Sanctuary

Sanctuary

She wanted love and lacked empathy; he wanted truth and lacked proof. A falsely accused man takes shelter in the mansion of a difficult woman. He's at her mercy... and vice-versa?

Sanctuary: Valour, the Pursuit of Knowledge

Chapter One: Temperantia - Gula

The crash of thunder echoed in the night. The one and only inhabitant of the mansion couldn't sleep. It was not because of the weather, but because of an annoying bout of insomnia that assaulted her for three days in a row. She had not been able to fall asleep until sunrise and then it only lasted two or three hours. The floors of the mansion were covered in thick carpets, the walls lined with expensive paintings. The lights were off and she didn't care. Outside it was pitch black as the rain beat against the glass windows with all its might.

It had been three days since her cousin's wedding, an event to which she had not been invited. She huffed, what did she care? The woman was marrying such an unworthy man with nothing to his name but a dirty old farm. The groom could never pass for a man of high society and with the act of marrying him, neither could the bride.

Clair was not like that. Clair was a woman of status who would not marry unless it was to a man who could match her assets, or better yet surpass them. She laughed bitterly at the thought. Who could surpass her riches? Unlike her uncle who commanded a modest industrial empire, her father had been wiser in his investments leaving her as the heir to a conglomerate of corporate titans.

Her mother passed away when Clair was still quite young and she was raised by the maids since pre-adolescence. Her father saw her every morning before leaving for work and every evening during dinner. Their time spent together in a day amounted to an hour at most, but it was enough. Mr. Moon could assert that his daughter was alright and still projecting the aura of a fine young lady, while reminding her that she was better than the others around her.

Mr. Moon had not wanted young Clair to feel as less because she did not have a mother to guide her in the ways of being a lady of high society. He would not have anyone belittling his precious daughter. Clair firmly believed her father's words when he spoke them and still did after his passing.

It was then, when Mr. Moon's life came to an end, that Clair entered her solitude, or rather was exiled by her relatives and their friends, even the mansion staff quit. They owed a lot to her father but not to her, and when the man was no longer present, they felt their debt had been paid sufficiently. After all, they had humored his impossible daughter for years to keep him at ease.

Mr. Moon had married at a relatively mature age, so his passing came as no surprise to Clair, who clearly saw the age in his face. Mr. Moon was prepared as well, though some silently theorized that he was prepared to die since the day his wife passed away in that terrible accident that crushed her inside her car.

Clair made her way to the front door of her mansion leaving the large entrance open. She walked into the wet driveway wearing only a nightgown with a robe over it. The thin layers of fabric were not enough to keep the chill of the night away. It was fall, but winter was clearly on its way. She looked at the skies above as if challenging the forces of nature to strike her down and reveling against the world that refused to grant her much wanted sleep.

She walked on through the driveway, barefoot and soaked. She progressed slowly until she saw a most intriguing sight. She did not see this until she was right in front of the main gates that connected with the street a considerable distance away from her front door. Outside, a lamp post on the spacious sidewalk illuminated the moonless night enough for her to make out the shape of a human climbing over the bars of the tall gate.