The orphanage about a mile from town proper. It was a long building with two wings each two stories high made of a dark stone and a center building with lighter stone block. All three parts of the building contained windows placed every twelve feet or so along the walls on both floors. One wing was strictly for the boys, the other strictly for the girls.
The central portion contained one window to each side of the double-wide entry door. The entire building was whitewashed with the aim to make it look more habitable, inviting, and friendly. To me, it missed its mark, looking anything but friendly, or inviting. Looking at it from here, I'm still not sure it was habitable either.
Surrounding the house stood a wrought iron fence twice my height with points at the top of each upright strut. A hedge of multiflora roses and briars bordered of the inside the fence further giving it the appearance of a prison instead of a friendly place for parentless children. Keeping up with the idea it could be a prison, children were often known to attempt escape from the orphanage in the hopes of living with anyone else, particularly once one or more of their friends were adopted or apprenticed.
Beside the locked gate, a bellpull was hung with a wrought iron ring attached to the rope keeping it from slipping back through the hole in the fateway above and being lost in the yard. From here I could see the rope extended toward the center building likely going to a bell within. I reached up grabbed the large iron ring giving it a tug. Even at this distance I could hear a bell ring from somewhere within. Looking through the gate, I could see faces filling the windows on the second floor. Most of the left wing's windows and five of the right wing's windows filled with children some appearing younger than I, but more than a few right around my age.
During the festival, every child within the orphanage over the age of five could attempt to test for an apprenticeship with one of the craftspeople or with a wizard, either of which would let them move out of the orphanage. They could also attempt the knightly trials to become a page, but I hadn't heard of any trying this yet. Occasionally, one of more children would escape during the festival, but most would return on their own or be found later and returned. No one knows what happens to those who didn't return.
Upon waiting several minutes, I was thinking of giving the ring another tug when the front door opened. A tall black-haired woman wearing a pristine black robe walked out of the door across the stone porch, then down the steps. Each movement of her body was crisp as if she wanted to waste no energy not expressly needed in order to walk. Hanging by her sides even her pale hands didn't move, nor did any sort of expression fill her milky white face. Her hair looked equally frozen in place, not even the light breeze dared to move it.
Watching her walk down the long stone walkway leading to the gate, something about her made a chill pass through my body. I don't know what, but something about her made me feel so uncomfortable, my stomach started to twist. The closer she came, the more I started to look around wishing there was someone with me. My breathing was getting quicker, my heart was speeding up the closer she got. She didn't say a word as she continued to walk in those eerie no-wasted-motion steps. With her robes hiding her legs, one might have imagined her to be creepily floating to the gate.
She arrived at the gate was much too soon. Her face, still expressionless looked down at me. A deep ominous voice came from her mouth "Yes? Another orphan?"
Stuttering, I quickly responded, "No, no, I, I have parents. The Coopers. The Coopers are my parents. I'm Monica Cooper." It came out quickly so she wouldn't think I was to be imprisoned there.
Her unblinking eyes stared directly at me as the deep otherworld voice came again. "Monica Cooper, what brings you to Blackstone Orphanage?"
"I have a donation from the cring. I mean the crong. I mean," taking a breath to settle my nerves, I began speaking one word at a time, "King Garret has sent me with a donation for the orphanage. I have two hawks, four nobs, and eight bits to donate to your orphanage." Suddenly remembering I had lots of extra sweets, I added, "plus sweets. King Garret is visiting for the festival and sent a donation of sweets for the children along with the coins."
The mask on the woman's face finally cracked and a faint smile appeared at the edges of her mouth and eyes. "You will of course, thank the king for me?" It seemed more like a directive, not a question.
"Of course, lady...?"
"Blackstone, and I am no lady. I am charged with helping these children prepare themselves for a future. Nothing more, nothing less. My family disowned me years ago, and now, having no other occupation, I dwell here with the children. Please, come in."
Hearing this, I felt I was a sheep being invited into the wolf's den. My heart thumped so loud; I was certain she could hear it. "I should, um, get back and give his majesty your thanks."
Staring me straight through my eyes and into my soul, she said, "nonsense, you are making a fair donation, I want you to see what we do."
Gulping, I tried to think of anything to avoid this, but my racing mind could think of no good excuse. Softly I said, "okay."
Unlocking the gate, Miss Blackstone opened it and waved me past her. She then closed the gate behind us, locking it once again. The clank had an unsettling finality about it. Unexpectedly she said with a much more human voice, "You know, we have many girls your age here. Several boys too. You are welcome to come over in the afternoons and join them for recreational time, if you would like."
Despite the change in her voice, something about this invitation made me feel cold all over. All I could say was, "thank you. I will think about it. I do have chores though. I am apprenticed to my parents."
"Of course." She said, again in the ominous voice. She continued and I have never felt such a short walk to be so long before. The walkway itself was made of more of the black stone of the manor house. The blocks were well worn from years of travelers walking along the hard stone path. As I gawked, I noticed the lawn was neatly kept, with various areas to play in either small or large groups. There were trees one might sit under out of the sunlight hidden from the line of sight of the main gate. It was a strange contrast to what could be seen from outside the gate.
Getting closer to the house building proper, I saw worn paths in the grass leading around toward the sides of the building and toward the various areas away from the gate toward the front of the yard. It was as if someone ordered everyone here to remain hidden should someone pass by the gate and peer through its bars. I can attest, the view from outside the gate looking in was both daunting and haunting. If I hadn't been on this side of the gate, I would have never accepted a dare to try to climb the fence. Since I have seen the inside, as long as I didn't look directly at the building, it appears to be a large church-side lot which someone has spent a lot of time caring for meticulously who had a large group of children using it for a getaway place on weekends.
As I neared the orphanage proper, I noticed thin silvery rope wires of some mysterious material on the windows making small squares across the windows like a rabbit fence. The steps to the porch were worn with a central dip on each side as though an untold number of feet had worn them down over countless years. Climbing these worn stone steps to the porch, I looked at all the stonework. The entire building was fortified better than the baronial keep against an attack. The stones making each wall were huge. Each on was long than I am tall, and at least and arm's length in height. Continuing to examine this fortress, I noticed "Blackstone" carved into the lintel stone above the entry door.
She opened the outer gate which protected the entry door allowing me to see the stone block was also deeper than my arm. Wondering how old the building was and how long it took to build, I finally asked. "There is a lot of stone here, how old is it?"
Opening the door, she responded with her direful voice. "It was the ancestral home of the baronial family. We have lived here for eleven generations. This home was built by my ten-great grandfather as a place to house his troops. The windows were later enlarged as the area became civilized. Most of the stone is from a quarry several hundred years gone. When I was removed from the family for not wishing to marry, I was forced back to our home. Being so large and empty, I began to take on orphans and provide care for them. Please, enter."