The savannah is warm and dry under the midday sun, peaceful but for an oxcart slowly traveling East.

The large cart bumps on a rock, for the thousandth time, on the path spread through the treacherous hills separating Gallen from Chester-le-Ford, causing its passengers to groan in protest, except for the youngest traveler who seems to enjoy himself tremendously.

Mrs Katea, a short and stout Casadian woman, rebukes the enthusiastic tot, to Mr Boarston, disappointment. “Mrs Katea, surely a tadpole of that age needs to spend his energy, aren’t you too hard on the runt?” Seeking support, he turns to the other occupants of the cart, a family of farriers moving to Chester-le-Ford. He had tried to make conversation, but as soon as they learned he worked for the town’s benefactor, they had shied away and avoided eye contact. There is no help there.

“Mr Boarston, I was hired to ensure that Mr Athelric learns to show good manners, among other things. He will therefore learn and I would be thankful that you do not undermine my authority in this matter. More so, please do remember that the.. runt as you put it, is your employer’s offspring and you can be sure she will hear of this when she returns to her Villa.”

The dwarf scowls and gives up, skulking for a few minutes until the group hears hoof beats coming from behind them. The cart driver slows the cart to a halt as Mrs Boarston and the Farrier draw short swords, scrutinizing the hills behind the cart. Meanwhile, Mrs Katea hides the child under a tarp, hissing at him to be quiet. Usually the countryside would present little danger during the day, but with Chester-le-Ford rapidly growing, the road is becoming more and more attractive to bandits to perform their deeds out of reach from Gallen’s watchful guards.

For a tense moment, all that is visible is a thick cloud of dust slowly settling down behind the cart as the hoof beats seem to slow down. A voice breaks the silence.

“Aye good people, I am Bertrand, the courier! Mr Boarston, I just missed you in Gallen. I bring a letter for Miss O’Kleefe.”




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Dearest Lady Liserett,

I am writing this letter to decline your offer. While it would be most tempting to become stable master of such grand stables as you described, the sudden and tragic death of my King not only reinforced my love for these lands as well as my loyalty to the crown, but also made me realize what kind of a scum you are. Even though I will likely never be the stable master of Perth’s royal stables, please know that I would either eat glass shards than work for a person who would deceive my ruler and betray his trust, let alone murder him in cold blood before the whole Empire.

I am sorry for your loss, and I thank you for the pleasant moments we shared during your passage in Dunn.

May you forever rot in a prison cell and may your bastard child disappear in oblivion,
Sincerely,

Dyleon
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_________________
Lady Liserett of the House O'Kleefe
Countess of Chester-le-Ford, Wysteria
Deputy Minister of Hermertian History
Appointed Minister of Wysterian Architecture

uh

_________________
Gimpy/The Italian Stallion

It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door, You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to." -Bilbo Baggins

Duke of Kaine

hm?

_________________
Lady Liserett of the House O'Kleefe
Countess of Chester-le-Ford, Wysteria
Deputy Minister of Hermertian History
Appointed Minister of Wysterian Architecture

As another restless night settles onto the town, Mr Boarston sits by the candle in the servants’ quarters, attempting to catch up on the massive pile of paperwork. In the Lady’s absence, and until a suitable chancellor takes up the position, he is left in charge of not only his duties as a butler, but also the control of the settlers’ influx, town’s finances, town’s defense, and countless other tedious administrative tasks he hadn’t signed up for.

It was becoming difficult to manage. The town’s folk were concerned about the increasing menace the endermen present, but they also complained when the curfew was announced. They demanded action when the trading caravans got attacked on the road to Gallen, but they also whine about the tax increase destined to pay for the caravan guards. And they keep asking questions he had no answer to. Questions that shall have to remain unanswered until the trial happens. There were delays, but he hasn’t received word about it for a while now. It is difficult to go on without knowing, sure news always reach Chester-le-Ford quite late, but since the endermen problem, the courier delivers much less frequently.

