Of Iron and Devils

by B. H. Young

  The ducks gawked from far below like awakened children waiting for their breakfast, and Jillian imagined them so. She had achieved more in life that many never would, yet she had not been able to bear any children; an accomplishment that came as easy as the sun sets and the moon rises to others. All she had, until the Gods would bless her, were the ducks.

  "Dammit!" she moped as the wind picked up, pushing the falling bread into the rocks.

  Sir Lawrence approached from behind grasping her in his arms and running his hands around to her stomach. "My love it would be much easier if you fed them from below rather than fighting with the winds at this height."

  Jillian leaned back into him placing her hands atop his, basking in his hugging embrace. Her days always seemed brighter when he held her so. "Of course, you are right," she said, "but I love it up here away from all the rabble."

  "Faravus informed me you sent more men from the dungeons to Blackwitch Prison the other day," he said while swaying their bodies together.

  "What of it?" She asked. Lawrence would always pry with his opinions and she would do her best not to remind him of his place. As hard as he tried though, sometimes it was an argument she couldn't avoid.

  "I just think the people may believe it too lenient my lady."

  "I assure you Blackwitch Prison is a fate worse than death. Besides, I will not stain the street's of Theymonhal with blood." She rubbed his hands and turned her head halfway back to him. "Does it worry you so? That I may appear weak."

  "Province Stewards can serve justice for their laws as they see fit Jillian, such as it has always been. I just think some crimes should be served with appropriate justice for the people to see."

  "Oh appropriate is it, like Lord Lance Surranos of Vyhoven having criminals bombarded with arrows while strapped to poles. Or perhaps more like Lady Maven Aleid who throws criminals into that pit filled with those ghastly creatures among other things I'm told." She cringed up and shivered. "The things I've heard about that woman."

  "No my dear not like that at all, but a public hanging here and there would be suitable for the likes of Theymonhal. It's less messy and cleaner with no chance for suffering," he said as he hugged her tighter.

  "Lawbreakers in Theymonhal will not be executed; those that break the law outside of Theymonhal's walls, the province guards can deal with at full discretion of their own as they see fit or let the Iron High Guard handle them." She squeezed at his forearms around her midsection. "Lawrence, my love I know you mean well, but please let us speak no more of these matters, it is too early, and I don't want to ruin the moment."

  "Yes, my dear I apologize. It is peaceful up her."

  Jillian stared dazed to the ducks below. "I hope to fill these halls soon with the pitter patter of children." She sighed.

  "And we will I'm sure of it," Sir Lawrence said.

  "Perhaps it's punishment from the Gods, for what I don't know? It shows me weak," she said and the belief was clear in her voice.

  "Don't say such things, Jillian. The Gods have no reason to punish you and you most certainly are not weak. When the time is right they will bless us and before you know it we'll have more than we can handle."

  "I do hope so."

  "It's not for lack of trying," he said.

  Her young husband was truthful but he had become rather quick in his efforts as of late. Maybe the enthusiasm had faded away from him. She chuckled. "Suppose we have Liandra, but she's near of adulthood and not my own," Jillian said.

  Sir Lawrence's arms wrapped tighter around her, squeezing. Shivers began to climb in her and she pressed back into him, wanting. Pecked kisses trailed her exposed shoulder up to the side of her neck becoming firmer as they went and she hummed with delight. Sir Lawrence pulled her tighter into him, lowered his hands further down her stomach, and rubbed her soft form with hardening motion and heavy breath.

  "What of the tower guards?" she asked cautiously, with a slight whistling squeal in her voice, as Sir Lawrence dug his lips into her neck.

  The corner guard tower stood a few hundred feet across from her balcony and she would certainly not want to give them a spectacle. How would it look for the help to see their Province Steward bent over the railing getting fucked like a common whore.

  "Lawrence--"

  "There are none in there in the day," he said and kissed her neck with heated aspiration. "Cutbacks do to the war." He began pulling up her gown. "Don't worry my lady, I'll be quick."

