'Bread, potatoes, milk and lamb.'
She slipped the small piece of white paper into the pocket of her brown jacket, falling to her knees. A wicker basket in her left hand, she bent down to grab her black scarf, which was hanging on the coat rack nailed to the wall.
She was ready to leave. As a conscientious servant, she checked her outfit one last time, as well as the presence of the small red canvas bag in her basket, before nodding her head, as if to herself. As she put her hand on the doorknob, she changed her mind, inhaled loudly, and turned on her heels, frowning, to trot over to the black wooden sideboard that was set up in the great hallway.
'I almost forgot the most important.'
She had almost forgotten the reason for this escapade.
'Letters.'
The pile had doubled in size since she had started getting ready.
'Odd.'
She didn't remember seeing anyone enter the hallway, but she didn't mind. Elvan must have added the letters of other family members to hers, when her back was turned. She was slightly surprised that he hadn't called out to her, given the scene he had witnessed a few minutes earlier.
'I don't know why I'm surprised...'
Elvan was after all a discreet man, whom she had rarely met in the mansion since her arrival. She was in that place all the time but had hardly ever caught a glimpse of him in nearly two years. During this period, the two had communicated via letters left in the large living room but had almost never been face to face. The manor wasn't that big though...
The place was spacious and big enough to accommodate more than a hundred people, but not so big that two of its inhabitants could ever pass each other without noticing each other.
Aina had even almost believed that he had completely disappeared, before catching a glimpse of him at the corner of a corridor a few days later.
'He is good at going unnoticed.'
Aina had never known what had occupied him all this time, but she settled for it. It was not her place to be curious about her superior's occupations.
So, she caught the letters with her fingertips, before slipping them into her satchel. This time she was ready to go. So she rushed outside and shivered under the effect of the icy wind, which almost burned her skin. She blew on her knuckles to warm her fingertips and sniffled. The winters were particularly cold in this place, because it overlooked the city like a mountain. Mechanically, she turned her eyes towards the mansion and saw a strange figure standing out from the darkness of the second floor.
'There is someone...'
The person was motionless, in front of the window, so much so that one could have mistaken it for a statue. She was like a black mass, of which Aina could not distinguish any of the features. She made the place look like a haunted house, but the young governess was not afraid. She used to see her every time she left the place.
Nobody was on the second floor, except maybe miss, but she couldn't quite see why the latter would waste her time staring at her without saying a word, like an owl from its branch in the night.
She didn't know who it was, or why this person was standing there, staring at her. All she knew was that this figure was there when she left and wouldn't have budged when she returned. This was always the case, no matter what.
Burying her neck into her shoulders, she pulled up her collar and hurried off towards the thick black forest that surrounded the mansion, ignoring the eyes that were on her person. She didn't have time to worry about that anymore, after all.
She had obligations and schedules to meet and didn't want to be reprimanded by the patriarch for ruining the family's monthly dinner.
'The banquet.'
It was not strictly speaking "a banquet", but everyone called it like that, because family gatherings in the manor were not common and were therefore always celebrated with a feast, that was rarely seen otherwise. Although the members of this prestigious family lived under the same roof, they rarely crossed paths with each other, which Aina had always found strange.
Even if these people were nobles, who in all circumstances had to be served by servants, their way of life was more than singular.
'What kind if mother would only see her own children once a month?'
A creak in the branches made her jump and she looked around her, worried. She didn't like the atmosphere of this place, in which no one dared to venture. She knew the way well and had done it many times, but she always had the feeling that she could get lost in the thick dark forest, which blocked the slightest ray of sunlight that would light her way.
Everything was frightening and unsettling, whether it was the twisted tree trunks that paved the road, split in the center by gaping holes resembling distorted mouths of dread, or the cracks and hisses of the animals that populated the wood.
This nightmarish natural wall was, however, a necessary evil, which had protected the Signavit for generations.
The legend said that only the inhabitants of the manor could cross it without getting lost, or going mad. So, you always had to be accompanied by one of them to hope to enter the place. The residence therefore had only a few visitors, who always announced their presence by letters, which Aina collected from the village, even if these occurrences were rare.
Aina didn't know when was the last time a stranger came within the walls.
'I don't think I've come across one since my arrival.'
Who would have wanted to go to such a place, without a good reason? If we add to this that the building was at the very top of a hill, which could only be reached after climbing for a good fifteen minutes, it was not surprising that no one was willing to risk it. And then... who would disturb the famous cursed family, whom everyone feared...?
'Nobody.'
No one would be crazy enough. The Signavits were also not very sociable people and therefore spent most of their time locked up in their homes, in their rooms with their strange aesthetics. It was as if they did not want to leave the place.
'Or couldn't.'
"Is there someone here?" she ventured, before the sound of the wind answered her.
'I must have been dreaming', she tried to convince herself, without succeeding.
Aina was a woman of common sense, who believed in nothing but reality and the things she saw, but she had the strange feeling of being observed. The feeling that something was hidden there, in the dark, out of sight.
Lost in her contemplation, she jumped when she heard the cry of a crow and didn't take another moment to turn on her heels and continue on the main road, which led to the village.
