While the morning had started with the warmth of bouts of sunshine, the rain had quickly subdued the kind weather and started pouring in droves onto the busy street where the show hall sat.
Despite the weather, Lumière wasn't bothered. It was a common occurrence in Leiden, almost a permanent occurrence.
Lumière had decided to make his way down to the show hall in the middle borough in order to secure his payment. While the Madame had spoken about refusing him his pay, he knew she would never truly do such a thing. After all, it hadn't been the first time he had pulled such a trick on his audience. He was used to her anger, even thinking it justified.
However, the attendant who was in charge of handing out the imbursement for performances only worked certain hours during the day, so he had to hurry.
To go without pay for too long would have meant death for someone without means, and for the monastery that had taken him in when he was a small child, it meant the deaths of many others. He had received the donation money from his audience prior, but it wasn't infinite. There were always expenses, which he relished.
To him, that monastery was a godless place- no more than a building with four walls and a roof. He had chosen to treat it as such. Thus, he had no apprehensions with working until the skin on his heels had hardened from standing up all day in front of an audience. He often fell ill from dehydration, and would become unconscious in his changing room, but he still kept to it.
In that way, he would not support the Goddess who had brought forth such a cruel world, but he would support the Goddess's adorers whom he held dearest. The money would usually find their way into Father Benedict's hands, who, after giving a large portion of it to the main cathedral in the middle borough, would use the remaining portion to feed the Dwindlers. To try and go past the cathedral and spend the money on the Dwindlers in excess was something Lumière was too afraid to do, however. He was sure that it would bring up some elaborate excuse for his 'failures to patronise the church' and would only bring trouble to Father Benedict.
The rainfall had only worsened as he walked along the stone path, and as he watched the multitudes of horse-drawn carriages pass him by, he began to wonder about a life that was not his own. Were he to be born a noble, would he ride in such a fantastical roofed cart, free from the chill of the weather?
Rather than his birth, was he to curse the Goddesses who left the continent of Leinshir in such a vicious cycle of weather?
He had been born into Leiden's 5th recorded torrent cycle- bouts of rainfall that would continue for centuries on end. A hundred years prior, it had been the 5th cycle of the bloody sun, and a hundred years before that, the 4th cycle of snowfall. In the world's 20th century- a year that should have been momentous, it was tortured by constant rainfall.
To be stuck inside such a monotonous cycle of weather was too much for Lumière to lament, and so he ignored it in its entirety.
As he walked, he spotted soldiers in bright-white uniforms patrolling in the rain, carrying oil lamps in their hands to spite the oncoming darkness of the cloudy weather, despite the glow of the luminescent street lamps.
'Why are there so many about today? Has something happened, or are they searching for something?' As a thought entered Lumière's mind, he couldn't help but smirk. 'Perhaps the defeat of that human amalgamation has sparked worry in even the highest orders. Wouldn't that be hilarious? I would have finally managed to shake the foundation of the world.'
They were the peacekeepers of Leiden, the supposed 'caretakers of order'. Lumière often paid them no mind, as they seemed either too afraid, or too unbothered to journey down towards the lower borough. As long as he was dressed well enough to pose as a resident of the middle borough, it was sure that they wouldn't bother him too much.
Before long, he came to a large building with an ornate double door acting as its entrance. Stepping through the door, he was met with the faint scent of lavender, and of the warmth of the hall that led into the showroom.
To his right, a desk separated him and a woman in another room, its clean office interior visible over it. Shuffling through a stack of papers, a woman with bright green eyes and dark hair fluttered about the room like a hummingbird with a mission.
"Good morning, Ms. Lavant."
"You say that, but it's nearly noon." She smiled in return.
With one hand, she gestured towards the mechanical clock hanging on the wall. Its hour hand had nearly struck the mid-point, which meant that several hours had passed since he had adjourned from the monastery.
He let out a sigh. "I've come for my pay, Ms. Lavant. You would have it here, yes? Would you mind counting it out for me? There should be thirty lune included in the envelope."
"Wasn't it forty lune last week?" The attendant exclaimed. "What did you do to offend the Madame this time?"
"I used her precious ring in a disappearing act at the end of last week's performance." He winked.
"Did it truly disappear? Or was this just another of your illusions?"
As long as Lumière had worked in the show hall, Ms. Lavant had never once fallen for any of his acts. As such, she was a woman he respected most. She was someone who saw the world for what it truly was.
Ms. Lavant turned around to shuffle over to a cabinet, where large envelopes had been separated by sheets of thick paper. She produced a large paper envelope that had been tied shut by twine and brought it over to the counter.
"Let's see…"
Undoing the twine on the envelope, it seemed to bulge wide with its contained material.
She suddenly paused, peering into the envelope with a look of surprise on her face.
"Ah, it seems you truly angered the Madame this time." Ms. Lavant laughed dejectedly. "She's given you your pay in Trest."
Lumière's eyes widened. Trest was the smallest measurement of currency in the Western continent. They were small, circular copper coins. Thirty Trest would have been the equivalent of one Lune, a small square-shaped iron coin.
This meant that when counted up correctly, there were nine hundred copper coins in the large envelope that Ms. Lavant had been holding.
Lumière's eyebrow twitched slightly, but he kept a calm expression as he spoke once more.
"If the Madame had been so kind as to look at her hand after the act was over, she would have realised her ring had still been in her possession." Lumière sighed aloud.
'No, she might have realised it and chose to spite me regardless. That's just how the Madame operates.' Lumière scoffed. 'Still, I didn't think she would actually deduct my pay. It seems that everything is changing in this world, even how people usually act.'
'Is even this a lingering effect of war?'
Accepting the envelope from the attendant, he bowed slightly, pinching at the brim of his hat as he smiled.
"I wish you and your family good tidings, Miss." He spoke softly.
"And to you, I wish many more smiles to cross your path."
With that, he bid her a final goodbye and then adjourned from the show hall.
Stepping back into the rain, he let out a heavy, sharp breath. He glanced down at the envelope in his hands before slipping it into an interior coat pocket.
'I cannot blame people for their cruelty when it is learned behaviour. People learn from their environments, after all. She may have lived a privileged life, unlike I, but she has suffered and struggled. I can understand that much… but why must her anger come out in such petty ways?' Downtrodden, he lamented.
Glancing up towards the stormy sky, his eyes narrowed.
'Goddesses, if you truly look down with benevolence, what should I do next? Should I turn myself in to the church like you request, or should I defy your will, and use this power I have gained for the benefit of others?'
Of course, Lumière expected no reply. None ever came. He knew that the limited attention Deities could muster would be reserved to answer their most saintly believers. Lumière was nowhere close to that. He knew that was how it should work, logically speaking. Still, he had always hoped that they would tell him why things happened the way they did.
Why did he have to be the sole financial supporter of an entire group? Why did Sister Alinde lose her memories? Why did the mother and daughter get attacked in the middle borough that day?
Why did anything ever happen at all, and why did 'godly' beings have no control over it, or if they did, why didn't they care? Lumière didn't even know if his hatred was misplaced. He only knew that something needed to change.