A Forest On Fire

When The Morning Came

When the morning came, Lydia had readied their carriage on the side of the road. She looked upon it with such a potent feeling of indifference she surprised even herself. Lydia should have been feeling something. Victor and Oliver had escaped them for now; indeed, she should have been angry! Yet she could not shake this emptiness, this emotional rut Lydia found herself buried in. A part of her was annoyed. Still, she did not do a thing to change it. It might have been strange, coming on so suddenly, but she felt there was something more to happen, something larger. Pinpointing the sensation was like groping and stumbling in the dark in search of a light. There is a subtle idea of one, memories guiding your movements in its direction, but nothing is sure in the darkness. You know only vaguely where you are moving; nervous anticipation builds up in your chest, in your arms, in your legs, like water against a dam until you brush up against something, touch something, feel something. Is it what you seek? You do not know. Will you turn and check? Perhaps not. Nothing is sure in the darkness.

It was with this sense of dissociation and apprehensiveness that Lydia and the Governor set forth to the province of Luije. Lydia did not voice her hesitation. How could she? She felt pity for her Governor. Elliot failed to find Victor and Oliver, failed to find anything about Delilah's murder, failed to locate Vincent, failed to imprison Émile. It hurt Lydia to even think about it. So to prevent Elliot from doing something, saving someone, was against what Lydia lived for; that is, the Governor herself. This may have been the chance for Elliot to prove herself as a Governor, as much as it pained Lydia to admit that she needed to, despite Lydia's creeping intuition to avoid entering Luije entirely.

And thus she let it happen. Without interruption, they entered the tiny province hours early for the scheduled meeting, which had been specifically instructed by Olsson Lévêque, the Governor of Luije. Elliot assumed that he wanted to speak to her about something, something outside of the meeting, but the news of this only made Lydia's anxiousness grow like a patch of weeds. It had begun to rain when they were invited into Olsson's mansion.

Like a gentleman, Olsson went out to greet them and offered them his umbrella, but Olsson was far from a gentleman. Despite his efforts to hide the fact, Lydia could see it in his stiff manner, his sharp, glaring eyes; she could see it in the way he spoke to them with his mocking voice that sounded so aloof and cold one could hardly tell who he was addressing unless he said a name. Olsson was old, older than Abraham, but he did not act so. His balding head was incessantly titled arrogantly upward as if the simple act of looking downward would taint his dignity. Olsson's entire façade embodied the dreadful rain that pounded on the roof. He carried about him a dark, solemn air that caused dread to creep into the eyes of any bystander watching him along. Certainly they were not thrilled to be in Olsson's presence.

However, the Governor of Chlealiva was the opposite in the truest sense of the word; he was a breath of fresh air, a gleam of sunlight in this rainy gloom. Young, fresh, and full of life was Achille Laurentin. The province of roses was a fit for the man, for so closely did he seem to personify the brilliant blooms that any other land would have been a grave disgrace to his appearance and, indeed, his behavior. Achille was the true gentleman of the duo, and Olsson could sense this. All that can be said is that it is no wonder Chlealiva and Luije have not intermingled with one another in recent years. The poor old man is sick with jealousy- a horribly petty but characteristic thing of him. But it is no wonder. Any average man would be the same if they saw Achille's blond, silky hair, his near flawless skin, and his dazzlingly blue eyes. His temperament, too, went well with his image; Achille was gentle and soft when he spoke and touched and looked but pulled it off so as not to be condescending to whomever had his attention.

Elliot and Lydia were not fazed by it, for they were not here to admire or grimace in disgust at another's looks. When they were seated in Olsson's parlor,- likely due to Lydia's status as an assistant, she was not given a seat, but Achille graciously offered her his and stood beside Olsson- he got right to the point as to the reason he expected them all there so early.