Lucia

Chapter Four

IV. The Sun Rises in Wrandolf

Before I had any awareness of my choices, I had already met an unfamiliar place. Outside the walls of the unruly pub, I continued to tail the tracks of another.

I did not ask our whereabouts despite the alarmed upheaval of my instincts.

Do not follow, they screamed, but their screaming was almost futile to me. A while had passed before I grasped my senses, scarcely managing to.

I halted temporarily, finally apprehensive of my recklessness.

The woman looked back and assessed my expression swiftly, easily noticing my hesitance.

“Let us return, if you wish.”

It was the sharper choice to accept her proposal, it would secure safety and stop this unguarded venture into the unknown.

However, the thought of return sparked a more disturbing convulsion inside.

I refused the better choice and proceeded.

She watched as I walked forward, lowering her head in approval before taking the lead once more.

The actuating blitheness deafened the worries of the companions I have left unannounced.

Unbeknownst to me, Sebastienne had returned to check my seat a second after the completion of another request, only to find it empty of its host.

He rushed to the owner and had barely heard him speak of one whose presence he had not felt the night.

“I see she has left ever so swiftly.”

A woman? He had tended to each table and had only met men.

Panic rushed his blood, disregarding the calls of those around him.

With no intention to waste a second more, he left in a hurry, seeking to find his friend and his royal highness.

But I was in a place I was unconscious of, and yet I continued to walk. Each step faintly resonated in the empty woods, the mush of the moist land soft under as the day nears its dawn.

The road remained canopied by the tall shadows of towering trees, the shadows of two individuals seeming irrelevant, easily blending in the darkened land.

The dense woods gradually thinned, hinting the clearing that would then succeed, and as we marched further away from familiarity, a view ostensibly from a picturesque dream had become clear.

A sharp edge had cut the safety of land, peril unwanted however not rejected. The dim hues of blue and purple tainted the darkness of the night and along it, the stars twinkled, spreading endlessly, assisting the light given by the cosmic moon.

The tree tops piercing through the sky had remained behind us.

The wind blew strongly, swiftly dancing with the trees, whistling occasionally. It made the woman’s hair bounce over her shoulders and onto her back.

I inspected her entirety.

Her silky hair softly moved along the song of the coursing wind, her fingertips slightly scarlet from the cold, and her gown unscathed. Her chest heaved normally, caching any signs of the previous hike.

“Quite impressive,” I blurted.

Slowly, she turned questioningly, the wind still playing with her hair.

“The gown did not bear hindrance to an effortless hike.”

She chuckled dryly, “Was it intended to?”

“A lady you are,” I approved as she turned back and faced the scenery with a faint smile.

“Perhaps a nobility?” I inquired

“Not quite.”

“If you may, do enlighten me.”

“I provide assistance for one.”

A servant? However curious, I did not pry.

It was her turn to ask.

“Tell me, sir,” she began, body turning slightly to face me, “what is the purpose of your visit?”

I cannot tell her the true reason, so I remained silent, thinking. I had validated her surmise of our unbelonging, but I cannot tell more than that.

“To see the kingdom’s festivities for myself,” I lied, although not completely.

Still looking away, she easily continued, “But it is everyday that we celebrate. Will you return now that you have bore witness?”

“Possibly,” I answered with half of the truth. We do need to return soon.

She nodded and did not push further.

Moments passed in comfortable silence before curious thoughts urged another of its disruption.

“Why do you hide your face?”

I did not see any other with the same mask during the day, and I have been unnecessarily curious. Surely, it is not due to the kingdom’s tradition.

“Precaution.”

This did not ease my piqued interest.

Precaution? What for?

My thoughts had been too loud as it seemed that she, too, had heard it.

“I am in hiding.”

Suddenly, I was alert at the mention of the word.

I raised my guard and fleetly began an unnoticed interrogation with the thought of a critical discovery.

“From who?”

She looked up and sighed, but did not answer.

Impatiently, I asked once more, “Who is it that you hide from?”

She had noticed my greed for an answer.

“An apprentice,” she looked back at me, eyes careful with scrutiny from the slight urgency I had carelessly expressed. But her voice spoke with conviction, portraying no lie.

