The Duchess of Lust Ch. 04

They rode on for several minutes, crossing a large stone bridge over the river. Almost immediately upon crossing the river, one of the knights gave a shout.

"Riders, coming from the south."

She narrowed her eyes, straining to see, and finally spotted five people on simple ponies. The riders wore drab, frayed red robes, and bore quarterstaves tipped with silver. She recognized the equipment as belonging to an order of priests: men who worshiped a variety of gods, and clung to standardized rules of purity, piety and good conduct. There were a handful of such men in Fellhaven, but they held far greater power and influence in Wolfgate.

The riders approached and bowed low.

"Welcome to Wolfgate, brothers and sisters," the lead priest intoned. He was a thin, wrinkled man, perhaps in his early fifties. Much to her surprise, he was barefoot, and had not a hair on him: even his eyebrows had been shaved clean.

"I am High Priest Davik, Devoted of the Divine, and humble servant to Duchess Chera."

Her eyes widened at that, for she'd not expected to have such a high-ranking cleric meet her at the border.

"And I am Duchess Sarya of Fellhaven. I am here on behalf of a new alliance, between myself and Duke Lucan of Ravenmark."

"Yes, we received Duke Lucan's messengers yesterday, who brought word of the news of Duke Lucan's triumph. We are relieved to hear of an end to the bloodshed, though I admit, Duchess Chera and I both have our doubts about Duke Lucan's legitimacy, especially since it was purchased with the blood of his kin."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Duke Lucan did not slay Garnoc. He remains in comfortable imprisonment, in the castle he once ruled."

"Ah. Well, we heard rumors from other travelers, and I am ashamed to say that we believed them without confirmation." Davik bowed his head. "Please, accept my humblest apologies."

From all that she'd heard about the powerful priest, she hadn't expected him to be so meek and deferential.

"It is understandable, given all the chaos and confusion in these trying times. Which is exactly why we are here. You have heard of Fellhaven's plight, I assume."

"Indeed." He murmured a prayer and made a holy sign with his fingers. "We have even granted refuge to subjects of yours that managed to escape before the encirclement of the city."

"I am quite grateful for that," she said with a sigh. "And has there been any other news?" she asked, dreading that perhaps the city had fallen, that the Iron Blades had broken the truce.

"Only that the savage heathens continue their siege. A few days ago, we dispatched priests in an attempt to convert them, to sway them from their foul cause, but alas, they have not returned."

Neryth let out a short, derisive snort.

"Probably ended up-"

Sarya silenced her with a glare.

"I am sorry for your loss, your holiness," Sarya said smoothly. Of course, she had to agree with Neryth's sentiment: those poor foolish priests had likely died or been enslaved for daring to try to sway the Iron Blades from their dark gods, though she was not going to insult their memory.

Davik gave Neryth a dubious glance, then continued.

"I assume you have come to beg for Wolfgate's aid, to add to this burgeoning alliance."

"Indeed. If I may speak to Duchess Chera, I am sure we can come to an arrangement: a mutually beneficial alliance, that will save Fellhaven and the other duchies from the wrath of the savage horde."

"Wolfgate has been at peace for decades, with nary a drop of blood spilled within these lands. Our armies have not ventured beyond our borders in many years."

She frowned inwardly at his constant use of 'our.' Perhaps the priest did in fact see himself as the ruler of the duchy in all but name. She wondered if Chera had even been informed of the siege of Fellhaven, or the approach of Lucan's armies.

"At a minimum, I should be granted an audience," she said. "To make my case. And even if her ladyship does not wish to commit her troops, I ask that I at least be allowed to recruit mercenaries from your lands."

"Taking up a sword solely for the sake of coin is a sin," hissed one of the other priests. Neryth raised an eyebrow, and looked ready to offer a rebuke, but Sarya spoke before the captain could.

"Very well," she said. "But as for an audience..."

"Yes, that can be arranged," Davik said. "Her ladyship has grown a bit ill over the past year, and so has taken to holding court at the family's lakeside estate. Only a few hours ride, if you wish to make the journey there now. But she will be unable to see you until the morning, I'm afraid."

"Now will do," Sarya said, not worried about a late evening ride through the safe lands of Wolfgate. "So we can be ready to meet her the very moment that she is prepared to meet us."

"Of course. If you will but follow, my lady..."

Davik and the priests turned their horses about, riding along the fine stone road towards the south. Sarya and her companions followed, but she hung back a bit, and whispered to Neryth.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"Damned suspicious," the captain grumbled. "How convenient that Duchess Chera is ill, thus no doubt leaving the ruling of the realm to him. And the banning of mercenary work? Gods, how can such a duchy even exist if it can't pay outsiders to do their killing for them?"

