This is extremely short, yes I am aware of that.
Set in the 1600s
The door gave off a sudden muffled moan as it opened. A new presence had now been made by a rather striking fellow of his mid-twenties. Eyes a deep blue and hair a bright yellow, he stepped forth into the boardroom with a hardened expression much too foreign of his typical gentle being. He was greeted by a panel of stone-faced musicians and colleagues.
All humming of murmurs seized abruptly and all buzzing of chattel died down to a hushed a whisper, and then finally, there was silence.
A lingering perception of misgiving hung in the air, passing over every soul present; all attention was focused on him and him alone. Not a face cracked to a smile, not an eye twitched to blink.
The man, dressed handsomely in his hip-length black cloak, matching finely with his doublet, linen breeches, and knee high boots, stood completely motionless before the room. He moved in a little more and firmly shut the door behind him; a wave of anxiety washed over every man and woman, for he knew what they did not.
Centuries seemed to pass by before he finally broke the tension with the outbreak of a wide grin, “We are in!”
No one budged.
The gentleman stood grinning as he let his eyes skim the crowd. ‘Why aren’t they cheering?’ he thought. He looked to the left, still smiling, and noticed how the two men sitting there stared blankly at him. ‘Hmm,’ he thought, sparing a look over to the right of the room. A woman and her three young daughters sat huddled near a low glowing lantern, also staring at him as though he were a fool.
Alas, his grin faded and he slowly turned around on his heels. Behind him, two naval men emerged from the shadows in unison. They towered above him, rifles at hand and a pair of irons jingling from their waists, chiming at collision to their hips.
The faded grin dropped like lead, replaced with a harsh scowl, “Is there a problem, gentlemen?”
The guard to his left, buff and broad, growled down at him, “Are you Jacques Ambler: music maestro?”
He twisted his head around, taking in the room with his eyes as though he had no idea who the officer was referring to. Everyone else had begun whispering quietly to one another, gossiping no doubt. He ignored it and averted his attention back to the officer before him, “Is someone requesting my immediate presence?”
The two guards turned to one another to shared a silent conversation, no words were spoken verbally, however, but through a combination of nods, grunts, smirks, and scowls. The two finished with short snorts and sniggers, ‘A reaching of accord, I presume’, Jacques thought. In unison, they turned back to Jacques.
They grinned and clasped the irons about his wrists. What surprised him most, though, was just how calm everyone was about the situation. Of course he wasn’t expecting for women to be passing out and men to burst into brawls, but it just seemed a little off that no one was riled up. Had they known that these men were coming to take him away? Is that why they weren’t as enthusiastic as he had hoped when announcing the great news? A chance to play for the king, queen, emperor, and empress all in the same meeting?
The broad officer, who he had been speaking with, wrapped his hand around the doorknob and pulled it open. Both men roughly yanked Jacques by his wrists and pushed him ahead of them. Most others would bow their heads in shame while walking out of a large party of people, hauled by officers in the king’s palace, but that was not Jacques. He had been a prideful sprout since he could walk, and so chose to remain that way until the dark day of his death.
So, instead of admiring the shine of his shoes, he raised his chin and marched out of the boardroom as though he were the Almighty himself, gracefully balancing the world on his shoulders.
Any and all criticisms would be most appreciated.