III.
Valeur de Villefort, doing much afterthought, pushed open the doors of the Broken Hearts Club. Glaring ultraviolet haze met his sight, and the rather heady smell of cocktails and heavy perfumes permeated the air. With his eyes closed, he even fancied the strong scent of despair.
The guitar strumming paused momentarily; all talk hushed into silence at the same split second he opened the heavy ashen doors; all eyes were directed towards him, the most noticeable being the hazel eyed barmaid's.
"Sir Villefort," Elfienne said, coyly, "We're honored to be graced by a Lord Knight's presence." She pushed back an errant auburn curl, all the while blatantly looking him up and down.
"Well well well, what do we have here..." An assassin briskly said as he stood up from his seated position in his customary seat near the bar. "Valeur de Villefort, Lord Knight of Britoniah. We're sorry to hear about your...dilemma," Leon quietly murmured with a slight bow of his head.
Before the senior knight could answer, he took in all of the gaudy, dark surroundings: the lavish black drapes which shut out interior from the outside world; the rather gothic-looking wrought-iron candelabras entwined with rose vines on each circular table, each complete with a rather sullen man in throes of love; smell of spilt alcohol, and the small stage where a bard was crooning a tacky love song which completed the depressing ambience.
What was noticeable, though, was the large emblem of a bleeding heart printed on the stage curtains, just behind the bard.
"Strange coat of arms," Valeur found himself saying, instead of returning the greeting.
Leon looked back over is shoulder to see what caught Valeur's attention. "Oh yes. My guild emblem. There's a rather interesting story behind it, but I reckon you've heard rumors?"
Oh yes, Valeur heard rumors all right. But despite his knowledge that his cousin, Fontaine, being a member, all he knew for sure was that all of the members shared one thing in common: suffering from a heartbreak. He didn't know any more details, except that Leon, the guildmaster, recovered from a failed suicide attempt (quite pathetic, really, for somebody whose expertise is to kill) brought about after seeing his beloved in his brother's bed.
"The Broken Hearts Guild. I thought my cousin was just pulling my leg because he couldn't find any suitable guild for him." Valeur whispered, the reality of the place still seeping into his consciousness, making him rather dazed.
Leon couldn't stop himself from laughing. "My friend, heartbreak is everywhere," he said, spreading his arms in a theatric gesture, his steel gray eyes sparkling with an unknown emotion. "Look around you, this is where all men,"
An indignant huff from a girl.
"...and a few ladies," he corrected himself after clearing his throat, "unburden themselves of the hurt they've been hiding in their tiny--bleeding--hearts. A place where they can put down all masks and scream, rant, foam and whatever it is you want to do against the injustice."
"Cut the cheesy drama Leon!" Someone from the far corner dared to slur out loud, until someone seemed to elbow him into silence with a very audible hushing sound. Nobody in the right mind would taunt an assassin when it's a common knowledge that there a a price on every head in the eyes of people whose main job it was to kill.
"Down with love!" a rather dour merchant proclaimed as he thrust his gin bottle into the air.
"Ayt! Down with love!" A few other men chanted in unison.
"Down with love! DOWN WITH LOVE!" Now everyone joined in, banging their fists and bottles, stamping their angry feet on the floor with a furious and vehement, vengeful rhythm.
In the midst of the din, Valeur managed to catch Elfienne's lusty eyes again, and despite himself, he laughed. He laughed at the foolishness of what he was experiencing right now; laughed at the pain that stabbed deep in his chest; laughed at the memories of the promises given to him by his Alfrieda; laughed at the thought of the possibility of getting the best lay of life that night; laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Tears trickled down his cheeks as he continued to laugh, lising himself to the din that was a rebellion against the utter injustice of what they might call, the bane of their existence.
All the time, Leon studied him intently.
===
Fontaine chuckled as he leant against the backdoor of the pub, listening into the din that was taking place behind the doors.
In his hands was a faded picture of a beautiful young woman in pale acolyte robes, the surface of the photograph nicked and scratched with knife marks.
