“Please watch your steps, Lord Bellamy.” Sydra tenderly held the old gentleman’s wrinkly hand as they walked down the steep, stony steps – upon just finishing their praying session at the Hall of Ark.
“Oh, you’re too kind, dear.” Lord Bellamy said as he fixed his monocle, his tone soft and feeble as ever. He wasn’t terribly frail in mind, nor was his body decaying – but he could certainly lose some weight. “Pray Ark be kind, and my wish for a fitter shell bears fruits.” He laughed between each gasp for breath, flowing through the gaps of his gilded teeth.
Sydra merely grinned softly and dodged his droopy silver eyes – she knew better than to probe further regarding such touchy matters.
Ouch! A squeaky voice akin to that of a mouse came from behind the pair.
Sydra creakily turned her neck around like a scary witch. “Mai, will you please get a hold of your footing?” This was the ninth time of the day that Sydra had to advise her.
“My apologies, Lady Sydra.” The young girl bowed her head low, and as if her light blonde hair were veils, they hid away her blushed cheeks – though she didn’t bow low enough to hide away her sneering mope as well. As Sydra was the Prophet’s secretary – Mai was her very own personal attendant. The imprudent girl with a charcoal body wore a dazzling grey dress with white frills to prayer, and now she has to suffer the consequences of her actions – having to walk down the many steps of the Arkeep, all while tripping over her own dresstail at every instance.
“Take it easy on the lassie, Sydra. It wasn’t as though you were the keenest of all when you first arrived at the Arkeep either,” Lord Bellamy chuckled softly.
“Of course, Lord Bellamy.” Sydra smiled wryly before turning her gaze back to Mai – her own orbs of blue met her orbs of red. No words were uttered, but Sydra trusted that her glower was enough to convey her intention to her aloof servant.
“My sincerest gratitude, Lord Bellamy. I am underserving of such kindness.” Mai awkwardly bobbed a curtsy to the Lord, almost tripping over herself again.
How did I ever get her under my wing? Sydra sighed internally while maintaining a composed outward demeanour.
“Seeing such hearty and spirited youths still linger in our days – I can’t help but feel blessed that Ark has still allowed me to roam his realm for this long.” The old ecliant wiped a single tear beneath his monocle.
“Please perish such thoughts, Lord Bellamy. No doubt your days are still long ahead. I shudder to think how troubled the realm would be without such capable minds such as yourself by the Prophet’s side.”
“I’m afraid I am little no more than a faithful old man who merely likes to gossip all day long. Nothing I’ve done so far would earn me the favour of Ark,” Lord Bellamy murmured, his voice dwindling as he gasped for further air. The old Centum Lord had always been a devout Children of Ark – aside from His Heavenlier, Sydra hardly knew anyone else as devoted to Ark as he.
Lord Bellamy Thatcher was not only an Ace but also the Founder of the Seven Seas Publishing House and the Daily Centum – Sydra found it hard to believe that a man who held the circulation of information throughout the entirety of Xearth on his fingertip would think so little of his own pedigree. A tailored silky white vest, a pair of dragon-leathered loafers, and a gilded monocle that rivalled the cost of a small keep – for a man of such modest temperament, his choice of garment was certainly extravagant.
“If I may be so bold to ask – but what prayers did you part to Ark at the Golden Hall?” asked Sydra.
The old man stood still for a moment like a statue, his hand still holding onto Sydra’s, leaving her unable to yank her palm away. He began to have a huge coughing fit, as usual. His spit splattering everywhere, and the rough sound of his cough echoed throughout the wide hall of the Arkeep – putting the fear of Ark into the few oblivious Lords and Ladies who had just finished their daily prayer. “Sorry about that, dear.” He wiped the edge of his lips. “At this age, one ought to wish no more than good health, I suppose.”
“Yes, I do suppose so.” Sydra unveiled a handkerchief and gifted it to the sickly lord.
“But whether I’m strong or not – only Ark could decide that. I’m content with leaving my faith to his benevolence. I only hope that more folks would do so as well.” Lord Bellamy then gracefully dabbed the handkerchief over his face.
Sydra had no answer to that.
“It certainly does not help when half of the Aces are faithless heathens,” Mai mumbled beneath her breath – failing to notice that even the faintest words of hers could be heard amidst the vast and vacant hall.
Mai would normally hear no rebuttal from Sydra – but as the secretary of His Heavenlier, she had to uphold duties beyond her wants and needs. “Such profanity could land you four walls within the Ironmount if you do not mind your tongue, Mai,” Sydra warned the clumsy maiden.
