A merchant from the wall

Lumière awoke in a daze, his face plastered with sweat and fatigue. His eyes had dark shades of restlessness surrounding them, and his body was tense and shaky as he panted heavily. He took wide and hesitant glances around his room before letting out a relaxed sigh. It had been over two weeks since the attack, and every time Lumière managed to lull himself into a light sleep after the fact, he had only been able to dream of the horrific sights he had forced himself to ignore while fighting the intruder cloaked in a nauseating black aura. He dreamt of the sights of the dismembered children, of the sea of blood that pooled on the monastery's floor, and of the one he loved unable to meet his gaze. The corpses would cry out before being doused in bright silver flames, and Lumière was powerless to stop any of it.

In each instance of this dream, he would take a look at the cracked reflection of the stained-glass window of the monastery and see that the image he had of himself had warped. His hair and irises would be pitch-black, and there would be a thick black aura permeating around his body like small writhing tendrils. This scene would terrify him even more than the scenes of corpses that he had desensitised himself to, and so it was always the point of the dream that would shock him awake.

After recovering from the nightmare to an extent, Lumière stepped sleepily out into the hall, trying to wipe the fatigue away from his eyes in the meanwhile. He made his way into the bathroom and refrained from taking a look in the mirror at his reflection out of residual fear. He turned the handle on the faucet and washed his face with a handful of cold water. While electricity had not made its way to a large portion of the lower borough, indoor plumbing had been an innovation of a century prior, and so there had been more than enough time for it to make its way to the ancient stone monastery on Cobbler's street. The sewers were poorly managed, and there were surely many contaminants in the water, but it was a fine enough amenity for many. After he had finished cleaning himself up, Lumière stepped out into the main hall of the monastery. It had been cleaned of all debris and bloodstains, and the corpses had been wrapped and buried according to the tradition of the Crown of Thorns. So, without a single remaining Dwindler on the hilltops of Cobbler's Street, no one but the Father was sitting in the main prayer hall.

Lumière approached Father Benedict quietly and sat beside him. He was bent down in a pew in solemn prayer with his eyes shut as he muttered his reverences to the Goddess of Thorns.

"In reverence to the Crown of Thorns, the Goddess, Lady of Ivy, whose bountiful hearth we warm ourselves with, your love doth shine. To the symbol of grace and divinity, fine embrace of nature, we seek your light. Your trials and tribulations show your kind mercy, should we be worthy of your kindness. Beneath your crown, we find our strength. In your presence, we find peace. Oh Lady of Ivy, the Crown of Thorns beneath the blood-red sun, our Goddess we belove; in you, we are just." Father Benedict muttered silently, unaware of Lumière's presence.

When he had finished, he opened his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see Lumière beside him. Lumière, to the Father's surprise, had for once adopted the same posture- bent over with his hands clasped and his eyes shut as he muttered his reverences quietly. After Lumière had finished, he too had opened his eyes and looked towards the Father.

"You've suddenly become a devout believer, haven't you?" Father Benedict asked with slight humour hanging on his words.

"I don't like your Goddess, nor do I agree with the world she's chosen to make. You've said that all-encompassing events are her will, and so I hate her even more for it all. But you've also said that all believers, upon their deaths, will rest in her garden. So, maybe if I pray piously enough, I'll be able to see Elise again."

Father Benedict's humoured smile quickly fell, and he looked back over towards the statue of the Goddess that had once been stained with a thick splash of blood.

"Do you think that's 'pious'?" Father Benedict asked of him solemnly.

"Should I throw myself into robes and condemn all mortal pleasures too?"

"Not at all. Even the most saintly men give in to pleasure. I don't think your reasons for praying to the Goddess are wrong, either. I believe you have a right to hate the Goddess for what she's done, but I think you're judging her in the wrong way."

"How so?"

"Can you really judge such a benevolent deity by human standards? Morality- what is morality when applied to a being that stands above all? Can they think about the feelings of every little speck in the wide realm we live in? To empathise is to be human- but are the ancient deities human? Do we not worship them because that's exactly what they aren't? Isn't the fact that we can experience anything at all a blessing? This pain- I would rather feel this heartbreak than not exist at all. Can you even comprehend nonexistence, Lumière?"

Lumière sat in silence, dumbstruck as he thought about the proposition.

"No, I can't."

"We've told you of this many times- me and Elise both. It's not that we don't despise the bitter parts of the world like you do, but that we also flip over the double-sided coin that is reality. The Goddess surely gives us many trials- tasks and ordinances that we must deal with and overcome. But above all of that, we ignorable, insignificant beings are allowed to witness and partake in reality. There's beauty in all things, and we're allowed to witness that. We don't revere the Goddess because she allows bad things to happen, but because she's given us the chance to see the good in them."

"So what good is there… in Elise dying?"

"The sun still rises. Time still goes on, and you're still alive. You'll be able to eat another potato slathered in harsh butter and salt, and you'll be able to twist your performances into something you enjoy. You'll be able to hear the birds sing in the morning, and the streets will fill with all sorts of wonderful people who tell wonderful stories. And at the end of it all, when your life has been fulfilled, you'll be able to see Elise again in the Goddess's garden. You'll live life with all of its pain, sorrows, anguishes, and blessings. Then, eternity will be your gift. That is the good in it all, Lumière. The good in Elise dying… is that somewhere in that bright band of starlight in the night sky, she's waiting patiently while watching you lovingly."

