Aimee Marseille knows something is wrong when she is summoned quickly to return home. Upon her father's death, she finds startling news about the family's secret. Mechanical knights walk the countryside, an odd woman who seems to know more than she...
Staring down at the portly man crammed into a pinewood box lined with coarse navy fabric, his abalone buttons carefully placed through each buttonhole of his jacket as though someone worried whether it would be inappropriate to arrive in the afterlife with anything out of place, Aimee Marseille felt the lump growing within her throat to nearly suffocating status. His silvered hair remained coiffed, his tortoiseshell spectacles remaining firmly upon the bridge of his nose, and the liver spot he acquired only five years ago revealed even through the layers of pale makeup caked upon his face. Her hand reached to the cherry colored rose brooch she wore at her neck, a gift her mother bequeath her before her untimely death. Now...now her greatest fear was revealed.
She was alone.
Gas lamps gave off an eerie glow of haunting yellow light, popping every so often as if to remind her of the emptiness of the building. The altar stood behind her father's casket and was adorned with notes and dried flowers from the locals. No doubt they were present only to keep away the stench of death until the burial. The stained glass windows portrayed life of the savior but there were none depicting life after death. It seemed once someone passed into the void, everything about their life was deemed empty.
Her soft brown curls touched against her shoulder, moving slightly as though touched by some unseen spectre. It startled her, her dust flecked blue dress moving about as she stepped back as if to escape this unseen force. As she composed herself once more, her fears abated. "Nothing more," she steeled herself. Her mind was addled and prone to believing outlandish things. This was neither the place nor scenario for those thoughts to exist.
"Mademoiselle."
The masculine voice broke her concentration, forcing her to turn aside to the older raven haired gendarme who appeared. His royal blue suit, flintlock pistol at his side with his copper trimmed hat held in his hands against his chest bearing the insignia of the military. "I want you to know the Royal Militia of duFontaine sends their regards. Your father, Brigadier Marseille , was a shining example of what a soldier should be. His dedication will be inspiration for future generations." He paused before turning towards her, his dark brown eyes catching her forest green ones. "As he inspired me."
She politely nodded her head, choking back the tears she felt welling within the corner of her eyes. "I'm certain your words would be comforting to him." She inhaled and exhaled once more to keep her composure. Making a scene, even in this instance of death, wasn't suitable for this scenario.
"If there is anything you need, I am at your service."
"I appreciate your offer but I believe I will be quite busy in the upcoming days dealing with his affairs."
He nodded in respect. "If you change your mind, I'm stationed up the road in Canter. See me at your leisure." With that, he turned sharply upon his heels and exited the small chapel. Light streamed in yet she knew the sun would soon be enveloped by the horizon. Everything continued its course as usual. Today, for the rest of civility, was no different from yesterday or tomorrow.
Her attention drifted back to her father's body. Now, in the silence, her remorse turned into questioning. "You knew you were sick. The physician stated you saw him last week and he revealed your time here was limited. Why didn't you send for me earlier?" Her hand reached out to his, feeling his wrinkled and cold skin beneath her warmth. Had he alerted her, she would've arrived to be with him. To comfort him before...before the end.
She closed her eyes, tears falling upon her father as she let go of her bottles emotions in the fading light.
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Reaching her father's home, the cobblestone grey walkway overgrown with weeds and faded alpine flowers growing in nearly every crack along the barrier wall, Aimee felt a weight lift from her shoulders for a moment. The familiar release of stress was short lived however when she realized the gravity of the situation in front of her. Her brass key turned in the lock, her foot crossing the threshold hit against a small lever built into the flooring. She paused for a moment as to let the mechanisms welcome her return.
A crackle sounded followed by a quick pop as lights began turning on within the hovel. Her father, considered one of the brilliant engineers living in the province, was always looking for ways in which to make their lives easier. This contraption ensured they never entered without light guiding them. Copper and brass fixtures caught the reflection of the lamps, illuminating even the smallest of angles tucked away in corners.
Her instinct led her towards the area denoted as her father's study. Leather bound books piled high upon one another, stacks precariously tilted against one another to where one errant mistake would send it crumbling upon whoever happened to be in their path. She continued forward with her hand touching against the back of his worn leather chair. Burn marks in the armrest told the countless stories of his contraptions needing "just a tweak". She smiled, the warmth of those moments consoling her.
Diagrams on his side table had scratches upon them, random notes no one aside from him would be able to decipher. Memories she would need to remove.
There wasn't much time to remain in the countryside. Her studies called to her. It was one of the last requests her father made - for her to receive a proper education like her mother from the formal institutions within Paris. Her eyes looked up and over to the left wall. A framed daguerreotype hung within an intricately carved mahogany frame, the young woman sitting upon a chair in quiet repose with her hands carefully folded upon her lap. A hint of smile was evident.
The story behind it was her father was testing a new invention when he persuaded her to pose. It took several hours, bracing themselves before a storm cloud threatened to roll in and ruin the shot. She thought the device would blow up in his face which in a way it did. He claimed his face remained black for several weeks afterwards.
This picture was one of the things she desired most of all to carry with her wherever she went. She walked over to the framing and carefully removed it from the wall, careful not to ruin it in any way. As it was removed, a small piece of paper dropped, losing its position from its confinement behind the picture for years.
Aimee bent down, carefully picking up the faded parchment and opening it with grace. Her fingers trembled as she did, wondering if through some grace this was from her mother and survived through the years.
Instead, the familiar writing of her father came through.
My Aimee, my love,
Should you read this, I fear my time has passed. I never meant to keep you away. Your mother and I desired so much for you. For you to be a brave woman. To face your challenges head on. To never cower when confronted by something larger than you believe you can handle.
Within the woods of Canter, there remains a castle. Hidden, the forest long since reclaimed its rightful property. I know its there. It's your birthright to claim it. Turn the mechanical bird's key upon the mantle four times. It will reveal the truth.
Yours forever, Papa.
Curious, she looked across the room at the mantle. Layers of dirt remained on it aside from two specific locations - the bronze mechanical bird and a rather old seeming candlestick. She climbed upon the stones lining the front of the fireplace, her heels hanging off the edge for lack of space, and retrieved the bird. Holding it firmly in her hands, she turned it over and wound the key.
