Prince Gyllen Ch. 14

"Oh, there's plenty lurkin' out there that COULD attack ya." Wolsing chortled. "But I doubt anyfin' really WOULD, 'least nuffin' on the road we're takin'. The wolves 'ere see me as sumfin' o' a kindred spirit, believe it or not. In fact, ya might even go so far t' say I'm part o' the pack!" He then suddenly snapped his neck and head back, facing heavenwards to the night sky, before unleashing a potent howl from powerful lungs, imitating the animals and startling the prince from how unprovoked it was, even making the unaware Min jump in her seat. The most unsettling part, however, was that the wolves seemed to respond to his unanticipated noise with their own cries...

"As long as ya keep yer arms and legs inside the carriage at all times, ya'll probably live t' see t'morra." He laughed again at his own macabre joke. As Gyllen began to believe he would have been better off not consulting the driver in the first place, he looked ahead and only just now realised how little the coach's single lamp was lighting the path ahead, yet they were travelling at quite the rapid momentum in spite of the limited clarity.

"I say, can you see very far?" Gyllen asked, concerned that they may end up having a nasty collision with passing deer or fallen log.

"Oh, don' ya worry 'bout that, Mr. Gylly. I can see jus' perfickly from up 'ere." Wolsing responded. The prince had his doubts though the driver did appear to be confident in his abilities enough to not necessitate further worry.

"Don' know what yer on about." Min chimed in, looking out the opposite window. "I can see jus' fine too."

"Min, that's because goblins have natural night-vision..." Gyllen reminded her.

"Oh, yeah! I keep forgettin' you guys don' have that. Man, mus' be a real pain in the arse t' be human." The goblin snickered before something else snatched her attention. "Oi! I think I can see the castle now! Take a goosey!"

Gyllen had to strain his eyes more than the non-human, but managed to just barely make out the vague shape of a few spires and battlements perched atop a high cliff, towering high above the crowns of the pines and against the pale light of the waxing moon. They reached the foot of the final incline before long and started to steadily spiral upwards. At about the half-way point on the rise, small white flakes began to slowly descend from the sky. Wondering what they could possibly be, Gyllen outstretched his hand from the window and caught one in his palm only to have it vanish in an instant, making him understand them to be very fine flakes of snow! At this time of year? It was highly unusual, even if it was extremely slight.

Shortly after the climb had concluded, the prince and Min found themselves standing before the imposing, oppressive castle as more of the ethereal powder fell around them. Up-close and in the radiance of burning braziers lined upon the walls, the pair could now clearly see the structure to amount to little more than a gloomy, decrepit ruin, weather-worn and battle-damaged over the course of centuries, though they could still discern remnants in the architecture here and there of what a majestic palace it must have been back in its prime.

"Well, 'ere we are, kiddies. 'ope it was EXACTLY to yer expectations and more" Wolsing sarcastically tittered from his roost. "Tell Liz I said 'hi' for me, will ya? Gotta dash now."

"Well, thank you for your help in any case, Mr. Wolsing." Gyllen said to him out of polite obligation. "Oh! One last thing: could you come to pick us back up again in three days?"

"Hmm...I'm sure I can slip that into me schedule at some point...if ya don' end up becomin' permanent guests of the countess, that is." The cab driver replied. "Lizzie's 'ospitality is to die for. Some people even end up stayin' for yonks! So jus' mind ya don' find yerselfs gettin' sucked in by her mystique. 'specially YOU, me li'l green filly..." His gleaming eyes trained directly onto Min as he spoke his final (and casually speciesist) sentence in a grave tone. Although the meaning behind this specific, unwarranted addressal was lost on her, the redhead could still not help but feel a hint of dread trembling from the recesses of her gut as their stares met, his filled with deathly seriousness for the first time tonight.

Wolsing made a second trill and the horses rode him and his cart back down the trail, disappearing into the night, leaving the two travellers alone before the entryway to the elusive Castle Şolomanţă. They continued onwards to the double doors of oak and metal, each at least twice the height of the prince and marred with a massive, grotesque knocker. The two briefly looked to one another and mutually shrugged before Gyllen lifted the heavy, cold wrought-iron band and slammed it against the thick wood three times in succession. They waited a full minute before their knocking was answered by the clamour of a hefty bolt being unlatched from the other side of the portal, followed by the cumbersome, left-hand door unhurriedly groaning marginally inwards.

