Sonder

01

"Tell me, did you kill him or not?" The man across the table asked me in his office's cold and dim ambiance. He sits straight behind his desk with a pen against his lips. The window behind him casts an ominous glow as he runs his hands through his brunette hair, allowing his uniform to tighten around his toned arms.

"Would you believe me if I told you the truth?"

"That depends on if you're telling the truth. All signs point to you." His replies remained as stern as ever no matter what came out of my mouth.

"I am telling the truth but there's no point in trying to argue with what everyone has to say about me; I'm an evil person and killed my husband because I wanted to. There's nothing else to say." I mock the multiple news broadcasts I read about. If everyone already concluded, why do I need to go out of my way to try and change their minds?

The man starting to grow visibly unsatisfied with my replies leaned back onto his chair and crossed his arms. He looked as if he was about to say something but was quickly stopped by knocking on his door.

A butler soon walked in, adjusting the square glasses resting on his crooked nose. He was an older man, tall and lean, with a meticulously groomed mustache and salt-and-pepper hair that was neatly combed. His eyes were sharp, yet there was a warmth in them when he looked at the Grand Duke. His uniform was immaculate, every button polished to a shine.

"Alright Bastian, please escort her to the cell," he sighed.

I guess it's not always a good thing to meet your heroes. I recall staying in my orphanage and always seeing his face. The titles would always be something along the lines of 'War Hero, Grand Duke, Killian Obelia'

I watched as the Grand Duke, Killian Obelia, rose from his chair, his presence as commanding as ever. He gave me one last stern look before turning to leave. The butler motioned for me to follow.

We walked through the winding corridors of the grand estate, the walls adorned with portraits and tapestries depicting the glorious history of the Obelia family. I look down at my handcuffs thinking of a way to get them off me. The butler's footsteps echoed in the silence.

I paused and turned around, facing the large painting looming over me. It was a picture of the Grand Duke with what seemed like his mother and father. His mother had a calm demeanor in her grey eyes, which matched her hair, tightly put in a bun. Next to her was the older man who appeared to be his father, a commanding presence with a stern expression and a well-groomed beard flecked with silver. The artist had captured every detail with precision, from the intricate lace of his mother's collar to the ornate medals adorning his father's chest.

The Grand Duke himself stood between them, a young boy of about ten. Even then, his posture was upright and his gaze steady, hinting at the man he would become. His brunette hair, slightly tousled, framed his face, and his uniform—miniature yet meticulously crafted—bore the insignia of the Obelia family.

Rich, deep hues dominated the painting, from the dark reds and greens of the tapestries to the deep blue of the Grand Duke's uniform. The frame itself was an elaborate masterpiece, carved with intricate patterns and gilded with gold leaf, enhancing the painting's regal aura.

As I took in the painting, I couldn't help but feel a strange connection to the boy in the portrait. He had grown up under the weight of his family's legacy, just as I had grown up under the shadow of my own circumstances. But while his path had led him to become a revered war hero and Grand Duke, mine had led me here, to this cold and unforgiving place.

The painting seemed almost alive, a silent testament to the lives it depicted and the legacy it left behind. It was a reminder of the power and responsibility that came with the Obelia name and of the unyielding expectations placed upon those who bore it.

My train of thought is cut short as I realize that I've been staring at the painting for far too long for anyone to not notice. I look back at Alfred to see that he is looking back at me.

"Miss Blanche. I believe that it is time to return to your cell."