Someday, Lucrezia. Someday.
The guitar strumming paused momentarily; all talk hushed into silence at the same split second he opened the heavy ashen doors; all eyes were directed towards him, the most noticeable being the hazel eyed barmaid's.
"Sir Villefort," Elfienne said, coyly, "We're honored to be graced by a Lord Knight's presence." She pushed back an errant auburn curl, all the while blatantly looking him up and down.
"Well well well, what do we have here..." An assassin briskly said as he stood up from his seated position in his customary seat near the bar. "Valeur de Villefort, Lord Knight of Britoniah. We're sorry to hear about your...dilemma," Leon quietly murmured with a slight bow of his head.
Before the senior knight could answer, he took in all of the gaudy, dark surroundings: the lavish black drapes which shut out interior from the outside world; the rather gothic-looking wrought-iron candelabras entwined with rose vines on each circular table, each complete with a rather sullen man in throes of love; smell of spilt alcohol, and the small stage where a bard was crooning a tacky love song which completed the depressing ambience.
What was noticeable, though, was the large emblem of a bleeding heart printed on the stage curtains, just behind the bard.
"Strange coat of arms," Valeur found himself saying, instead of returning the greeting.
Leon looked back over is shoulder to see what caught Valeur's attention. "Oh yes. My guild emblem. There's a rather interesting story behind it, but I reckon you've heard rumors?"
Oh yes, Valeur heard rumors all right. But despite his knowledge that his cousin, Fontaine, being a member, all he knew for sure was that all of the members shared one thing in common: suffering from a heartbreak. He didn't know any more details, except that Leon, the guildmaster, recovered from a failed suicide attempt (quite pathetic, really, for somebody whose expertise is to kill) brought about after seeing his beloved in his brother's bed.
"The Broken Hearts Guild. I thought my cousin was just pulling my leg because he couldn't find any suitable guild for him." Valeur whispered, the reality of the place still seeping into his consciousness, making him rather dazed.
Leon couldn't stop himself from laughing. "My friend, heartbreak is everywhere," he said, spreading his arms in a theatric gesture, his steel gray eyes sparkling with an unknown emotion. "Look around you, this is where all men,"
An indignant huff from a girl.
"...and a few ladies," he corrected himself after clearing his throat, "unburden themselves of the hurt they've been hiding in their tiny--bleeding--hearts. A place where they can put down all masks and scream, rant, foam and whatever it is you want to do against the injustice."
"Cut the cheesy drama Leon!" Someone from the far corner dared to slur out loud, until someone seemed to elbow him into silence with a very audible hushing sound. Nobody in the right mind would taunt an assassin when it's a common knowledge that there a a price on every head in the eyes of people whose main job it was to kill.
"Down with love!" a rather dour merchant proclaimed as he thrust his gin bottle into the air.
"Ayt! Down with love!" A few other men chanted in unison.
"Down with love! DOWN WITH LOVE!" Now everyone joined in, banging their fists and bottles, stamping their angry feet on the floor with a furious and vehement, vengeful rhythm.
In the midst of the din, Valeur managed to catch Elfienne's lusty eyes again, and despite himself, he laughed. He laughed at the foolishness of what he was experiencing right now; laughed at the pain that stabbed deep in his chest; laughed at the memories of the promises given to him by his Alfrieda; laughed at the thought of the possibility of getting the best lay of life that night; laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Tears trickled down his cheeks as he continued to laugh, lising himself to the din that was a rebellion against the utter injustice of what they might call, the bane of their existence.
All the time, Leon studied him intently.
===
Fontaine chuckled as he leant against the backdoor of the pub, listening into the din that was taking place behind the doors.
In his hands was a faded picture of a beautiful young woman in pale acolyte robes, the surface of the photograph nicked and scratched with knife marks.
Someday, Lucrezia. Someday.
Posted by heart_breaker at 08:42 AM in Parts | Add a Comment