Bittersweet Symphony

Lucille stood on her post. Obedient and quiet. As was expected of her. In front of her master's study, where he wanted her to be at that moment. So she was there. She was always there where he wanted her to be. That hallway, outside his study, had become ingrained in her mind. She knew every inch of wood and stone. Every stroke of every piece of art on the wall. If the clock, standing across the way, was ever off, she would hear it immediately. Knowing it's normal sound too well to notice any change. No matter how small. Some moments, on calm days, she would wonder around in her mind. Walk through the vague, incoherent memories of an old life. A dead life. A small escape in moments of dullness in her job. Today was not one of those days. It was calm at her post, yes—only the trusted ticking of the clock disrupted any silence in the hall, and the occasional adjustment of her feet—but in her thoughts there was an unrest. Behind the door were the muffled voices of her master and his guest. Lucille couldn't hear what was being said, and even if she could, she would never consciously listen in on the conversations he had, but she was listening intently. For changes in tone and movement of furniture or the soft stomping of feet over the carpet. The voices and footsteps came closer to the door. By the time the door opened, Lucille had already stepped aside, with her hands resting behind her back and keeping her gaze down, so the guest could leave—probably without noticing her. Dutiful as ever, she waited for the hall to be empty again.

She always trusted Matthew's judgment. He was a smart and well-prepared man. He knew what he was doing. But Lucille couldn't shake the uneasy feeling she'd had since the wedding plans were finalized. Or rather, the plans that came after. Matthew would leave with his young bride, only for a couple of days, once the ceremonial celebrations were done. A honeymoon he called it. A marriage practice unknown to the sun elf, but one she very much understood. But Lucille was to stay in Alderrath so her master could have some privacy with his new wife, and that was exactly what gave her this uneasy feeling. The wedding was mere days away. So after the last chime of the clock, at the fourth hour of the day, she relaxed her straight shoulders, turned to the door, and knocked. It wasn't a regular knock, however. Years ago, Matthew and Lucille had established their own simple way of communicating. Signals and words that were quick and private. Only they knew their meaning. Very necessary in troubled or unclear situations, when there was no time for words. Among them were several specific knocks. She used one to let him know it was her. Just her.

Lucille stepped into the study and closed the door behind her, laying her eyes on the man she had served for so many years. Her way of greeting him. Lucille knew that he wouldn't expect anymore guests today, hence why she took the opportunity to talk to him. She wasn't in a hurry, though. She unhooked the sheath of her sword, which was hanging on her back. Carefully placing it against the wall by the door. When she walked up to the big desk—she still hadn't said a single thing—she noticed his almost empty wine glass. Without asking—she didn't have to – she topped it off, walked around the desk, and handed it to him. With a hint of a cheeky smile on her lips. ”A very good year, I heard.” Hinting at the bottle of Matthew's own winery of which she just poured. Her finger caught one single drop, falling down the neck of the bottle, and brought it to her lips to taste. ”Hmm.. bittersweet.” Her eyebrows raised a bit in a pleasant surprise. Lucille hardly drank his wine, she needed to be clearheaded. But the few times she did, she could taste the effort her master put into his product. As always. ”Do you have a moment? I'd like to discuss some... concerns I have.”