A Tale Of Shadows (Wattys 2023) - REPLACED BY DIVINE ASCENSION

Chapter 11 - Servitude

Melinda's betrayal was the worst kind of betrayal Randall could have ever experienced. A woman he had absolute faith in was now forcing him to spend days and nights doing hard work in a mine, giving him little to no food - and the food she gave him was of poor quality, barely allowing him to rest. That would have been terrible enough on its own, but she was also there whenever she had the opportunity to, and if she was even slightly displeased by someone's progress, their barren back was to be whipped. The blood coming from the wounds always made him nauseous, which she could not know under any cost, and so he could merely bite his tongue to prevent vomiting for some time.

Each time, it became harder, for the liquid engulfed his throat with immense strength, and continuing to fight against its venom seemed nigh-impossible. He had gotten used to expecting it in a few weeks' time, and every time Melinda or anyone from her force would start searching their pockets, his mind could focus solely on the usual happenings during those situations. The sound of the whips stood out to him the most, turning into the only melody his brain could recognize, his blood boiling when he heard it at work. He had no idea how miserable one particular day would be.

Hearing the echo of Melinda's high-heels against the ground, he worked as hard as he could. With a glance that bore as much emotion as a stone, she turned away from him, walking over to a small table placed on the other side of that part of the mine. It would have been a pretty normal experience if it weren't for the man who was carrying two silver spoons, two plates made of porcelain with empty scones on them and several jars filled with jam. 

He looked familiar to Randall, too. Most of his attributes were covered with his thick black robe, due to which Randall recognized that he was a member of the Obscurian royal council. He would have appeared to be like everyone else from there had Randall not recalled who he had met from there that had auburn hair that reached their shoulders, emerald-coloured eyes and a sharp nose. It took all of his will not to gasp.

Malcolm Lopez! Even the royal advisor is refraining from justice.

They drew out the chairs, slowly sitting on them. Shortly after, the items Malcolm was carrying were put on the table. Melinda had begun to open the jars, of which there were three, with jams that were likely ones of plum, apricot and cherry, which he assumed from the colour and texture, staring at them from afar while still working. Soon, he observed just his progress, as nothing of note had happened for a while. He was doing well for a man occupied with his worrisome thoughts, and if someone checked on him, they would not notice anything peculiar, since there wasn't anything all that peculiar to be noticed.

"The weather is rather nice today, isn't that right, Malcolm?" she asked with a radiant smile on her face.

"Yes, my lady," Malcolm responded, smiling as well.

Randall could not deny the verity of that statement either. Where they were sitting, the sun was glistening like a goblet on the clear blue sky, offering warmth to the doves that were flying nearby and the flowers that were sprouting from the grass, about as united as a beehive. He and the rest of the slaves could see but a tiny fragment of that landscape, while the two close friends were soaking up all the rays on the meadow near the mine, or at least he assumed that they were friends. 

She certainly wouldn't dare to get into a relationship with her advisor, let alone him. There must have been a limit to her bending of the rules of the state. If she bent yet another rule or created yet another new law, the rage within him would consume him. Someday, she would have to halt using her reputation from the olden days as an excuse for everything, and he had no clue as to when that day would come at last.

"That fact motivated me to start my second reading of Macbeth. Shakespeare's writing becomes better every time I read it, for there are always new details that I discover that enrich the experience," she chirped.

Malcolm's eyes were wide open. "Macbeth? But he's a kingslayer with a heart full of wickedness and a tragic fate!"

"That's why I mentioned the fair weather. It will save me from what has slain me on the inside, the guilt that plagues my heart, the snakes that live inside my mind. This is a turn of events I cannot escape, a creation of terrible memories that will never fade, but I might find catharsis within the work. Is this wretched condemnation not enough of a payment?"

Macbeth, as megalomaniacal as he was, is ten times the person you will ever be!

"Your ways of thinking are mysterious. An average person would wish to escape from the guilt if they were in your position, not intensify it," Malcolm mumbled.

"I condemn myself much more gently than the skies ever would," she replied, her voice bereft of emotion.

"Why is it impossible for you to quit paying attention to the skies? They are a simple decoration nature has brought to us."

Her eyes shone as though they were watering. "The skies are all-knowing and all-seeing. They desire to watch me in a frail state, and it is much difficult for me to keep suppressing my sensitivities."

"You are Melinda Bellerose. What are skies and plays meant to make even the simplest of minds enjoy them to you?"

Just when Randall let a weak wave of sadism go through his heart thanks to Melinda deserving it even in her most fragile state, complaining about how tough it supposedly was to live with all the privileges she had, that plain comment returned the initial smile on her face. Malcolm was smiling with her, and they were eating scones and jam without a care in the world. He sighed for being stupid enough to believe that she would show remorse for a long time without anyone noticing, returning to work for the rest of the day, fearing the whips as much as he always did.