A Rise of Descent: 1760

Sequel to Preview

Chapter Two: Chasing Ambitions

Sebastian Juliarmus, worn and tired and sore, laying at the top of his old mansions staircase. Only 17 years old and owner of a great deal of property, though it was hollowed out now.

He achieved a great deal of travelling in the hours since his departing from Sethfellow Prison, having crossed the paths of many despicable figures. They threw small stones and gave nasty looks when they saw him step from the gate. They knew exactly what to think of a criminal.

They blocked his path when they saw his ragged clothes, denying him entrance to the streets of the wealthier districts. He was looked at as though he were swine, filthy and uncivilized in all manors. Some even threatened him as he approached the roads they guarded.

It was then the streets and travelways of a taxed assortment that he tried to go through. The King had spent some time devising a plan to charge the working class for leaving and returning to their individual districts. A new tax to add to the many others which came into place during Sebastian's time at Sethfellow. Needless to say, he was quickly thrown from those places for a lack of money with which to pay the tolls.

His only option became a long and drawn out journey around the majority of London. And it was not with ease that he made it into his home once he finally arrived either. For the general protection of the mansion, as well as the property around it, fell to three soldiers of a rather awful persuasion.

He was told before leaving the prison that the house still belonged to him, and that the keys would be received upon his return; but it was quite naturally more difficult than anticipated. For the three soldiers guarding the property were hair-triggered and fiercely displeased with their guard positions. So when Sebastian walked up to the iron gate before the Juliarmus Mansion, claiming to be none other than the rightful owner himself, the soldiers reacted uneasily.

A rapid succession of interrogative questions from each man made it impossible for Sebastian to properly get his bearings. He hadn't any idea what to do in such a situation, wanting nothing more than to be inside his house again after all these years. But after however long these three men in particular had to stand guard outside the mansion, they were not in any mood for acting gracefully. They shoved him and poked at him with the barrels of their rifles and asked an endless stream of questions which seemed to be flowing from a lake of desperate hatred and emotional fatigue. Most soldiers hated playing the part of a guard dog each and every day.

When the situation peaked, Sebastian was pushed to the ground, kept from standing with threats of lethal aggression, and kicked a time or two. It finally came to an end when the most senior soldier began laughing uncontrollably and leaned down low, only a few inches from Sebastian's face. "I already know that you're the owner. They sent a messenger immediately after your release. But Sergeant Christopher Maine always gets proper payment for having to stand watch, and in a piss hole district like this nonetheless. I'd reckon that a nice time like this almost makes up for the difference in coin they'll pay me."

With that he was finished speaking and proceeded to stand firmly in his place. He gave one last kick, swiftly thumping as it made contact with Sebastian's ribs. He called for attention, causing the other two soldiers to bolt upright and shoulder their rifles, then marched away with his subordinates trailing only a few feet behind him.

So it was this long day's journey, filled with conflicts physical and otherwise, that brought him to his place atop the grand staircase in the front room of his mansion. The same staircase that he'd watched the death of his father from all those years ago. Clutching the keys to the gate and front doors tightly in his hand, he thought about the strength of iron locks. It wasn't particularly intriguing to him, not at all actually. But it was the imaginable strength of such iron locks that gave him the slightest bit of ease as he fell to sleep. He now wanted more than anything to wake up still in the house when morning came, having already found himself missing from the staircase once before.