Chapter 3

It was upon the day of Friday the 18th of April that our wagon came upon the mysterious hilly valley known as Sholinstein. A village was scattered abstractly between the rises and along the lower ridges, opening up to a beautiful lake which glistened in the sunny highland heavens like a calling of some sort, or perhaps as a welcome.

"Welcome home, Lady Leline," welcomed a porter at the gate that rested upon the road, as we left our coach. Her golden-trimmed coach sat before us. Two solemn guards stood to either side of him, holding tall silver spears. They bore the dark gray scale armor of Sholinstein guards.

The Count's castle rested high above the village, between the reflecting of two large hills like waves crashing together, each rising north from there and into a great forested highland which overlooked the valley.

We stepped into her coach, and him behind me. I gazed out the window as we rode up the twisting path, high above the village, gushing pounds and mounds of rock that fell to the shore. Being in the Count's personal coach, the guards at the castle's gate let us through, as we entered upon the grassy plane upon which rose the most beautiful castle of soapy white stone I had ever seen, as if it had been sculpted from the soapstone rocks. It was a king's castle, too much for a count, thought I!

A servant opened my door, but the porter leaned forward and closed it. He grinned, his little chin seeming to quiver with nervousness under his thick curly black hair and little beady eyes, as he could accurately be described.

The porter grinned warmly but was keeping something secret under those dark eyes of his. We left, and he escorted us into the bailey and into the front vault of the castle. We stepped into such a large and posh chamber, and yet so ancient and lonely, that I was out of breath as much as words. Guards approached us, and stood firm. A butler came before us, tall and slender with gray hair.

Then, from the dark approached a figure of equal height, who came with a quick yet calm stride.

The count embraced his wife, and she him, with a secret reluctance that only I could see. His hands groped her before me like he was clinging to a trophy. My eyes lowered, and I struggled to stay strong.

The count then turned to me. "Who's this?"

"This is Mallory Shane. Mallory Shane, my husband, Count Phineas Prescott Giles."

The count studied me boldly, but I acted as though I had nothing to hide. I sensed a secret suspiciousness on his part. "Well then, you've met my wife, MRS. Giles. Even though she commonly goes by her maiden name."

"He's a pianist. One of the best you'd ever hear," said Leline. "He was a gift from my cousin."

"Would know," groaned the count, brass eyes still looked upon mine like horns. "I look forward to hearing you play." I bowed as he turned to Leline. "Does it speak?"

"Yes, sir," I replied.

"He's a rather humble young fellow," said Leline with a glimmer of nervousness, which her husband seemed to take in fully. "I couldn't refuse. A count deserves nothing less than a fine pianist at his call, for whatever the occasion."

"Well then, if it must be," said the count, turning to the butler. "Have the countess escorted to our chambers. I wish to have a talk with, our new guest."

With a glimmer of concern Leline turned and walked away.

"Walk with me," said the count, and we walked together down the large hall. "Seeing as though you're new here, I might as well explain a couple things to you briefly. This is my castle, my island. I am entitled to enforce and reply as I see fit. I hope we have this understanding between us?"

"Yes, sir," I replied. "I wonder if I should comment on the wonderful castle and island that you command here."

"Don't bother. It's not such a wonderful life, trust me. I wasn't rewarded this place, I was thrust here. My... lifestyle upset my family and king. And so my uncle the earl made me a count and I was shipped off to this place. I've been here for eighteen years now, almost to the day... and I have had few visitors."

"Several thousand people must live in the village --"

"Ten thousand," said the count. "Ignorant country folk who know ought but song and dance, and cheer -- three things I love most, at the right times. But normally, give me the quiet, give me the dimly lit chambers and solemn peace."

"Then you like living here?"

"I have a great deal of fun. As the laws change under the sanity of our newest sovereign, more privileges are allowed me. The privileges make my life worth it, young man -- not the truth of why I am here -- THAT haunts me at each familiar turn in this remarkable cage. I am a man of thought and of ideas, and a wall is but a wall to a normal man, to me it is an idea. If I won this in war I would be happy here, but I did not. I was sent here with disgrace, and that imprisons me."

"I was taught to ignore the past and embrace the present --"

"Ignorance!" hissed the count, his eyes squeezing with a bitter hatred for what he regarded as ignorance. "We are all of us bound by the workings of the past. It is the past that presents the present and determines the future -- how could it be otherwise? We are all prisoners, unless the past offers us some power which we can use to alter our futures. Your past has caged you here, within these walls -- and worse -- under my authority. I could have you jailed or horsewhipped on a whim, for a mere discomfort of your tone -- THAT'S the prison your past has built for you."