Payment

Dinner

Note: Rewritten but not triple checked for spelling and grammatical errors. Feel free to comment if you see you. Thank you!

The dinning room matched the gothic theme of the castle. With a gracious glass chandelier and even more portraits than I could fathom, it seemed dark and unused. The only thing lively about this room was the fire blazing in the black painted fireplace.

"Vera, who are all these people?" My voice seemed to disturb the unresting dust that lined each frame. And when I leaned in to look closer I could even see a thin film of dust on the painting itself.

I peered behind me to where she stood at the door, stance at attention, hands held behind her back and head lowered as if Sir Dominik was already here. Which I was glad he wasn't. With Vera alone as my company, I felt I could speak freely, without judgment or fear of humiliation. My parents had always drilled proper speech into me despite my improper upbringing. What my parents assumed was proper was probably childish in Sir Dominik's eyes.

"Relatives both alive and since past. Distant and immediate. Lineage and family ties are very important in this house." She stammered at the end as if knowing full well it would hurt me but being unable to help answering my question honestly. "There are also many portraits of people who made an impact in the families success."

"There's so many." I muttered under my breath. "In every room it seems."

My widened eyes stumbled upon a painting not hung with the others. Discarded and draped sloppily with white canvas, I could stop myself from unearthing it. Dust flew at my face as I positioned it in a way I could see, it large heavy frame propped up against the wall. I was careful not to touch the work of art itself, afraid I might mess it up somehow.

It the portrait stood a woman beside a man atop a thrown. Both of them were stunning in appearance. Bold and as sharp featured at Dominik. I saw in in both of their faces.

The woman was tall, slim shouldered and blonde. She hair and skin were fairer than a ghost, her ruby lips and dress a bold contrast.
Her husband, Dominik's father I presume, was the opposite of her. Though he seemed big in stature, he was dark compared to his lovely wife. With heavy bushes for eyebrows, they lay directly above his eyes, leaving no room for a carefree spirit. And his nose, exactly like Dominik's, was sharp and as straight as an arrow. Dark hair and deep tanned leathery skin, it was hard to imagine seeing such a beautiful and scary man in person. Or perhaps it wasn't. As much as Dominik took after his father, there was once singular thing that set them apart and made them so very different. He had his mother's almost soft eyes. I couldn't say they were loving or gentle, but they were entirely different from his father cold gaze.

And as if to set that fact in stone, a large hand swooped in to snatch the painting from my hand. When I looked up, it was directly into those green gems.

"Please refrain from touching things that had obviously been put away." His voice came out low and quiet despite his reprimanding. "Have a seat."

Without any complain or room for error, I sat. I took the seat to the right of the head of the table, to the right of where Dominik soon sat. And I instantly regretted not taking a seat at the middle.

I thought he was going to grumble more about the discarded painting but he didn't. Instead he gently placed it back beneath the canvas and took his seat, snapping his fingers to single the start of dinner. With that sound ringing through the room, a hoard of people came rushing in with plates and glasses and urns. It was to much to catch with a single pair of eyes so I turned my gaze to the table to keep from getting a headache.