Antoinette Mauvais was ten, and she had a very good life.
Mama and Papa were always away, but that was okay. She had the mansion and the servants all to herself, when they were away. She had dollhouses and tea sets and much more to play with, but what she liked to play with most was Jacques, her stallion; she would ride him on the farms that her father owned, and she would pretend that she was a queen, surveying her kingdom.
Whenever Mama and Papa were home, they would always bring back such delightful oddities; large glass pipes with tubes from Araby, silk robes and crystal dragons from the Orient, and headdresses from the Americas. They were very seasoned travellers, though they were both doctors, and when she asked why they were always away, they said they were on a quest. For what, they did not say, and she had to content herself.
Mama and Papa were great lovers of the arts, and Antoinette was no exception. She especially liked to sculpt, and she was very good at it, everyone said. She had started out with clay, when she was young, but lately she had begun sculpting marble. She liked sculpting because, well, because she liked to make people. Perfect people, people with no flaws at all. Every detail in a sculpture had to be quite perfect, and if it wasn't, the whole thing would crumble.
One day, while she was out on the farm riding Jacques, a servant rushed to her, saying that she was wanted in the house. She had visitors.
When she went into the drawing room, there was an old man in a tuxedo with long hair that was tied back; Antoinette, who had seen many people from different lands before, thought the man looked Swiss. He was sitting on Papa's chair, reading a book. Beside him stood a younger (but still old), darker man who wore a similar tuxedo, only white.
They both wore white gloves, though the girl did not find this very unusual. They were simply nobles like herself, she reasoned, but she did find it odd that the dark man wore them as well. If not for the manner of his clothing, she would have mistook him for the other man's servant.
The man who was reading looked up, and looked at her blankly. He stood up, with the help of a cane, bowed slightly, and the other man did the same.
"Good day, Mademoiselle. I am Lord Pharaoh," the man with the long hair said. He gestured to his companion. "This is Itamar." Itamar nodded his head in recognition.
The man Lord Pharaoh looked around the room with contempt. "I am the leader of a very large group of followers, and I- I have come here personally to tell you that your parents are no more," he explained with a sort of flatness.
Antoinette looked at him, wide-eyed, though she did not feel any remorse. Lord Pharaoh eyed her curiously, and added, "I am sure they have not died in vain, however. They were very good colleagues of mine, though their lives short."
Itamar took a step forward. She could see that he was holding a wooden box with brass hinges in his arms. "Your father wanted you to have this," Itamar said, talking in clipped, basic French.
The girl heaved the box from Itamar's skinny arms, and with great effort, opened it. Inside the box, there were very many, very curious looking vials, all of them filled with some kind of power, liquid, or something else. One of them had a single, tiny flower wedged inside.
"Your parents were, by profession, doctors," Lord Pharaoh said, in a manner of explanation, "but they were spiritualists at heart. After they had you, well, they heard about my following, and they joined me on a journey. A journey of life."
The words could have been wistful, but there was little sentiment in the way he said this.
"We have watched you for a long time, Mademoiselle. We believe you can be of great use to us."
Months later, Antoinette was standing over the dead horse, its leg sticking out sorely. She clutched the knife so hard her knuckles were white, though you would not have noticed, because her hands were gloved.
Itamar put a hand on her shoulder and led her to a carriage that had been waiting for them, and they rode off in search for a never-setting sun.