The Harbinger of My Unevil Days

“You’re interested in the dyeing process?” The tailor blinked at me, seemingly surprised.

“Yes. As a member of the Ambrillia family, I’m naturally interested in the various virtues flowers have, and their uses. But the Ambrosia estate is more focused on honey production, and we have no real knowledge as to fabric dyeing.” I explain. “The farmers hosting me told me that you’re a passionate.”

“Ahah,” he scratches the back of his neck with a proud smile, “well, I am. But I won’t perform any dyeing before a few days. I first have to design a new costume for the Duke Luphor.”

“The Duke Luphor?”

    The unexpected information catches my interest.

“Yes.” The tailor stood up, walking to his desk to retrieve a sheet of paper.

    That’s when I notice a gorgeous dress hanging next to it.

“And you’ll excuse me, but I’d better resume my work rather than risking to get beheaded.”

“It seems made for him.” I muttered, unable to repress a comment before such a piece of artwork.

    Having sensed my gaze, the tailor appeared right in front of me.

“For the duke, right?” He whispered. It was a whisper filled with hope, uttered with the tension of a password used to make sure the secret is safe to be shared.

    I nodded.

    Celebrating the connection between our minds, we hence joined the palms of our hands before uttering in one voice.

“That dress would be perfect on him!”

“This! This!” The tailor rejoiced.

“Is it his order?” I asked in a secretive tone.

“Alas… It isn’t. I’ve been begging for him to wear it, but he threatened me instead of accepting my gift.”

    I let out a chuckle.

   This shop was a good pick, in every possible way.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were close to the duke.” I admitted.

“Ahh, well, close isn’t exactly the word. Or is it? But I’ve simply known him since childhood. Back then it was my father who held this shop, and the duke’s one who came here.” His cheerful expression faltered a bit. “At that time, Rowan Luphor didn’t have the reputation he has nowadays. He, and especially his father, were particularly appreciated in the whole Oneixium.”

“Mmm…” I mused, intrigued yet not sure I wanted to question him further.

    The main lines, as people wrote them over the years, I was already aware of. What I truly wanted to hear was what the Duke Luphor had to say about these events. That said, the tailor was a man of culture and didn’t seem to share people’s hatred towards him.

“Tell me about what happened to his father.” I asked.

“I’m afraid my memories from those years are a bit confused. I guess I was still a bit young. But the thing is that one day the past duke’s deceit was revealed. It became clear to everyone that all this time, he had fooled us. He thus lost the support of the commoners, and his friends did nothing to help him. Even the Baron Gallghaid, his closest friend, did nothing to ease the growing conflict. Until one day, Rowan’s father snapped. Some say it was because of the weight of his sins, others think it was all orchestrated, but fact is that one night the Luphor’s banshee let out an agonising scream. Within a few days, the servants found the former duke hanged.”

    It was, indeed, common knowledge that when the death of a member of the family she was protecting loomed, their banshee would roam at night near their place, letting out shrill whimpers.

“Duke Luphor’s father fooled all of you? But, what did he do exactly?”

    My question seemed to puzzle the tailor a bit, and he blinked more than once before coming up with an answer.

“That is… Umm… I’m not sure what to tell you. It was blatant, yet I can’t put my finger on it.” He leant his chin against his hand. “Once again, blame my memory, I guess.”

    A pause.

“Why don’t you hate the Duke Luphor, then?”

“Huhh?”

“In the end, son and father are both evil, according to your words.”

    That made him even more confused.

༻❦︎༺

    While noting by the light of the candle details about the cultivation of my newly acquired flower variety, adding a few sketches, I recall my encounter with the tailor. What the Duke Luphor told me himself later that day made me even more curious about that case. It’s as if there were still some missing pieces.

    Muffled voices. Hatched words.

“A quarrel?”

    They are louder than usual, but somehow I can’t picture the kind old couple hosting me having a love affair nor any spicy misunderstanding.

    Seeing no reason to repress my curiosity, I thus decide to check on them. The moment I open my bedroom door, I spot the concern etched upon their features.

“How cruel of him… They did nothing to deserve such a fate!” The grandma shakes her head in disbelief.

“That’s what happens when you anger the evil duke.” The grandpa replies.

“May I ask what is going on?”

    Only then do they notice my presence, turning grim faces to me.

“Ahh, you came in Oneixium at a bad time, my fair lady.” The old man’s messy brows furrow. “Tomorrow the parents of Baron Gallghaid will be executed in public square.”

༻❦︎༺

    Breathing in the shocked whispers of the crowd, I take the time to observe the loathing in the commoners’ eyes. Of course, as soon as they meet my evil gaze, they hurriedly look away.

    Ahh, it’s been ages since I felt such fizzy, ardent glances directed at me. Not only should I be able to lure my true enemy out of his den, but the nefarious rumours about my supposed k*ndness towards the confectioner are gone.

    Today is the day I’m refilling my villain reputation. The day my guilefulness will shine so brightly that I’ll make the devil envious. I can already imagine him stomping angrily at my endeavour.