A tall, slender woman slid forth from the open crack, holding an ornate, three-armed candelabra in one hand. The candles illumed her striking golden-brown hair: elegantly styled into a fairly short semi-bob, slightly longer at the back than it was at the sides. This contrasted greatly with the pallid appearance of her face, with frowning, deep-vermillion lips and haggard, rosewood eyes seemingly being the only signs of pigmentation upon her otherwise perfect, symmetrical features. In spite of all that, however, she still somehow gave the impression of a distinguished personage replete with imperial dignity. Perhaps it was her sophisticated poise as she stood shoulders above the visitors, or maybe it was her venerable sense of dress as the vintage, black-and-burgundy gown she was outfitted in appeared as though it existed only to be worn by her and her alone. Her age remained somewhat difficult for Gyllen and Min to pinpoint, thanks to her drawn countenance, though they would estimate her to be about sometime in her 30s if they had to guess.

"I bid you...welcome." The woman spoke in a calm, rhythmic tone.

"Um, good evening." The blonde greeted her in turn, astounded by her regal comeliness. "I am Prince Gyllen, of Platina, and this is Min, my...erm...aide. Could you let Countess Elizabeth Mircalla know we've arrived, please? She is expecting us."

"I am she." The Countess replied.

"Oh, a thousand pardons, my good lady!" The blond frantically apologised and bowed before her. "Forgive me, but I assumed you were one of the staff."

"The servants...they have retired for the night." The timbre of Mircalla's words was unusual to their ears, even for a foreign accent, but were tranquilising, almost hypnotic, to listen to all the same. Gyllen was certainly feeling drowsy from just hearing her speak, though that also probably had something to do with how late the evening was becoming. On the other hand, Min let out a blunt yawn to confirm her sleepiness. "The journey to reach this place was long, I do not doubt. Allow me to take your bag."

"Oh, no! We couldn't possibly trouble you with that, especially after our tardiness!" The prince objected, about to reach for his case himself but pulled his paw back as the Countess' own extended hand reached it before him.

"I insist. You both must be exhausted." She said, lifting the luggage to her side without issue. It was not an especially densely-packed bag by any means, but Mircalla made carrying it seem as effortless as breathing, belying the thinness of her arms. It may have come across as uncanny to some, though Gyllen's mind rather went straight to concerning over the fact he may have been feebler than he had initially thought...

"Supper has already been prepared for you. If you will follow me. Please."

Gyllen and Min walked beside the Countess as she guided them through the grand, candlelit corridor at a deliberate, near automatic, pace, vacantly gazing only dead ahead in her stride and making no further attempts at conversation with her two guests. The prince felt far too awkward to spark any subjects while they walked through the monotonous hallway, the only sounds produced being his and Min's muffled footsteps hitting against the carpeted flooring. At least, that was the case until the redhead eventually grew sick of the silent treatment and finally spoke up:

"Oi! Too tall, too slow! Where are we gonna kip?" The goblin flagrantly interrogated the older woman from out of nowhere.

"M-Min! Manners!" Gyllen alarmingly upbraided his friend, freezing in his tracks from the shock of her unmerited cheek. "Oh, please pardon my companion, Countess! She is not used to-"

The prince's sentence was cut short, however, by Mircalla letting out what could have only been approximated to her laugh, albeit one which sounded very stilted as each separate 'ha' was spoken separately and with emphasis, rather than all uncontrollably pouring out at the one time. As such, some may have interpreted it to be ironic or mocking mirth made directly prior to a severe reprimanding, but the raised corners on her mouth seemed to confirm her amusement to be genuine enough.

"It has been far too long since I last laughed like this..." She said once her levity had ceased, a wavering tone of depression present in her voice. "I will direct you to your chambers once you have supped."

"Uh, thanks...I guess..." Min replied, nonplussed by the Countess' unexpected response to the jibe.

"Seeing as we have been momentarily halted, allow me to take the opportunity to tell you this is where my library is held." Mircalla said, this time directly addressing Gyllen as she indicated a set of cream doors behind her, adorned with golden knobs and a floral motif. "I understand that was your main reason for coming this far, was it not, young prince?"

