Catherine - Past - Before Her Abduction

  The sun sank low on the horizon, illuminating the fields behind the Pergrace familial manor. It was a warm summer night in June, two days past the Great Rains ceremonious end. Everything was still, save for a gentle breeze brushing lightly through the leaves of the northern forest. Deep runs of purple and blue and striking orange streaked across the sky above. Catherine stretched in her vibrant party gown, thinking the sky looked much like something her father would have painted.

  The young woman let out a sigh and brushed her inky locks behind her body, careful not to leave a single hair out of pce. After all, tonight was the night of her father’s newest art ga, and precision was half of beauty.

  And beautiful it would be, indeed!

  Catherine’s father, Juno, had invited the entirety of the notable peers in Mesica to the “single greatest evening between the Two Rivers that has ever been or ever will be.” Of course, Mesica was the only city of note between the Two Rivers, so the cim would hold. At least, until the following year’s ga.

  The guest list was extensive, starting with the local nobility, the artisan gss-crafters, the Road-Guard captains, the pntation owners, and other worthy people. Then, the list expanded to the respectable merchants, the notable chefs, the skilled tailors, and other gifted tradesmen. Finally, the st part of the list was reserved for people who Juno thought nearly had it. Nearly having it, was simply a way of making investments in people.

  Juno would identify the up-and-comers early on in their careers and extend them a hollow olive branch. By being invited to a Pergrace ga, any person had the potential to change their circumstances by saying just the right things, at just the right time. Say the wrong things, however, and that was the end of it. These matters were naturally of little import to the eldest daughter of renowned artist Juno Bartholomew Pergrace, who, with all her heart and soul, loathed these affairs entirely.

  Catherine looked back at the manor towering in the distance. Built upon a pteau only just rger than the structure, it required guests to look upward at its magnificence. Three grand stairwells led up the sides of the pteau and were spaced out to welcome those traveling from the west, south, and southeast, respectively. Above each stairwell was an arch made of Pontilly marble, a deep bck stone with veins of silver and white throughout. Only the most insufferably wealthy could obtain such pieces. They were a testament to the opulence of a Pergrace ga; and even more, Juno had received them as gifts from the Lord of Pontilly Estate, after the success of the prior year’s event.

  The entire building was crafted with far less valuable gray stone, but it was still sturdy and reliable. Three floors tall, the manor was truly a marvel of architecture. Braced by four ornately crafted towers on each corner, the walls created an almost castle-like appearance. Wide windows, inid with fine-metal filigrees, lined the walls of each floor, allowing copious amounts of light to flow inward. In truth, it looked far less like the home of a well-respected painter and more like the home of an accomplished baron.

  For the ga, great turquoise tapestries bordered with glittering, gilded thread hung from the sides of the manor, between the windows. Large torches housed in steel racks lit the walkways, stairs, and towers of the estate. From afar, it looked like a twinkling beacon of light and luxury. As if to say, witness my glory and means, behold my vast treasuries and fwless taste, and please, do be sure to rob me blind.

  Catherine could almost make out the frantic confusion on the faces of the family servants, even from a distance. They had been preparing and rehearsing their roles for weeks prior, determined not to displease their Lord. Even the most destitute of men would not dare feel envious of the Pergrace ga housemaids, cooks, and hosts. The braised honey-herb mb had to be juicy, but not too juicy that it could ruin a guest’s attire. The Silk-Fruit pie had to be sweet, but not too sweet as to dull the fvors of the exorbitantly priced Midnd ice-brandy, of which, Juno had ordered a dozen barrels. The mashed garlic potatoes, the sun-dried tomatoes, the roasted leeks, the fresh banana pudding, it all had to be at expectation, not over, and certainly not under. Juno had set the standard for excellence in finery, not only in art, but in company and hospitality.

  Many guests lived quite some distance away and would find themselves staying overnight in one of the many second-floor chambers of the manor. The housemaids and hosts, when not assisting in the hot kitchens, would be ensuring that fresh sheets, full pillows, and general cleanliness were found in every single guest-chamber. Lest they invoke the wrath of a short, stocky, satin-doublet wearing god of aesthetically pleasing entrails.

