The Sacred Monolith: Second Chapter Critique

If you haven't read my first chapter, then please don't critique this. The first chapter is posted, I believe on the second page of the critiques forum. :) Thanks!

Title: The Sacred Monolith

Language/Draft/Length: English, Third Draft, 1300 words

Subgenres: Epic fantasy/ Political Melodrama

Critique requested: Whatever needs fixing, don't hesitate. Just let me know. ;)

Critique Tolerance: I can take anything you can dish, but be polite and respectful. :)

Known Issues: The ending is weak and there may be some excessive adjectives. :) I like to be colorful.

An Audience

Sylivia’s feet dangled from a branch as she sat in the old oak tree, just outside Lady Camellia’s manor. She sung to herself softly as she gazed down the empty roadway leading up to the manor. A cool breeze breathed through the leaves of the tree, rattling them into a soft murmur. It blew the hem of her titian dress, and chilled her bare shoulders. The sun peeked through the maze of branches around the crown of the tree, forcing her to place her hand above her eyes and squint. It was well beyond the middle of the sky now, signaling the arrival of the afternoon.
“Sylivia! Sylivia Rapstine, come down from there, this instant!” called a voice from, what sounded like, the manor’s veranda. Sylivia whipped her head around to see Leanne, Camellia’s personal attendant, standing with her hands on her hips and her face in a scowl. “Come inside, take off that silly dress, and clean yourself up! You should be ashamed of yourself, wearing a dress without any shoulders! It’s simply unladylike!”
Sylivia rolled her eyes and sighed. “Miss Leanne, you know this is my day off from school don’t you? You needn’t monitor me so tenaciously. I’m almost twenty; I am capable of making my own decisions.”
The plump maid shook her gray head and said, “Honestly child, I don’t know why Lady Camellia puts up with your farm girlish antics! She’ll be returning from her session any minute now. You don’t want her to catch you looking like a fool now, do you?”
Acknowledging the woman’s words, Sylivia began climbing down the trunk of the tree, gracefully scaling its weathered bark. “Where I come from Miss Leanne, a pretty face is all you need to impress someone. I am simply dressing more casually for Valere and Bernard. They are arriving this afternoon, as I suspect you know.”
“Yes, but you are no longer a farm girl from Hendisburg,” she said while ushering her through the door of the manor. “You have been taught to act like, talk like, and sing like a distinguished young lady. That is the reason you’re father took you to audition for Lady Camellia’s scholarship, is it not?”
“Yes, Miss Leanne,” she responded, annoyed, “Did he not tell every attendant in this house that I ‘sing like the angel Corellia, and I was born for the sole purpose of singing?’”
“Indeed, he did,” Leanne said, “And I agree with every word he says.”
Sylivia chuckled as if the woman was telling a clever riddle. “If only there really was an angel, Miss Leanne. The Monolith between the Sacred Mountains is a meteor, nothing more. There is no angel ‘guarding the world from darkness.’” Sylivia stepped into the manor, trudging, as if discussing the angel was now irritating, not amusing.
“Then why did the Empire establish the Interdiction Board, Sylivia?” asked Leanne, “There is a reason why the Empress must be kept from attaining power over the laws again. That angel and that Monolith are the very reason you are here today.”
Sylivia stopped walking, halting in the center of the foyer, turning to face Leanne, who was still standing on the veranda. “Maybe so, Miss Leanne.”
But she said nothing more. Her eyes widened with excitement. A carriage was pulling up the roadway. It was unfamiliar to her, with its black lacquered body and oaken trim.
“Val...Ben,” she said with a grin.
The girl dashed out the door, and joined alongside the carriage as it pulled into the cul-de-sac. Her bare feet stuck to the warm pavement as she peered through the carriage’s cloudy windows.
The door creaked open, and out stumbled a sandy-haired boy, with blue eyes and a gentle, handsome face. He stared at her blankly for a moment, but then cracked a smile.
