Chapter 1 - Part 4
2186 Words
Part 4
It was around 10 AM.
Golden sunlight streamed through the glass of windows and stretched across the room in long radiant bands, bathing the mansion’s interior in a gentle warmth. The soft glow of late morning sun danced upon the polished wooden floor and elegant furnitures scattered throughout the spacious living room. What had once felt cold and silent now carried a serene, almost comforting atmosphere.
While Dedicatus was upstairs changing clothes, Beatrice waiting patiently for her downstairs. To keep herself busy, as a way to pass the time and spare herself from boredom, the young aristocrat allowed her gaze to wander toward the large working desk that Alyss usually occupied. The sight before her immediately drew her curiosity.
Books,
Dozen of books.
Some were neatly stacked while others rested carelessly atop one another, forming uneven towers of paper and leather that threatened to collapse at the slightest touch. Their worn covers and marked pages made it painfully obvious that they were not merely for decorations, but books that had been read repeatedly.
‘Beyond Good and Evil’,
‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra’,
‘The Interpretation of Dreams’,
‘The Divine Comedy’,
‘Hamlet’,
‘Summa Theologica’,
‘The Eudemian Ethics’,
‘Magna Moralia’,
‘Practice in Christianity’,
‘On the Soul’,
‘The Ego and its own’,
‘The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious’,
And dozen of other titles, from wildly different disciplines.
Philosophy, psychology, ethics, literature, theology, demonology... the desk looked less like a student’s workspace and more like the personal archive of a scholar obsessed with understanding every corner of human existence.
All of them were most likely the belongings of Dedicatus.
For a prodigy like Beatrice, the temptation was unbearable. Her thirst for knowledge stirred almost immediately at the mere sight of such a collection. Yet, no matter how gifted she was, even she understood there was no possibility of finishing even a single volume before Dedicatus returned downstairs.
Still, it was definitely worth a try.
The young aristocratic girl reached toward one of the books and carefully pilled it free from the pile.
‘The Nicomachean Ethics’,
A philosophical work attributed to the ancient philosopher Aristotle l, divided into 10 sections discussing ethics, virtue, morality and the pursuit of the ideal life.
Naturally, neither Beatrice nor Dedicatus unfamiliar with its central theme, which was on how one ought to best live.
Several pages had been marked carefully with old spine bookmarks with handwritten notes on them.
“I see...”, murmured Beatrice softly as her eyes scanned the passage before her. “‘We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habit.’”
A faint smile formed upon her lips.
“Thus, consistent virtuous actions eventually shape excellence itself into one’s very nature!”
The girl slowly turned the book toward another marked page.
“Oh ho~”, the aristocratic girl let out an amused hum. “‘Educating the mind without educating the heart is no education at all.’”
Her elegant voice echoed gently through the quiet living room.
“So, true education must nurture not only intellect, but moral virtue as well...”
After a moment, Beatrice Ashcroft carefully close the book and returned it to its place before reaching for another volume resting nearby.
“This one is rather intriguing too...”, muttered the girl.
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she read the passage written inside.
“‘Three things must meet together: natural ability, theory and practice. By theory I mean training, and by practice working at one’s craft!’”
Once again a faint smile appeared upon her delicate visage.
“‘Plutarch’s Morals’ huh...”, the girl let out a soft chuckle. “It reflects our dear Dedicatus far too well!”
“What ya even mutterin’ down there!?”, the voice of Dedicatus suddenly echoed from the upper floor of the mansion. “Do ya seriously think havin’ one quick glance at my belongin’ is enough for ya to grasp the magnificence of my genius!?”
The eldest daughter of the Liddel’s family was finally done changing her clothes. The girl had changed into the outfit she wore so often around Cambridge, the attire that had long since become her signature appearance when not home.
An oversized brown sweater hung loosely over her frame, its sleeves extending slightly past her wrists. Beneath it rested a crisp oversized white shirt whose collar peeked neatly from under the sweater layer. Around her neck hung a dark tie, worn far more casually than properly, worn outside the sweater to make her look more like a rebellious student rather than a disciplined academic.
Her short pleated mini skirt swayed lightly with each step she took to get close to the staircase, exposing just enough of her legs to contrast against the otherwise scholarly appearance of her outfit.
On her feet were her usual pair of polished moccasins whose sharp clicking sounds echoed softly against the wooden floor whenever she walked.
The combination gave her a strangely balanced aura—half genius university student, half delinquent troublemaker.
As she stood atop the staircase looking down toward the living room below, the entire scene resembled something straight out of a theatrical performance. With her confident posture, smug smirk, and dramatic tone of speech, she looked less like an ordinary girl and more like the villainess of a story addressing to the main character from atop her throne.
“Took you long enough!”, replied the aristocratic girl calmly, a faint smile resting upon her lips. “But Time is of the essence, so I shall let you off the hook.”
Beatrice gently closed the book in her hands before continuing.
“We cannot afford the luxury of meaningless debates that I would inevitably win. The longer we waste time, the further that individual will slip from our reach!”
“According to Albert Einstein, ‘Time is relative; it’s only worth depends upon what we do as it is passing.’”, replied the girl with medical eyepatch while descending the staircase one slow step at a time.
The wooden stairs creaked slowly beneath her moccasins.
“So maybe I didn’t take ‘dat much time. Maybe it’s just yer imagination makin’ the wait feel long as hell!!”
“Anyway... How do ya plan on finding our culprit?”.
The aristocratic girl dodged on purpose their usual ‘ritual’ argument and moved directly to the matter at hand.
