VAST OF HESTONIA’S ETERNAL CALENDULA

❝

FOLLOWING an hour-long carriage ride from the House Grimoard to the village of Hestonia, Charlotte and Vladimir arrived at their destination. The village, illuminated by the flickering lamps within the homes, stood before the two figures. Charlotte disembarked from the carriage and was promptly assisted by Vladimir in doing so, who was there to provide his assistance in any way he could.

Vladimir, in a commanding tone, addressed Argentum, who was seated in the coach seat of the carriage, with a request to retrieve something for them. "Would you mind fetching the Lady's case as we seek a place to stay, Argentum?" he asked, and he acknowledged the instruction with a reply of "Understood, Head."

The trio, composed of Charlotte, Vladimir, and Argentum, proceeded along the village streets in search of a place to stay. The village, however, exhibited a peculiar landscape, devoid of color and life, as if it had been deprived of the sun's rays, which contributed to an eerie and solemn atmosphere. 

The sight of flowers that remained in perpetual bud, despite the abundant and diverse species, lent an air of haunting melancholy to the village. A monochrome theme pervaded the landscape, starkly contrasting with the vibrant tapestry of color that should have graced the fields. It was as though the very earth held its breath, locked in a timeless spell, unwilling to yield to the passage of the seasons.

While Charlotte and her companions traversed the winding paths of the village, an unsettling hush loomed over them. The wind whispered through the barren trees, and the soft crunch of their boots upon the earth was the only sound to pierce the stillness. It was then, amidst the silence, that they came upon the pitiful sight of a young girl, no older than eight or nine, crouched upon the ground, her fragile frame quaking with sobs. The sight of such sorrow, so small and alone, stirred Charlotte's heart with the keenest sympathy.

She stepped forward, her delicate hand reaching out as though to soothe the child with presence alone. "Hey... are you alright, little one?" she inquired, her voice a melody of gentle reassurance. Though her words were soft, they carried the unmistakable weight of concern, her kindness unfaltering.

Vladimir and Argentum, her ever-watchful companions, remained a step behind, their keen gazes fixed upon the girl as they measured the situation in silence. Whether it was wariness or mere quiet contemplation, they did not yet intervene, leaving Charlotte to offer the first solace.

The child, startled by the approach, hiccupped between her tears and lifted her face to meet Charlotte's gaze. Her cheeks were flushed from crying, her wide, sorrowful eyes reflecting the light of the overcast sky. "I... I lost my mama's gift," she whimpered, her voice scarcely above a whisper, as if the mere admission of her loss deepened her despair.

Charlotte knelt before the girl, her presence warm and reassuring, as one might expect from an elder sister or a guardian angel. With a tenderness rare in those hardened by the burdens of the world, she reached out and smoothed the child's ruffled hair. "Hush now, dear one... tell me, what did your mama give to you?" Her words were wrapped in the softness of a lullaby, her expression one of genuine care.

Determined to assist the distraught child, continued engaging in dialogue with her and attempted to elicit more information.

"She gave me Mrs. Memiko…" the little girl murmured hesitantly, rubbing at her tear-streaked cheeks. Her small hands twisted nervously in the fabric of her dress as she looked down. "Mama gave it to me, and she said I should always keep it close to my heart. But now... it's gone!"

She knelt beside the child, her voice gentle. "Who is Mrs. Memiko?"

"He is a bunny," the little girl whispered, her lips quivering. "A soft bunny I hug every time... Mama said he would always protect me. But I lost him... and now it's gone forever!"

"Your mama's gift is a precious bunny that was gifted to you, huh?" said Charlotte in a gentle and soothing voice.

At this point, Charlotte exchanged a glance with Vladimir, who remained impassive but gave the barest of nods, an unspoken agreement that they would assist the child in retrieving her lost treasure.

"Fear not," Charlotte assured the girl with a warm, unwavering smile, "for we will help you find it, not just for you but also for your mama, okay?" She rose to her feet with newfound determination, the silent vow in her heart echoing louder than words.

After attending to the matter of the misplaced plaything, Charlotte turned once more towards the young girl, who, though still visibly shaken, had managed to regain some composure. With a voice imbued with gentle reassurance, she addressed the child.

"Anyway, what is your name, little one?" she inquired, a benevolent smile gracing her lips. At first, the child seemed reluctant to respond, her small fingers curling into the fabric of her tattered dress as she cast her gaze downward. Yet, after a moment's hesitation and some silent deliberation, she at last ventured an answer.

