Lucia

Nulla I

Nulla I. She Who Sought Amusement 

“They found the body of Sir. Wrinknight.”

Ah, Sir. Wrinknight, that ever so arrogant man. Setting eyes on women and playing with not one consideration of his actions’ consequences, as if he was naturally built to jump in the arms of every woman in every kingdom. The boisterous bar was prone to such men, I already knew.

 It was dimly lit then, the few lights reflecting the tall wooden walls painted in a poor choice of dark red. The smell of booze mixing with the rowdiness of the place’s patrons--men tired from a whole day of serving whomever they were paid to serve. 

That bar was anything but peaceful. It was common sense not to seek calmness in a place as such. But a suggestion was made by a friend of mine years past, “Their wine is rather remarkable,” he said. 

He was one of the few I trusted, and so his suggestion I considered. 

He was right. 

I was never an alcohol enthusiast, nor was he. But, the first taste of the beverage proved justice as to why the small place takes pride in its existence. It felt of pure bliss. 

A series of small spark-like sensations meet with the end of sweet-tobacco. The tad bitterness pulls a peek of saltiness in the flowing dance of cold and flavour, all while meeting the merging sweetness and sourness at the back of my throat. 

Placing my usual demand to the owner, I greeted with a nod before walking to the place I usually situate my well being.  At the corner, to the place that allows the greatest distance from the noise and the unpleasant light is where I sat. Under the shadows of the upper ground, I hoped for yet another night of calm.

It was unexpected, but in this noisy setting, they always arrived to my call--calmness and tranquility. 

Contrary to that, the success in seeking them seemed not to be the case tonight.

“My, what a dear face you are trying to so selfishly hide from the world.” 

Sir. Wrinknight. Pestering seemed to be his specialty as he practiced his art the whole evening. 

Only two weeks have passed since that night. 

“Death came upon him?” I questioned, still indulging in the warm aroma of the freshly-brewed tea Ezekiel offered. 

Ezekiel’s face showed no signs of belief.

“What?”

Still, no signs of succumbing to deception. He was so difficult to tease. 

“Deceive me no more, Miss.” 

I did not answer and so with a sigh, he spoke sternly, “What was the reason this time? He was last seen in the bar, speaking to a woman whose hair challenged the darkness of the night, they said. You are the only woman who enters such a place.”

Quite intuitive.

“I merely reduced his lifespan to one that would most suit his living,” there was no use in hiding, although it was not my initial intention to. It is to my certainty that he had investigated this all on his own before approaching me.

But Ezekiel knew no lie was brought by my words. 

With a sigh, he concluded, “I’m guessing that his living required no more than a few days in your vision.”

The sensitivity of humans reaches an extent so pitiful that so easily they get swayed by their emotions. One immediately is the victim, the same way one is the evil. All of which are due to a weak sense of empathy; whoever they connect with most is the good. 

But what will they do if both of those they know are purely victims? Who will they label as the evil, then? 

At times, such sensitivity arises a tad bit of annoyance. 

However, Ezekiel had a sense of justice exceeding most. Thus, I let him speak his thoughts in my presence. He knew better than meaningless judgement so I let him continue.

“Whatever the reason, just do not move so uncarefully.”

No less is expected from the King of Wrandolf.

As careful as he always has been, he dares order even me. 

“As far as I remember, I was not the party who sought instructions or is the sharpness of my memory facing an early decline?” 

He could not refute, “Apologies, but I am genuine with my words. Please do be careful. I am sure that you are aware of the consequences of our situation’s revelation..” 

The death of Sir. Wrinknight ought to stir ruckus for a while, surely. However uncivil he appeared to be, he served great importance to commerce and trading among lands. That is only due to the influence of his brother.

And exactly due to his brother, the discovery of who gave such a punishment to Sir. Wrinkinght will immediately be resolved, at least that is what his brother will aim for. The uncovering of this occurrence will not remain unsettled. 

It will trouble the peace of the Kingdom of Wrandolf, surely. 

And the fun in that is very tempting.

“That will not happen under my supervision,” I assured with peeking bleakness. 

Ezekiel, you are quite an entertaining man, but sadly, you do not entertain me as much as I thought you would. You choose to remain shackled to royal rules, and that is quite repetitious, might I say. Its dullness is showing. 

And thus I bathed in the bitter aroma of the tea the King of Wrandolf himself brewed, distracted by the possibility of another uproar. The King knew no sincerity was given by my reassurance and so he planned to take matters into his own hands. 

Such a monotonous reaction. It gives the least bit of amusement.

So I shall allow your kingdom to amuse me instead.

Come. Amuse me, Wrandolf.