“Obviously, we go to the crime scene...”, answered Dedicatus.
“Such a simple-minded answer!”
“Lemme finish Goddarnit...”, replied Dedicatus while making desperate gestures with her hands. “We go to the crime scene, is what I’d usually say but we already got all clues we need!”
Beatrice narrowed her eyes slightly.
“And may I ask what clues those might be? As I recall, not even the security guards noticed the culprit leaving the stages!”
“Ya n’ I, we both recall perfectly the faces of all peeps who attendeth the Opera yesterday!!”, exclaimed Dedicatus while pointing dramatically at Beatrice. “N’ ‘dat includes the face of ‘dat darn moron!!”
“We may have the face, but not the name!”, almost immediately. “Therefore, your plan is to obtain the list of the VIP attendees from yesterday’s performance?”
“Exactly why we hafta head bac’ to the Opera house!!”, grinned Dedicatus with a smug expression on her face. “See!? Love it when one reads my mind properly. Saves me from a long ass explanation.”
“That person was certainly among the one who seated within the VIP sections!”, muttered Beatrice to herself. “But your plan would only bear fruit, assuming we are granted access to such a list!”
“Well, if we don’t get it, there’s always option B!!”
“And what might that be?”
Without another word, the young girl reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a folded piece of paper before handing it ove.
Beatrice Ashcroft accepted the paper gracefully and lowered her gaze toward its content.
Silence immediately ruled over the place for mere seconds.
At first, her expression remained perfectly composed. But after a short period of time, she finally displayed a reaction.
“Fu fu~”
A quiet laugh escaped her lips.
“Ya mockin’ my work, ain’t ya!?”
“That is something I would never allow myself to do!”, Beatrice replied elegantly, though her shoulders trembled slightly as she tried to suppress another laugh. “Fu fu fu~”
“There!! Ya did it again!!”, desperately declared Dedicatus while pointing accusingly at her. “Yer totally sayin’ my drawin’ looks like garbage!!”
“Far from it!”, the aristocratic girl answered while covering her mouth politely. “Your work is, by all means, worthy of someone who blessed as a true Jack of All Trades...”
She paused for a brief moment before adding the rest.
“However, I do believe only someone possessing the artistic vision of Pablo Picasso eyes could possibly recognize the individual you attempted to draw.”
“Well then...”, replied Dedicatus with an irritated grin. “Let’s see ya give it a try, miss real genius!!”
“Very well. Since you insist!”
Beatrice Ashcroft gracefully walked toward the desk and pulled out a blank sheet of paper from beneath one of the towering piles of books. The movement alone carried an air of refinement, as though even the simple act of preparing to draw was some act of noble performance.
Meanwhile, Dedicatus crossed her arms beneath her chest and leaned against the staircase railing with visible curiosity. It was the first time she would witness her rival holding a pencil to draw.
“Go ahead then!! Lemme see what sorta masterpiece ya gonna pull outta nowhere!!”, said the girl with a grin on her face.
Without replying, Beatrice picked up a pencil resting nearby. The atmosphere inside the mansion grew strangely quiet. Only the faint scratching of graphite against paper could be heard. Her hand moved with astonishing speed and precision. None of her movements were wasted. It was smooth, precise and confident.
There was no hesitation in her stroke whatsoever, as the image of the culprit had already been engraved deeply within her mind.
Dedicatus initially watched with an unimpressed expression, but then her eyebrow twitched.
“Oy...”
Beatrice ignored her.
The portrait slowly began to take shape upon the paper. The sharp eyes, the structure of the jaw, the hairstyle, even the subtle expression carried by the culprit during the opera performance har been reproduced with frightening accuracy.
With only few minutes, the sketch was complete.
Beatrice gently placed the pencil down upon the desk before lifting the paper between two fingers.
“There!”, said the girl with a calm tone. “That should suffice!”
Dedicatus Liddel starred silently at the portrait, then moved her gaze at Beatrice.
Then she looked back at the portrait again.
“The actual hell!!”
Unlike Dedicatus’s own drawing—which resembled something trapped between abstract art and psychological warfare—Beatrice’s sketch was a near-perfect recreation of the culprit’s face.
It looked so accurate that one could almost mistake it for a photograph.
“Fu fu~”, a smug laugh escaped the aristocratic girl. “How fortunate for us that at least, one of us possesses artistic competency.”
“Shaddup!!”
“Truly, I am humbled by the opportunity to witness your... unique interpretation of the human anatomy earlier.”
“Oh~ shaddup, will ya!?”
“I especially admired how the left eye appeared to migrate toward the forehead. Such creativity could only belong to a visionary mind!”
“BEEEAAAAAATOOOOOOOOO!!”
Beatrice covered her mouth elegantly while trying and failing to suppress her amusement.
“Very well!”, said the girl with a playful smile. “I shall award myself with only a single point for this victory.”
“Hah!?”, protested Dedicatus immediately. “On what basis!? Or did ya hit yer head!?”
“Artistic superiority!”, replied Beatrice instantly. “That makes the current score...”
The girl paused dramatically while pretending to calculate in her head.
“Me: one. You: zero!”
“Yo the hell, ‘dat ain’t even an official category in our rivalry!!”
“It is now!”
“N’ who decideth ‘dat!? Yer literally makin’ up rules on the spot!!”
“And yet...”, Beatrice lifted the completed portrait slightly higher with a victorious smile. “You still lost!”
Dedicatus clicked her tongue loudly before snatching the paper from her hand.
“Darn overachievin’ aristocrat!!”
- Writer