  "For that I have no doubt," Jillian said, squeezing her eyes shut and, with a bit of reluctance, giving in to her young husband.

  She began humming to Lawrence's gyrations and wrapped her arm up around his head, pulling at him. Sir Lawrence held her gown up with one hand while fumbling with his belt with the other. When his hand pressed at the center of her back and leaned her to the railing a bit, Jillian spread her feet apart anticipating, with heavy breath, the moment when her young husband would thrust into her hard. But such cravings would not be felt this morning.

  There was a yelp of shock quickly muffled and followed by, "I'm terribly sorry my lady!"

  "Liandra, dear," Jillian composed herself and pushed away from Sir Lawrence as if he were a danger. "It's quite alright my dear," she said chasing back into her chambers after Liandra. "Stop!"

  Liandra stopped, turned with her head low, standing with hands curled around her stomach. "I'm so sorry my lady please forgive me I should not have entered your chambers unannounced."

  Jillian stood absent of any reply. Liandra's face was tightly red and ready to burst into tears, but what could Jillian say. She was certain the embarrassment was thicker with her more than young Liandra. It would be best for all to act as if it never happened, she thought. Liandra was not stupid in the skills of sociability, Jillian would lead, and she would follow.

  "It's all right my dear." Liandra was young and although very kind in manners sometimes she would forget them, traits from a different lifestyle Jillian knew. She grabbed Liandra's shoulders with a gentle touch and looked her up and down. "Is that seamstress Olevia's gown," Jillian said gasping with admiration.

  Jillian wanted to calm Liandra and herself by moving along from an embarrassing display by all. Had Liandra stumbled on her and Sir Lawrence a few minutes later it would have been awkward beyond means and Jillian was certain they'd all endure great challenge to face one another after that, had that occurred.

  "It is my lady I was so excited when it came this morning, I wanted to come and show you right away... I'm terribly sorry," Liandra said with her head still half bowed.

  "Liandra, stop it," Jillian said and held Liandra's arms out. "My word you will catch the eyes of many young men at my celebration." It wasn't a lie. Liandra's firm frame looked ever more radiant in the light blue silver embroidered gown that Olevia had sewn. "Lawrence, come have a look. Isn't she a sight?" Jillian stepped aside presenting Liandra to Lawrence's gleaming eyes like prized stock.

  "She certainly is my love," he said.

  Jillian gave a second glance to him and said, "Lawrence, dear you are gawking." Jillian grinned and threw a giggle to Liandra. "I'm afraid he forgets his manners as well sometimes." Liandra tilted her head up with cheeks shaded of rose. "You've gone and done it now Lawrence, you've made her blush."

  "Apologies my lady, it's just hard to imagine that such old hands could weave such magical fabric."

  "Absolutely amazing isn't it."

  "It is my lady, now I shall take my leave so that you two beautiful women can talk," he said with a smile and kissed Jillian on her cheek before leaving.

  Jillian placed her arm around Liandra and walked her out onto the balcony and up to the stone railing looking out into the morning washed landmass. "It's beautiful up here isn't it my dear?"

  "I am so sorry my lady."

  "My dear it is quite all right, there is no need to keep apologizing. Sir Lawrence and I should handle those kinds of matters at night in a bed proper and not like wild animals," Liandra smiled to h
er comical expression and lighthearted words. "There's that gorgeous smile of yours. You do look absolutely radiant dear. I may have to pull some of my guardsmen back from the war to keep the young men off of you. How do you like it out here?"

  "It's so high up; it doesn't frighten you, my lady?"

  "Not at all, I come here to drift away in my thoughts, I find it very peaceful. We women need our spots to reflect away from the tiresome affairs of the world."

  "I use to sit on my mother's porch and think. It did not have such a pretty view as this but it was nice... pleasant," Liandra said with a gracious voice.

  Liandra's eyes looked worn in shadow. The poor girl had been suffering random bouts of nightmares the last few weeks. Though she was not alone in the tormenting. The dreams flecked other citizens as well, all telling of similar, horrific, visions. Jillian hoped it to be nothing more than a season of worry due to the war and that it would pass quickly rather than becoming a scourge of sorts.