Mr Boarston frowns, thinking of the courier. Bertrand’s services are getting more and more expensive given the increasing risk of his trade. It is becoming quite frustrating to pay high fees in order to collect hate letters. Twenty seven of the damn things so far, mostly from Perth, but several from Valtoros as well. While a few merely contained insults, the majority carried vehement death wishes, and even some death threats toward Lady Liserett and her child. All of them had burned very well to warm the tot’s room at night, until Mrs Katea had forbid him from doing so. She claimed that it might be a matter of time before one of the letters would be poisoned. An angry woman that one. He certainly would think twice before suggesting another romantic dinner to her.

The door knocker resonates loudly in the Villa, causing the dwarf to sharply hit his old knee against the table underside, in his surprise. Muttering, he rises and quietly makes his way up to the front doors. Even before the curfew, people seldom ventured outside after the sunset. The great wall planned to protect the city was a reality only on parchment, and countless dangers filled the night. Now with the endermen threat and the letters… well visitors were not expected.

Taking a deep breath, he thunders: “Announce yourself!”

A male voice promptly answers his question: “The name is Sorik, good sir. I come for the job offering, long sword expert tutor?”

The butler grabs his short sword, wishing his back was still solid enough to use a good old axe, and opens the door. The man standing on the porch is twice his height, has wide shoulders under his black cloak, and the… pronounced topography of his face suggests he has indeed been playing with swords for a long time. The moon light bounces off a beautifully embroidered insignia on his cloak. Beside him stands a woman, wearing a similar cloak. He could swear he had seen this insignia before... Boarston’s fingers fiddle nervously with his small blade, aware that he is probably no match if things become dangerous.

Aware of his hesitation, the man speaks again. “With all respect due, do you always open the door to strangers who tell you they’re sword experts, at night time? I understand there is a child here, yes?”

Unabashed, the dwarf meets the newcomer’s gaze and ignores the question. Mustering some self confidence, tries to appear dangerous and clumsily shows off his blade. “Yes, we asked for a tutor indeed. And who is your companion, Mr Sorik?”

“Mrs Elandre is my wife. We are good friends with the courier who makes runs to Chester-le-Ford, I am sure you know Bertrand? He can speak for us, should you require references.”

“Very well, come inside… I’ll have some tea made and we can discuss.”

“Ah, you already let us in, that’s not a surprise I suppose. Where are the guards? You do have a guard posted in the Villa, don’t you?”

Mr Boarston’s brow furrows. He’s used to get on people’s case, not people getting on his case. Except for Lady Liserett… And Mrs Katea…

“I am in charge of security here for the moment. Now I ask that y…”

The man interrupts him once more. “I see. Mr Boarston, I think I will take charge of the Villa’s security during the dark hours. You should probably assign a guard for day time as well. Once her Ladyship returns, I will begin proper training of this town’s guards. Good evening m’am. You are?”

The governess, standing at the top of the staircase, smiles stiffly at the man. “I am Mrs Katea, the House’s governess. Welcome to Lady O’Kleefe’s service Mr Sorik. Thank you Mr Boarston, I can show Mr Sorik around. I am sure the details of his employment can be discussed in the morning. Mrs Elandre, if you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to a guest room for tonight.”

Pursing his lips, the dwarf scrutinizes the governess’ expression carefully, his heritage allowing him to see her perfectly well despite the darkness of the room. She knows something, but he’s dumbfounded as to what is going on.

“Yes, of course Mrs Katea. Of course... Welcome Mr Sorik.”

The butler locks the doors behind them, and after a suspicious glance at Sorik, warily returns to his paperwork, muttering: “Lady Liserett.. come back soon…”

_________________
Lady Liserett of the House O'Kleefe
Countess of Chester-le-Ford, Wysteria
Deputy Minister of Hermertian History
Appointed Minister of Wysterian Architecture

Katea could tell by his slow, measured breaths that Athelric had finally fallen asleep. He looked so peaceful now in the dim light of dusk, swaddled as he was in his blankets; hard to imagine that he had, just an hour before, been sprinting through the halls of the Villa making quite the ruckus. Katea rose from her perch, a worn rocking chair, moving to peer out the window next to the boy’s bed. Below she could see Sorik training a motley assortment of the townsfolk, the sharp tone of his voice cutting through the silence of an otherwise peaceful evening. The morale of the townsfolk had improved markedly since the arrival of the Slayers, but a sense of unease still remained. The severity of the endermen attacks continued to grow, and there was only so much the Slayers could do to protect the town.

