A solid round table made of mahogany and a few carved chairs neatly arranged around it loomed in the semi-darkness of the room. A man sat on one chair. His legs crossed, one ankle over another knee. A cigarette in his hand. He was looking somewhere so wistfully as if his glance headed beyond the room. Smoke twisted in the air, formed curved patterns and then faded into the darkness, making the space even more intimate and mysterious.
The only light source was a single floor lamp standing in the left corner of the room. Next to it, a huge, lavish, velvet chair. Some symbols, indistinguishable in poor light, embroidered into its upholstery.
Smells of tobacco, wood, leather, thin marine scents of a perfume and notes of musk mingled in the air. The man fingered the bottom of a cigarette and took another drag. It seemed he was drifting even deeper into his thoughts.
His face shadowed in the darkness. The stately silhouette, however, was enigmatic, alluring, and somewhat unreachable. Even if he was just a man, he certainly did not come from an average family.
Like a mirror, the furnishing and ambience of the room reflected the character of the man. Classy, finest, and rich. Like his suite. He rested his chin on his hand and put the cigarette out in the ashtray on the table right next to him.
His profile became clearer in the low light of a lamp. Prominent chin, straight nose, glossy black curls fell down over eyes and cheeks.
Someone knocked at the door. The man straightened up immediately and answered,
“Yes”, he said it in a plain and cold voice, it echoed slightly.
The door cracked open, and a man emerged in the room. He was stooping, his neck leaning ahead a bit, his shoulders seemed permanently hunched. The man wore simple clothes: a beige shirt and pants so washed out they almost turned gray. On his shoulders, however, he wore a fine-crafted dark cloak. It reached down right to his feet. The man stepped forward and declared audibly,
“My Lord, the child is here.”
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The man behind the table leaned forward and jerked as if waking from a dream. His face expression flashing with a mix of euphoria and anticipation. Without hesitation, he stood up, straightened out the pants that crumpled around his knees. He took off a cloak from the back of a chair. It was identical to the one worn by the man who had entered. He wrapped it around his shoulders smoothly and said,
“I want to see it myself.”
The other man gestured towards the door, holding it open until the Lord walked out. Then he followed him, revealing a golden edge of a cloak to the light.
The Lord walked down the long corridor, his steps rhythmical and bold. He was tall, well-built and dignified. The cloak veiled a part of his body, but a sense of confidence and authority was firmly noticeable in him. He kept his focus sharp, looking just straight ahead, not getting distracted by anything.
It was cold and moist in that corridor. Stone gray walls squeezed the space, making it more narrow and long. Rare wall lamps gave just as much light to identify the nearest details. From a distance, came some unknown muffled sounds, reminding screech or clatter. The water drops fell down on the floor and echoed.
A faint sound of a baby cry emerged from afar. As the men moved along, it was getting louder, more forceful. It seemed the baby cried at the top of its lungs.
The men reached a heavy metal door. The servant opened up a small observation window at eye level. Lord gestured to the servant to step away, leaned forward and looked inside.
A newborn, crying desperately, lay on the stone floor, completely naked. Its body writhing in torment. Scrawny and pale, the baby stretched tiny hands up as if reaching for something.
When the infant noticed someone’s appearance, it quit crying for a moment and looked right at his visitor.
Lord glanced at the baby with his lips parted. His eyes glowing in an almost demonic triumph. Smile spread across his face.
The baby’s cries resumed. Lord closed the peephole, straightened up and ask a servant with his usual formal face expression:
“And the second one?”
“My Lord, the mother escaped with it”, the servant replied, hunching shoulders guiltily.
“Find the twin”, concluded the Lord. He turned 180 degrees and walked away.