“My apologies, Lady Sydra.” Like a parrot, that was all she knew to say.
Despite the awkward silence, the Lord did not seem to be offended at his peers being belittled. As they reached the end of the long flight of stairs, Lord Bellamy chortled heartily, his bloated belly nearly plopped out of his white vest. For once, both Sydra and Mai shared a bewildered look as they stared wordlessly at the laughing lord. “Ain’t that the truth,” he wiped away the tears from his lids. “For all the lords and ladies who swore fealty to Ark and His Heavenlier – a lot of them sure seem to believe the opposite to have occurred.” As if his graceful guise had melted away under all that layer of garments, the ecliant lord crudely remarked – unbothered whether any passers-by could heed his words.
Sydra tried to change the topic and turned back to Mai – leaving the laughing lord to his own device. “Have there been any new letters regarding His Heavenlier?”
“Unfortunately not, Lady Sydra.”
That grinning fool… Sydra cursed inside her head. The Prophet has been missing from the Arkeep for many days now – all without even giving Sydra a word beforehand.
“There’s no need to worry over him, dear. No harm would befall him. He’d return soon,” said Lord Bellamy upon calming down from his sudden bout of joy.
If there’s anyone who may know where he is, that’d be him, Sydra thought.
“Well, would you not plead for me to tell you where he is?” asked Lord Bellamy as his eyebrows rose.
“That would not be necessary. I believe in my Lord.”
“Would you still believe in him if I tell you he is engaging in colourful acts that no man of faith should be doing? And at an equally colourful place where no man of faith should be?”
Sydra released the Lord’s hand from hers. “I am sure he has his just reasons. No place for me to put doubt in his decisions.”
“But, of course. As do I, dear. If Ark had willed him to be endowed in all desire of life – then that must be what’s for the best.” The ecliant lord grinned dryly with his parched lips.
Sydra merely smiled in silence, with her eyes squinted. If she had reacted to every provocation enacted upon herself and His Heavenlier, surely she would have been sent to the darkest corner of the Ironmount Institution – but whether it was due to the obnoxious silence or the steamy closed hall, Sydra’s smile did not seem to hold. “I’ve always been curious, My Lord.” Sydra poked her finger to her chin. “What gifts have you been given to allow you to oversee all matters of Xearth? Could you, perchance, have feathered wings etched to your body to soar the realm? Or do you perhaps have all-seeing eyes blessed unto your head by Ark?”
“You made it sound more impressive than it actually is. Luck and faith are all I need.” Lord Bellamy chuckled.
“When will my luck come about then?” Mai moped in her own corner, though Sydra couldn’t really blame the poor girl after how much faith she had dedicated to the Creed of Ark.
“Here’s some advice for you then, young missy,” Lord Bellamy acknowledged the young ecliant’s tantrum. “Bide your time well, for it will come – and when it does, do not hesitate.”
Mai’s face was still, and her eyes blanked, she couldn’t look more bored even if she had tried – as if she had just heard the most obvious and pompous advice ever uttered.
“I’m sure she would take that judicious lesson to heart, Lord Bellamy.” Sydra thanked on behalf of the snoring attendant.
“Of course she will, as will you.” Lord Bellamy turned back to Sydra.
“Excuse me?” spoke Sydra – for she was no child throwing a tantrum.
“The country is in turmoil, and another Sentinel envoy had been attacked by rebel forces – and yet all while this commotion is descending upon the realm, its people could only look forward to the frivolous Centum Tourney, while their Prophet is too frolicking away, afar from his seat by the side of Ark.” The old lord fixed his gilded monocle.
“Apologise for my ignorance – but I fail to see how such worldly matters could be ordained upon my humble shoulders.” Sydra lowered her gaze.
“You don’t need the wisdom of Ark to understand it, dear.” The Lord chuckled faintly, though somehow still emanating an air of nobility. “I am in no station to question neither Ark nor His Heavenlier’s actions – but at this point in time, with no brothers nor sisters by his side, you are the closest one to warm his throne. If there’s anyone who could steer his heart and be privy to his secrets that even I could not pry – then it would be you. I just pray that you would not hesitate when deciding on what matters most.”
“To His Heavenlier or the realm?”
“To yourself, dear.”
Sydra did not answer. It wasn’t as though she had no rebuttals to make – yet as if they were defying her will, her tongue would not roll, and her lips would not open.