    Indeed, despite the two low-ranking nobles knelt before me being Gallghaid’s parents, even I know they have nothing to do with their son’s misdeeds. They didn’t even live in Oneixium, and preferred to have a slow life in a small village. But that doesn’t matter. They’ll make perfect bait.

    Even the Marquessa Ambrillia will hastily run away from my lands once she hears about today’s events. That’ll mark the end of my brief misguidance.

    A smirk over my expression, I wait for the executioner to take his place behind the two silhouettes prostrate on the wooden scaffold, their hands restrained, gagged to avoid noise nuisance.

“Come and show yourself, vile traitor.”

    The executioner’s face covered with a sort of cloth bag, two mere holes made for his eyes, we exchange a brief nod before he raises his axe to lean the handle against his shoulder.

“Rejoice, my dear people,” I raise my voice and press my fingers to my chest, “for I’m about to give you all a gentle reminder. Behold! That is what happens when one tries to escape my judgment.” I pause briefly, taking a glance at the crowd, searching for any familiar face. “That is what you harvest for not spending wisely your time in your cell, Gallghaid! Ahh, to think that I showed you enough mercy to spare your life.”

    Where is he?

    It’s been years since I saw him for the last time. Yet I couldn’t be more confident that I’d recognise his gross face the moment my gaze falls on him. Sure he wouldn’t abandon his own parents, now, would he?

    That’s when I spot the harbinger of my unevil days.

    Her umbrella folded, she leans her hands against the handle like a paladin leaning against his holy sword.

“Ambrillia?”

    No… She shouldn’t be here, not in the middle of a crowd, where everyone would be able to catch sight of this delightful creature and…

    Why?

    As the executioner repositions his axe, taking a step closer, I force myself to focus. Very well! I shall show her the gap between us. I’ll prove to her that there’s no hope for her to give me redemption.

    Why does she always smile at me?

    Raising my arm above my head, I ready myself to give the signal for the execution. I must confront my demons.

    But the moment our gazes meet, I’m once again taken aback by her calm despite the situation. Flowers could have been floating around her face; it would’ve been the same.

    My eyelids twitch.

    My resolve falters.

    My heart flu…

    No.

    If Gallghaid doesn’t show himself, then I’ll have to put an end to this myself. Time has come for his parents’ heads to roll, their blood to splatt… but what if a few droplets reached her face? What if I committed the crime to sully these silk-like cheeks?

    …

    Schlak.

    My own cheeks numbed by the vivid slap of my hands, the executioner flinches at my sudden move.

    Reason now perfectly flooding back into my veins, I raise once more my arm above my head. That one was close. My psyche almost got corrupted…

    But despite his initial surprise, the executioner stands ready again, the blade of his axe demanding blood.

    I’m surrounded by dozens of commoners, of people I’m ruling. Every breath, every gesture of mine is under constant observation. I can’t back away from punishing my enemies in the most vile way, now. My reputation is at stake.

    As I begin to lower my arm, the axe following its move, the crowd gasps. Women cover the eyes of their children. A bunch of commoners, weaker than they thought, avert their gaze from the unfolding scene, and the marquessa…

    …Notices my gaze and waves her fingers to say hello???

    My heart misses a beat and before I realise it, I extend my hand to my chest, clutching the fabric. Too focused on my moves, the executioner’s axe follows my gesture and the blade falls in an angle sending the unbalanced executioner pinwheeling.

“How does she remain unbothered? Unless she does that on purpose, knowing fully the danger her smile represents? No… That would make her the most terrifying woman in this world.”

    Murmurs are already spreading through the crowd, oblivious to the terrible attack I’ve been victim of.

    From the tips of my fingers, I pinch my glove. The fabric brushes against my skin as I remove it, the second one soon meeting the same fate before I hurl them against the scaffold at my feet.

    Turning my back then to all these startled eyes, I walk away in defeat.

“Duke Luphor…?” The executioner turns a baffled look at me, unsure of how to proceed. “What about the execution?”

    Ahh. Correct. There is the crowd issue.

    Reluctantly, I turn enough to glare at him.

“Ohh? Didn’t you notice?” I speak loud enough for the commoners to hear. Reaching into my pocket, I retrieve a golden watch. “It’s five past seven. Everyone knows that no execution should occur past seven. There’s a decorum to respect.”

    Not giving the executioner any time to protest, I leave.

༻❦︎༺

    Leaving behind them mere confused whispers, the crowd unthickens until nothing but a mess of footprints remains on the ground.

    The sun paints the scaffold in orangey tones, a shadow topped with an umbrella being the only figure to move against the elongated form of the wooden platform.

    As I approach the place where the Duke Luphor stood a bit earlier, I kneel down to pick up his abandoned gloves. Only for a moment do I pause, raising my eyes to glance at a bunch of trees. I could swear that I felt someone’s gaze… yet nobody is in view.

    Quickly losing interest, I refocus on the gloves.

“How unfortunate. Someone has now to bring them back to him.” My smile widens. “Not that I would have minded to keep them.”