"M-Ma..Mai..," the girl stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She faltered, pausing to rub at her tear-streaked eyes, while Charlotte, ever patient, stood by, awaiting the completion of her thought.

"There is no need for fear," Charlotte encouraged gently. "Take your time."

In time, Charlotte's kindness won the child's trust, and the girl managed to fully utter her name—Maisie. Having thus secured this vital piece of information, Charlotte knelt to the child's level and extended a hand towards her. "And where is it that you reside, dear Maisie?" she asked, her tone as soft as a summer breeze.

Maisie hesitated but then lifted a tiny hand, pointing towards a modest dwelling from whose chimney a wisp of smoke curled into the evening sky. "Ah, I see," Charlotte said, a note of cheerfulness coloring her words. "Come then, sweet one, let us return you to your home, and worry not—your toy shall be restored to you ere long."

Maisie's lip trembled. "But... but what if they cannot find it?" she asked, her small fingers clutching at Charlotte's sleeve.

Charlotte squeezed the girl's hand reassuringly. "Vlad and Argentum are quite skilled in such searches. Have faith, dear heart."

As the two made their way from the village square, Maisie holding Charlotte's hand with newfound assurance, Vlad and Argentum—two steadfast companions entrusted with the task of retrieving the lost plaything—watched their departure in silence. 

Once the pair had disappeared from view, the two young men turned their attention once more to their undertaking, their eyes sweeping across the undulating fields where clusters of budding flowers swayed in the soft caress of the evening wind. The air carried with it a whisper of hope, an unspoken promise that the cherished toy would be recovered before midnight cloaked the village in darkness.

Upon reaching the modest dwelling, Charlotte rapped gently upon the door, standing sentinel as Maisie rushed forth, her tiny arms flinging themselves around the figure who answered. "Papa!" the child exclaimed, her voice now bright with the relief of familiarity.

The man, a figure of sturdy frame yet tender countenance, knelt to embrace his daughter, his arms encircling her with a father's quiet strength. "Maisie, my daughter," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her curls. "What troubles you, my dear one? Have you come to harm?"

"I lost mama's precious gift!" Maisie continued to cry, Charlotte, who stood by, interjected by introducing herself to Maisie's father. "Greetings, Mister. My name is Charlotte. I was passing through the village when I saw your daughter crying alone in a corner.

Knowing that it could be unsafe for a young child to wander by herself, I decided to approach her and escort her back to her home, so that she would be safe and taken care of." Charlotte spoke with a sense of responsibility, the kind concern she felt for Maisie quite evident in her tone and attitude.

Maisie's father, feeling a sense of disappointment and regret, apologized to Charlotte. "Ah, pardon me, I was so preoccupied with my work that I neglected to keep an eye on my daughter while she was outside." He expressed his regret, feeling that he had failed in his responsibilities as a father as he ran his hand through his head in frustration.

Maisie's father, upon looking at Charlotte, noticed her apparel, and inquired about the reason for her visit. "Do you happen to be a traveler?" he asked, his hands clasped together, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Yes, indeed, I am on a journey, and accompanied by two of my butlers. However, they remain busy searching for Maisie's misplaced to—." Charlotte attempted to continue her previous sentence but was interrupted by an interjection from another individual.

"My Lady! We've found Maisie's toy." Argentum proclaimed with a gentle smile, holding a suitcase that likely belonged to Charlotte. Vladimir, meanwhile, carried the missing item, returning it to Maisie, and causing her tears to subside. The smile on Argentum's face as he delivered the good news exudes positivity, while the sight of Maisie's joy upon receiving her sentimental toy, thanks to the efforts of Vladimir and Argentum, was a heartwarming one.

Charlotte, employing a playful persona, addressed Maisie's father. "It appears that they're here, then." Her tone was accompanied by a giggle, as she turned back towards the bearded man, whose lips wore a faint smile at the sight of the child in his arms and the return of her precious toy. 

"My name is Stupert Huckfinne," the man introduced himself. "And let me express my gratitude for bringing my daughter home," he added with sincerity. "I see, it's no big deal for us sir," feeling relieved that the situation was settled and satisfied with the outcome, offered a gesture of acknowledgement to Maisie's father.

Mr. Huckfinne enquired about the nature of Charlotte's journey. "I would like to inquire about your trip here – Is it a lengthy one?" he posed. "Indeed, Hestonia was merely a waypoint in our itinerary," Charlotte replied. Charlotte's intention in providing a concise explanation for her presence in the village was evident.

