Fairytales hidden in Murals

"Life is all milk and honey when you've got a whole nation under your control. Isn't it Darius?"

"Know your place, Macklein. Address me that one more time, and it will be your head on the podium in my next assembly."

"You know...! Has anyone ever told you that you're too formal for your age?" The studious man named Johassef Macklein asked in vigor.

"Well...! If you insist. Those who spoke on it, are no longer around to waiver if it was a good idea or not. You seem too careless with your life, Macklein. Seems you're tired of it already!" Macklein's eyes followed Darius's hands as they came to his reach. The rest shadowed by his freight.

Those last words triggered a cold sensation through his whole body. And before long he had sprung up from his chair.

A large sunken hollow spot was left on the leathery armchair, showing how much the Count of Montclave weighs. The butler at the side sighed. Showing his distress on the treatment of the armchair. The same one he had kindly prepared earlier for Lord Darius.

"Umm, uhh....!" Macklein looked around, his eyes wandering all over the place. He stretched his right arm to a tabletop, which he used to support his weight, so as to not stumble and make a fool of himself. And then something came to mind. "Oh! Would you look at the time! Seems I must be on my merry way. Got a lot to do..." 

He stared at a mural in front of him before picking up his grey leather coat and top hat. The girl on the mural was the same as the one in children's fairytales. In his head he couldn't think of anything else but Darius's dead wife. She was the one who loved fairytales. Or that's most of what Macklein could remember.

"A lot to do indeed." He says while walking out. His golden serpent-like walking stick barely holding on to its dear life. He watches as a maidservant passes across his reach, and the next thing he has a cherry red glass of pure wine. His left hand goes to his beard, and he strokes it a bit. He twitches as if he has remembered something. 

"Oh! That reminds me." He says while his left hand leaves his perfectly made beard and sinks down to the velvet flower-shaped vase ahead of his eyes. His eyes sparkle with delight. "I have a beau as a niece I would like you to meet, dear Darius. I believe it would be to your upmost interest to lay off the work and simply enjoy yourself. You won't remain either young or king forever, you know?" As he leaves, he twiddles his thumb and laugh maniacally beneath his cupped hand over his mouth.

The butler follows close behind, as a dear escort, only to slam the door shut behind Macklein's wavering shadow.

"I can't stand that man, sire!" He angrily spits out. "Look at what he did to your beloved armchair! At times I can't see what brings you to meet him everytime he's in Lenore." 

"Hush! Sebastian."Darius strains while he stretches. "I'll have to say, I do prefer the armchair to this long one. It kills me everytime I have to sit here." He stares at Sebastian. "And not to add having to hold a conversation with the man that Macklein poises to be."

Before Sebastian speaks Darius's mind ventured to his own subconscious.

DARIUS STEINFELD'S POV 

'Sebastian seems to house no control over his emotions again. If another butler were to be present, they would have shared the tea on how unprofessional he acts. Yet I keep him around. For twenty-three years now, and for more of those years to come. He's the only person I have come to trust with more than my life, my secrets. To tell the truth he raised me since I was but a newborn. Even I cherish loyalty above literacy.'

Darius's right arm wavered before his drink. His was a deep purple. This color here, was intensified by his deeper affection for grapes. Although he was a lord assigned to a large part of the Northern Continent by the Council, he still had a thing for sweets.  Saying he had a sweet tooth would be an easier way to explain it.

"Sire! That overgrown monkey took away the glass as well. Does his greed have no limit." Sebastian burst out.

'There have been rumors, about a Count who has being recruiting bands of mercenaries to usurper the throne, of one of the four major continents. But I would have thought that would be someone like Senua, not Macklein. Sebastian seems to really think it's him who's the source of all these rumors. But to have a servant speak up to a count's name in such a manner would be considered high treason.'

"Sebastian! I ask you nicely to refrain calling someone with such high nobility as Count Macklein like that, if you don't want to lose your head. And your whole generation's."

As he concluded, beads of sweat formed on the sides of Sebastian's cheeks. It was obvious, even in a distance that he was afraid of what he just heard. But still kept it together and simply nodded.

'I hate doing that. He always looks a tad so innocent, and believe me he is. But grounded rules stay grounded. In the times we live in, respect is the highest form of currency.'

Darius's mind floated through the room in his head but then came to a sudden halt.

'But who is this niece I keep hearing off? Last time I checked, Macklein's children weren't married, if not for one of the three. And that one had a daughter with a duchess from another nation.' He held his head just above his hands as if in deep thought. Sebastian was still frozen in place, mouth sewed shut.

'My only hope is of her being someone I have being acquainted to in the past. I simply hate the thought of meeting someone new. It floods both my heart and mind with terrible thoughts of betrayals. Or maybe it's too many fairytale stories I've heard in my life.'

He says as he wakes up from the seat. Now moving towards the edge of the visitor's room. He stops at the large crystal mural and sighs.

It has been long since the last time he arrived at this room. Almost two years had passed. He hates it being here. That's why he goes off to meet nobles or high ranking officials at their steads. But unfortunately for him, Macklein - his self proclaimed uncle - only has eyes for this one room. It's not something he could control, cause Macklein controls both the eastern and southern trade routes. He wouldn't outright cut them, but he could ruin business by itself if not pleased as he thinks he should.

Darius's only way of control is the flow of the conversation. It is the only thing he can handle if anything. 

'Hmm...! The descendant of the great tyrant King, Lord Augustus. The debatable next in line to take the throne of the whole Red and White Faction. The child of the sword rumored to have cut down a thousand enemies alone. And above all else, the man who became the Lord of the North, barely at the age of seventeen. Truly a blessed age to have been born. That's what most people would tell you about my life.' Darius still stared deep into the mural. His eyes razor sharp with both signs of long induced pain and a bit of anger, to the woman who broke her promise to him. Leaving him behind in such a godforsaken world.

His right hand pressed hard on the wine glass, then it shattered. The drink splashing to the ground, bits of his blood on it. 

"It seems like I still bleed blood after all." Darius mutters to himself. Too faint for anyone to understand. Well maybe not everyone.

Sebastian looked at his master in deep despair, sighed and rushed in to assist - as always. He launched across to Darius and called on a maidservant to help with the wound.

"Young master." He called out while the maidservant tended to the wound on his right arm. "Maybe you should let your mind rest. Your body needs fresh air, and a place like this won't give you that. I suggest you take a walk. It would favor your mind and body well. Leave the rest to me." 

"Sebastian!" Darius stared deep into his butler's hazel eyes, his own purple eyes glittering from what appears to be tears he's straining to avoid spilling all over his face. "It seems I still miss her, even after everything." 

Before Sebastian could reply, they were interrupted by a castle guard.

"Your lordship." This guard bowed in respect of the position of Lord Darius. "A knight from the west has appeared through the front northern gates. He was badly injured and is being treated at the military camps. He states that he has been sent by the Saint Sisters of Rose Magadhia to deliver a message of upmost importance. He requests you pardon his intrusion, and if it's not of important matters to have wasted your time, he has accepted death by guillotine, as the least of punishments. That is all." The man concludes, eagerly waiting for a response still knelt down in a bow.

Darius stares at Sebastian and at the guard and then simply adds to the quiet tension. "Show the way, shield of Lenore." 

When moving Sebastian holds Darius's right arm and whispers to his ear, "Don't engage in anything rush." But Darius smirks and says, "The right hand holds the sword. It had no permission to hold the glass cup filled with wine. I already punished it." Then walks off, following behind two escorts and a maidservant, who are all following behind the guard of the northern gates.