“A thought for you to ponder, dear. Permit bravery be tempered into thy soul.” Lord Bellamy recited the Seventh Tenet from the Arkive, whereupon there are nine tenets in total. “I believe I’d be able to manage it from here.” He marched forward mightily as if his once portly body had lightened akin to a feather. “May Ark bless you towards what is right, Lady Sydra.” The Ace tipped his head slightly down and ambled away down the hall, with not a single crease upon his fancy attire nor flaw upon his stride.
“May Ark bless your day, Lord Bellamy!” Mai shouted, unminding of where she was or who she was shouting to.
“May Ark watch over you, Lord Bellamy,” Sydra muttered as she squinted over her eyeglasses – glaring at the lord’s plump body slowly becoming smaller and smaller until he was at last out of the sight of her sapphire eyes. The words he foreboded lingered in her mind. If they had come from any other person, Sydra would have simply shrugged it off – but for a man of his conniving and scheming talent, she could not seem to shake it off her head.
“Lady Sydra?” The imprudent child waved her hand at Sydra’s face. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Sydra cleared her throat and fixed her glasses. “Let us return to work. We’ve dallied away for long enough. I am due to meet Lady Brooks in the noon.” Sydra reminded the forgetful girl. Lady Brooks had travelled all the way from Harford to Sentry for this meeting – it’ll be a great disgrace for His Heavenlier’s name if Sydra were to fail to properly receive such a distinguished scholar, let alone the Arbiter of Justice herself. Sydra had never studied in her department during her time at Harford, but she had heard that she was a rather strict and meticulous lady yet still beloved by her students.
“Oh, c’mon! It’s still morning – the morning has barely even started yet,” the girl returned to her tantrum, shaking her head side to side and fluttering her silver hair as if it was a mop. “You dragged me to church before the sun even woke, and now you won’t even let me break fast before cramming back me to my office? Some godly woman you are!” she moaned and kicked her knees up and down. Bystanders who were none the wiser would surely think that Sydra was abusing the poor girl – though Sydra supposed the sentiment wasn’t exactly wrong.
This little brat, Sydra felt a slight prickle on her noggin. “Then, by all means – pay a visit to the pantry. Just don’t get lost in your appetite again, and at least try to be back before noon comes about–” As Sydra waved her hand and walked forward, a hug onto her wrist pulled her back, nearly tripping her.
“Stop being such a hardass and come with me. I saw your pale face just now – you think you could work with an empty stomach like that?”
Sydra swiftly retrieved her arm – and in an instant, she locked the impulsive lassie’s head between her forearm and bicep. “Lady Mai, is that really how a lady at court should be speaking? Have I failed that miserably in instilling any semblance of decorum into this thick head of yours?” With not a shred of hesitation in Sydra’s mind, she let her impulse take over, and she grinded her knuckles onto the squirming girl’s head gently but repeatedly.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Mai shrieked and flailed her arms up and down as if she were being tortured by the vilest torture instrument that even Newspecs couldn’t create.
Content with the sloppy apology, Sydra released her from the headlock – that seemed to help Sydra more than it helped Mai. “Good. Now get a move on, alrea–” Before Sydra could finish her words, a rumbling sound that should never be heard coming from a member at court, let alone in the presence of other members, uttered out from directly below Sydra’s chin. Oh no… She creakily twisted her neck towards Mai, only to find the girl who was in pain was now elated and grinning from ear to ear.
“Well, well, well. I guess I could go by myself then, but I don’t know how focused I could be at work if I were to keep getting disturbed by the rumbling of your stoma–”
“Alright, I’ll go.” Sydra palmed her face and sighed – to be defeated by a mere novice like Mai, if His Heavenlier had witnessed this, she would no doubt have been forced to resign on the spot.
“I knew you would get around to it! Let’s go then!” As if they were sisters, Mai once more hugged Sydra’s arm and dragged her along down the hallway.
The prickling of her frilly dress tickled Sydra slightly, though they were nothing compared to the disdainful glare from the few ecliant charlatans prancing about the keep – an ecliant locking arms with a steelborn was undoubtedly a hard sight for them to bear.
“What’s wrong?” asked Mai with an innocent look.
“Nothing. I’m just thinking about how often you become famished and parched. Perhaps I should relocate your chamber to the pantry instead,” Sydra dodged her question.
“How dare you? I’ll let you know that–” The young and spry lady rambled on and on, with no breaks nor breaths taken in between.
Though Sydra normally detested futile exchanges, perhaps her empty belly today did not grant her the energy to stop Mai’s yapping – she could merely smile and accept the bustling affair of her morning. I guess a break from time to time isn’t too bad – for myself.
