Chapter 2
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the scene was set, the silver-tinged ages of King Evan. the skies were still Grey, and the streets a mass of filth and those who lie in it. the cobblestones were worn and uneven, the houses were dirtied by the filth in the air, the rotting wood beams creaking with every visitor. yet this was considered the height of the era. the rules of society were reversed at this time, if you were rich; the countryside and lively nature was yours, and if you were unfortunately poor; the city blocks were yours, clogged with stony death.
a carriage bounced and rocked its way through the streets, the horses trotting in sync. the carriage was pure black-colored cedar wood, heavily fragrant and heading towards the royal palace and the top of the town. beggars and bitter peasants looked on with envy or distaste at the obvious high class entourage.
when it reached the heavily flower-bedded gardens of the palace, its curtains were withdrawn by a white-gloved hand. the young gardener, luckily standing by the fountain, had the pleasure of seeing this white-gloved hand, and almost immediately his interest was peaked. he threw his small spade back into the flowerbed by the hedge, and ran towards the castle, his white button up shirt pressed against his labor-built muscles. his brown mid-length hair tousled behind him, and his boots crunching small coral-based gravel with every stride in his youth.
hiding mischievously behind the rose bushes, he observed as a beautiful young woman exited the carriage, dressed in light blue and holding a lacy white parasol in her white-gloved hand, and another older woman--pressumably her mother--followed behind her, dressed in a vibrant red dress and a very tight corset with matching red make-up. the frown-lines on the mother's face warned of a strict and humorless personality, she was also wearing an odd feathered red hat, which appeared to give her a horned appearance. the young gardener chuckled at the resemblance to a demon in the flesh, but covered his mouth hastily and ducked his head as the mother looked in his direction with a dead serious glare.
she ushered her daughter into the estate, holding her nose high in the air as the daughter bowed her head nervously.
he squeezed one last glance at the pretty daughter, poking his head over the bushes to get as much of a look as possible. he was quickly whacked into the bush.
"ow!" he yelped,
"John, this is no place for the servants." scolded Jenkens the head butler,
"I know Jenkens, ill get back to work now" he dusted off his breaches and stood up.
"hmph"
just as the butler turned his up-turned pompous nose the other way, John promptly and with finesse raised his two front fingers. take that Jenkens, he thought.
he stomped his way around the east wall, right behind the other rose bushes and further out towards the rose bush and hedge maze, and into the servant entrance hidden behind a bent-back oak tree, now orange and red from the approach of fall.
shutting the old wooden door behind him with a bang, he startled the maids gossiping in the corner, who quickly giggled as he moved on towards the kitchens.
"goodness, isnt john looking rugged!!" the first girl squealed,
"yes yes! and sweaty from the sun!!" the second squeaked.
John rolled his eyes, all the maids are so attracted to me, but I'm only taking the best, he thought. he took two steps at a time up the stone spiral staircase, coming up to the end of the kitchen.
the room was made of smoothed-out stone and marble counters, metal meat hooks and drying rooms with the finest cookware for the King's many banquets. the garlics and spices imported from far off in the east hung dryly on the walls above the ovens, dried to be easily powdered to season otherwise tastless meats and pies. the king was incredibly un-fond of salt, and so no food could be stored by means of salt-drying. the chilled rooms instead sat off on the right wall, deeper into the building, and kept cool by imported ice and saved snow. the chill glint of the great metal doors and frames in the kitchen glinted sadistically, the knives mirroring their grins.
John ignored the raised hairs on his neck, then continued to squeeze himself past all the busy chefs preparing tonights feast. he held his head low, hiding from someone, when a large woman called out from behind him,
"JOHN!!" she yelled,
he flinched, and turned slowly to face Mistress Mari'e, the French head cook.
"hello there.. Mari'e" he said confidently despite his fear and respect for the woman.
"hello there?! HELLO THERE?!" she screamed, "iz that all you have to say monsieur?! i thought i told you to stay out in the gardens and finish all the work you rejected yesterday!!"
"oui" he mocked,
"don't you mock me monsieur. you back out and work this inst--"
"MARI'E!! we need some more waiters to serve tea to the guests, all of mine just went on break." interrupted a butler,
"I'm your man sir!!" called John,
"now wait a sec--"
john put his finger to her lips,
"no Mari'e, they need me!!" he smiled and ran off with the butler to quickly change.
"that boy is trouble.." Mari'e shook her head,
"did'n you raise tha'there boy Mari'e?" coughed Antoine, the old pastry cook peeking from under the vent of the cutting boards by Mari'e,
"yeah.." she sighed, "love him like a son, but sometimes I wonder ho he became so irresponsible." she scoffed, immediately chopping a small bird carcass in half.
YOU ARE READING
Bloody Conviction (discontinued)
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