My Wonderful Second Life

Chapter 81- Scarlet Letters

There is always an ephemeral calm before a deadly storm. Its sweetness rubbing on disaster. An attentive person could sense something was amiss, even when the skies shined brightly, free of any ominous clouds. Its light tricked the hopefuls, while the vigilant knew what had yet to come.

It was a strange feeling, almost inexplicable. One Emmanuel wanted to bury. Like a cursed coffin. He sat by his desk, looking at his third attempt at writing something akin to an unpreoccupied letter to the Mountnero Duke.

The second he would send this day. One he could not stop himself from writing.

The first had been sent earlier in the morning, nothing more than an uneventful retelling of his day and some questions for the girls. How their days have been going, how they were preparing themselves for the challenges ahead. And to actually understand how Lucreatia had found the idea to name her pet, Princess Lola.

The second letter was a whole world of difference. He was trying to poke the Duke for any type of information, anything that could give him any clues to his discomfort. Any excuse to leave Aeribitina and head to the capital.

He took a long sip of brandy, taking in the sweet heat that burned gently his throat and gave him enough courage to sign his name and finalize the deed he had taken the past hour to do.

Something was wrong. Or was about to become wrong. Very wrong.

He felt it. Not in the air nor the place that surrounded him, but on each breath, each thought. On him.

And although he feared it, he could not explain it. To himself or the Duke. Emmanuel let out a loud groan, covering his tired eyes with his hand. After a drawn-out silence, he searched for his empty glass, peering from a slit his fingers created. To his sorrow, the green bottle by his side was also empty.

He had drank half of it in only an afternoon. Frustrated, he closed the letter and sealed it with the Benedicto seal. A rose lying on a crown. The crest sliver with speckles of gold.

He looked back from the letter to the empty glass and bottle, letting out a sigh of defeat. Maybe another glass would help ease this feeling building on him. Maybe two...

Or maybe, just in case, it would be better to get a new bottle of brandy. No matter what, the Duke would notice. One or two bottles made no difference in the end. Duke would still punish him for it.

Decided, Emmanuel left his desk, the letter in his hand, preparing himself to give it to the messenger waiting outside. However, the moment he started his way to the door, everything stopped.

For a splendorous moment, he felt powerful. Too powerful. Invincible in a glorious glow. His heart was light of any worry and his muscles were relaxed. Then realization came and everything crashed together in a fury only granted to gods. His senses muddled, his heart dropped, and he was left, without strength, on the floor.

Million of purple lights surrounded him. His allies were ready to help him. To support him back to his right self. The room was basking in their soft purple light and he felt his breathing come back, slowly.

This was beyond a warning. This was the reckoning of a God, ready to finally strike after being denied for so long.

This was about Lucreatia.

But it was not possible. Emmanuel was sure the bracelet would have prevented such a thing. It had for centuries. And would have continued to do so, if not for Lucreatia's restless nature.

Emmanuel remembered it now, his last conversation with her. Her questions were not just questions a child would ask when confused about an adult's choice. They were a prelude to a decision.