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Crimson · May 15, 2008, 06:13 PM

In the very heart of Jaedaxia’s southern quarter, in the Mavloix district, fifteen streets – some of them major thoroughfares – moulded together into a massive, ten lane roundabout, which encircled “le Parc d’Idylle.” This accounted for the enormous length of the circular street, just over a half a mile. All of it was constantly bustling with carts, coaches, horses, and carriages, bumping and jostling over the cobblestones. Almost all traffic in the southern quarter, and even beyond, eventually found its way to that roundabout, except for those that knew to avoid it, and more importantly knew how, whether that was a fluke or the careful (or devious) plotting of city planners.

The park was a place of incomparable majesty. Taking up a third of the square mile, it was also undoubtedly the most sizable in the entire city. Even “le Parc des Roses” in the residential quarter was dwarfed by the voluminous plot of land of flourishing gardens, lush green grass, and many tall, noble trees clustered in groves or standing solitary in the open. That is, when there was not a thick blanket of snow draped across all life in the city. Paths wended their ways through the luscious gardens and tiny wood lots, from the rim toward the centre. Many found it a beautiful reprieve from the grey stones and bricks of the city. Frequently denizens of the dull stone houses; drab offices, and tedious jobs strolled along those paths, idly admiring the serene gardens. These boasted a wide myriad of flowers and plants, things that, in the urban setting, with its overcast skies, were like jewels scattered in a field of gravel and granite. While there were lilies, lilacs, pimpernels, and trilliums, no flower was more prominent than the rose – red as blood, canary yellow, and the deep, foreboding black of a moonless night. Anywhere one went in the city, from grand estates, vast parks, or balcony gardens, roses were found in abundance, prospering and blooming. In the winter their frozen petals were crisp and fragile, as though they were made of glass, rather than ice and flower. Yet in the sun they glittered and scintillated like the wings of a faery, or a diamond placed in a pool of crystal clear water. Their delicate beauty, thorny and hidden bite, and romantic symbolism were an impeccable match for Jaedaxia: a city of love, charm, and unexpected thorniness from its haughty, highly sophisticated inhabitants.

In those winter months which were so common the city, dominating the era with its icy clutch, as though it were a corpse clinging to the ankle of a frantically fleeing child, the park was frozen in pristine white exquisiteness. With winter came the scenic wonderland that annually came along with it. Layers of glassy icy coated the branches of barren trees, which glimmered and twinkled in the starlight of clear nights. Everything had about it a sense of cleanliness – as with the rest of the city – of purity and a cleaned slate. All the tarnish of the seasons before was frosted over, covering each and every blemish, replacing it with an idyllic world, faultless in appearance. But like things so paradisic, it did little more than mask the blemishes. Not in that park, though. Beneath the snow and the frost and the glaze of frozen water was the unbridled magnificence of the vivid gardens and marble fountains.

However, there was more to that park than just its expansive, well-groomed lawns, its flowerbeds, and groves of trees. Looming high above the city’s skyline, surpassing the roofs of even the tallest of buildings, was a castle, le Mavloix de Château. Despite all the grandeur and architectural craftsmanship in everything from the theatres to the government offices, this was no doubt the most astounding sight in Jaedaxia – the one thing that visitors were fools to miss. Of course, it was almost impossible to do so, the peak of its highest tower, a clock tower, was visible from all ends of the city.

Covering at least a quarter of a square mile it was no modest affair. Clearly it had once been the home and stronghold of some long forgotten, ancient noble house that, by the sight of its impressive enormity, had to have rivaled the Caradoses themselves – if it had not once been their very own. Most speculated that it was the castle of the obscure lineage of the Mavloixes, the most obvious answer, for it was after them that the castle was named. But that line had been consumed by the mists of time, and any heirs were untraceable. If the family had not deteriorated into squalor and unimportance, the name lost through sons that never married and daughters that did, its name had been absorbed by other blue blooded houses. When the castle had been built though, a full six centuries ago, there was no doubt of the wealth of whichever family was responsible for it.

There was no perimeter wall surrounding the castle, but there was no need for it. Such a formidable structure seemed indestructible, capable of defying everything from the elements to the marching armies of Jaedaxia’s foes. Out of the soft lawn it erupted. Dark grey, almost black stone climbed high above the heads of all, at least nine stories up, and in each corner there continued a tower going even further, spires that looked to pierce the very heavens, suitable stairways for the gods if ever they chose to descend. Rising up from the very heart of the castle, out of the centre of the slanted, ornate, black brass and stone roof was the tallest of all the towers, the clock tower. On each of its four faces was the circle of a clock. Their hands were wrought of gold and black brass. In the area above the grinding gadgets and complex clockwork, where the roof began, there were many bells, which sang every hour, worked by an unknown phantom that dwelled in the bell tower, never seen, or never recognized, by the public. At night, thousands of lanterns were light behind the glass clock faces, highlighting the numbers and hands, so that time was kept throughout the long hours of darkness.

Each of the castle’s facades were lavishly decorated in a gothic style that was common in neighbouring Arkdun, but there were also certain features, newer additions, that were clearly of the baroque style that the cultured Jaedaxia had adopted. Countless upright, small, rectangular windows lined each of the four facades, in lines and rows up and down the nine flights. Framing each one was a curving design, the curves narrowing nastily into spikes so that it gave vampiric, bat-like impression. The corners were rounded, and jutting out from the walls, making the towers appear to be individual structures that had simply been absorbed by the expansion of the castle. At the top of those walls there were battlements, ancient and worn, yet still there, defiant above all else. Perched amongst them were the marble statues of gargoyles and griffins, pegasi and unicorns, dragons and rearing lions. They peered over the battlements, leering down at those below, forgotten by all but those who looked up. Behind them was the black brass roof, slanting upwards. Spines adorned every few feet of their faces, and those curved into measured spikes as well. Every ten feet a spike with a knob beneath the tip protruded upwards. They met at the centre, but had been cut to allow the clock tower to stand up amongst the clouds, bursting from the very core of the structure.

Le Château Mavloix, though, was more than just a castle. It was, in fact, the most famous and prestigious art gallery in the city of Jaedaxia. While the previous owners had abandoned it for centuries, there had been but the briefest of intervals between them and the second line of owners, who used it as an art gallery. All of its halls and corridors contained the finest art in all of the Aelyrian Empire. Paintings and tapestries of immense value hung from every wall. Frescoes and marble sculptures sat on display, open to be viewed by any, for but a small fee at the entrance.

And that, the entrance, was on the south wall of the building. Grand mahogany double doors towered over the heads of any normal person, framed by an ornate archway and marble pillars wedged between the heavy ceiling of the wide balcony between the terraced steps and doors. Inside was a well-lit entrance hall, carpeted in scarlet and amethyst. A finely dressed, clean shaven, and highly respectable middle-aged Medonian human stood with his hands folded behind his back while greeting patrons to the gallery as they filed in. He collected the twenty Crowns entrance fee which was but pittance to the high-class, haughty aristocrats, intellects, and social leaders that whiled away their time, marveling at the treasures within. Those were the most magnificent in Aelyria, for le Château Mavloix was easily the premiere art gallery in all of the realm – in all senses incomparable.

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