chatterly clears his throat in the ensuing silence.
“I believe, my Lord, that that can also be arranged.”
“Excellent,” says the Duke, recovering his composure. “In return for your services, then, I will provide you with a handsome bounty, and free reign to satisfy your curiosity. Within reason.”
I scowl, stalking over to the nearest window and looking out at over the lake. “What does that mean?” I demand. “I don't like limits.”
“It means”, says the Duke, patiently, “That you not terrorize my serfs. I've heard about what you did to those men from Holmwood – do what I ask of you, and I guarantee the people of Harnburg valley will answer your questions readily.”
I scrape one of my fingernails down the windowpane, admiring my golden reflection in the glass. It's hideous of course, but still far more beautiful than any of the other creatures in this valley. My claw scores the glass, giving forth a grinding screech, which I find I quite enjoy.
“... fine. So long as they co-operate, they won't be harmed.”
It's a shame – I was looking forward to leaving more walking ruins in my wake – but there will be other opportunities. The details are what's important here, not necessarily the method of acquiring them. The final fulfillment of my grand canvas of destruction upon these lands will require appropriate consideration and execution, of course, and careful selection of sequence and method, but that's a different part of the process entirely.
“Then we have a deal.”
I turn away from the window, facing the Duke, and imagine the look on Chatterly's face if I were to just vaporize him. I don't, but the idea is beginning to dawn that his doom in particular is going to require some extra element of sophistication.
Even moreso than other people, I don't think I like him.
“My man will escort you to the edge of the Western forest, and give you all of the specific information we have on the elven squatters.”
He pulls a handkerchief from a pocket and sniffs it. I catch a faint whiff of something rancid. He smiles placidly.
“What you do after that... well, I'm sure I have no idea.”