by B. H. Young
"Lord Willem, so nice of you to make it," Jillian said as she approached.
The game had begun. Willem smiled. "Yes, my lady it is a wonderful celebration. Congratulations," he said humoring her, both acting as if they had an ounce of respect for one another.
"Is this handsome young man your son, Lestat?" she asked and placed her hand on Dethal's shoulder, unaware to the uneasiness her touch brought him.
Willem pretended to be oblivious to Dethal's glistening face, clenched throat and hoped he would not vomit all over the steward, though, it would be fitting for her. "No my lady this is Dethal, my late sister Kaylin's son."
"My, he is handsome." She squeezed his shoulder and circled her thumb over it. "I shall maybe have to introduce you to Liandra perhaps."
"That would be wonderful my lady," Dethal stuttered with held breath and tried to give a smile.
Jillian studied him questionably. "Are you not well?"
"He's fine," Willem told her and Dethal lowered his eyes.
Lady Jillian gave a smile and glared Dethal oddly then turned to Willem and asked, "Well, how are you finding this evening's festivities, Lord Willem?"
"Splendid my lady, the Bethforian is particularly doing a wonderful job with the score."
"I'm amazed so many attended I would like to think I'm not as important as the King."
Only in stories where you are fucking him, he wanted to say. "Even those whom we may disagree with pay respect."
"As they should," her voice carried with an authoritative breath.
Willem noticed the glint in her stare. She had made sure to choose her response well. "Where is young Sir Lawrence, I have not been able to pick him out of the crowd all night."
She fanned him with narrow eyes and said, "Well Lord Willem, standing back here with the help, I would think you should not be able to see him at the head of the room."
He looked around at the multicolored conglomerate of armor and sigils surrounding him. "Don't like to tread too far from people of true worth, it might make me forget my own."
Jillian looked for a moment, pondering for a reply to their sly exchange. "Well then, if you need anything my staff is prepared for all requests. Do not hesitate to ask. Now if you'll excuse me I have been greeting guests for hours and have not yet stopped to enjoy my own celebration," she said and fanned her chest.
"A lady's duties are never done," Willem said and gave her an effortless bow.
"Enjoy the rest of your evening," she said, parting and then disappearing into the sea of guest.
He looked to Dethal whose head still lowered in a sulk of embarrassment and skin glistening under the light. "Must you grow sick at the mere touch of a woman! Can you not control yourself," he grumbled under breath.
His argument with Lucinda infuriated him more to truths he did want to entertain. He had made a mistake confronting her and should have left well enough alone. Her venomous words now gave way to a brooding temper. Dethal's choices were of his own and if he wanted to fancy men over women, fine, but to grow sick by simply being touched was beyond ridiculous.
"I'm sorry my lord," Dethal said.
The field of people shifted and parted and Willem noticed him with a studying gaze stepping from the clustering with two women straddled in each arm. Dardanos Eastmunn emerged from the crowd decked in an elegant black doublet with golden floral embroidery. His olive skin, hair of oil and sharp sideburns stabbing under his cheeks, was a face Willem would not welcome during these times. The youngest of the three notorious Eastmunn brothers, brutal enforcers for the Lassono Family of the Dyerwin kingdom, with a vicious reputation well earned.
A heavy feeling sat in his stomach as a sudden coldness embraced him. Willem blinked rapidly, thinking he may have had too much wine but his vision did not alter and he recognized the man was indeed there and approaching him.
The history between the Eldafienden and the Lassonos was a long one built on a mutual understanding for neither to overstep their bounds towards the other. An understanding that would be no more if they had become privy to the Order's plans with Terongard. Though the Lassonos hailed from Dyerwin, they had dealings in Terongard, dealings they may think at risk under a different rule. Willem had expected that other groups may not take too kindly to the Eldafienden's attempt but he had hoped it would not bring prying inquiry until well after the task was completed and they had the full power of the kingdom at their command.
Dardanos threw a smirk as he stepped up to him. "Lord Willem, it has been a very long time I should think." His voice was heavy with his Iklaceian accent.