*
“Pardon my words – but what are you doing here?” Sydra clicked her tongue – her hunger sapped away in place of anger when she lay eyes on the man who was awaiting inside the castle kitchen.
His chalky face filled with smugness as he chomped down on a bright red apple that matched the tint of his eyes. Despite the summer’s heat, he still wore his usual brown coat and navy scarf around his neck – his brown mane was dripping in sweat, though Sydra knew he was too prideful to yield his stance anytime soon.
“Can’t a man just grab some breakfast without ire arrowed his way?” Lord Bao grinned as he reached the core of his apple.
Is that right? Sydra rolled her eyes. The pantry was emptied of cooks and stewards, and Sydra could only see a few morsels of meat hanging on hooks and a handful of baskets of fruits and vegetables. How long has he been waiting here?
“A fine morning to you, Lord Bao.” Mai bobbed an elegant curtsy, better than most Sydra had seen coming from her.
The garrulous Ace did not bother to even grace her with a slight breath.
“You do not need to be that callous towards her. Her fleece isn’t cut down the middle like I am – just as you would prefer, right?”
“Lady Sydra, it’s alright. I don’t really mind it.” The young girl murmured gently, flustering like a blushing maiden as she did.
Sydra stared at Mai with crooked eyes – she would normally be elated to see her acting this prim and proper, but this enfolding scene was rather odd to stomach.
“You think I don’t know that, dolly?” Lord Bao scoffed as he bit further into the apple’s core, even chewing the seeds. “After all these years honing your wits, and your mind could still only think that far ahead.” He sighed as if he was a disappointed teacher.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
And after all these years sharpening your tongue, and yet you could still not use it for any sort of grace. That was what Sydra wanted to say if Mai hadn’t been here.
The awkward silence permeated the empty kitchen, with Sydra and Bao locking eyes, neither refusing to yield nor blink. The smell of raw onions and smoked sausages lingered in the chamber though they were no longer there – yet it still brought grumbles to the hollowest of stomachs.
“I think I should return to my quarter. I do have a lot of work, after all.” Mai laughed nervously while holding onto her squirming belly.
“So now you want to leave?” Sydra shook her head while scolding the brash girl, though she could not blame her for wanting to leave – Sydra herself was reaching there as well.
“Excuse me, Lady Sydra.” Mai smiled nervously as she slowly tiptoed backwards towards the entrance. “May Ark bless a wonderful day to you, Lord Bao.” She bowed her head deeply. As the lively attendant reached the door, a basket of apples was lying upon a neighbouring cupboard – one of the few semblances of food still stocked within the pantry. With her grumbling stomach clouding her reasoning, she snuck her little fingers in the straw basket and snatched an apple to eat along the journey back – but her accursed clumsiness struck another score, and she tumbled the entire fruit basket to the floor. The dozens of apples squashed and rolled throughout the stone tiles, while the cause of this mess was panicking and desperately trying to pick them back into the basket.
“Just leave it, Mai.” Sydra sighed. “Go back and make preparations to greet Lady Brooks when I return. I trust you could manage that?” requested Sydra – for she feared the clumsy girl would surely trip upon the littered apples if she persisted and would cause even more headache for Sydra.
“Please excuse me, My Lady, My Lord.” Mai hastily rose herself and bowed her head to cover her reddened face. The blushed girl then wasted no time darting out of the kitchen with her face draped over by her palms – at least this time; she did not trip over her long dress. Her embarrassed screeches could be heard echoing outside the hallway of the keep like a wailing phantom.
“It seems she has taken quite a liking to you, Lord Bao.” Sydra gnashed her teeth as she crouched to the floor and began to gather the dusted apples back into the basket – unminding her black attire becoming dirty in the process.
“Tell me something I don’t know.” The philanderer smirked as if Sydra was complimenting his charm.
Very charming of you to just ignore the poor girl then, Sydra clicked her tongue in silence – however his boorishness managed to seduce Mai still eluded Sydra’s understanding.
To Sydra’s surprise, the gaudy lord, too, knelt down and gathered the scattered fruits alongside her.
“Please do not dirty your hands for this, My Lord. Allow me to handle it.” Sydra said wryly – it would them both if he would just leave the room.
“I’d rather do what I want than obey your orders, dolly.” He ignored Sydra’s words as if they were no more than wisps of wind.
Suit yourself then… Sydra sighed internally.