  "Is Meister Frenfirth's remedy helping you sleep any better my dear?" Jillian asked, brushing Liandra's hair from her eyes.

  "Some, I think. But the things the nightmares have shown still linger and I can't help but to think of them." Liandra gazed unsure. "He says they are visions of The March, says other people are suffering from them as well and he can't make his mixture fast enough. I wish I hadn't described them to him, I'd like not to think of a world where such things I've seen in sleep could be real."

  The foolish meister would be liable to cause a panic that most certainly would soon turn into an epidemic against Jillian's hopes. "The old fool sinks enough wine and goes on a rambling blaming the most absurd things as the cause for all manner of trouble. You know the fool once blamed imps in the sewers for spreading a sickness that swept Theymonhal two winters back... imps!" Imps were not real and how a learned meister of Spire Hall could believe in such things was beyond her. "I would not pay his drunken words much merit my dear." As if scaring the poor girl would help, cure her, Meister Frenfirth should know better.

  "They... seem so real, though. I've never had dreams like them before, such sights of monstrosities in a world of pain."

  Jillian tightened her brace of Liandra, rubbing at her shoulder. "Do not let Meister Frenfirth go scaring you with such tales, many things can cause sleepless nights and eventually they will pass. When I was about your age, I had a reoccurring dream of dying in my bed. It lasted for weeks and shook me something awful to the point I would not sleep at night. But in time it passed and so to, will it for you."

  "I hope it is to be soon." Liandra frowned.

  "I tell you what my dear you can come up here any time you like when I and Sir Lawrence are out. A young woman should have a place to reflect and clear stressful thoughts," Jillian said.

  "Thank you, my lady, you are too kind to me."

  "Now run along my dear and change out of that gown. You wouldn't want it to get ruined so soon before my celebration."

  "Yes, my lady."

  Jillian stood a moment longer, the morning was not yet over, and she wanted to embrace more of the poised view. The cool wind pressed into her, tightening her gown to the side of her body as she leaned up against the railing. Still throbbing with Sir Lawrence's advances, she gave thought to run after him so that he may finish what he started, but she had a busy day ahead of her and it would have to wait.

  It was a daunting walk to her office; she was in no hurry to spend the day handling the squabbling of the province. A mind too concerned on selfish matters for the last few days allowed a festering of problems to grow. Her eyes drooped at the stack of papers neatly place on the side of her desk. She walked over, sat down, and let loose a stiff sigh.

  The wind whistled through the castle from an open window somewhere in the great halls. Shrugging with irritation as she sat reading and signing paper after paper, her eyes had long grown tired of steward duties in the late afternoon. Slaving over various dealings of Fleslinburg seemed to never end. A complaint from a farmer over ravaged crops, a land dispute between two noble families, a request from the small town of Dralenwood for more coin to hire guards; would it ever end she wondered.

  Her mind was elsewhere, on Sir Lawrence, where was he, who was he with and what was he doing. She tried not to admit that Lord Willem's slight during their meeting had poisoned her thoughts. A truth she could not ignore, his words had festered for days and allowed the escape of many past questioning notions, and events she struggled to subdue.

  Words read with distant eyes began to pass empty as she moved from one piece of parchment to the next wandering away and allowing a rising tide of recollections to take hold. But before she could aimlessly stroll down that repressed long hallway of locked away memories, Faravus spoke out to her.

  "Beg your pardon, my lady." He walked up and stood in front of her desk.

  "Yes, Faravus what is it?"

  "I have received replies to your request from the other Province Stewards. Lord Lance Surranos and his wife will not be attending, as we already assumed, it seems the war is keeping him quite busy. Lord Neville Dorat and his wife are in Fleslinburg, but will not be attending either... they are busy touring the southern lands, their reply stated."