'I hate this place... It gives me goosebumps.'
It wasn't the first time she had been tasked with the important duty of retrieving the letters, but she still couldn't get used to the dismal path she had to take. As soon as she escaped from the forest, the crimson sky took on a beautiful blue color, as if she had passed through the door leading to another world. The diseased vegetation returned to its beautiful green color and the strange feeling she had felt earlier left her. The panorama of the city was so different from the one at the manor where she lived, without her being able to explain the reason. She rushed to the big mound, at the end of which was a small stone passage against the cliff.
'Rather a cornice.'
The path was steep and particularly narrow, so that few people would have dared to venture on it. The prominences of rock looked ready to crumble, but Aina knew better than anyone how strong it was. As dangerous as it seemed, she knew she could cross without restraint. This shortcut was perilous only in appearance, for those who knew every nook and cranny of it.
'Like me.'
For others, it was just a way to meet death a little earlier than expected.
'No wonder the nobles of the empire don't flock to our doors.'
The wind was blowing particularly hard at the top of the great valley, in the center of which the town stood out, slightly camouflaged by the low clouds which covered it with a greyish veil. She always felt like she was stepping into another world when she walked into town. She admired the green plain below for a few moments and rushed on the rock to make her way down.
It usually took more than two hours to get to the bottom, but her good knowledge of the land helped her get down in less than fifteen minutes. She was an expert at this.
She sighed, seeing the guards on the outskirts of town, standing straight as pickets on the sides of the great gate. They both wore thick, gleaming iron armor, as well as long swords that seemed sharp enough to slice through anything.
" Miss." one of the two men greeted her, the one who looked like a mountain.
She nodded in response and walked through the stone arch without saying a word.
"Still not talkative, I see." growled the other under his breath, smaller and puny.
"Greg!" the first one scolded him, slapping him with his palm on the back of the head.
Aina sighed, without even turning around. She came very regularly and the guards therefore always greeted her like this, seeing her between the ramparts. Yet she hardly ever answered them. It wasn't that she didn't want to, or that she didn't like them. She just wasn't very good at making conversation and especially to people who might ask her a whole bunch of questions about the family she served.
"All because she's the servant of the Signavit..." Greg continued, visibly annoyed, not even noticing that Aina heard him perfectly.
She heard the mountain scolding her colleague again, but didn't stop to continue watching their quarrel.
She had work to do and this kind of more than common misadventures should not slow her down in her task. Her attitude might have seemed like arrogance, but it was only caution, towards the villagers who could end up asking too many questions or his masters who would make her pay for her possible delay.
The Signavit family and its habits and customs was not a taboo subject, but there had always been an unspoken agreement between the servants of the manor and those they served, to stay silent about what was happening between the walls of the castle.
'Everyone knows Master Rage hates gossip.'
She didn't know what this man would do to her if she dared to spread rumors about him, even unintentionally. Thus, she preferred not to say anything, at the risk of sounding like an arrogant antisocial. Her life was, after all, worth more than her reputation in her eyes.
She wasn't there to make herself look good to others, even if the prospect of being judged by everyone didn't appeal to her.
'It's not like I have a lot of friends to begin with...'
Villagers were swarming in the marketplace, probably because of the nice weather. The stalls of the traders formed a wide alley, along the rust-colored cobblestones. The outskirts of the city where she was, were only very sparsely populated compared to the capital, but that did not prevent the place from being crowded, so much that she had the impression that all the surrounding hamlets would have come here.
She didn't like crowds very much, even in places she frequented often. So she hurried towards the large fountain, her little basket against her heart, to prevent it from falling under the onslaught of passers-by, between whom she desperately forced her way. Unlike the mansion, the place was noisy and bathed in the smell of grilled meat and the scent of spices that were arranged here and there for all to see.
'My clothes are going to smell bad again...' she thought, suppressing a grimace.
Her gaze slid over the small wooden houses that strewn the ground with a curious eye. Houses with blurred outlines and whose windows were bathed in darkness and without the slightest depth, as if there was only emptiness behind. The city was rather singular, without any relief, like an artificial decor... Like a photograph.
She spotted the butcher and approached him, ignoring the few curious looks that rested on her.
" Hello miss." he waved to her in a warm voice.
The young woman observed the faceless man, a vague smile on her lips. He was about forty years old and had told her that he had worked in this place for more than twenty years, with his wife who was in charge of producing the milk. Aina also saw her not far from him, particularly busy with a line of customers.
"Daniel." she replied, shaking her head, while the man was slicing a ham, with a huge cleaver.
He applied himself to cutting thin strips, the aroma reaching her almost immediately.
"What will it be today?" he questioned the young woman, wiping the smooth, empty skin from his face with the sleeve of his grayish, grease-covered shirt .
" Lamb."
The butcher stopped in his tracks and looked up at her, before the surface of his face creased. She had always found it more or less difficult to decipher the expressions of this man who was literally only a skull covered with hair, but had learned little by little to interpret the almost imperceptible movements of the cover of flat and shiny skin which served as his face.
'Like everyone else.'