Chapter 1
Start writing here…Thessalia looked at the revelry below her, her face a carefully crafted mask of impassivity. Rich colors littered the dance floor as if the god of art himself had donned his brush and placed them with broad strokes of paint. It truly was a sight to behold. Women with their hair pinned and placed in intricate styles that must have taken their maids hours to create in the hopes of drawing the eye of a powerful courtier. Men in their perfectly tailored finery standing aloof on the edges of the room, content to watch the others preen their appearance and strut about with a sense of inflated importance. Music filled every corner of the grand ballroom carrying the stories of great composers that time has forgotten the name of. Everyone carried on in the splendor, unaware of the woman that leaned upon the marble rail above them. Her eyes scanned the room once more before finding their mark.
His white jacket clung to his frame, buttons threatening to pop at any second due to his rounded belly. A grey beard speckled his cheeks as he laughed boisterously at something the man next to him said. His pudgy fingers loosely gripped the golden glass chalice, plum wine sloshing viciously with every guffaw. His name was Lord Brant. A successful merchant from Zolstin, he lived the way all of the upper class do as loved to gorge himself on wine and throw opulent soirees such as this. Typically, he spends hours chatting and drinking until his mind is swimming then he quietly excuses himself to retire to his quarters and sleeps well into the next day when the sun hangs in the middle of the sky. Tonight was no different. She watched from above as the Lord parted ways with his companion and abled his way up the large staircase towards her his gait slightly swaying. As he reached the top of the stairs she felt his eyes greedily rake up and down her slender form.
“Now now,” he playfully chides, walking up to her, “Why would such a delectable creature like you be doing up here all on your own? And with no drink no less!” There were many qualities known about Lord Brant, namely his persistent greed for anything he deemed beautiful. Women most of all were his favorite to claim.
Thessalia simply tilted her head towards the man a simpering smile upon her blood red lips. “I simply was looking at the beauty of the room my Lord. One cannot appreciate such a thing to its fullest without a proper view. The art called to me up here. You must forgive my brazenness for intruding up here.”
“Fear not my child. I understand what it means to be called by the art.” He soothed sliding his sweaty hand to rest along the small of her back gently steering her towards him, “But I must say, if it is art you seek, I am selfish and hide the best away from the world inside my private quarters for they do not deserve to be in its presence. I see though that you would be better suited in there than here with the rest. Come, I shall show you.”
The two walked through the seemingly endless corridor before stopping in front of a set of doors gilded in golden adornments. The soft moonlight streamed through the window and glinted off the intricate gold leaves and vines. The Lord’s fleshy hand pushed open the door and he ushed her in before closing it behind her with a soft thud. She slowly looked around the room cataloging not only the various paintings that hung on the walls but also the 3 windows that stood tall on the far wall cascading thick beams of moonlight within the room, filling it with an ethereal glow. “Tell me Lord Brant, what all have you paid to get such beauty within your grasp?”
“You would be surprised how far my name and gold can carry.”
She hummed noncommittally before turning to look out at the silver orb that hung in the sky, “I fear you have not paid enough for all of the beauty that you seem to be surrounded with.”
“Who are you to tell me the price of such things? Do you not know who I am? I am Lord Harlow Brant of Zolstin!”
“Oh, I know much about you Lord.” She crooned, stepping into the light, turning to face him finally, “You are the man who steals young girls from the streets only to bring them to one of your pleasure houses and use them as you wish, only to slit their throats when you tire of them finally.”
“Who are you? You know not of what you speak! I shall have you hanged for your slander!” he bellowed, wagging a finger at her as his sweat slick face reddened in anger.
“You have played this game of yours for long enough. It is only now that you pay for your theft of the beauty of the youth because you have made a misstep with one of these girls. She managed to escape your brothel and found me. I am your debt collector.” Her eyes began to glow like molten silver as she raised one hand towards the man. His feet began to slide against the plush white carpet towards her, fear dripping out of every pore.
“Witch.” He breathed, “I demand you unhand me this ins-” His demand was suddenly cut short by her grip around his throat. Eyes wide, he could do nothing to stop her for his body no longer responded to him.
Thessalia pulled him into her, so his back was against her chest and tilted her face to his, her lips gently brushing against the shell of his ear, “With this your debt is paid. A life for a life.” She slid the lock on her ring allowing for the small silver claw to spring to life over her index finger and brought it to the Lord’s neck and sliced along the front cleanly through his windpipe. She finally dropped her hold on him and stepped back listening to the soft gurgle of his dying breaths. “Remember this as you face the gods. You have paid for one life. There are many more for which you must pay for.” With that final promise his chest heaved once more and deflated for the last time. With blood pooling the ground she walked calmly to the water basin in the corner and washed her hands then returned to the gala and walked out the front door to return to her home.
