I was pacing all morning as I struggled to come to terms with what I have learned. At first I didn’t believe it and almost had my informant killed for such a shameful lie. However, I soon learned just how true it all really was.
My Sultana, Bianca Namori, was about to marry a criminal and a commoner. A man of known ammoral behavior, a man of known criminal activities. A wretched scarecrow who’s nobelist asperation is to run a filthy pub for other low-lifes like him. I can’t really blame him though. He is just doing as his low nature dictates.
My Sultana, however, should know better. I understand all too well the pain and confusion that loss can bring. I’ve lost much in my time and even more so recently. My Sultana needs to see the truth of the matter. She needs to see that she is lowering herself and shaming her station all for the name of what? Love? Is Loneliness, desperation and infatuation really as strong as this? Is it really so strong as to make a once noble woman surrender her dignity and honor?
And to top this all off, I had to find out about my Sultana’s marriage through a street informant. She hadn’t the courage or honor to tell me herself. Perhaps she had simply forgotten. Am I really that forgetable? Am I really so unimportant in her eyes?
I will have to confront her and make her see the truth of what she’s doing. If I fail in this then….
Perhaps she was worried about what you would say. Or simply thought that you would support her no matter what. *soft smile*
I do not think that my Sultana worries about anything, least of all me. She is above such petty concerns such as the lack of faith that others might have. Perhaps she thought that loyalty has no price and is given freely? Perhaps she thought I was a mindless, clockwork automaton that feels nothing and is souless. Either way, “worry” does not fit into the Sultana’s emotional vocabulary.
Bianca rolled over in bed after closing the book she was enjoying that evening, the pages worn thin as she studied each passage over, and over before.
She sat there and stared at the ceiling a moment, canting her head as her eyes danced over the design of the wood upon it. Something was troubling her, she didn’t know what though, as the unsettling feeling of her gut simply would not let her sleep.
Eventually she shrugged the feeling off and thought about “The Pit” and what it needed for it’s completion. The excitement carring her thoughts into dreamland.
He’s going to marry her? This must be stopped.
Yes, this indeed must be stopped. Perhaps…we can help each other out.
Mr. Swift, if you can keep them from marrying before the end of the month I will happily, happily, help you in any way you could possibly need as soon as I return. Anything to prevent that monster from ruining yet another woman’s life.