Ivory Angels

Chapter Two- Game Two

The next morning, I head back to my desk and get ready for the workday. Milo didn't reappear last night. Of course, this is a good thing. He was a distraction. Nothing good can come from crack open 'A Kingdom of Black and White.' It's interesting. Full of aggression, love, fear, battle tactics. I don't normally like graphic violence in my stories, but I'm making an exception for this one. I just can't put it down. I've read about two and a half more chapters when a woman walks into the room.

She's a middle-aged woman with an authoritarian aura about her. She looks as if she's in a perpetual world of seriousness and sorrow. Her clothes do nothing to help this appearance. A simple floor-length black gown with long sleeves that puff at the shoulders, accented with a small black hat and mesh veil that covers her face. Her pin-straight hair is a greying black, pulled into a tight, perfect bun. She looks as if she's headed to a funeral. "Hello ma'am," I greet her. "Is there anything I can help you find today?" She doesn't respond at first. Instead, she glances around the room, taking everything in. "You are Oliver Harris, correct?" She asks. I nod. "Yes, ma'am. I am Oliver Harris," I straighten up, making sure to give her my undivided attention. "My name is Blanche Griffiths," She doesn't extend her hand to me, instead keeping it clasped with her other one in front of her skirt. "I am Mrs. Winstrobe's assistant. She has asked to see you. Please leave your things and follow me,"

I stand up and follow the tall woman out of the room. She leads me through the castle. It's quite a beautiful building. The floors, though built with cold stone and slate, are blanketed in thick carpets that muffle your footsteps as you walk. Everything in the place has been crafted to perfection. From the arches of the walls to the sculpting of the windowsills to the metalwork that covers the doors, windows, and firepits. As we walk I take in it all, my hands skimming up the marble handrails. The winding staircases seem to go on forever. It's a wonder Ms. Griffiths can move so swiftly and calmly. These stairs should be a challenge, especially for a lady her age. Nevertheless, she pushes on as if it's no more difficult than being carried around in a buggy.

Later than I would like, we make it to a large set of double doors. The dark wood has mostly been carved away in a quest to cover it in images. Waves, clouds, different planets, birds, and dancing women with flowing hair and dresses take up as much space as possible. While I am mesmerized, Ms. Giffifths pays the masterpiece no mind. She pushes the grand doors open with a soft creak and ushers me inside the room. The door closes noiselessly.

I'm standing in the grandest bedroom I've ever seen. The floor is made of wood here, not stone, and has been treated to shine gently. Golden light pours in through the windows, lighting the room better than any torch could ever hope to. The white ceiling is painted with the same dancing ladies and planets from the outside, save for a spot in the center that has been dedicated to a crystal chandelier. A circle of armchairs faces the bedroom's balcony, closed off my two french doors. A large bed is centered in the room, facing a window, covered in white and gold blankets. Resting in this bed is an old woman who I can only assume to be Mrs. Winstobe.

"Take a seat next to her," Ms. Griffiths instructs, motioning to a plush chair next to the bed. I must not have noticed it. I sit in the soft beige seat, waiting for the woman to speak to me. The old woman sits up, shaking slightly. She seems poorly, but not nearly as ill or frail as I expected her to be after what Milo told me. She turns her head to me and just takes me in with those striking pinkish eyes of hers. "Milo..." She starts. "My name is Oliver, ma'am," I correct her gently. "Oliver Harris? You hired me around two months ago," She nods. "Yes, Oliver, my mistake. Do you mind doing something for me?" I shake my head. She points to her bookshelf. "A vase shattered up there. Blanche and I are far too short to clean the remaining shards. Would you mind grabbing them for us?"

I shake my head. I don't really want to, broken ceramic is rather dangerous, but who am I to say no to her? I walk to the bookshelf and reach up, blindly feeling for the shards. I cut my palm on something, but I'm able to throw out the shards without leaking blood on anything white. I walk up to Ms. Griffiths. "I'm terribly sorry," I start. "But I'm afraid I've injured my hand. Do you have some form of rag I could use?" The woman nods and hands me a handkerchief, which I wrap around my hand. "I'll clean this and have it back to you as soon as possible," I tell her. She shakes her head. "Don't bother. It must be cleaned in a certain way. When you get bandaged up in the medical wing, fold it and leave it on the side. I'll take care of it," I nod. "That will be all," Mrs. Winstrobe says wistfully. "Have a splendid day," With that, Ms. Griffiths ushers me out of the room and shuts the door behind me.