A Tale of Time

***The Summer of 1766, six years ago.***

I was standing in front of a large house, with a large chestnuttree in the front of the garden. Its white flowers looked like candles, ready to be set on fire. If they wouldn't be set on fire because of the blazing sun. I raised my hand in front of my forehead to shield my eyes, holding back a sigh. It was too hot to be standing outside in these layers and layers of clothing.

My mother looked at me nervously. She had truly outdone herself this morning, commanding the servants to pull the strings of my corset as tight as physically possible. I felt like an animal on display. A means of buying esteem. A product which, after years of work, was finally put out on the market.

And I was breathing with great difficulty.

However, these frustrations were nothing compared to what I felt once I saw the man it was all for. The first thing I noticed about the Sergeant was his set of large, broad shoulders. The second however, was his horrendous beard. Thick, dark hairs had grown all around his face. How could a man of high standing look this unkempt? His shoes were dull, half of his shirt was unbuttoned, and his knee breaches looked wrinkeled. I was surprised to see that he had even put in the effort to tie his hair in a velvet ribbon.

The Sergeant bowed awkwardly.

"Pleasure to finally meet you," he said, as if he had practiced it in front of a mirror.

I found myself averting his dark, piercing gaze.

"The pleasure is all mine," I said, sounding equally as rehearsed.

We followed the Sergeant into his home, where servants bowed at us, and were sent away to find refreshments. The Sergeant politely asked us how we were doing, but kept glancing towards one room in particular, of which the door remained shut. The house consistently showed wooden arches and furniture, with little decoration but the obligatory fancy clock and rich cabinet.

One thing in particular that struck me was a large painting in the drawing room. It was a painting of a man that resembled Sergeant Thomas, with a long, well-kept beard and a high head. He was wearing a large belt and had long locks of hair, in the fashion of decades ago. He looked towards something in the distance, which we as a viewer couldn't see, through a copper instrument.

"That is my grandfather, Miss Leabith, the first General in the Thomas Family."

Mister Thomas looked at the portait with a hint of disdain, which I couldn't completely understand. The colours had been done beautifully, and the omittance of the object the late General was looking at made me more curious. My mother quickly gave me a look of disapproval. Of course, nothing that made the Sergeant even slightly disdainful should be the object of conversation for too long. The large white feather on the top of my mother's head was trembling because of her nervousness, so I decided to quickly avert my gaze from the painting.

"Have you been in the army for long, Sergeant Thomas?"

Sergeant Thomas frowned, it made me cringe a bit, to see that he could easily be angered by such a question.

"Please call me Mister Thomas."

Or by simply calling him by his title.

"I have not served the army for long, Miss Leabith," he said, his expression becoming a bit softer after looking at me, "only a few years. But while I am not leading my troop, I would like to be referred to simply as Mister Thomas."

"How noble of you," my mother cried.

It was of course not this rank that made her so obedient. My family was of noble origin, but our funds were diminishing at an alarming rate. This had made my mother in particular quite desperate to marry me off, even to a suitor who wasn't of particularly high standing. The Thomas family -which had produced to fine Generals thus far- were regarded as desirable allies by most, although they were originally no nobles. And, although he was but a Sergeant now, Mister Thomas was sure to continue the family tradition of becoming a General.

At least, if he wanted to meet society's expectations.

Perhaps that was why he was reacting so poorly to my questions.

Unexpectedly, Mister Thomas raised his arm, as if intending for me to take it. I took it warily, but he smiled gently at me. His eyes, still intense and dark, were a bit softened by the expression. He then turned his alluring gaze towards my mother.

"If you wouldn't mind, Madam, I would like to show Miss Leabith my study. Or," he said, turning his gaze towards me, "the War Room."

His smile widened, turning his formerly gentle countenance into a slightly dangerous one which I couldn't help to smile back at.

We walked towards the red, closed door I had walked past before and, with his left arm in my hands and his wide arm on the doorhandle, Mister Thomas opened the door in one fell swoop. I was completely taken aback by the large windows on either side of the room, making it bask in light. In the back stood a large ebony desk, with a leather seat behind it. Papers, inkwells, goosefeathers and books lay scattered on the desk, which made my hands itch to correct them. A few seats, now empty, were put around a big, round table in the middle of the room.

"This is the old room my father and grandfather used to think of a strategy," said Mister Thomas as he slowly put down is arm. The movement startled me. I realised I had clung to it.

"I still use it out of habit, even though I am merely a Sergeant."

For now, he was.

"I am sure it aids you," I said politely.

He grinned, walking towards the large table seemingly automatically. He put both of his hands on the edge of the able and stared down at grand map of the continent. The pawns on it seemed hopelessly small on it. When Mister Thomas realised I was still standing in the doorway, he looked up and smiled apologetically. Then, he put up his hand, gesturing for me to join him.

"This is the edge of the Kingdom," he said, pointing towards an imposing range of mountains, which I knew to be the Trolis Mountains. They were known for their sharp edges and inhabitable conditions, and were considered to be an ideal border.

"And it is proving to be a problem, do you know why?"

I shook my head, genuinely curious now. He squinted his eyes ever so slightly, and a pleasant feeling appeared in my stomach and chest.

"There are some very fanatic Sporians who are currently hiding in the mountains in order to get a better look at our outposts. If we don't do something about this, the borders of the country might be pushed back."

I looked at him in shock.

"But how? I mean, the Trolis Mountains are completely uninhabitable."

He gazed at the table, his mind seemingly trying several tactics.

"Nothing is uninhabitable when you want to claim territory back from a triumphant King."

I was unsure whether he was completely on the side of our Kingdom of Plissia at that moment. However, I did know that he would do anything in his power to live up to the expectations of society and his dead relatives. Even if some unfortunate soldiers in the Trolis Mountains had to pay the price for it.

***

Thank you so much for reading this story! Every single view makes my heart leap in joy. I hope you have as much fun reading about Peyton's paranoia, the lavish court and Clarice's confusion, as I have writing about it. I'm risking to fall into a cliché, but please leave a review. Tell me who is your favourite character. Tell me what you think will happen next. I would love to know all of it!

Warm greetings from a crazy writer,

Feline.