The Exaltation of the Minotaur by Damian Murphy

Author:Damian Murphy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ex Occidente Press
Published: 2023-10-04T00:00:00+00:00

Albin smoked in silence beneath a thin black awning while the increasing downpour brought fresh color to the cobblestones. He leaned against the rough stone of a covered doorway, thoroughly immersed in a study of one of the buildings which stood on the opposing side of the deserted city square.

Three high arched windows dominated the upper stories of a chateau constructed in a long forgotten style, their surfaces made opaque by the reflected light of the setting sun. An impressive façade of white brick given to ornamental flourishes and treacherous alcoves loomed imperious above the desolate expanse. Albin’s attention was particularly captivated by a panel of smooth white stone, located just below the central of the three high windows.

The panel featured an ornate relief carving of a throne, unadorned and angled slightly to one side. The emptiness of the throne bespoke a marked deficiency, a destitution which struck Albin as particularly resonant with his own internal state. An arch of finely wrought letters just above the throne indicated a title as perplexing as it was definitive. Albin reflected on the appellation, ‘The House of the Ivory Sovereign’, as he placed the cigarette between his lips. Where then, he wondered, is the sovereign to be found?

The lower floor of the building was chiefly occupied by two wide archways, the leftmost of which housed a row of leather carriages, black and red, just large enough for two passengers. The carriages were attached to a rail which ran along the wooden floor. A ticket booth stood between the arches, just beneath the stone panel, precisely in the place where one might expect to find the front door of the imposing manor. The rails continued behind the booth, spanning the floor beneath the archway on the right and continuing into an area concealed by the façade. The booth was occupied by an older gentleman attired in a dark, tightly fit suit. The man’s hands rested gently on the counter as his nervous gaze shifted about the empty square. He avoided looking directly at Albin. His impeccable dress, along with his thin white hair and trim mustache, gave him the appearance of a retired civil servant.

As incongruous as the building was, with its carnivalesque entrance and enigmatic title, it managed to blend in so completely with the surrounding architecture that the unsuspecting eye might pass right over it. One could almost mistake it for a quaint, if eccentric, hotel.

Albin took the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling a cloud of light blue smoke which lent a gentle dignity to the enveloping rain. He recognized the institution on the other side of the square as a sort of carnival attraction, a mystery house, of a type commonly located on quiet city streets, inconspicuously placed among less colorful enterprises. He’d frequented several of them in his younger days. He was surprised that such a thing could still be found in a provincial town like this one. He’d assumed that they were entirely a thing of the past.

Albin was taking somewhat of a sabbatical.

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