"The priesthood is quite powerful, said to have a standing army of zealots of their own. I'm sure they use such holy men to keep order."

"If only they'd commit those holy men to lifting the siege of Fellhaven," Neryth said.

Sarya's concern only deepened as they rode.

"I cannot imagine the local barons are happy with this. In Fellhaven, such lesser nobles have a great deal of respect and influence. But in Wolfgate, it seems as if Davik has all that influence."

"So we left one civil war, and walked into another."

"Perhaps not," Sarya mused. "But if Davik won't help us, perhaps some of the other barons will. We can give them a chance to win respect and glory at my side, instead of being outshone by that priest."

She sighed, for she'd been hoping for a simple negotiation, not some complicated mess of a power struggle between the local barons and the priesthood. But for now, all she could do was ride on, and wait to learn more at the estate.

***

The moon was high in the night sky by the time they arrived at the stunning, sprawling estate, which was built from gleaming marble and surrounded by a beautiful array of gardens and well-tamed forests. A short distance from the shore was a small island, on which was stood a tall tower. The lake glittered in the moonlight, creating quite the breathtaking sight.

Sarya certainly understood why Chera had made the place her home. Were it not for the crisis in Fellhaven, Sarya would have been tempted to linger at that beautiful place for as long as she could.

Davik and his priests showed them to the estate. Despite the beautiful exterior, the interior was strangely bare. Unlike every other noble estate she'd been to, the halls were bare of art, statues, finery or trophies. There didn't even seem to be any silverware in the dining room that they passed.

Sarya raised an eyebrow, which Davik spotted.

"The duchess, thanks to her faith in the gods, has wisely chosen to donate most of her belongings to the priesthood," he said.

Neryth wrinkled her nose at that, and Sarya could guess at her thoughts. Like the duchess, the captain was likely wondering how much of a profit the priesthood had gleaned from such 'donations.'

"Rest assured, though, that you will not find your accommodations lacking," the High Priest continued. "You may make yourselves at home, and taken any unoccupied quarters that you wish."

"I'm wondering," Neryth said, her eyes darting about. "That tower out on the lake...what's that for? Seems like a newer construction, and that's an odd place for a watchtower."

"Ah," Davik said, making another holy gesture in the air. "That island is sacred, and set aside for penance. Those in our order who require solitude or meditation are sent there, so they may cleanse their minds and souls, to better receive the wisdom of the gods."

Sarya saw uncertainty flicker across Neryth's dark gaze, and wondered what she was worried about, and why she'd asked about the tower. She reminded herself to ask the captain later, once they were alone.

Davik paused at the bottom of a wide marble staircase, then bowed.

"I must take my leave, to go check on her ladyship," he said. "Please, make yourselves at home. I shall do my utmost to arrange for an audience in the morning."

Once the priests were gone, Sarya raised an eyebrow at Neryth.

"Your thoughts?" she asked softly.

"I have lots of them, and few of them are good. That tower...seems an odd spot to have a place for meditation, don't you think? Shouldn't a place like that be up in the mountains or in some secluded forest?"

"Aye," Sarya said after a moment. "Seems like a poor place for relaxation and seclusion, right next to an estate of the ruling nobility."

"And this?" Neryth gestured at the empty walls. "I've known nobles who would rather die than give up their treasured art and heirlooms. Is this Chera really that devout?"

"Possibly," Sarya said. "I have met her a few times, at tournaments and balls, and once at a wedding of another duchess. She was always quiet and shy, and seemingly quite devoted to her faith. Always kept around a little holy book to read from. But she seems devoted to her people, and Wolfgate seems safe and prosperous. If the High Priest is up to something, at least it's not harming her people."

"Aye, but it could harm yours, my lady, if Davik's influence stops us from growing our alliance."

Sarya sighed and ascended the steps, followed by Neryth and the rest of her escort.

"I suppose we shall find out more in the morning." Once at the top of the stairs, she turned to address the knights. "Get your rest, gentlemen, but keep your eyes and ears open. If you witness anything strange, anything suspicious, anything that might shed light on the situation here, inform myself or captain Neryth."

With that, she turned and headed for the nearest bedroom, and found that it was bare of all finery and furniture, save a bed and a bookshelf filled with religious texts. She slipped out of her clothing and collapsed upon the bed, exhausted from the long ride.

Despite her confusion and growing unease, she was asleep within moments.

***

Neryth had only slept a few hours, which was usual for her, especially when on a march or on a mission. She was too on-edge and suspicious to sleep for long, and had awoken several hours before dawn, to sit on the balcony of her bedchamber, to gaze out at the tower.