"Dardanos Eastmunn, what a surprise. You are a long way from home, I did not realize Lady Jillian's presence reached as far as Churchador," Willem said.
"It doesn't." He grinned. "But when she heard I was in the city she had invitation sent for me to come grace her grand celebration and I do enjoy partaking in the parties of nobles."
"Your brothers, have they traveled with you?" Willem asked. One Eastmunn was not a good sign, but all three would give cause for great concern.
"No, they did not," he said and smiled as his two dates ran their faces close to his neck.
"Your dates?"
"Prizes of Theymonhal's great brothel, though I had to spend a little coin on proper attire for them to enter such a hall as this. It is no matter though as I enjoy ripping such elegant attire from the frames of such lovely women I should think."
"So what brings you all the way to Fleslinburg?"
"A family matter," he said and whiffed at the neck of one of the women.
"Was not aware you had family here."
"A cousin of mine." He cut his eyes to Dethal, Ered, Lisim, and then back to Willem.
"Will you be here long?" Dardanos was no fool but Willem's inquiry was unnoticed under nonchalant manner.
"As long as it takes."
How many lives had been taken under those eyes, Willem wondered, as they glistened at him with an odd emptiness? The Jester of Chaos they called him. A lunatic so far gone even Bluehold Asylum would not have him. Was it not for the power the Lassono's held, he'd have been dealt with long ago by the Iron High Guard.
Willem grew tired of the cold silence and said, "How long until what--"
"My cousin, he was no man of importance," Dardanos said. "Born a simple fool but capable and very kind. My mother's sister's boy, she loved him so. She and my mother felt much sympathy for him. Being a simple minded fool, he needed extra care." He sneered. "Simple, Lord Willem, but capable and hard-working in the minor things of life. He met a woman from Helbrode a few years back and fell madly in love with her. She was a real peach I tell you this and she was very kind to him.
"After they had wed they moved back to Helbrode. She did not want to be so far from her family I should think and he would do anything for his fair bride. Simpleminded or not he managed to get on the city guard and after years of hard work, he was promoted to the castle guard. Simple, but capable Lord Willem. His accomplishments brought my mother and aunt much excitement I should think. Oh, they were very proud of him. Then recently a letter came from his wife telling a grand tale of the Province Steward of Morthet being assassinated along with some of his guards as well. Sadly, he was one of those guards."
Willem's throat tensed up in a knot and he could feel his legs stiffening up. "Small world, I am sorry for your loss," he said putting much sympathy to his voice. "I see you have gotten here in a hurry, Dyerwin is a long ways across the Blue Wyrm."
"I was in the Dune Isles handling a matter when word came so the trip was not that far for me. I could sense the sadness in my mother's letter, though, so much it brought pain to my chest, so I came to Terongard immediately." Dardanos peered under a low brow. "I do not like such sadness in my family. Upon my arrival in Helbrode, I hear whispering's of hired assassins by the Eldafienden with grand plans to replace Province Stewards and overthrow the King and more inquiry brought me to Fleslinburg."
Willem could not believe the rotten luc
k that some irrelevant castle guard had ties to the Lassono Family. Here before him stood one of their most dangerous enforcers. He did not fear many men but not to fear one such as Dardanos would be very foolish. "Terongard citizens are notorious with words of wild tongue of grand tales... always believing something is bigger than it really is. I find it best to ignore such nonsense."
"Maybe... either way, I am here now and I will find the one responsible and collect the debt in full so that I may put my family's suffering at ease." A faint smile adorned his face under stabbing eyes. "But if the Eldafienden is responsible for an act such as this Lord Willem, then that would be very troubling I should think. Men such as us hide in the shadows to the common folk." He stepped closer to Willem. "But we are not common, are we, Lord Willem."
"No, we are not," said Willem. The acknowledgment understood between the two. "It is such a tragedy to lose a family member but I assure you this maniac's killing of a Province Steward is a random act."