The apples scattered throughout the floors, some mashed, some whole, and some were being devoured by pests – and there were no brooms nor mop for this mess. Where are the servants? Sydra turned her head to the many corners of the empty pantry, hoping that they were merely hiding away in one of the cupboards. Sydra had to have gathered as many as two dozen apples by now. Sweat was trickling down her neck, and her back was squirming in pain – but she refused to let any of those feelings lay visible on her face. Though when she lifted her face to gander at the lord whom she was expecting to be struggling with menial labour, instead, not even a lick of water drenched upon his scruffy brown hair, nor was his face grimacing from fatigue. Sydra felt a prickly sensation in her head whenever she had to stare at his self-satisfied grin.
Sydra gritted her teeth and fastened her picking – the silence was becoming rather unpleasing. “How has your day–”
“Where has your master gone to now?”
“I beg your pardon?” Sydra heard him loud and clear – the kindness to allow him to take back his words would not be offered twice.
“The Prophet? His Heavenlier? Archetype Nine? Whatever accolades you prefer to name him by. Has he eluded from your watch again?” the insolent Ace spoke nonchalantly – profane jabbers that the craven would never dare to utter in front of His Heavenlier himself.
“His Heavenlier isn’t a pet to be under watch – he is free to go anywhere in his domain as he pleases.”
“He doesn’t seem that free of a man in my eyes – but if his trusty sycophant barks so, then it must be true to certain regards.” Even as he jeered, he still picked up the apples. “So where is this supposed freeman then?”
Sydra’s breath turned shallower, and her heart pounded fiercer the longer Bao spoke his gibberish. “If you wish to have a formal meeting with His Heavenlier, I could reserve a time for you anywhere in the next nine months–”
“So you can’t tell me?” the lord interrupted her once more. “Or do you not want to tell me of all people?”
Sydra did not respond, for she didn’t know – but she wouldn’t tell him anyway, even if she did know.
“If not from you, I could always pry it out from that pious old fogey. So either you could tell me the truth, or I could hear whatever colourful truths he would splatter all over his papers’ headline.” Bao warned Sydra as he chomped on an apple fresh off the ground, still seasoned in dust.
“I do not believe it to be wise to trust everything inked onto papers – I trust a man of your stature and acumen would, too, no doubt agree with my sentiment.” Sydra leered and met his ruby eyes.
“Won’t budge even a little bit, aye? A halfling you may be, but at least your nerve is as hard as steel.” The crass lord chuckled begrudgingly, though the cadence was low and brief, dissimilar to his usual snark.
His sardonic compliment did nothing to stir Sydra. “May I ask as to why you wish to meet His Heavenlier?”
Like a grinning deviant, Bao widely arched his lips. “You wish to take from me, but you could not give any back in return? I expected more from the servant of such a godly man.”
“My apologies, Lord Bao. Please forget what I’ve just said.” Sydra said coolly.
“Loosen up already. It still eludes me as to how the Prophet has been able to handle a joyless woman such as yourself for this long.” The rude scoundrel sighed as he disappointingly shook his head from side to side. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the scuffle that ensued by the border of Screwpile.”
“I’ve been given some reports on the ambush, yes.”
“I take it Lord Six’s performance wasn’t to His Heavenlier’s liking?” chuckled Bao as he juggled three apples like a jester and then chucked them into the basket.
“I’ve been told Lord Six was not a part of the ambushed Sentinel squad.” Sydra relayed the report that was given to her from the Heart Corp. “The Heart Commander was at the helm of the party – though, luckily, he was able to retreat safely. It was an unfortunate turn of events, but I do not believe that Lord Six should shoulder the blame for–”
“Of course, you’d see it that way. No wonder you have taken such a liking to your station.” His discourtesy knew no bounds as he scoffed and interrupted Sydra once more.
“I apologise if I misspoke. That wasn’t my intention.” Sydra bowed her head gently as she clenched an apple between her palm – squeezing the juice out of its red skin and soaking its content over her slender fingers.
“I don’t care about your intention – only the Prophet’s.” He spat out bits of apple amidst his riled jeer. “What does he make of this whole pointless rebellion? Pitting his dear siblings against each other surely could not be easy for him.”
“If Lady Four persists in her pursuit – I trust that His Heavenlier will do what must be done.”
With his eyes rolled, the lord did not seem terribly impressed at her answer. “I’ve never met Four much, even back when she was in court, but I never thought a meek girl like her would turn out this way.” He picked up another apple and spun it on the tip of his finger.
Sydra held no retort. She had little to no opinion on Lady Four, for she had even less knowledge than Bao in regard to that.
“Four’s erratic behaviour aside – having the Prime Sentinel take charge of the Heart Corp is certainly a bold choice.” The playful ecliant flipped the apple off his finger and into the basket.