  Even with all those duties and urgency, however, not even a family servant would trade pces with a daughter of Juno Bartholomew Pergrace on the night of his annual Two Rivers Ga; because they knew one indisputable truth in life:

  Precision was half of beauty and the other half was Catherine.

  The eldest dy of Pergrace Manor was expected to be greeting each esteemed guest with the wide-eyed wonder of innocence so often found in the noblest of the fairer sex. She was expected to be dangling off every word uttered, before plummeting wildly onto the next. So critical were the tales of gss-makers and tax-collectors, that not a single detail could go undigested.

  This was the charge of Catherine Holly-Rose Pergrace, gluttonizing the dull, lumpy thoughts of boorish aristocrats and spitting out diamonds.

  Not only did this mean having sharp ears and a tongue like sugar cane, but also skin like porcein and hair like a stream of liquid obsidian. It meant a body draped in the trappings of poise incarnate and a smile that could charm the skin off a serpent.

  Even more so, it meant feet bound tightly into artisan pointe slippers and nearly eight years of performing arts instruction to use them on cue. This was the way of dies, the way of gleaming baubles and shining jewels. The best ones were valuable, and mostly silent. Having nothing to do with her years of exempry education, Catherine was valuable because she was useful.

  While not traditionally beautiful, Catherine had pleasant, symmetrical features with an exceptionally small button nose. She was not tall, or well-endowed with comely curves, but she was attractive. Much like the way that a small, pampered dog is attractive, or a handmade doll is attractive. Still, this unusually permanent youthful look did little to dissuade her potential suitors. Therefore, in the eyes of patrician high-society, Catherine was indeed so very useful. And without much prodding from her father, she was mostly silent.

  Catherine took one final look at the swirling sea of color above, and made her way back to the manor, only wishing she were dead a small amount. As she approached the great southern stairwell, the dark had already crept in ahead of her, and the many guests had started to arrive. Great gilded carriages, mighty horses, and inordinate finery washed through every stone path id around the manor.

  Raucous ughter and powerful, booming voices carried on the air, overjoyed for the traveling to be over, and eted by the festivities to come. Fine string instrumentals, original pieces commissioned for just such a day, pyed triumphantly for all to hear. Catherine quickened her pace to get inside, hoping not to have been missed by anyone of note, especially her father.

  Men and women of the great houses were practically everywhere and almost unrecognizingly inebriated. Though, this was standard for the ga, as these powerful pilrs of grand society had arrived that way.

  Catherine rushed between a cluster of familiar heavyset merchants doing their very best to dance, one of whom called out to her briefly. Nothing a swift flourish of a ball gown and a smile couldn’t handle, of course. As if she were the water in a rocky river, she flowed between guests of all shapes and backgrounds. Some she knew very well, and almost liked, others she’d never seen before.

  “Will you perform this evening, Ms. Pergrace the Eldest?!” Called the great alchemist of Mesica.

  “Why, you must be aware that I only perform for you, Mr. Dugan! And you are here.” Catherine shouted back, an uproarious ugh coming from the giant of a man, who immediately shoved his beard back into his brandy gss.

  Mr. Dugan certainly counted among those Catherine almost liked. Though all alchemists in Mesica worked strictly for profit, Mr. Dugan was kind enough to share his great wealth with the sickest children in the city. Truly phinthropic, even if he was disgustingly rich.

  All of the interior of the Pergrace manor was ornately carved wood trimmings, the color of sweet cream. But the ballroom was especially vish.

  The floors, unlike the rest of the manor’s white marble, were made of the same Pontilly variety found in the archways. Juno insisted that the experience of the guests be transformative when dancing.

  It was his wish that they lose themselves completely to the music. Directly above the center of the room, a massive crystal chandelier dangled with the illusion of precariousness.

  Hand-made in colboration with five different artisans, Juno called it the most unique expression of crystal the world has ever seen. In truth, it was gorgeous, but it looked a bit like the roots of a dead tree sprawling about, almost sinister.

  Oh, but it sparkled!

  Along the walls, banners simir to the ones hanging upon the exterior hung proudly. Their borders of glittering gold finding commonality in the chandelier’s fittings. It was in this magnificent ballroom that Catherine recognized another face.