The Wolf Esprit: Lykanos Chronicles 3
Chapter Nine

“We’re here,” he said, and I looked out the carriage window to see a single structure on the horizon.

Maximillian’s home was a massive circular tower fortress built from pale, cream-colored stone. It rose like a fat column some two hundred feet from the center of a wide lake. Had my back not been to it, I would’ve noticed the tower from leagues out.

The carriage turned onto a narrow road that cut across the water. At its end was a lowered drawbridge, and in moments the horses drove us through the gates into an interior courtyard at the foot of the tower. The crescent courtyard was a simple but well-appointed space with food stores, a smith workshop, a carriage house, and horse stables. Though it was still half an hour until dark, the torches were already lit, and the flames promised to bathe the pale tower above in a gleaming glow through the night.

Several men stood at attention near the tower doors, and one stepped forward to let us out of the carriage. Maximillian nodded I should depart first.

Taking care to step down the ladder’s steep rise, I made it to the ground without falling. With both feet planted on the stone pavement, I looked up to find the tower rise above our heads with several banks of sharp windows built into the perimeter of each of its ten stories. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

An older, heavy-set man stepped forward.

“Monsieur Ducasse, this is my nephew, the Chevalier Roussade,” Maximillian announced from behind me.

“Chevalier,” the man nodded in deference.

“Monsieur Ducasse is captain of our domestique,” Maximillian confirmed, “and you may rely upon him to ensure you’re cared for while at the fortress.”

I nodded back at the man but gave no other response, certain he would realize I was no chevalier by the common sound of my voice.

“Monsieur, my nephew has traveled from Paris without his valet,” Maximillian confided. “Would you see he’s dressed properly before calling on the Baroness?”

“At once, sire. Gion will see to it,” and he nodded to one of the young men standing at attention near the tower doors.

“This way, Chevalier,” Gion said and extended his gloved palm toward the inside.

I’ll see you in moments, Maximillian whispered in my mind.

With a final glance back at my host, I stepped forward through the heavy oak doors into La Forteresse Roussade.

Though stonework faced the countryside in the old style, imposing in its rough cut, the tower’s interior was as gilded and modern as anything I’d ever seen. The entry nave, appointed with polished floors of checkered white and onyx marble, was ablaze by a dozen wax candles that lit a heavy crystal chandelier. At the far end was a wide staircase of polished marble that turned ninety degrees at its twentieth step to climb high through the ceiling into the tower.

The valet lifted a small candelabra with three lit tapers off a side table and led me up the stairs, glancing back every now and again to ensure I was still with him.

The tower was nothing like I’d imagined from the outside. Though the last rays after sunset were dying outside, I realized that even in the full light of day, very little of it would penetrate this structure. These people lived chiefly in the dark but for the glow of beeswax candles and oil lamps. This idea absorbed me as I struggled to make out the portraits of ancestors who watched from their canvases as we ascended.

After several flights, the valet departed the steps to lead me down a short corridor of gilded hardwood. Lacquered and lit by random sconces, the corridor ended at a portrait of an old man with a crown of silver hair. He wore a white robe and held a flaming sphere in his right hand.

As intrigued as I was by the strange portrait, I realized we’d arrived at a doorless dead end. But in a moment, the valet showed its secrets by reaching for a hidden lever to release a lock. He pushed on the wall to reveal a seamless door cut around the perimeter of the portrait and opened it inward to reveal a suite of rooms. I gave the silver-haired man a careful glance as the valet’s candles lit his stoic face when we passed by him.

The suite was as sumptuous as anything in the tower, with blue silk walls that radiated from the lights in the room. The valet let me through a set of doors into a bedchamber. I gave only a brief glance while we moved on to a final space. There, two other men moved to meet us. It startled me to realize one of them looked identical to my valet. I only understood they were the same person when he stood to the side to allow me entrance before closing the doors behind us. It was a looking glass, but enormous, filling almost the entire far wall of the chamber. The other man I stared at was me.

