The Price of Blood

Chapter 4: The Empress Beckons

Giselle groaned into her pillow when she heard someone knocking on the door. From out in the hall, she heard the housekeeper, Marienne, calling to her softly. When Giselle did not answer, Marienne slowly and quietly opened the door and called to her again.

"Sorry to wake you, my lady, but it is almost time for breakfast. Monsieur Baudelaire says he has important news for you."

"It is no trouble, Marienne." Giselle yawned as she pushed herself up and cast the sheets aside. "Knowing Auguste, his news is nothing good. Best not put off hearing it any longer than I have to."

With a clap of her hands, Marienne summoned the handmaids into the room. Giselle rose to her feet, following the three young women to the washroom adjacent to her bedroom. In a flurry of excitement, they began to share some of the latest news and gossip with her as they drew her bath and helped her undress.

"Have you heard, Mademoiselle? They say there are vampires running about in Tru'Lis. Killed dozens of people already, so they say."

"And what of the pack of Lycans to the north in Garignon? They've been stealing cattle and livestock for over a fortnight and the local lady has done nothing to stop them. Even the Knights of L'Oriath have been idle. It's a disgrace!"

They continued their chatter amongst themselves as they helped her into the gilded clawfoot tub and began to wash her for the day. Giselle said little more than a 'yes' or hummed thoughtfully as they talked, having nothing to say on any of the subjects. She was well aware of the vampire insurgence going on to the west, and the Lycan pandemic to the north. There were bigger problems for her to worry about.

What she was more concerned about was the whispers of the Hands of Death to the south, in the ruins of Halaafin. The Knight Commander of the Knights of L'Oriath had been on a mission investigating the leads they'd gathered for over two months now. His last report had been almost a fortnight ago--unusual for him. Very unusual. Something was amiss, and undoubtedly, Auguste's news would pertain to just that.

The handmaidens, once they'd scrubbed her clean, helped her out of the tub to dry her before ushering her over to the vanity in her bedroom to comb her hair and touch up her hands and feet. Seeming to take note of Giselle's lack of interest in conversation this morning, they'd switched topics to idle gossip, whispering about the handsome stable boy and something about a possible affair between the baker and one of the local seamstresses. Once they had her hair combed and brushed and tied in a single braid down her back, they chose her wardrobe for the day.

"Monsieur Baudelaire says you're to be dressed your best for the day," one of the handmaidens said as she set a pair of gold-embroidered black slacks and a white blouse with frilly lace around the collar and the sleeves. They set aside a scarlet red jacket with golden details and a pair of knee-high black leather boots. Once they had her shirt and pants on, they began to tie a black leather corset around her waist. Giselle withheld a cough as they cinched it tight before helping her put on her jacket. Once she was dressed they stood back and smiled.

"Lovely as always, Mademoiselle," They all said, beaming.

Giselle smiled, turning to her mirror to adjust her sleeves and collar. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for whatever the day might hold for her. Satisfied that she looked presentable, she left the room.

Auguste and Jean were already waiting for her in the dining hall. Jean, her younger brother, sat at the far end of the table, idly picking at his plate of food with his elbows on the table. Auguste, her steward, sat in the seat to the right of Giselle's seat at the head of the table, sipping his cup of morning tea while reading the paper. The old steward smiled warmly at her as she took her seat. In his usual fashion, Jean pretended he hadn't seen her arrive, slouching further down into his chair as if to avoid being seen.