It is to my surprise, however, that she had noticed the urgency in my voice. I, myself, would not be able to detect it from its minimality, but she had easily done so.

“An apprentice calls often, even during requested solidarity, that is why I frequently go into hiding at times he seeks.”

The pounding had gradually slowed, believing the honesty in her voice. But I remained on guard, not until she had whispered softly.

“I sense your emotions,” her scrutinizing gaze vanished, “I apologize for falsely causing panic.”

As I had expected, her sharpness and sensitivity are easily observable.

I had looked at the same moon she had been gazing at, sighing at how easily I am controlled by my emotions tonight.

I would have conversed my way through the information with no problems usually, but somehow it is not as usual.

“No, it is I who should apologize.”

“Why?” after sensing my calm, she had asked.

She did not ask for the reason for my apology, for we both knew that it was I who had owed one. She pertained to the way I had acted.

“Demise had fallen upon my brother,” I confessed easily.

I did not know why I was telling the truth, for all I know she may be associated with the person we seek for. However, I continued, clinging unto the possibility that she is not.

I expressed the relationship my brother and I had, his kindness, his wisdom, and his passion.

“His passion, although taking much time, did not create any gap in our brotherhood.”

“What is it that he likes?” With a renewed calm atmosphere, we conversed easily.

I lowered my gaze in memory, “Flowers.”

She nodded, “They are beautiful.”

I hummed in agreement although my appreciation does not dive as deep, “He creates wonderful tea.”

I spoke of my brother’s odd skill.

I spoke of the way he can immediately decipher the tastes of an individual with merely quick observation.

I spoke of the first tea he had made me. It was bitter, but the sweetness tingled in an unknown way. The flavor would change every sip, and each of them were interesting.

He would bring me tea as often as he could, the taste became more unrelated from the previous. Nevertheless, they were always pleasant to taste.

I continued on, expressing my gratitude and longing, and she listened quietly, not uttering a sound, letting the gentle breeze be the responding audience.

It has been calm. That is until the memory of his misfortune.

“It is in this kingdom, however,” my jaw clenched in suppressed indignation, “It is here that he is deprived of his life.”

Moments passed in silence, as I unconsciously observed her reaction. Although there is mostly stillness.

“It is a sad kingdom,” she confessed.

“And its death may unfortunately arrive soon.”

I looked at her curiously as she remained unmoving along with her ominous speech.

“Death upon Wrandolf?”

She raised her head, inhaling the moist air, shoulders rising with the slightest movement.

“Yes,” she clasped her hands loosely, “If it unfailingly walks the path it must not but is meant to, then death will ultimately greet it as a friend anew.”

I pondered over her words, not entirely understanding.

“Have you gone to the royal palace?” she spoke amidst my thoughts.

I shook my head no, “Not for now.”

“They may be of help, and discovery might come faster.”

One slip in the process can hinder discovery. The risk and criticism our kingdom will receive and further hiding from the perpetrator are risks that will accompany that choice.

I cannot tell her these despite the many things we have shared. I at least need to continue to conceal my identity.

“That will be considered,” I said without any assurance of its employment, distracted.

Silence had rested between our speeches once more, my mind still full of her words.

“Say,” I began, but was interrupted by her turning.

She now faced me fully, eyes scintillating under the break of dawn.

The first light had stretched its touch on us, her face glowing from the delicacy of the first light.

Another gust of wind joined the daylight, slowly fading into the day’s first gentle breeze, still softly tangling the silk of her hair into its calm strides.

The words I was meant to say had gotten lost in a whirl of thoughts, all of it of the woman who stood elegantly in front of me.

She awaited, as I did, but I had completely forgotten what I was to ask.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” I answered in defeat.

“Then let us return,” she ordered before walking straight and stopping directly beside me, saying what I had intended to speak of first.

“It has been a lovely evening,” she whispered, voice gentle, eyes light, hair graceful.

In the middle of my own share of gratitude, she bowed and walked ahead, not looking back.

And the moment my eyes were just about to follow her, she was already gone.