“Valere Hutchinson!” said Sylivia with a chuckle. She lunged at him as he stepped onto the white stone pavement, embracing him, stroking her fingers through his short hair.
“Sylivia,” he said as he returned her embrace. “I have missed you so much.” He clenched her amber hair, and pulled her towards him, squeezing her shoulders tightly.
As they released each other, another young man stepped out from the carriage. His green eyes sparkled and his raven black hair shone in the sunlight. Sylivia examined him from head-to-toe. “Bernard?” she asked, “You have grown even brawnier since I last saw you!”
“Well Sylivia,” he muttered in a joking tone, “Val gets a hug, but I’m told that I’ve gained weight? It’s nice to see you to!” His chiseled face burst into laughter as he wrapped his thick arms around her.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” she replied, “You’re still as handsome as ever! Now please, come inside. We can sit in the tea room and catch up.”
He released her and she scurried onto the veranda and entered the foyer, followed closely by the two boys, who were looking around, eyes wide and mouths dropped.
The high ceilings were painted with battle scenes, so realistic it seemed you could join the foray. Pillars were carved into the plaster of the white walls, and stained glass windows outlined the high ceilings. The sun’s rays shone from outside, showering the foyer with shades of prismatic light.
Barely looking ahead, the boys stumbled as they followed Sylivia into the tea room, a few doors down the main hallway. Once inside, they were greeted with the scent of cinnamon tea intermixed with the aroma of earl grey; both were placed in pots on the round table in the center of the room.
“Please, sit down,” insisted Sylivia as she closed the doors behind her. “Tell me, how was your journey?”
She scampered towards the sofa and collapsed into the creamy white upholstery.
“Hectic,” said Val, sipping, what smelled like, the choice of earl grey. “We weren’t expecting an invitation so soon. You still have another semester to complete before graduation, don’t you?”
“Sadly, yes. But Mistress Olyvia tells me that I’ve already surpassed the other students in my vocal classes. It’s just a matter of reciting advance-level scales, and mastering the movement of the voice through arpeggios and crescendos.”
“I’m sure it’s no problem for you,” said Bernard, “you’re the most talented vocalist I’ve ever heard.”
Sylivia smiled. “Just as flattering as always, Bernard Isen. Even if I’m talented as you say, it still requires a substantial amount of effort to sing so vigorously. Sometimes it seems my vocal cords will snap from the strain!” She giggled as she poured cinnamon tea into the transparent cup.
“How’s Lady Camellia?” asked Val, setting his tea on the table, “Is she coping well after the loss of Emperor Ambrose? Your letters described her anguish so vividly.”
Sylivia sighed, lowered the teacup into her lap, and said, “It’s been difficult for her to transition from the Emperor’s wife to the Head of the Interdiction Board. Empress Rihanna is...less than satisfactory at fulfilling her duties. She’s more concerned with her own interests than the Empire’s wellbeing.”
“I still find it odd that she, of all people, was chosen by the Interdiction Board,” remarked Val, “didn’t Camellia win the popular vote of the people?”
“Yes,” Sylivia responded, “but the Interdiction Board makes the final decision. The people’s vote is only considered. Ironically, Ambrose proposed that law a few months before he was assassinated.”
Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, and in came Leanne, disheveled, breathing heavily. “Sylivia, what are you doing in here? Lady Camellia and Empress Rihanna are in the foyer waiting for you!”
Sylivia’s eyes burst to the size of dinner plates. She exclaimed:
“What? The Empress? Here? Now? Why? Dear Corellia, I haven’t even changed out of this dress, Leanne!”
The old woman scowled. “And what did I tell you? Perhaps you should listen to me instead of dismissing me as an old, ranting hag!”
“Now is not the time—,” she said, panicked.
“You have no choice but to greet them,” insisted Leanne.
Sylivia just stood for a moment, eyes nearly in tears, realizing that Leanne was, indeed, right.

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