Noel (ON HOLD)

Chapter 7: Let the Hungry Prey

~Zacharias~

I slept a sleepless night last night. Although the bed felt bigger, and significantly more comfortable, the previous day has left me quite weary. The stress is too much, my head is throbbing. I've decided to take part in the investigation at the church today, along with Francis. Perhaps we might have a break through. There has to be something there to help me identify the culprit, we're desperate.

I got up this morning with a groggy feeling in my stomach. I decided that Sebastian wasn't needed as much as usual today. I washed and dressed myself, I even cooked for myself. I readied my own horse and waited by the castle entrance for Francis. A little while later, he arrived on his horse, which galloped its way toward me. He didn't bother to say good morning, and went straight to the point.

"Why was Catherine sleeping in the manger?" He seemed quite annoyed. His blond hair was full of sweat, his eyes were full of fury. His arms were crossed and his teeth were clenched.

"To gain a personality. Why?" I'm quite surprised though. There are thirty-two guest rooms in this castle, and she never listens to me anyway. I had no idea she would actually sleep there.

"That bitch decided that it was a good idea to sleep with the animals. Is it my fault that Zayne here felt no shame pissing on garbage? And get this, the bitch demands money for her soiling her sleeping garments. I blame you, fucking arse. Control your bloody whore." I couldn't help but laugh.

"Actually, this is the first time ever that I felt like I have some control over Catherine. But enough of that, we have work to do." Francis seemed excited to work the investigation with me at a tender age of twenty. He must feel like he finally is making a mark here in the manor. This is his manor too anyway. With a smile on his face, and a sweet tune to his whistle, Francis and I happily rode along to the church, as if we were going on a hunting trip. Inside the safe walls of the palace were airless and suffocating at times. Bursting through the castle gates and riding against the wind was the sweetest feeling that ever touched my tender heart. My horse galloped at a heart rushing rate, and I felt the silent gushes of wind kiss my face. Summer is ending, the frost of fall is in the atmosphere. It's cool, brisk, and fresh. The sun is shining with a great and glistening translucency, and I can hear the soft and susurrus whispers of the trees. It's a beautiful day. Beautiful days are scarce nowadays.

When we got there, it was overflowing with knights. The knights of the church, the knights of inquisition, guardians of defense, every knight with stashes of honor in every color. It inspires me, I train these men, most of them I know well. Some of them were even around when my father was in power. They are true loyal knights.

"Well where do we even start?" Francis says, confused.

"We start by walking inside. C'mon now, hurry." Francis followed me nervously. In truth, I myself am very anxious walking toward the beautiful, intricate building. When I was young, I feared that God was looking down on me from his pedestal, watching me wallow in my shame for my love for which is profane. I was an unholy child, I had greedy desire for money, power, and sexual bliss. Even now, as I step on the careful polish marble, I fear God's hand would smite me down for my hunt for pleasure. But I must maintain my composure for Francis, for this heist, and for myself. The Vatican is relying on me. I am relying on me.

The great wooden doors are open for us, and we enter inside the nave. Our eyes slither up and down the walls. These walls were clothed with paintings of angels and cherubim strumming their harps and tuning their lyres. Stain glass show symbolic images of the lamb, of the cross, and of Christ. The walls were adorned with silver and gold, and even the mahogany pews had a shimmer of gold in their superior design. Beautiful indeed, but it feels much like every other first estate establishment: airless and suffocating. Priests and nuns scurry around among the knights. Francis was eyeing this nun with a pretty face and delicate hands.