“Why so?” asked Sydra softly as she dutifully gathered the apples and lay them in the basket gently and properly.
Bao patted the dust off his palms and glitzy attire before sighing lightly. “I have nothing against Lord Six, he’s as accomplished of a soldier as they come – but he wouldn’t be the first man I’d look to instil hope in our troops, especially to the snivelling cowards of the Heart Corp at that. Half oughta’ be scared senseless from his mere presence, and the other half would wish nothing more than to see him burn or rot.”
Even if she wanted to, Sydra could hardly disagree – after all the crimes that Lord Six had committed against the realm, she feared that the number of folks left who had yet to hold any ire over him were few and far between.
“But perhaps there are some merits to that? Forcing a kinslayer to reprise his role is certainly a heartless jest that only His Heavenlier could concoct.” The crude man jeered and laughed by himself.
Sydra repeatedly coughed into her fist – false but loud. “Lord Bao, I do not believe such matters are appropriate to be discussed here. If you have any gripes with His Heavenlier’s decisions on the rebellion affair – please reserve them for when he returns.”
“Promises of returning… What if one day he never returns?”
Sydra glared at him wordlessly as she set the basket down instantly.
“If looks could stab, I’d be a prized pincushion.” Bao chuckled. “Lower your knives, dolly. I mean no offence to your master.”
Sydra’s eyes softened, and she picked up the basket again.
“You may think I hate the Prophet, but I actually admire him a great deal. An intelligent, humble, and kind ruler – what’s there not to like?” Bao made his remark. “He has kept the realm together for over two hundred years. No one could dispute what he has done for us – but who would take his place when the time comes?” asked the ambitious lord. “A man of no child.” He counted on one finger of his hand. “One of his own kin turned rebel and is brandishing mystical arms.” He counted on two fingers. “Two others perished over decades ago.” He counted on three fingers. “Three others whom struggle to muster even a smile whenever they see him.” He counted on four fingers. “He ought to have more enemies in court than there are sands by the beachside.” He counted on all five fingers. “I fear what might befall our land when his seat silvered.” With his hand stretched wide open, he pointed his palm at Sydra’s face.
“You need not to be afraid. His Heavenlier would outlast us all – as he should.” Sydra twisted her neck away and fixed her glasses.
“You’re asking a lot of a man in his two hundred. Though who knows? His mind and body still seem to be brisk and pumping – perhaps Ark has actually blessed him with everlasting time.” Bao shrugged his shoulders flippantly.
“Do you fancy reigning over the realm then?” Sydra knew not what force compelled her to ask that question to this wretched man.
“Me? I have no need for a besmirched patch of dirt. I only yearn for what’s best for my people.”
“What’s best for your people then?” asked Sydra – though she cared not for his answer, her heart was pounding fiercer the longer silence was held in between their talk.
“I don’t know. Only the Prophet does – as he does with everything else.” Another shrug he did – but it was stiff and sluggish like chains were holding his limbs down.
Sydra knew not how to respond to that. Her palms dampened further – if her grip hadn’t tightened in time, then the basket of apples would have surely slipped from her fingers and ruined their painstaking collection. Her mind was hazy, and her nosy was stuffy – it felt like the pantry was suffocating her with the stench of burnt meat and charred wood, though there were no signs of any open hearth being used in the morn.
“Don’t worry your little head over it too much. If, at this point, you don’t even know who the man you serve is, then I’m sure you wouldn’t know where he is right now either.” Bao mocked her as if she was a wide-eyed child.
How could he tell? Sydra clicked her tongue. “After all these years, not a single thing about you has changed, it’d seem.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing has changed since your days in Harford.” Sydra looked straight into his scarlet pupils.
“I didn’t know I had an admirer even back then.” The ecliant lord blushed slightly. “Were you one of the cooks who served my lunch, perhaps?” Bao reached into the fruit basket and picked out an apple instead of keep gathering the fallen ones.
“I was your junior – at the Stairs of Antiquity and Geology.” Sydra clenched her teeth, struggling to muster a smile.
“Not a clue. Either you’ve mistaken me for someone else – or better yet, mistaken the fact that you studied in Harford altogether.” He munched onto his third apple of the day now.
“Was I also mistaken in remembering Annovie?” Sydra grinned softly.
Bao’s gnawing ceased promptly as he dropped the half-eaten apple to the floor. His usual conceited smile wavered slightly, and the bright cherry colour coating his eyes faded to a dull pinkish tint. Sydra had never seen such a grave expression on his face before – it made her want to keep provoking him. “A mouthy one, you are – but be careful, dolly.” The lord mumbled, his voice shifting back and forth from cheerful to cheerless.