  "No doubt Lord Dorat is looking for land to expand his winery. An entire province under his rule and yet he seems insistent on having his fat fingers pushed into every patch of land in the kingdom," Jillian said. "A heavy Fleslinburg tax I should think would caution him back to Padenmor."

  "Yes, my lady. Lady Maven Aleid however, has sent word that she will be attending... surprisingly," Faravus said.

  Jillian's lips curled and she flinched. "Lady Maven," she scowled. "Was it really necessary I invite that woman to begin with?" she asked with a disapproving gaze.

  "It's simply a formality my lady to invite the other Province Stewards and then just hope they decline."

  "The things that horrible woman has done," she muttered. "I'm sure you have heard the stories as well. Forcing herself onto her female servants, she does not fancy men you know. I hear young women go missing in the streets of Vinreer Keep as often as the wind blows. I also heard she had the best craftsmen in her hold make her an undergarment that resemble a man's parts... a man's parts!" She sat back into her chair shriveling her face to the disturbing imagery that now stood in her thoughts. "I mean what sane mind could think of such things. How a woman like that could ever become a Province Steward I will never understand... ever."

  "I have heard the stories," Faravus squinted with unease, "though not that particular one and, unfortunately, there are some things that just cannot be unheard. But be that as it may my lady they are just stories."

  "Much like the stories of her being a witch... and you've seen the way she dresses, like a high-end whore. My guest won't know whether to greet her or try to procure her services."

  "A sorceress my lady," Faravus corrected her.

  "Whatever." Jillian shrugged.

  "Onto other matters then, Lord Willem has sent word that the apology has been made. Vague and direct as always, but I'm sure you know the details."

  "Lord Willem," she said irritably. A red fade crawled up her neck and she tightened her jaw and stared off to the wall. "Bastard thinks he can make sharp remarks with false implications. He thinks I'm weak. When the conflict in Vyhoven is over with and Fleslinburg is back to its full forces he is in for a rude awakening."

  "My lady?" Faravus asked.

  "Don't look at me like that, Faravus. Lord Willem is a crime boss who acts as if he is a noble. I may not yet have the proof I need to shine light on his involvement with the Eldafienden but it's only a matter of time. And when I do he will be thrown into the deepest dungeons Blackwitch Prison has to offer and his Great House reduced to ashes."

  "My lady, House Mathayus has been a supporter of Fleslinburg's stewards for as long as one can remember. It may not be wise to rattle that hornet's nest nor accuse them of being involved with the Eldafienden."

  "And because of
that, he should be granted immunity from all his misdeeds? You think the accusations against him are unfounded? That I have simply made them up because I detest the man? Am I so petty, Faravus?"

  "My lady it is my job to counsel you, good or bad I must do so to the best of my ability--"

  "Is that all Faravus?" she snapped.

  "Yes my lady, I shall take my leave then, good day," he said and gave a half bow.

  She could feel her smug was so heavy that it was hurting her face. Faravus never challenged her and nor should he over the likes of Lord Willem, and his initiating of hateful gossip. Jillian threw her hand against the stack of parchment exploding a rain of pages into the air.

  Chapter 20.

  "What are you so giddy about?" Lacy asked Martha while lying perched in her bed fighting a cold.

  Martha smiled and placed Godzton's letter under her feather mattress. "I think today is the day Overseer Lisbet will be taken me into the field," she said with much glee.

  When Nevy brought her Godzton's letter he told her something big was happening and that he saw Overseer Lisbet with three Irons readying a carriage. Martha just knew today was the day.

  "You're so lucky you could have at least tried to take me along with you." Lacy moped and ran a cloth to her nose.

  "She made the offer to me it would've been very rude for me to ask if you could go as well. Besides, you are very sick."

  Lacy frowned and sniffled. "But still."

  "I'm sorry Lacy." Martha walked over to her, leaned down, and smiled to her. "I promise to tell you all about it when I return."

  "Oh you are so bad," Lacy said and then coughed. "What news comes from your man? Has he proposed to you... adding more luck to your day?" Lacy sniffled.