Lady Laile

Lysanda hurried along the servants passage, opening the door that led into the dining room. She slid into the room and stood beside another servant next to the ornate fire place, head bowed. The mistress stormed into the room, Finnian and his younger brother, Sebastian, sauntering along in her wake. Finnian eyed her cautiously, before grinning with the smile a lion gives a gazelle. He took the place on his mother's right, while Sebastian took the left.

"Now, grotesques, don't mess this up." snapped the mistress. "This visit with Lady Laile is important to my family. If we don't get this agreement, we'll lose this house; all of you will loose your jobs too and you'll all be out on the street, starving. So big smiles, no dropping any food, no shuffling and absolutely no talking unless you're given permission."

Lysanda wasn't nervous, she had served big, important guests before and the biggest key to success was remaining calm. The servant on her right was shaking visibly and beads of sweat gathered at her temples. At that moment, Lady Laile, burst through the doors, strutting like a vibrant peacock. Now Lysanda had seen some strangely dressed normals before, but never such a frivolous costume as Lady Laile's. A few months ago dresses, drawn at the waist but soft and flowing, where in fashion(in all sorts of horrifying, lurid colours of course). But from what Lady Laile was wearing, Lysanda could tell that fashion had moved on.

Lady Laile wore a silver dress with the appearance of wet seal skin, formed with a long, long bustle train. Small diamond shapes of gold, and Lysanda knew it was gold because Lady Laile was one of the richest people in the land, where hand sewn in ornate patterns. The dress seemed to move and breathe like the terrible armor of a dragon. Lady Laile's dark hair was pulled up into a tight bun that was so rigid, it didn't move when she did, but sat atop her hair like a painful crown.

There was a lot of clinking a Lady Laile was assisted into an antique chair, said to be at least 550 years old and owned by the 2nd Queen Elizabeth. The mistress, Finnian and Sebastian also sat down at the mahogany table. Finnian's fingers drummed a beat on the table.

"Bring the wine to show her Ladyship." the mistress said, her voice sickeningly sweet and smarmy. One of the servants scurried off and came back holding two bottles. One wine was a delicate purple while the other was a deep indigo.

"Ah, how lovely. My favorite sort of wine." Lady Laile exclaimed, her clawed hands reaching for the servant. "Pour me some, grotesque."

The servant complied then returned to her position.

"Let us have our meal, then we'll talk." the mistress concluded, beckoning with her hand to say they should bring the main course in.

Lysanda and four others made a hectic dash for the kitchen and grabbed the food. Lysanda had grabbed a large platter that had a stuffed swan on it, surrounded with candied carrots and caramelized apples. The nervous servant, whom Lysanda only knew to be called Hera, had taken the large, floral soup tureen. They came back to the dining room, in a almost procession like way, and laid the food out upon the table. But poor Hera was so nervous, she dropped the soup tureen. On lady Laile's lap.

Lady Laile leapt up furiously, her shining dress ruined. Hera backed away, terror and horror mixed on her face.

"You there, grotesque, take Lady Laile to the guest bedroom and help her dress in something suitable." the mistress pointed to Lysanda. "Your ladyship, I am most terribly sorry. I'll deal with the disobedient grotesque myself."  

Lysanda gulped but lead Lady Laile to the guest bedroom. She unlaced Lady Laile's dress and slipped it off. The metal coating of her dress had prevented the venison and pheasant soup from getting her petticoat. Lady Laile selected a beaded dress that rippled and changed depending on the lighting, which Lysanda helped her into.

"Did you know her?" Lady Laile asked, turning towards Lysanda. Lysanda hesitated, unsure whether on not to speak. "Well?"

"Not very well, your Ladyship, only her name." Lysanda mumbled, looking down at her feet.

"Hmph. I hope she gets lynched." Lady Laile snapped, turning towards the door. "Lead me back, grotesque."

Lysanda complied and lead Lady Laile back. When they arrived back in the dining room, the mistress and her two sons where sitting down. Lysanda noticed that Apollinia was in the room; she was mopping up a rather large puddle of blood. Hermida and another servant had picked up Hera and where dragging her towards the servant's door. All the other servants had faces of pure horror, but some had both pity and disgust on their faces too.

Everyone knew what was going to happen, and a look of triumph shone on Lady Laile's face. It was in situations like these where the rich and royal showed their true colours. Hera was going to join the list of caught revolutionaries and traitors. Tomorrow at dawn, just like the rest of them, she would be hung until nearly dead, then crucified. By 7:00, her corpse would be nailed to a cross along the 2000 km road to Opalice, the capital city. Lysanda stepped around Apollinia and joined the other servants, continuing her job as a server rather than risk being lynched and crucified too.

Author's Note

Capital city of Opalice.
Pronunciation: Oh-pul-iss

Reviews

[Sean Cairns]

You've done a great job of creating the normals and their superiority; I really feel for the grotesques! You keep adding more details to the context and setting that make this world unfold for the reader to understand. This is pretty damn good!

[Maddi]

Thanks! I know it's not my best work, but I feel like it's getting better. (: