Chapter 7 The Ghost Swords
Celise lost track of her direction.
Gazing about the luscious scenery, she followed the brick path through the cottage garden, down a slight hill, and then into an orchard of espaliered apple trees.
She passed by several pavilions with little cottages where other guests were housed, and then more gardens, until somehow she arrived at the north wing of Gravenmere Castle.
She hadn’t seen this side of the castle before. A wide stone staircase led up to an extravagant pair of double doors, propped open. Inside, the manor’s staff swarmed about like excited bees. Celise caught a strong whiff of onions and rosemary. This must be the kitchens.
She felt bolder and more comfortable around the servants than the aristocracy.
Curious, she wandered up to the open entryway.
No one stopped her. The castle’s staff dashed back and forth, arms laden with towels, blankets, refreshments and everything in between.
It felt like she had walked into a busy hotel.
Celise didn’t mean to trespass, but she wasn’t eager to return to the Moongazer Tower just yet. While she was free and unescorted, she might as well see what she could of the castle.
She walked through the north wing's busy ground floor.
She saw a great hubbub at the end of the corridor and a cloud of steam—she assumed that was the entrance to the kitchens.
If she wandered in that direction, she would definitely be noticed.
So she headed for a quiet staircase instead.
She climbed up to the second floor, which was less busy.
Actually, the second floor appeared to be deserted.
Celise reached the landing at the top of the stairs.
She hesitated for a moment before continuing down the second floor's hallway.
The corridor was wide enough for four people to pass comfortably side by side, which made its emptiness even more apparent.
Compared to the ground floor, it was totally silent.
Rich green rugs trailed the length of the hall.
Standing vases, taller and broader than herself, shined with all sorts of colorful enamels, lined the hallway.
She had never seen such expensive, immaculate decor.
She imagined a whole army of servants spent their days cleaning Gravenmere Castle.
The place was so large that as soon as they were finished, they likely had to start over from the top.
She kept her gloved hands buried in her sprigged cotton skirts and tried not to touch anything.
Treading softly, Celise passed by the long line of giant vases and locked doors. It was a bit eerie and more than a little disappointing. There wasn’t much to see, and now she definitely felt like she was trespassing.
Finally, at the end of the corridor, she saw a sign of life.
There, a manservant dressed in brown livery was hovering about a pair of heavy wooden doors.
He seemed to be having difficulty with the knob.
His key was stuck, and he rattled the brass knob in his hand with an air of frustration.
As Celise watched, the servant finally got one of the doors open and let himself inside. He left the door cracked.
Celise glanced around the hallway, but she didn't see any other servants or attendants nearby. Then she turned back to the door, wondering about what she had just seen. The man wasn't dressed in green livery like the rest of the Blackwood staff. Something about his behavior seemed . . . odd.
She felt the desire to investigate.
Her conscience reminded her that she shouldn’t be wandering about Gravenmere Castle unescorted.
She didn’t truly belong there, and the second floor was otherwise empty.
The room beyond the cracked door was probably out of bounds.
But . . . why not take a quick look? She was used to passing unnoticed around the Dhastel estate like a little ghost. She likely wouldn't be noticed if she explored a bit more.
As she approached the door, a glimmer of mysterious light caught her eye.
More curious than concerned, she peeked inside.
The soft, flickering light of gas lamps illuminated the room beyond the cracked door. She saw unfamiliar metal objects glittering on the walls. She pushed the door open with a cautious nudge.
She stared.
Gas lamp chandeliers illuminated a long chamber with golden light.
The room wasn't quite as large as the Dhastel Great Hall, but close to it.
Only two of the chandeliers were lit, casting the room in a sparkling half-shadow.
Her eyes traveled to the wall closest to her, where rows of metal rods coated with bright enamels were mounted on metal hooks.
The rods sported hilts and pommels, as though designed for combat.
She gasped softly.
They were ghost swords.
She recognized the hilts from drawings and illustrations she had read.
Ghost swords were the weapons of the Daemonguard.
Luminaries channeled their mana into the shined rods, which focused their power and projected a slightly transparent “ghost” blade.
The “blades” appeared like vapor or mist emitting from the rod, which was how they got their name.
Celise took another step forward, gazing around the wide, half-lit chamber.
The room held quite a collection of “blades,” though without any mana channeling through them, they looked more like grounding rods.
From one to two inches in diameter, the rods varied in size and shape.
Some were almost as long as she was tall; others were very short, perhaps the length of her forearm.
The enamels were a plethora of colors and patterns.
Some looked like rods dipped in spilled acrylics, with patterns of marbled purple, silver, green and gold.
Others were shined scarlet red or matte black.
Still others were checkered blue and yellow.
One had vining bands of pink and orange.
The weapons had a deadly reputation, yet up on the wall, they hung like bright and colorful wands.
They almost looked like children’s toys.
She wandered deeper inside, her mouth slightly agape.
The room didn’t look like a soldier’s armory—more like a collection of family heirlooms. She passed by a glass case that ran the length of the room, filled with military medals.
The plaques and nameplates beside the medals detailed the history of the Blackwood Luminaries that had served in the Forsynthian military.
Despite the oil portraits and nameplates, Celise couldn’t begin to unravel the rich heritage of the Blackwood house.
Their bloodline seemed to go back to the founding of the kingdom, perhaps even before.
She didn't know what the medals meant, but they were polished and well kept.
Her sense of inferiority grew.
The opposite wall from the ghost swords held a variety of shined shields and helms and a full suit of armor from the Iron Age. She saw the Blackwood family crest centered on the wall: a green dragonfly on a black diamond. It seemed she had stumbled into the Blackwood family’s trophy room.
She started to get a bit nervous. She really shouldn’t be there.
Then a door slammed shut across the room, making her jump. Her heart leapt into her throat. Her eyes flew to the opposite end of the chamber, where a mysterious pocket door was hidden in the shadows beyond the gas lamp chandeliers. It probably led to a servants’ passage.
The servant in brown livery must have left the trophy room. She didn't see anyone else in attendance. Except for a wide variety of interesting artifacts, the room was empty. Whoever the intruder had been, he had slipped away while she was distracted.
Perhaps he was a ghost?
She smiled at the thought. She wasn't opposed to the idea. But she wasn't about to go chasing after a ghost around the castle—she had explored quite enough of Gravenmere for one day.
Now what?
Celise sensed her little adventure was already drawing to a close.
She should leave the room and return to the Moongazer Tower .
. . but she found herself lingering. She glanced through the tall glass windows on her left.
From this height, she could see a checker-patterned pavilion just outside the north wing of the castle.
Sprawled under the pale Hallowsin sky, a tiled pavilion of black granite and white quartz was visible from the trophy room.
It wasn't immediately next to the castle, but slightly removed at the center of a trim, green lawn, framed on three sides by boxwood hedges.
A group of ladies gathered there.
Ah. The Teacup Tournament.
She had a clear vantage point, though the figures looked rather small.
Celise thought she recognized Lady Estoria Blackwood in her emerald green gown among the gathering of pastel and lace dresses.
The ladies stood in a loose circle around the checkered pavilion, where two figures in white fencing jackets faced off against each other.
That would be Ambrosia and Katrina, no doubt.
From this distance, they looked like toy figurines dancing about on strings.
A spark of mana drew her eye. Ambrosia was on the defensive. The fencing match had begun.
Celise watched with mild interest. Fencing was a sport, not real swordplay like how the Daemonguard trained to fight monsters in the Abyss.
Ambrosia and Katrina’s foils couldn’t compare to the ghost swords hanging from the treasury’s walls.
A flash of mana sparked whenever the tip of a foil touched a jacket.
That’s how points were scored—by mere touches.
But that was all the power required to join the Luminous Lady's Fencing League.
She didn't think Katrina or Ambrosia had enough mana ability to ignite a ghost sword.
Then again, what did she know about such things?