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Around the time Amelia was 8, her mother had composed her absolute favorite poem. It was an epic, one that her mother had given to her in intriguing installments every night for an entire week. It told the story of a solitary knight’s quest to ignite a fire that would keep the creatures of the dark away from the world. Amelia sat enthralled each night, imagination running wild. She was especially fond of the lady with the mask who tended to the fire. And when her mother had reached the end of the tale, she demanded more, only to be told that things must end to remain special.
So when Amelia traveled to Cainhurst Castle (which was itself a location reminiscent of the grandest of poetry), she was delighted to find a chest containing a set of clothing that had matched what she saw in her mind’s eye. It was a red and black dress and leather trousers. A puffy collar and an ascot provided a white contrast to the rest of the ensemble, along with heavy gold filligree. The sleeves were adorned with gauntlets that seemed more decorative than practical. The outfit carried pride and importance, two things that Amelia had encountered little of in her life.
Figuring the spectral inhabitants of the castle would not mind if she took it for herself (“What would ghosts want with clothing anyway,” she thought), she closed her eyes and took great pleasure in envisioning herself as the great heroine of a story that would be passed on. Just like the ones her mother told her about. She had the fearsome sword, to begin with.
“But I cannot allow myself to be taken away by some romantic fantasy,” she said to herself. “I am a commoner, brought into a struggle that I know next to nothing about. There will be no fanfare for me. I’m no better than Gascoigne. Certainly not Eileen or Djura.”
Then she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a nearby mirror. “At least I am better-dressed than them,” she thought with a slight smirk. “If I can take a single reward with me, let it be this.”
Hearing more moans and howls in the distance, Amelia then resumed exploring the castle, now with a slight spring in her step and a firmer grip on her blade.