Lumière's face turned a faint shade of red as he heard Father Benedict's words, and at the same time, his eyes started to produce a thin film of tears. So, he stood up and quickly excused himself.

"I'll be back." Lumière bowed his head slightly.

Father Benedict smiled.

"And I'll be waiting."

After grabbing his coat and wiping the tears out of his eyes, Lumière let out a sigh and stepped out into the cold spring air. Although, contrary to his expectation of a blank hillside, there was a man in a grey three-piece suit waiting for him. He had short black hair and blue eyes that seemed to pierce through Lumière like daggers. He had a clean-shaven face and a soft jawline against pale cheeks. His nose was a gentle red against the cold air, and his freckles betrayed his feminine beauty.

"Good morning, Alain."

"Would you like me to tell you why I'm here?" The black-haired man smiled mischievously.

"No, I'll guess it, as usual."

"Go ahead, then."

Lumière walked right past the man, failing to give him a handshake or any sort of formal greeting. They weren't compatriots in the slightest- they were good friends. Alain Monroe was a lowly merchant who resided in his small estate in the mercantile district of the middle borough.

"You want to introduce me to some woman?"

Alain shook his head in response.

"You want to go drinking?"

"Why would I want to go drinking this early in the day?" Alain chided humourously.

"Is it a matter of the heart? Will I help you win over a maiden this time?"

"I've no problem doing that myself."

"Then, it's some business matter?"

Alain shook his head in confirmation.

"Is it Alisander again?"

"I'm to duel him shortly. It's short notice, I know, but I wish for you to be my second."

"Eh?" Lumière exclaimed in a surprised fashion. "You? Duel?"

"Don't act so surprised," Alain said in an annoyed tone of voice.

After making a few stops on mercurial street, Lumière and Alain arrived in front of Alisander's residence. It was a townhouse separate from the rows of houses beside it. It had a small garden filled with flowering shrubs and blossoming archways. There was an iron-wrought front gate taller than Lumière, and past it beside a stone pathway leading to the front terrace, several well-dressed servants were waiting to greet the two.

"What did Mr. Alisander even do to make you so furious?" Lumière asked him.

"He looked at my wife wrong in passing." Alain shrugged simply.

"You're going to kill a man simply because he looked at your wife in such a way? Isn't that a bit too crazy?"

"Do you think I got to where I am by being sane, Lumière?"

Alain's soft smile didn't betray his true demeanour. On the surface, he looked like any normal man. However, Lumière knew below that his madness rested in his unending perseverance. If he were to have all four of his limbs torn from his body, he would surely use his tongue to pull the trigger of his firearm.

"Did you not act through a second? Why are you choosing me only now?"

"I did have another second. Alisander had him killed." Alain spoke humorously.

"He had him killed for seeking a resolution?"

"No. I didn't send my second to reconcile. I sent him to tell Alisander to kill himself so I didn't have to waste my time coming over here."

"That's quite..." He recoiled after hearing such a thing.

"Fear not, my friend. I will compensate you well for attending this momentary bout. You've nothing to fear- unless his second too somehow takes offence to his death. In that case, that's the reason you've brought that fancy little blade along, isn't it?"

Lumière's face twisted slightly. They had previously taken a detour to visit the Fencer's Association so that Lumière had a chance to retrieve his weapon if things were to take a dangerous turn. Although, it was common for those who could afford it to carry a blade around. Those who could afford or earn a license to carry a firearm were restricted to using a magazine that was capable of arming a single bullet. At the turn of the age of technological advancement came innovation in the arms industry- and fearing the use of strong emerging weapons being turned against the Forger Empire's governmental body, the Consuls, which served under the Emperor, passed a law towards the Senate. Based on the use of a single bullet, the law was passed by the Senate to the voting floor, the Centurian Assembly, who then passed the law. Many politicians echoed the same sentiment - 'If a fool cannot solve his matters with one bullet, then he does not deserve another'.

For that reason, swords were commonly carried beside a firearm. If in a duel, Alain were to miss his shot, he was sure to draw his blade and engage Mr. Alisander with it. His hand hovered over his blade as he walked. Like most who had served in the previous war, the Eighth Incursion, he was allowed to keep his blade. Although, Alain Monroe was a bit more cunning of an individual, so he didn't return from the war with only a sword as a reward. Throughout his time on and off the field of battle, he meticulously worked hard to network his abilities and was able to establish connections with many individuals. When he returned to Leiden, he collected his wife and immediately left for the Forger Empire's capital, Lindgram. Using those connections he had made during the war, he was able to become a well-established merchant.

However, after his continued spouts with another merchant- Mr. Alisander, they were both denounced by the Trade Commission of Lindgram, responsible for organising trade legislation, and were forced to move back to Leiden and restrict their business practices. After all the trouble that had been caused by the two of them, the duel that would happen shortly was to be their last bout- their last competitive venture.

"Alright. I'll be your second, then."