“There’s no greater honour than to hear that from you of all people, Lord Bao.” Sydra worded calmly and tipped her head down – poorly yet purposefully masquerading away her sneer.
Like a brat who had met his match, the prideful lord stood up from his crouch and stiffly walked to the door. An eery smile still held on his face, but his cheeks were twitching sporadically, while the veins on his arms were straining as he lay his palm over the doorknob. At least the apples were almost all collected, so there was no further need for him to linger any longer.
“I hope we’ll meet again at the Arlympic, Lord Bao.” A parting word from Sydra to him – her words, she chose carefully. And here it comes… Sydra counted to three in her head – and as the countdown ended, Bao twisted his neck back and glanced downward at Sydra, who was still crouching.
No more jeering gazes nor condescending smirks, only an icy glare that could crush stones remained on his stony face – just like Sydra had yearned for.
“Lord Bao, Lady Sydra!” A restless and panting Mai stormed into the pantry – her cry burst Bao out of his stupor and Sydra out of her delight.
“What’s wrong, Mai?” asked Sydra, somewhat peeved off that her attendant had to ruin the moment.
“A fire… There’s a fire!”
A fire? Sydra hastily stood up, nearly snapping the heel breast off her high heel. Amidst her shock, she still managed to carefully place the basket of apples on the counter. Now that the attendant had mentioned, Sydra did remember smelling hints of smoke trailing past her nose earlier – and its suffocating stench had only grown fouler, permeating the pantry entirely with its dark haze ever since Mai opened the door.
“A fete within our halls? Whereabout?” Like a fevered yet merry drunkard, Lord Bao gripped his paws onto Mai’s shoulders – he was the last person Sydra expected to ask that of Mai.
Despite being shaken back and forth like a doll, the heated girl seemed more excited than scared. “Down the corridor – the chamber suddenly burst to flame. Please follow me, My Lord. I’ll guide you to safety–”
Her prince charming didn’t stay and peck her a kiss on the cheek for her help – but instead, he rushed past the girl, shoddily bumping against the wooden door before leaving the smoky kitchen.
“My Lord!” Mai reached her hand out, trying to grab his arm like a weeping damsel, but the heartless lord unheeded her one-sided affection.
“Mai!” Sydra chided the mindless maiden.
“Yes, Lady Sydra!” she promptly returned to shape at Sydra’s shout.
Sydra marched to the startled lass. “What happened?”
“One of the lounges was suddenly engulfed in flame, and the Sentinels are trying to quell it as of this moment,” the attendant stuttered her words while chattering her teeth.
“Is there anyone trapped in the flame?”
Mai fretfully twiddled her thumbs and caressed her own hair; her eyes did not want to meet Sydra’s. “Lady Brooks was in the chamber when it caught fire.”
Lady Brooks? Sydra’s mind felt blank for an instant. The scholar was supposed to be meeting with Sydra at her office, which was in the tower opposing this one – perhaps the distant scholar had found herself lost in the endless labyrinth that was the Arkeep. Regardless of what transpired, upon hearing the claim from Mai, Sydra too stormed out of the pantry in a hurry – with the trail of smoke guiding her way to the honoured guest.
She rushed out to the corridor. A scene of fleeing ecliant nobles ensued before her. They ran and crawled with frightened and contorted expressions upon their faces – unbecoming of their noble status. Few even ignored that Sydra was standing before them. They bumped against her as they scampered past Sydra, acting as if she was either invisible or merely a pillar holding the ceiling up. Sydra braved through the seas of steel – storming to where they were running away from. Sydra had never been an active person – merely pacing through the crowded hall while skimming past body after body was making her heart racing and her legs burn like they never had before. She could not even huff in much air even if she wanted to, for the foul stench of fire smoke and sweaty odour were much worse than not breathing at all to Sydra.
From hallway to hallway, the farther she reached, the lesser the fleeing lords and ladies she encountered, and the more intense the smoulder became. The trail of smoke stood still, and Sydra at last arrived at the hall of flame. Her black vest was drenched in sweat and weighting her tired body down, while her feet were cramping up as if needles were piercing them – but her exhausted mind would not let her rest after reaching this far. Beyond her soaking glasses, she could see a crowd of Sentinels and Centum nobles encircling a chamber door engulfed in a brilliant flame, all while keeping their distance as if they were entranced by its golden radiance.