Mother had a petite glass, half the size of her small hand. She’d let me look at my eyes when I was small, but I’d never seen myself as I did now.

A stranger stood before me in the glass. He wore a black coat over flaxen breeches and a white shirt, stained at the collar. His worn shoes were rather muddy, and I exhaled with shame to realize I’d likely soiled the tower’s gleaming floor on my way in. He had a mop of unruly auburn hair underneath his common hat, and I took it off to reveal my face, pushing the locks out of the way.

I stared at this young man who was myself, moving my face left and right to see its angles change in the room’s light.

“Your face, Chevalier?” Gion said as if he’d just noticed the darkening around my left eye that remained from the attack

“It’s nothing,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “I ran into some ruffians on the road while traveling.”

“You’re sure? I could have Burnadette bring some ointment for it.”

“That’s kind, but it’s unecessary.”

Gion caught himself staring at the bruise and returned to his duties.

“As you say. Your coat, Chevalier?”

Before I could answer, I felt Gion’s hands reach from behind to pull my coat from my shoulders. It was the strangest sensation, the feel of his hands undressing me, but I did nothing to stop him.

With a nod that I should take a seat in the corner chair, Gion knelt before me to take my ankle and remove my muddied shoes. One by one, he then pulled off my socks.

The young man was only a few years older than me, but watching the concentration on his face, I couldn’t help but feel he was something of a parent to undress me like this. My mother hadn’t removed my clothes for me like this since I was a very young boy. The quiet intimacy was something I’d not been prepared for.

“You breeches, sir,” he said, and I rose when I realized he needed me to stand to remove them.

I moved to unfasten them, but Gion’s fingers already pulled at the buttons before I could accomplish the same, and I stepped out of them when my mind caught up to the obvious participation expected of me.

Gion rose and gathered my clothes before exiting into a small room that I could see was a wardrobe. Standing in only my shirt and breeches, I was certain Gion would return with an appropriate coat and breeches. Instead, he returned with a new shirt and fresh pair of white linen underwear.

“Your arms, sir,” he said and raised my shirt over my head when I was able to follow. I looked around for a moment to locate where I should go to change my underwear, but before I could stop him, they were on the ground. Gion touched my right ankle to help me step out of them, but I nearly lost my balance when exposed to him.

Just as quickly, he held out the fresh underwear for me to step into. My relief to be covered again grew as he covered my chest with the fresh shirt. The linen was an immaculate cream that smelled like rose water. When he turned fetch the remainder of my clothes, I felt the shirt fabric with my hands, marveling at the softness. I’d never touched anthing so fine before.

When my socks and breeches were secured, Gion helped me into a fine pair of shoes that were just a little too large for my feet. He labored to fill them with bits of fabric until they were snug and asked me to walk around the room to prove their viability. The hard soles and heels clicked along the floorboards to announce themselves. When satisfied, he asked me to sit once more and began to groom my hair with a heavy wooden brush.

“May I bring you one of the baron’s wigs,” Gion asked. “I’m not sure the would fit you well…”

I shook my head before answering.

“Thank you. It’s not necessary.”

No sooner had I said the words when I saw confusion in his eyes. He hadn’t expected me to thank him.

With an awkward nod, he brush my auburn hair back from my face and gathered it to tie with a black cutting of ribbon. He then rubbed some oil between his hands and lightly applied it to my exposed neck. The strong fragrance of rose was unmistakable.

Standing up, I stared at myself in the looking glass. The effect was absorbing, the look of the young gentleman in fine clothes. Did I stand a little taller as I observed myself?

Gion then lifted a coat onto my shoulders that changed my appearance altogether. It was made of an iridescent deep blue fabric, unlike anything I’d seen before. In the mirror stood a wholly different creature. It was a man, as regal and sophisticated as any in the land.

But this man bore my face.

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