"O-oh, yes, that's right. I'll definitely take a peek first thing tomorrow morning!" He answered with a simulated smile, attempting to sound enthused even with the intimidation he felt of being under the noblewoman's sinister glower, despite her alien gaiety mere seconds prior. "But you make it sound like that's the ONLY reason we're here, Lady Mircalla. We're also looking forward to enjoying your hospitality."

"I regret to inform you that I am not one for entertaining much. My business often takes me away from the castle for most of the day. You likely won't see me tomorrow until at least late afternoon." The Countess explained. "Truth be told; I was not long in before I answered your knocking."

"Ah, I see. How unfortunate..." The blond expressed his disappointment. "A place as historic as this must have many fascinating stories moulded from within its walls. I was looking forward to hearing them."

"Speaking of dinnertime, however..." The Countess diverted the topic once they had reached the end of the extensive corridor, reaching over to swing the double-doors wide open for her guests to enter, unveiling a sumptuous dining room before them. A long, mahogany table made up the centrepiece of the chamber, set with a white, linen tablecloth and three antique chairs: two located on either end with the remaining one situated midway between the extremes. Atop the table's surface, a lavish feast was prepared and presented amongst opulent silverware for the visitors, consisting of - but not limited to - roast chicken, steamed vegetables, caviar, aubergine salad and red wine. Other fixtures in the hall included a large, roaring fireplace behind the table which kept the room comfortably heated, a crystal chandelier suspended from the ceiling that emitted a brilliant light and a gargantuan full-body portrait of a beautiful woman that hung above the blazing hearth, the paint had significantly darkened with age and dust, but the masterful brushwork which had captured the subject's splendour remained indisputable.

Gyllen and Min were directed to seat themselves on either edge of the rather excessive table, while the Countess herself sat down in the remaining space. Almost immediately, the goblin began to barbarically gorge down on any slices of ham her stubby arms could seize, having not eaten a single thing since breakfast that morning, periodically taking quaffs from her drink between morsels. The prince had barely enough time to lay his napkin across his lap before having to reflexively jerk his head aside out of mild disgust from Min's absent etiquette, finding himself now intuitively looking in his host's direction to seek a form of like-minded correspondence, and instead realising she had no plate or cutlery before her with which to eat.

"Aren't you going to have anything, Countess?" Gyllen asked, restricting himself until Mircalla made her first bite.

"I dined shortly before you arrived. I am no longer hungry." She replied. "Do not mind me. Fill yourselves to your heart's content."

"Not even a drink?" The blond inquired once again.

"I never drink...wine." The Countess answered. Gyllen was a little bewildered by this statement but just as quickly disregarded it when he personally partook some of the beverage, feeling the delicious nectar smoothly slip down his throat like liquid rubies. Not a bad selection at all for someone who was apparently not a connoisseur of the stuff.

As he reclined in his chair and enjoyed the light liquor, Gyllen played art critic and began admiring the painting on the wall which dominated the decor, quickly taking note on how the person portrayed in the pastels bore a striking likeness to the good countess herself. In fact, it was more than a likeness: it was her exact duplicate! Right down to the same slender build and similar sombre mien, albeit with much longer tresses and a brighter-dyed outfit.

"I say, Lady Mircalla, has anyone ever told you that you bear an extraordinary resemblance to the woman in the portrait? A distant ancestor of yours, perhaps?" The prince further questioned.

"Something of the sort." The Countess equivocally confirmed.

"My, even your names are identical!" Gyllen exclaimed in amazement as read the plaque that adorned the frame: 'Elizabeth Mircalla, 1399'. "Now that's a scary coincidence if I ever saw one: to be named after someone only to end up looking just like them once you have grown up? Why, if it wasn't for the fact the painting was dated over 200 years ago, I could have easily believed it to be one of you commissioned only just last week!"

"We of Dacian noble blood have a high reverence towards our forebearers. It is said that the soul of an ancestor will live on through body of a descendant who bears the same name." Mircalla went on to explain. Even Min had paused in her snacking to listen in on the Countess' story. "Countess Mircalla...my predecessor, that is...she was not a perfect woman, but she had a good heart all the same, and was an excellent lover too...or so I have been informed. However, she made a foolish mistake one day and lost everything she ever held dear on this earth as a consequence, including her life."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I did not mean to dredge up any familial tragedies." The prince pardoned himself.

"It's quite alright. It's all so very far in the past now..." She stated, taking a solemn turn in both tone and look. "I could not change the way things happened...no matter how much I want to."