“Excuse me, out of the way. Let me through,” Sydra pushed and squeezed herself through the crowd once more – though this time, they were standing still in a daze instead of fleeing away. She reached the front of the immobile folks, and the flame was bigger than she had thought. It was spreading its fiery limbs from the door and out onto the outside walls of the hall – burning away the silky Centum banners and valued paintings decorated outside the corridor. From the depth of the firepit, a harrowing shriek could be heard, faintingly low at times and hauntingly loud at others. Lady Brooks? Sydra muttered while covering her mouth away from inhaling any further smoke.
The pensive Sentinels, the wide-eyed Lords and Ladies of the Centum Order, and Lord Bao – all stood still while gazing upon the fire, like moths to a flame.
Sydra gripped the collars of a standby Sentinel. “What are you standing there for? Go in there and save her!” she shook the stunned guard’s collars, but her feeble strength was barely enough to rile his muscular body.
“Lady Sydra? Aren’t we supposed to stand by?” the Sentinel answered calmly, as if he was in a different space altogether.
Not this again, Sydra cursed. “Why would you ever do that?” she yanked at his collars, nearly ripping them apart from the Sentinel’s black vest.
As if he was staring at a deluded lady spouting senseless garbles, the Sentinel looked to his comrades before returning his perplexed eyes toward Sydra. “Orders were given to hold our post.” He worded composedly.
“Orders from whom?” questioned Sydra, her mask of temper and composure was melting under the heat.
“Lady Sydra? Is everything alright?” asked the Sentinel, as if she was a lost child.
“I said from who?”
With another perplexed lookback to his comrades, the Sentinel then stooped his head down low to meet Sydra’s frantic interrogation. “Our captain commanded us to keep our distance, but I believe that the orders were approved to him by yourself, Lady Sydra.”
What is he speaking of? Sydra was as confused as the Sentinel. She unleashed his collars and turned back to the flame. “Then I revoke that order – now go save her,” Sydra commanded.
“Please calm down, Lady Sydra. From the way you act, it’d seem there has been some muddle in the orders that were conveyed to us – perhaps we should revise the situation before acting rashly–”
“Oh, Ark damns you all!” Sydra cursed aloud – to the shock of nearby Lords and Ladies, they seemed more shocked by her profanity rather than the torching ensuing before them. Sydra tossed aside her glasses, unclothed her vest, and kicked away her heels. She glared at the flaring door; it burned her unshielded eyes. Ark, please save me… Sydra had never asked much from Ark before, but perhaps she’d need it this time. Her heart raced, and her limbs trembled – her mind had made the decision, but her body seemed not to agree with it. With the flame right before her face, she knew not whether to keep up her act of bravery. The harrowing shrill heard from within the fiery chamber had nearly all but vanished – perhaps there was no longer any need for her to brave inside and save a charred corpse. As her doubts drowned her head, and the stares from the bystanders behind her felt like daggers piercing into her back – a gust of wind flew past the side of her body, swift and resolute. Lord Bao? Sydra caught the residual breeze left behind from his dash, blowing away the smoke any so slightly.
With no hesitation weighing down his feet, the bold lord lunged forward and tackled the burning door down with his whole body – crumbling it to ashes and charred planks. His flamboyant clothes were caught in flame, and his fair beauty was moulting to shades of black and red. He lost himself in the inner depth of the chamber – the pelts of flame engulfing and masking away his body from outside view.
Only once an Ace disappeared into the fiery depth did the Sentinels and the nobles begin to panic, yet they still refused to act and budge away from their unburnt corner.
Seeing that crass philander jumping into the hellhole with little care somehow made Sydra’s wavering nerves and stiffed limbs relaxed ever so lightly – there was no way she’d let him outdo her. Ark, please give me strength… Not for survival but strength, Sydra prayed as she, too, then leapt into the blazing chamber.
“Lord Bao! Lady Sydra!” Mai’s cry fell faint to her ears as the crumpling sound of crackling flame and the wailing of a scorched soul raided her ears.
The sweltering fire burned her lids, and the clouds of black smoke blinded her eyes. Singed debris collapsed from the ceiling and fell onto her skin, layering her in ash and frying her flesh – it felt as if she was being branded and seared by heated rods. The smoke stuffed her nose with the scent of burnt bacon, which reminded her empty stomach that she had yet to eat anything for breakfast. Sydra could only try to follow the sound of Lord Bao’s footsteps and Lady Brooks’s shrieks – but they were both fading away despite Sydra’s hardest to reach them. Where are you? Sydra muttered as her body rummaged aimlessly across the chamber of fire. Stumbling, suffocating, scorching – it was cold, it was hot, it was silent – no miracles to be found in plain sight.