Chapter 3

Chapter 3

‘I’ve just heard a public decree from the Ministry. On behalf of the Empress they have ‘quarantined’ the section of the Boreas Sea around the island. Anyone entering will be dealt with harshly. There is now talk of the Ordination gaining support from others on Helio and Montani. Things are moving quickly. I believe I might have to be draught in to take care of the sectioning.’

The sun had been in decline behind the clouds for most of the journey. Emit Brown and his security entourage had trotted down in two carriages from Axerath to one of the most southern point of San Helio, to Castillo Manor. Minister Brown was too preoccupied with rehearsing his speech. She was a difficult person at the most of times and the wheelchair she was bound to only added to her arrogant dismissal of any olive branch. She was an easy woman to pick a fight with, an easy woman to say goodbye to. But to greet her, to convince her of something she didn’t plan to do, a tough ask.

The beauty of the gardens that surrounded the manor house, the ponds, the fountains, the wildlife, all passed without a conscious thought. The carriages pulled up on the gravel driveway that circled in front of the manor, a brighter shade of stone to the slate grey of the manor. There were signs of life against the stone, the patches of moss, the ivy that clinged to it, but for the rest, baron and empty. Through one of the downstairs windows a flame haired woman glared out, her sharp emerald gaze pierced each carriage with a sence of disappointment and resentment. She seemed to speak but hardly moved her mouth and a shadow that stood behind her disappeared and a white gloved, and black suited gentleman appeared out of the double oaken entrance and stood silently are the carriage drivers helped Minister Brown and his men down onto the gravel. A nod of respect passed between the Minister and the gentleman in gloves and the doorway was held open till all that was left was the horses snorting and the drivers smoking.

The tension however passed through the entrance hall, the paintings of Genevieve, the dark wood squares on the slightly faded panels, the double sweeping staircases to a small office, adorned with books, obscure trinkets and the tinge of oil lamps. Minister Brown sat down in this darkened room, facing his opponent.

“What a pleasure it is to see you Minister.”

“And you of course Genevieve. How is the west wing?”

“Dispence with the plesentaries. You know I shall never fix it.”

“It only takes a few well placed crystals and it wont fall into the sea.”

“That’s what he deserves, now what do you want?”

“I presume you have heard of the Mehnos expedition. Hence your absence at today's meeting.”

“That’s one explain ion, I find the whole thing apathetic, discussion upon discussion, I have better use of my time. And yes before you interject, I can see it on your lips. I did hear of the expedition and the letter you sent. I just do not  see why you couldn’t get someone a little more disposable to go. Isoquia is impenetrable with my condition.”

“That matter has already been discussed, right now they are clearing a pathway each day before the moon. By the time you have decided to go there will be a clear pathway to the site.”

“You’re not giving me the option to decide are you? How long have I got.”

“I came here for a discussion about it, to organise, I have no plans as of yet.”

“But you have already prepared a path for me. It would seem the plans have already been made.”

“Genevieve could you for once be co-operative.”

“How dare you…”

“Look, just…”

A feint knock could be heard from the door. A struggle of a conversation passed through the oak, and the handle turned. The white gloved man entred with a swift silence and stood, waiting for the conversation to lull.

“Yes Donovan. What is it?”

“Senior Brogetti Madame.”

“What does the stray creature want?”

“He is asking for you. I believe he has found some more complications to the story you have told him. I wonder if not telling him everything was a good idea.”

“What you believe doesn’t matter. I was trying to bring him into the fold gently. But I suppose this cannot wait any longer. Bring him in.”

“Yes Madame.” Donovan left with light tred back out of the door, gently closed behind him and another muddled conversation was heard.

“I do not appreciate your men interfering with matters of estate.”

“Well I do not appreciate not being told of a survivor. Not exactly following protocol.”

“I do not have to tell you anything Minister, although you may chair the council, I am your elder in all senses of the word.”

“I do respect that, but the barrier was to meant to kill all. There was meant to be no survivors.”

“Well those girls you put so much faith in on those tiny islands, alone in the temples, they are as green as saplings. I still don’t understand why you had to change them. Age governs experience, and experience means there are no mistakes.” She looked intensely into the eyes of Minister Brown. “You know exactly what I mean.”

An uncomfortable silence governed the room. There was no relief and no respite from the tension. Part of Minister Brown prayed for the entrance of the illegal survivor and his prayers were answered. Tiziano ws dressed in the same suit from Genova, a little murky, the ecru darkened by the storm and the waves, but it still retained its formality and imposing nature, but the face of Tiziano, the self assured authority, seemed almost childlike and lost.

"And who is this?"

"Minister Brown, Senior Tiziano Brogetti Don of the Trimestre Hierro, of the Cosa Nostra of New York and Sicily." Senior Brogetti looked over and nodded with appreciation.

"Anything more precise  Madame?"

"A leader of a subset of American gangster."

"And you managed to make that sound so much more impressive. Empress's orders... complete execution. You can't keep him Genevieve. Do you want it done here or somewhere not on your lands?"

From what seemed like out of nowhere the imposing figure of Senior Brogetti was blocking all view from Minister Brown. His face no longer lost but firmly placed and determined right in front of Emmitt. Brogetti's breath made him recoil slightly as he scratched under his nose.

"I'll take that as a polite decline. I see we are at an impasse." Brogetti slowly returned to where he was standing and stretched his kneck.

"Unfortunatley you have misread the situation my dear Minister Brown. On that front there is nothing to discuss. He remains under my care and trust untill he can become a a productive and itegrated maember of society and not drafted into that that repulsive prisoner army of yours. And the executiion you were suggesting, that never happened, I'm glad you agree. Now if you don't mind I belive myself and Senior Brogetti have some packing to attend to."

"You're not..."

"Not what Emmitt? Not taking him with me? Wasn't that part of the agreement we just discussed? As well as next time sending someone with respect understanding. I wouldn't want to repeat but green is not a ruling colour."

Minister Brown swallowed much more than a gulp that moment and silently breathed with clenched fists. "Of course Madame Castillo. As we have agreed." Emmitt firmly returned his chair to its original position and walked  head high out of the door, only to sheepishly leap out after an intense breath  and cough from Brogetti as he passed.

The minister leapt back into his carriage and hastily ordered its departure. He writhed his hands around his leather gloves. It was not his idea to put new girls to protect the islands, especially so untrained for the job. Nobody would believe it, having 'had' so many brilliant ideas that this one could never be wrong. How many  secrets could one man actually keep? A liar, a betrayer, 'blind, 'deaf' and 'dumb'. So many threads to that tapestry, so many bound to another's fingers. Or is it all just to help him sleep at night? To steady his deceitful, daggered hand. Do rats tell truths?