Beauty and the Galra

A Shimmer of Hope - Chapter Seven

The bar closed early today, in preparation. The single candle flickered in the cold air, while a moth delicately moved around it in awe of the burning light. It was quiet. Still. Dark outside and chilling, both in temperature and the atmosphere.

A frail man sat across the table. His long fingernails stretching the stubble on his chin was the only sound that could be heard. His hair was white, and thin, dead even. He looked like the part of everyone's nightmare. Deathly pale skin, white as snow. Stone cutting cheekbones and with the thin look of a skeleton. Even Lotor was slightly reserved around him.

He glared at Lotor, who sat in front of him, and sighed, leaning back on the wooden chair.

With an articulate voice, he spoke; "I hope this is worth my while. I don't usually leave the asylum in the middle of the night." A sack of gold was thrown on the table. The man picked it up and examined the contents of the bag, and grinned. "I'm listening."

"I understand your trouble for joining me so late, but a man is in dire need of care. I hold this mans life, and mental state, close to my heart and it pains me to see what he's become." Lotor hid his devious smile well by feigning concern. "I would not have called you here if not an urgent matter."

The man across the table stood, scraping his chair across the floor dramatically but only walked to the boarded up window, looking through the hole to the snowy streets outside.

"Who are you trying to fool, Lotor? Certainly not me, I hope. I've know you since a child, boy, and I know that you care none for others."

"A little acting never hurt anybody." Lotor smiled his perfect smile and stood as well. "It's like this, I want to marry his son. He rejected me and I'm certain Mr McClain won't approve of me, not that I understand why, but point being-"

"You want to use Mr McClain as leverage for this boys hand in marriage." The man turned to Lotor, his face blank and unreadable. "You are devious my boy, just like your father. If not more so."

"So?" Lotor asked.

"It's a great plan, all but one thing. I need a reason. I can't run an institution based off favours." The man turned back to Lotor, his wrinkles and high cheekbones created shadows on his face, in turn making him appear that slight bit more sinister.

"He and his eldest were in here the other week, raving about some beast. Ask any regular from the bar, they'll give you a statement." Lotor's boots clicked on the floor as he crept forward.

"And what of his son? If he preformed the same way?"

"Do with him what you will. As long as Lance will marry me, I find no issue in a little threat."

The old man paused, thinking of any loopholes that could be made to drag his business down. There was none and held his hand out for Lotor to shake. "Deal."

With a devious grin, Lotor shook his hand, and began his masterful plan of attack on Mr McClain. He'd be engaged to Lance by the end of the week at the most. He'd forgive him soon enough, for who could say no to Lotor?

Nicolas McClain and his father were making a plan of attack also, for Lance but to save him rather than jeopardise him. After some strange talks with the local farmers, they were able to secure pitchforks. Mr McClain used some of his blueprint paper for inventions to make a map of where the castle was based on memory of where they had been before.

Nic kisses his wife and children goodbye before heading to his old family home. Normally when he visited, it was loud, happy, and energetic was an understatement. This house was the life of the entire village. The smiles and laughter of the two youngest, Maria and Sam, the babbling of babies from Nic and Isabella's own children. The place where they grew up, where their mother and father loved and cared for them. It was so different now.