Lair of Luxury

IV | Sepulture

IV. Sepulture

Death had no boundaries.

It had multiple definitions. I faced death when mother vanished from my life, not returning. Ever since she boarded that train, she never came back. I grew, with a pang staking my heart, one that could never be taken out. Death must be a fucking crime for it had left a scar. Perhaps it wasn't death to blame.

Pushing the thoughts of mother out of my head, I stood on a patch of grass where I could see graves protruding from the ground.

Above, the sky seemed to join Helmburn in weeping, with its swelling clouds, begging to mourn tears of rain.

Somehow, I found it stupefying how time could no longer grasp us. When time had let go, it was time for us to let go as well. In one of the books I read which was penned by Atherton Herrera, he had quoted, "Change begins within, and in time, change can be good or bad."

Call me a book nerd, but books opened a window of an alternate reality, or perhaps, an echo to reality.

Whether I was headed for good or bad, I found change a risky path to take.

Then, I detached from the swirling thoughts in my mind to look into the present. There were pale faces, those shadowed by sorrow that their monarch had been taken.

"The weather as of the moment is quite opposite from the morning," Rosalie remarked when she slipped into view beside me. She was holding a black umbrella to shield herself from the gazing gray clouds. "Queen Amice's death got a throng drawn in. Simply put, she's been the better one than her mother."

"Queen Victoria has always been depicted as strict according to the books, and some articles." I replied.

"Some articles are frauds trying to make their way to the headlines," Rosalie said in a calm mock tone.

"Sort of factual," I responded.

"Guaranteed, and factual," Rosalie whispered. "According to the gossip ladies that is. I'm part of a circle, as you may have already known."

A question clicked. "Do those gossip ladies have any, and I mean, any information on the assassination?"

"There are rumors that Lady Deanne has been smuggling to fill her lack of excuses about the sudden absences during parliamentary conferences," said Rosalie.

"What else?" I lifted an eyebrow, while my eyes darted everywhere.

"Another one is about the Opera House. Shady. There's always a guard there for the night, but a break-in? I am not certain if it links to the assassination though."

"What materials went missing after the event?" I asked.

"A jaguar costume for a theatre actor who was supposed to play a feral animal during one of the scenes of The Crown. Apparently, Mrs. Hiles is on the path of repairing before the big show. She wants to make sure that Princess Salome finds exquisite entertainment," said Rosalie.

The upcoming show could possibly be a trap to lure in the crown.

A break-in sounded like an attempted silent heist to masquerade in a costume.

The question remained. Why?

These rumors seemed far off, straying from the focal point which was Queen Amice, but a connection was possible.

Before long, familiar faces had arrived. The Heads of Houses, the Parliament representatives, and Aunt Genevieve with a morose look attached to her face.