The mood had been exponentially brought down in a scant few sentences, the melancholic wind wailing harshly through the broken bulwarks now being the solitary sound of note. Min resumed her binge, though showed far more notable restraint in her devourings from then on, while Gyllen had lost much of his appetite, taking only a few nibbles here and there as a tense atmosphere of discomfort swamped the vicinity. The Countess' closing statement stayed on his mind, however...or rather the way in which she said it. There was something about her word choice and inflection which bothered him in a way which he could not quite place his dainty finger on. It was as though there was something more personal in her anecdote than she was willing to let on, but he felt he was no longer in the moral position to probe any further and decided to drop the notion entirely.

It was during this voiceless period when Gyllen first caught Mircalla intently staring at his goblin confidant while she ate, the spark in the noblewoman's eyes not unlike that of a starving man peering into a baker's shop window. At first, he thought that, perhaps because of the Countess' reclusive lifestyle, she was not accustomed to interacting with non-humans very often, if ever at all, and found herself morosely fascinated by Min's appearance. Whatever the case, Gyllen thought it to be highly rude on Mircalla's part but, again, he did not feel he was in the right to dictate their generous host's (admittedly harmless) behaviour. Min herself did not even seem cognizant of the fact anyway, or at the very least did not mind now being the spotlight of the Countess' attention. Odin knows Gyllen was all too familiar with that particular partiality of hers...

Once their meal was completed and their hunger substantially satiated, Mircalla quietly returned to the palace's foyer with the prince and the goblin in tow before ascendeding two sets of grand, marble staircases towards the third floor. The visitors followed her down another long stretch of passageway, to the point where both of them were wondering if she was leading them anywhere at all definitive. They must have walked all the way to the very corner of the castle before they arrived outside a generic, brown door.

"This is where you shall be sleeping, Madam Min. Breakfast shall be prepared for you in the dining room when you wake, and dinner will be served promptly at six o'clock." She addressed the goblinoid before beginning to walk back down the hall. "Now, young prince, if you shall follow me, I'll take you to your chambers..."

"Oh, you can save yourself the trouble, milady. We don't mind sharing a room." Gyllen innocently said. "Isn't that right, Min?"

"Yeah. Gyl here can get reeeal lonely." The redhead added.

"You two are not...lovers, are you?" She pivoted around and asked them both with a thin, raised eyebrow. Gyllen and Min then both turned and looked to each other blankly for a brief second before responding with synchronised protests:

"Oh, no, no no!" Even the goblin's freckled cheeks were burning brightly from the bold assumption, seeing as intimate relationships that extended further beyond guilt-free fornication tended to be seen as abnormal amongst goblinkind.

"We're just...very close friends." The prince clarified.

"Then, please, I insist..." She said with stressed enunciation, staring deep into the prince's sapphire eyes. "Your room has already been fully prepared for you."

"Y-yes, maybe I shall..." Gyllen shuddered, feeling as though Mircalla just walked over his grave from her penetrative glare, yet still found himself compelled to follow her instructions as her mesmeric cadences reached his ears, so much so to the point where he very nearly forgot to wish his travelling companion a satisfying sleep. "Oh! Uh, pleasant dreams, Min. Try not to lie in."

"Nighty night, Goldie~" Min playfully wiggled her fingers farewell as the prince and Countess began to take their leave. "It'll be refreshin' to get some peace and quiet in bed for once." Without waiting to watch them vanish down the other end of the passageway, she reached up and pulled down on the door's curved handle, pushing it inwards to set foot inside the bedroom she would be making herself at home in for the following three nights.

The capacity of the accommodation was roughly twice that of Min's entire apartment back in Platina and had been filled with many additional thriftless furnishings to boot. Just to list a handful of examples, directly opposite from where she had entered was a balcony door of clear, paned glass - through which she could see lead out onto a small terrace on the other side that overlook the castle grounds. Against the wall to her left was a queen-sized, four-poster bed of matching carmine covers and drapes, along with uniform yellow embroidery running all across the sheets, while to her right was what looked to be a darling dressing table belonging to a by-gone period, though its mirror appeared to be missing, and next to that hung a canvas representing a scene of a small countryside village, not dissimilar to the hamlet she and the prince found themselves almost stranded in a couple of hours ago.