The Marchioness Treasure | HIATUS

Prologue

The sky, dark and gloomy, cast an ominous blanket of shadow on the ever-flourishing city, Athaliah. The hungry rumble of the thunder and the heavy patter of rainfall persuaded even the bravest of animals to seek shelter. Up on the Northern Alley, sat an old man under one of the very few lanterns in the murky street. The man, soaked in blood and covered in old news parchments, was gasping for air.

In his hands lay a bloody metal chain which was used to strangle him a few hours ago. The stench of metal and fresh blood was so severe that it attracted the stray wolves from the mountains beyond the alley.

"Father!"

The old man, though on the verge of death, smiled. His daughter never failed to amuse him. Although he had told her not to follow him, she still had.

"Father!! W-why?" She asked with tears brimming in her almond eyes. He just smiled and shook his head.

His adoptive daughter came into his life like a warm spring breeze after a long winter. A chance for a new beginning. He had always wondered how a little girl could have so much courage and stubbornness while her father was nothing but a coward in every sense of the word.

"Sylvie," He said and coughed up a pool of blood, "I am so proud of what you've become. I'm sorry I couldn't provide you with more,"

She finally burst out, tears streaming down her ivory cheeks. The old man looked at his daughter's expression.

Her hands trembled as she held onto his almost lifeless body and her mouth moved in rhythmic chants as if she was going to say something.

But her words were swallowed by her sobs. Instead, she held onto him tighter. A single tear rolled down his left eye.

Maybe, just maybe if I hold onto him, he'll survive? Just maybe if I squeeze his hand, he'll know that I am here and will fight for his life, for my sake?

Iver Markov was glad that he had the ability to read minds. His daughter's concern for him was enough to appease the pain he was in.

Her clear hazel eyes tried to suppress her emotions and tried to put on a brave face but failed since she never mastered the art of concealing emotions.

He reached out and wiped her tears, "My dear daughter, every man has his time and mine has come. A bit tragically, but, nonetheless," He patted her head for one last time, "I just have a favor to ask of you."

"Anything father, anything at all!"

He rummaged through his now blood-soaked clothes and took out a crimson-coloured pouch, "This dear, is-" and he broke into a fit of cough, blood spilling on his once pure white robe.

"Father!"

He raised his arms as if to say that he was all right, "This is our family's legacy. Something that should not fall into the wrong hands"

With trembling hands, she took the pouch and opened it. Inside it was a beautifully carved peacock brooch covered in gold and blue. Along with it was a small parchment with some strange words on it. She looked at it confused.

"I don't have much time to explain, Sylvie, for my life is nearing its end. These are the precious treasures of Marchioness Jubal's family. Go find the brightest and the wisest in Athaliah, he'll tell you the rest."

She nodded and clutched her father's hand to her heart, "My only regret is that I should've provided you with more. I'm so sorry Sylvie. My blessings will always be with yo-"

Thud.

With his eyes glassy and his blood-stained lips smiling, Iver Markov breathed his last, held by his most precious blessing, his world.

"No! No, no, no. Father, don't leave me! I cannot live without you. Father!"

And that lonely night, Sylvie Markov hugged her father's cold body and grieved to the moon which laid beyond the dark clouds along with the cry of the wolves.

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