Katea heard the hinges of the door creak ever so slightly, her hand instinctively moving to the small knife she kept hidden in the folds of her dress. She turned to find Elandre opening the door to the bedroom, moving slowly so as to limit any further creaking that might disturb the boy’s sleep. Katea let out a small sigh of relief. The townsfolk were not the only ones on edge. Katea greeted her with a nod, glad her fears had not come to fruition. Elandre made her way to the edge of Altheric’s bed, smiling as she looked down on the sleeping tot.

“I apologize if I startled you. I did not wish to make too much noise lest I wake the little one.” Elandre whispered.

“We must enjoy these quiet hours while we can.” Katea left her place at the window and joined Elandre at the bedside. “Should you not be with Sorik, training the townsfolk?”

“Sorik can handle them well enough. I wanted to come see the boy before beginning my patrol.”

“He has taken quite a liking to you and your husband. Though I fear your husband’s tutelage might push Mr. Boarston over the edge. Even since the boy learned to walk, he has taken to chasing around the dwarf with sticks, swinging away at him as he tries to ‘slay danderman’. He may become quite the warrior yet.”

Elandre laughed softly. “Sorik has taken quite a liking to him to. As have I. We could not have one of our own, but it gladdens us both to be able to look after the boy from time to time.”

“Though surely two Slayers did not come all this way to Chester-le-Ford to know what it is to be a parent?” Katea questioned, her tone becoming more serious. The Slayers’ insertion into the goings-on of the town and the Villa had always been slightly curious. She could hear Elandre catch her breath for a moment, a clear signal that her curiosity was well-founded.

“It is the duty of the Guild to defend civilization from monsters, and sometimes those monsters walk among us. The death of one’s father can do terrible things to one’s conscience; drive people to do terrible things.” Elandre’s smile had disappeared.

“Well we are most glad to have the Guild by our side in times such as these. Children are the most precious thing we have. Even when they try to slay their butlers.”
The smile returned to Elandre’s face. She gazed down once more at the boy before turning to Katea.

“It is time I should be leaving, Mrs Katea. The monsters of the night spare us little time these days. May your fire burn bright, Katea.”

“And yours as well, Elandre.” For a moment, the two shared a knowing look, and Elandre departed.

_________________
Guardian of Casadia
Master of the Slayers Guild
Minister of Hermertian History

The midday sun was particularly unforgiving this afternoon, resulting in a very quiet day in Chester-le-Ford. Workers had retreated to their homes early, the market was nearly empty, even the guards had stopped training; a rare concession by Sorik, now captain of the guard.

He allowed his men to rest as he felt the sun’s harshness was too aggressive, even for the season. So it was with some surprise when, while doing a quick patrol of the empty construction sites, he encountered Mrs Katea and his wife Elandre taking a stroll under the acacias bordering the town, accompanying the Lady’s tots. Athelric, now a robust red haired toddler, was waving a wooden sword with only a fraction of his usual energy while the women each carried a baby, one of which was practically a newborn.

The Casadians exchanged a knowing look which was as much as their good manners permitted, even though the situation was clear to all. Her Ladyship had company. Again. Sorik let out a chuckle. “Well, we know from whom Athelric got his powerful lungs!” His smile widened as the women rebuked him, hardly able to hide their own amusement.

------------------------------

Duke Yùick winced as he tried to find a comfortable position in the bed. His ribs hurt, he felt new cuts on his back and his muscles throbbed; he would feel sore for a few days to come. Liserett, lying beside him, didn’t fare much better; her usual perfectly combed silky hair was a mess, bruises had already began to form on her neck, her lower lip was swollen and she only moved her strained body with extreme care.

He never tired of their… “embraces” wasn’t the word… he never tired of their “struggles.” He was much stronger than her, but she was a vicious animal, a true she-devil. He watched her like a hawk watches a snake as she shamelessly got up without bothering to cover herself and walked to the dresser to untangle her long auburn mane.

He let out a sigh, thinking again of the topic that had started them fighting in the first place. “You are a proud creature, Liserett, and I understand why. Must you also be stubborn as a rock?”

