Letter for Lord Sterling Chamberlain

Prologue

A Letter for Lord Chamberlain

July 07th, 20**. 

Dear sir, 

    Do you still remember me, Lord Sterling Chamberlain? Upon reading this letter, I am pretty sure you could recognise the sender. Please allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is quite simple, based on the king who once rules, Arthur and followed by the last name; Winston. Arthur Winston. I am the young guy who you’ve encountered after having a decent chat with my little brother at the cathedral. 

    You were quite unfortunate to meet my little brother last time. He is not a fan of art regarding paints and colours, especially involving abstract and the colour, red. He’s much into words and metaphors, poems, any kind of literatures so the words he speaks always has triple meats between a bun. On behalf of his actions and words, I would like to apologise to you for his discourtesy and his act of impudence towards you. As an act of humbility, I would be glad to enjoy a tea and spent my evening with someone who I’ve respected and introduce myself properly once again as a representative of my little brother and as a gentleman myself. 

    I am in a big hope to meet a fellow artist who could interpret their works in a unique way. In a few days, I am very eager to receive a letter from you with an invitation in it. I hope I could see another works of yours together.

Yours sincerely, 

Arthur Winston. 

CHAPTER 0

“Well, well. Wasn’t he pique your interest, Lady Atheynna?” 

The bunny-head man folded the letter gently, following the lines of once folded as it’s arrived in the hands of him. The letter was then placed on the small, quaint coffee table besides him together with a cup of chamomile tea which haven’t been touched or tasted yet. A melancholic classical music, Vocalise was played in the room, a performance by Rachmaninoff, which was known in Philadelphia Orchestra by the fans of him. 

“I would be politely decline before you could ask, Sterling.” The lady with a Marionette dress, examining the bookcase along the time she was there finally has spoken. 

“I won’t ask you to involve, Athy.” He stated. His hand reached the cup, took a sip and then a sip then placing it back to its place. “You’re not going to help me anything this time. I will paint the canvas on my own.” 

The lady took her steps primly and stand herself before Sterling. Her arm spreads out towards Sterling’s side, almost leaning closely to him while the other is grasping tight to the rest of the chair. Atheynna decides to lean closer to his ear, whispering almost inaudible words, she says, “I can’t wait to meet him either.” 

Slowly, she pulled herself from him, sneakingly grab the cup at the side. The man watched her with silence while she took a sip from it. “What a good choice of tea, Sterling. Almost like-,” she tilted her head and paused, “-you’re welcoming him.” She curves a gentle smile, gently puts the cup back to its place. The smile was influencing, causing him to arch his lips too. 

“The eagerness of predators, not acknowledging they are the species of pack. But, I wonder, if the preys won’t be served anymore, what could be done for the hunger predators to survive?” 

He finally stood up and walked to his hard and sturdy oak-wood work desk. His gaze only focused to the opened book by Dostoyevsky and his fingers sliding through the edge-lined of the long desk. The lady didn’t ensue anything, only moving her heels towards the door. The classical music and the deafening of the walking heels from Lady Atheynna were the only sounds that could be heard across the room. The man still locks his gaze towards the book, also not saying anything further until the sound of twisting knob and the creak of the door from Lady Atheynna vibrates to the air.