Dardanos hummed, popped his brow and gave a grin. "We'll see." He pulled his dates in tighter around him and walked away.
Willem watched with angst as he slipped back into the crowd. There was some small hope granted that his presence was not an official matter for the Lassono's. Still it was not a good sign, as Willem knew all too well, how quickly things could escalate. Insane as Dardanos was, he would not act without proof, but proof may not be hard to come by. The rumors of the Orders involvement were already ripe within the kingdom.
Willem turned to his men and said, "I grow tired of the festivities, I will head to Koblersrift. Head back to Riverton Hold and await my arrival."
"My Lord do you want me to accompany you?" Dethal asked with a self-important tone.
"No."
"But my Lord--"
"Dethal, tonight is a meeting of the High Council Members... are you a high council member?"
"No."
"No, you are not. Take the second carriage back to Riverton Hold, I will be there by morning," Willem said, placed his glass down and walked fast from the hall.
Chapter 24.
At the head of the hall, Jillian stood exhausted with Sir Lawrence at her side enjoying the ending moment of the night. Few guests remained as the staff began cleaning up under the saddening melody from the band. It was late and she had grown tired some hours back. It was not like the in her younger days when she could go all night with the best of them, partaking in consumption of large amounts of wine and gossiping into the late hours of the night without a care for the truth to the conversation. Those days were gone Jillian knew as she now found herself sipping wine and talking of serious matters with stiff people. Age tends to wind one down making them tire too easily. She was a Province Steward, not a galloping harlot running from one festivity to the next.
The endless climb to attain the crown of socialite of the kingdom should be for the young women, like Liandra. Young Liandra mingled with the guest with such courtesy throughout the night it could've passed as her celebration. There was a thought, as Jillian watched Liandra that her own children, when the Gods decided to bless her, would grow to be as proper mannered and well received with all the makings of graceful nobility Liandra had. She only wished her dear friend Bethany could have been here to witness the splendor nature of her daughter.
Firm hands came from behind with a gentle pecking of Sir Lawrence's lips following on her neck. His breath faired with wine but she basked in his playful affection under the symphony of Vayla's Weep that began to rise slowly in the air. Having spent the better part of the evening greeting her guest as it was proper for a host to do she did avoid one, though. The one she saw approaching, Lady Maven Aleid. Though, inappropriate to not greet fellow Province Stewards; Jillian did not care, she had to invite that woman out of courtesy, but she'd be damned if she would go out of her way to give any pleasantries to her.
Dark haired and pale, Lady Maven strutted as she walked up. Her form hugging gown exemplified the curves of a fat snake and her breast looked as if they were about to jump out of that corset; repulsive, Jillian thought. She had to calm Sir Lawrence's hands rubbing at her waist by throwing him a snicker. It took him a moment to compose himself under her glaring eyes.
"I guess it was inevitable I would have to address her," Jillian said under breath.
"Be nice dear," Sir Lawrence said.
Maven slithered up with cupped hands and a thin smile. "Lady Jillian, what a lovely event this turned out to be and by the Gods you look stunning," she said.
Jillian pretended not to notice Maven's nose grazing her neck as the Shadengrell steward hugged her. "Thank you Lady Maven, I am sorry I did not see you sooner, I'm afraid the amount of guest was just too overwhelming for me," Jillian said and maintaining a look of apology.
"It's quite all right, I'd say you greeted far more than I would've made the effort to."
"I do hope you enjoyed the evening."
"It's been ages since I attended anything that didn't require an official matter. I'm afraid we don't get many and it'd be best to latch onto the ones we can." Maven looked to Sir Lawrence with teasing eyes. "And Sir Lawrence, how have you been?" she asked, tucking a knee to the other as she placed her hands on her full hips.
"Very well my lady," he said and smiled, struggling to maintain eye contact.
Maven noticed his approval, as did Jillian, and curled the corner of her mouth. "Lawrence, don't you have some matters to tend to?" A shade of red now rested on Jillian's face as she stared angrily at him.