She turned to face him, returning his smile. “Darling, I thought we had settled this discussion. What is left to say? Are you once again going to tell me that I am a genius and that you wish you had thought of it first?”

“Five meters wide? Chester-le-Ford is not even a county; a five meters wide line is beyond extravagant, not to mention the lapis lazuli stones embedded in the walls. I advised you to avoid attracting attention to yourself.” He was now serious, which seemed to intensify Liserett’s amusement.

“I apologize, Duke. I must not have paid attention at the time.”

Anger flared up again in Yùick, now mixed with arousal. He wanted to jump to his feet and strike her with an open hand for her insolence. He wanted to teach her who was in control of whom once and for all. He wanted to break her and tame her.

His body, tensed by his anger, sent flares of pain which reminded him that he had just tried to do this and that he needed a moment before going at it again. Forcing himself to relax, he ignored the jab. “So I heard that Duke Nicholas is back in Gallen. I imagine he will have mixed feelings about your trying to leave Wysteria for Perth. Has your liege paid you a visit yet?”

Liserett placed her comb back on her dresser and earnestly arranged her hair in a wide braid before answering. “Not yet, but I’m not worried; at no time was Chester-le-Ford neglected. While I did intend to permanently leave for Perth, but I am not so foolish as to shut a door before the next one is open. The town was prospering even as I was about to be wed, and still is today; the population is growing, trade is thriving, the guards are well trained. Duke Nicholas has nothing to hold against me.”

The Kairatite’s mind was racing as always, trying to find a breach in his ally’s facade, a breach in her perfect little world in which she was, so far, the puppet master. They were both the same and he knew that sooner or later, one of them would be the other’s puppet. He was aware that his fascination with the woman made him spend much more time and resources than it probably was worth at this point, but the challenge was thrilling, which was as close to a feeling as he could experience. He needed to find an edge if he was to take control.

“What of the Perthians? Do they still hold something against you?” He asked this casually, leaning back and resting his head on his palms. He could see a flicker of uncertainty in Liserett’s eyes. She hadn’t told him of the threat letters, or of the Perthian who had snuck in the town some weeks ago, only to be caught by the guards as he tried to enter the villa, poisoned dagger at his belt.

Liserett, now openly in calculating mode, observed him carefully for several seconds before answering. “This is inconsequential. I was declared not guilty; a handful of obsessed madmen cannot change that.”

“Of course.” The Duke let a moment pass, longer than Liserett’s pause, before enunciating loud and clear: “What if further evidence surfaces?”

To say she took the bait would be an understatement, yet her reaction wasn’t exactly what he anticipated. He had hoped for some display of fear, worry, uncertainty or a very convincing denial of any further evidence existing. Instead, color drained from her face, she narrowed her eyes and she harshly asked, each word loaded with acrimony: “What do you know?”

This would have to do. He jumped to his feet, repressing a groan of pain, and retrieved his clothes, as cheerfully as he could manage. “Just a thought my darling, just a thought.” He grinned as he got dressed, feigning to notice neither her set jaw or her questioning stare. “I must now ride to Gallen as I wish to discuss the Kairatite embassy’s planning with your liege. It was lovely seeing you, my lady.”

He smoothed his hair and left the room, mulling over the conversation in his mind. He had his edge. It would only remain sharp as long as his bluff stood.

It would have to do; there could only be one puppet master.

_________________
Lady Liserett of the House O'Kleefe
Countess of Chester-le-Ford, Wysteria
Deputy Minister of Hermertian History
Appointed Minister of Wysterian Architecture

Bam!

_________________
Lady Liserett of the House O'Kleefe
Countess of Chester-le-Ford, Wysteria
Deputy Minister of Hermertian History
Appointed Minister of Wysterian Architecture

Ooo that's a really fancy family tree! Looks like Liserett might end up on the Hermertian version of Jerry Springer.

_________________
Guardian of Casadia
Master of the Slayers Guild
Minister of Hermertian History

bahaha, could fill an entire season

_________________
Lady Liserett of the House O'Kleefe
Countess of Chester-le-Ford, Wysteria
Deputy Minister of Hermertian History
Appointed Minister of Wysterian Architecture

Liserett is quite a playgirl it seems

_________________
Jolly, Grand Count of Wysteria