Charlotte, having received confirmation regarding the precise nature of her forthcoming journey to Hestonia, turned her gaze towards Mr. Huckfinne with an air of composed curiosity. She sat by the bay window of the drawing-room, where the dim light of the afternoon sun slanted through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns upon the polished mahogany table before her. 

Outside, the quiet rustling of autumn leaves in the courtyard below served as a gentle accompaniment to their conversation.

"As it so happens, sir," she began, folding her gloved hands neatly upon her lap, "I have a matter to inquire of you. Might you, perchance, be acquainted with any person of reliable reputation who is engaged in the trade of preserved Calendula?" Her tone was measured and sincere, devoid of artifice or concealed intention, revealing only her earnest interest in securing the item in question.

At this, Mr. Huckfinne, who had been occupied in adjusting the brass fittings of his spectacles, paused momentarily. His expression betrayed a flicker of mild astonishment, for the nature of her inquiry aligned most curiously with his own trade. 

"Ah! Fortune smiles upon you, Miss Charlotte," he declared, leaning forward slightly. "For I am none other than the very purveyor of preserved Calendula in this district. Most of the herbal medicines came from my stocks." His words were succinct, yet spoken with the unmistakable assurance of a man well-versed in his craft.

Charlotte's countenance brightened at this revelation, her eyes alight with visible relief. "What delightful fortune indeed," she replied, her voice suffused with unmistakable cheer. A weight she had scarcely acknowledged lifted from her shoulders, for the acquisition of preserved Calendula had been among her chief concerns regarding the journey.

However, Mr. Huckfinne's subsequent explanation, though courteous, introduced a minor complication. "I must, however, advise you, Miss Charlotte," he continued, adjusting his waistcoat with a careful hand, "That my supply is presently diminished. Only a single packet remains in my possession, and the next harvest shall not be available until the following season when the Calendula flowers return to their proper time."

Charlotte, though appreciative of his candor, furrowed her brow ever so slightly. "That is rather unfortunate, sir," she remarked thoughtfully. "We are in need of three packets, no less. Am I to understand, then, that we must endure a delay of several months, given that the flower from which the ingredient is derived blooms solely between May and September?" A note of concern shaded her otherwise composed demeanor, her brow arching in gentle inquiry.

Mr. Huckfinne, ever the merchant, allowed a slow nod as he pondered the matter. "That would indeed be the case, unless," he mused, stroking his chin, "you are willing to consider an alternative supplier—though I must caution you, none in this region preserve the flower with the same meticulous process as myself."

Charlotte exhaled softly, allowing her gaze to drift momentarily towards the window. The day was drawing to a close, and with it, the golden hues of the sky deepened into a rich amber glow. The matter, it seemed, was one that required further deliberation.

"Unlike typical Calendula, which blossom after the month of May, in Hestonia, they can be harvested at this very moment." Stupert stated, emphasizing the unique feature of the local variant of the flower.

In the midst of their discussion regarding the supply of preserved Calendula, Stupert requested that they should not hesitate to enter his humble abode. Despite its limited size, the interior of the dwelling was notably clean and well-maintained, its simplicity reflecting Stupert's unassuming personality.

The trio settles in a rather antique sofa that appeared slightly worn over the years, as Stupert, after a brief jaunt inside a storage room, emerged with the precious packet of preserved Calendula, the item that Charlotte had originally come to acquire. 

While Stupert presented the item in question to her, Charlotte was visibly grateful and relieved to have finally found the desired ingredient, no longer having to struggle with the thought of not having sufficient supplies for her task hand.

As Stupert prepared to transfer the packet of preserved Calendula to Charlotte, his gaze fell upon the badges of Charlotte's bodyguards, sporting the identifying mark of the Grimoard household. Stupert's tone became tinged with a sense of scrutiny and doubt as he uttered these words, "Are you three employed by the House Grimoard?"

Charlotte, in her attempt to allay the man's curiosity and doubts, provided a simple answer of clarification, with a polite tone. She said, "We work for that House as well, and as for me, I only arrived there a week ago. Is there a particular concern or issue regarding it?" Stupert, after hearing her explanation, proceeded to reassure her with a shake of the head. 

"Well, young lady. If I were you, you should be careful of that woman, the same goes to the two of you." Stupert's words indicated a familiarity with the Countess' antiques and eccentricities.

In response to Stupert's statement, she expressed a sense of perplexity as she inquired about the Countess' fixation. "But, why?" she inquired, her tone betraying her confusion and curiosity.

"That woman was an enigma; since her arrival, none have uncovered her origins. It is as though she were reared by a family unknown to all."