He seemed confused to the question and looked oddly between Jillian and Maven. "I... uh... yes dear, if you ladies will excuse me," he said.
Maven looked back to Jillian, pursing her lips faintly, as if appraising her. "I just wanted to congratulate you before I departed, Lady Jillian."
"Thank you, Lady Maven," Jillian said and stood frozen as Maven gave her another hug, this time humming as she swept her nose across her neck and gave a gentle squeeze to her shoulders. Once again, Jillian pretended not to notice.
Lady Maven made her uncomfortable. Always dressing like a strumpet of a witch, Jillian thought, as she gawked at her walking away. If it were not for Faravus's constant nagging of being a proper and respectful Province Steward, she would have never invited her, or a slew of other people for that matter. But the night was done and the mask could now come off. She glanced around looking for Sir Lawrence, but he had long since disappeared under the threat in her eyes.
"My lady, there is a messenger here for you in the reading chambers," he said.
She wasn't aware Faravus was standing behind her. Maybe he had been there awhile or she had just grown use to ignoring his presence. She did not need to question the secrecy or why Faravus hadn't brought her the message himself. When she entered the reading chambers, she saw Hermon Getrayal, the king's squire standing in a veil of shyness near the fireplace. He was always a shy modest young man, one who never told tales.
"You have grown quite a bit since last I saw you, Hermon. I hate to think it's been that long. Where have the years gone?" Jillian said.
"You're still as beautiful as I remember, Lady Jillian."
His flattery made her blush, though; she never had that problem when the young lad stood guard for her and the king's past escapades, and even glanced of her nakedness a few times. She was more embarrassed to think of all he had heard through those thinly drawn drapes and closed doors. The things one cries out for when wrapped in heated embrace, and the sounds they make, made it hard for her to look into his eyes, where she once saw a boy, now stood a man.
"Don't be a heart thief, Hermon. I'm much too old for you. Does the King have so little to do he can afford to write old friends?"
Hermon handed her the letter. "He'd never miss your day my lady, not for a thousand wars."
"Those times are long past now."
"He still thinks of you my lady."
"Yet he still trudges in secrecy. You did not have to sneak in and hide in the shadows, Hermon. P
eople know what they know and will think what they'll think, regardless. It's been far too long to pay it any mind."
"Of course my lady. I have a long ride ahead of me. I wish you good fortune on your day," Hermon said, bowed and then left.
Jillian stood a moment smiling dimly, and then tossed the king's letter into the fire. He had his chance but that time had passed and she was married now, to Sir Lawrence who she now longed for to finish the night with. Sir Lawrence was full of vitality and would go long hours when inebriated. He had consumed enough wine tonight to float a ship and she worried sometimes if she was too old to keep up with him. It was hard to allow admittance to the weariness that began heckling her earlier in the night.
The servant's hall led to the back stairs to her chambers and was a shorter route this side of the castle. She had only ever walked this way twice in her stead as Province Steward. The castle was large and it was not becoming for a steward to walk the servant's path. Lined with wood doors, some giving way to rooms and others leading to more halls lined with more doors, she never realized how unsettling and creepy and empty this hall was before. The cold stone shone in a slumber of gray under the breathing of the wall candles along the narrow passage. Darkened, still and quiet a faint murmur caught Jillian's ear as she rounded the corner, stopping her. Her heart skipped and she placed her hand to her chest. She could have sworn a whisper carried out from the emptiness to her. A ghost, she thought, but that was foolish. No, ghosts were not real. She was just scaring herself. The old castle was full of odd sounds, especially in the late hours.
She pressed on until another faint whimper rolled through the hall and then fell silent. Her curiosity peeked, and she stopped. The moaning came again, this time, closer and with muddled words and she fixated her eyes to one of the doors, and waited. More subtle moans echoed and she crept towards the door, took pause, and listened to the panting breath. Damn servants, she thought, they should be cleaning up, not screwing in one of the storerooms. Even so, she was too shy to barge in and demand they stop and go back to their duties, instead, she would open the door a bit and carry voice to them without confrontation.