Chapter 3:

Whispers of Cogsworth Manor

The Freedom Of Death


“...Hello… Is anyone there?”

His boots clicked against marble. The sound darted up to the high ceiling and back again. A draft slithered down the main hall, stirring the dust into restless swirls, glittering like stars in a lonely sky. A faint light shimmered above, cast by a magnificent chandelier that loomed like an all-seeing eye. Lumen’s chest tightened. He dragged his leg forward, crouching slightly with caution.

A manor like this… Left unsupervised… This can’t be right.

An archway at the forefront was barely visible; the carpet below him tarnished by his muddy boots. The air tasted fresh. Borderline scented, but not exactly perfumed. Admiring the walls tainted by art, he noticed a glistening object behind a vase, standing on a miniature table to his left. It stood out like a jewel on ash, guiding him through the void. He reached out towards it, stopping himself midway,

Ah… I probably shouldn’t touch anything. The last thing I would want is The Artificer scolding me.

However, his curiosity only grew, and he leaned forward to take a closer look. The door next to him creaked open. He shot upright, sticking to the wall. Distant murmurs could be heard. A bright orange leaked out from the door’s rim, inching him closer, hoping his vision could squeeze through. Two maids stood by a hearth where embers still faintly glowed, polishing silver trays as they spoke. Both blonde, matured, and wise, with tied up hair in neat buns, and a nature both seasoned and careful. The clink of cloth against metal punctuated every sharp remark.

“That girl and her piano nonsense… of all things to meddle with. The master’s pride, too!” One of them said,

“Truly disgraceful. And after he was kind enough to let her work here!” The other replied.

“Honestly. The nerve of that girl! Lucky it’s just a cut to her wages. Anyone else would’ve been tossed back to the mainland.”

“Hah! Back where she came from!”

They bickered continuously back and forth to no end. Lumen raised an eyebrow and squinted his eyes.

She can’t be as terrible as they say… Can she? No one would ruin a piano on purpose.

“...I-... IN-... INTRUDER! THERE’S AN INTRUDER! SOMEONE HELP!”

Lumen spun around, his heart racing.

INTRUDER? WHERE?

Instinct clawed at him to run, but before he could move, his gaze locked with hers. Her hair, black and scruffy, spilled down to her waist. And eyes, dark and wide, shimmered with tears, watched him with a mixture of fear and fury. Pale lashes framed them, too white to belong, too strange to look away from. It was another maid, this time younger. She gripped her broom like a weapon. The bristles scraped against the polished floor as she lunged. Lumen backed into the wall, nearly knocking over the vase hiding what he’d reached for moments before. He froze. Mesmerised perhaps? She was indeed beautiful… But he shook his head and tried to come back to reality. But just as he was about to be present, the broom swung.

Ah… I see… the misconception… that’s happened… here…

And his world turned black.

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A woman’s sobs pressed against sterile walls. His hands, stained with shame and regret, reached, trembling, but could not touch her. Could not comfort her. Could not erase the words coming to him.

Her fault. It was her fault she couldn’t bear a child.

He woke with a gasp, the sound still echoing in his head. He tried to sit up, bringing his hand to his forehead while the other leaned against the bed for support, but the pain was sharp, and forced him downwards. He tensed his face, and was rushed to by the blonde maids.

“My goodness, don’t try to sit up just yet. You haven’t fully recovered!” Said one of them.

“Just rely on my hand now, and rest easy.” Said the other, gently lowering his back flat, “I just knew that maid was troublesome, honestly, such insolence!”

Lumen squeezed the ridge of his nose trying to ease the throbbing pain at the side of his head. Just then, the door burst open, slamming against the paneled wall with a crack that rattled the lights above. A tall, slender, and young man stumbled in, cheeks flushed. He froze for a moment, before making an attempt to remain dignified. His tie shuffled upwards, tightening it towards his neck, and he quickly played with the hazel strands dangling over his face in the mirror, sweeping it to the side. He stood upright, straightened his suit, clearing his throat, and marched towards them.

He raised his arm to his chest and bowed slightly. The maids gasped, “Young Master! You cannot bow to someone of lower class!”, he put a palm in front of them, “As the master of Cogsworth Manor, the burden of apology falls upon me, and me alone.”

“Owner?—”

“Silence!” The maids cowered, retreating backwards. He tilted his head down towards Lumen, “I am terribly sorry for what happened earlier. My name is Julian Cogsworth, if there is any compensation I must provide, then consider it already done.”

Lumen awkwardly sat up, and rubbed his hand at the back of his neck, “Ah… don’t worry… about…” He noticed someone standing at the doorway in the corner of his eye, it was the maid from earlier, the one who had attacked him. Julian swung his head around, and his brows furrowed.

“YOU!”

The maid shielded her face with a tray in hand, hoping to hide what was a mix of fear and embarrassment.

“COME HERE THIS INSTANT! HOW COULD YOU HARM OUR GUEST WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT?”

“It’s okay… Julian. No need to attack—” Lumen tried, only to be cut short.

“NO. IT’S NOT OKAY.” He glared at her, “I knew my parents should've fired her years ago.” He bit back the urge to raise his voice, the words quivering with held tension.

“But… if you’re the owner, isn’t it up to you to fire her?” Lumen asked carefully.

Julian’s face crumpled. “I—what? Fire her myself? No, no, what I meant was… Ah… HIRED her years ago! Yes! Hired, because they own another estate, you see, and… ah… they’re very… charitable!” His voice cracked. He shot the maids a sharp glare. “AREN’T THEY?” They didn’t dare speak out of line and nodded profusely, keeping their mouths shut. Lumen nodded as well, slowly and unconvinced though, but didn’t question him.

“Anyway, come here and apologise this instant.” Julian firmly stated. The maid at the doorway, tightly grasping the tray against her cream apron, unwillingly took steps towards them. Her head faced the ground, shrouded in darkness. She reached his bedside, and jolted her head to the side, pouting ever so slightly.

“...I’m… sorry,” she muttered, lips stiff. Then, almost without moving her mouth, a breath so soft only he could catch it: “…for nothing.” Before he could react, she was gone, tray pressed to her chest, vanishing into the corridor’s hush.

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