Something was amiss in Wolfgate, and she was sure it had something to do with that tower and that island. She didn't want to risk arousing suspicion by wandering the halls, so she had just kept watch from that balcony.

The estate was almost entirely silent and still, save for a small patrol of robed, armed priests who marched along the lakeshore. Occasionally they would stop to pray, or to gaze out at the tower. They were too far for her to hear anything, and yet their patrol route and their wariness about the tower only increased her suspicions.

Once the sun rose, casting its brilliant glow over the lake, Neryth turned and stepped out into the hall, and knocked upon the duchess' door. Sarya's sleepy voice bade her to enter, and she slipped inside.

The duchess was still in bed, clad in a silken, nearly transparent chemise, but it was nothing that Neryth hadn't seen before. Sarya smiled and yawned, then rose to change into the spare gown she'd brought with her.

As Sarya got dressed, Neryth relayed to her everything she'd witnessed the night before.

"Seems your instincts were right about the tower, captain," Sarya mused.

Neryth rubbed at her chin, her fingers brushing over her latest scar.

"I could maybe get a look inside," she murmured. "If your meeting with the duchess doesn't go well, that is. Something there could be the key to figuring out what the hell is going on."

Sarya sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

"But if you're caught, it could trigger a diplomatic crisis, or worse."

"Wouldn't be my first time sneaking about where I don't belong, my lady," Neryth laughed. "I'm good at such things."

"I'm sure you are...just allow me to worry, captain."

There came another knock at the door, and one of the knights murmured a greeting. Neryth opened the door, and a grey-haired, wiry soldier entered and bowed to Sarya.

"You asked us to keep our ears open, my lady," he murmured as Neryth shut the door. They couldn't have their conspiring overheard by some monk or priest, after all.

"And?" Sarya asked. "What did you hear?"

"I was hungry last night, so I wandered down to the kitchens, in the hope of getting a snack. There weren't any staff about, but the kitchen was well-stocked. Fine wines, fresh fruits and vegetables...a veritable feast."

"That's not particularly odd, especially for a noble estate," Sarya said. "Even if Davik does not indulge, surely they must keep fine food here for Duchess Chera and guests like us."

"It is for a place like this, where they've stripped the walls bare," Neryth cut in. "Why would they sell off all those fancy noble things, and still insist on eating like kings?"

"This was a massive amount of food, my lady. More than enough for our party or for Duchess Chera. My guess is that it's all been set aside for the priests."

"Odd, I suppose, and yet not suspicious," Sarya said. "Was there anything else?"

"After I snatched a bit of bread and headed back to my quarters, I overheard some monks heading towards the kitchen, coming from one of the other halls. Given your orders, my lady, I slipped down another hall to take a listen. Couldn't hear much, but they were worried that they were running low on some sort of herb or flower. Something used in some sort of tea."

"Can you remember what?" Neryth asked.

"Something with drake in the name. Drake sing or drake song, something like that."

Silence fell over the room as they pondered over what that could mean, then Sarya's widened.

"Drakesong?" she asked.

"Maybe. Sounds about right," the knight said.

"Fuck is a drakesong?" Neryth grunted at the duchess.

"Brunloc, a sorcerer at my court, used to speak of it. It's a rare flower...used as a poison, of a sort. Someone once tried to use it to poison my grandfather. In large doses it is quite potent, can send someone into a coma almost instantly. In lower doses, it acts as a sedative, I think. Often used for treating those with painful wounds."

"Not sure how that's relevant, though," Neryth said. "Davik said the duchess was feeling ill, right?"

"Yes, but drakesong flowers are used treating the pain of battlefield injuries, not common ailments. And most alchemists and healers don't even bother using it, considering the risks. Which is probably why you haven't heard of it, captain."

"Right," Neryth said with a nod. She'd dealt with dozens of alchemists and healers during her time as a mercenary and soldier, and not once had one ever treated her with such a thing, despite the many horrific wounds she'd suffered over the years.

"So we have yet another question to figure out," Sarya murmured. "The purpose of that tower, and if those drakesong flowers are somehow a part of this." The duchess cursed, earning a chuckle from Neryth. "If only Brunloc or Ketrik were here, they'd probably be able to shed more light on this drakesong."

"We can send a rider back to bring Ketrik here," Neryth suggested.

"No." Sarya shook her head after a moment's thought. "You saw how the priests reacted when we discussed the barbarians: bringing him here could cause a scandal, or the negotiations to collapse."

She sighed and looked to the knight.

"Thank you, sir. You may go."

He bowed and marched away, leaving the two women alone.

"Damn it," Sarya grumbled, and ran a hand through her red locks. "What a bloody mess."

"A shame," Neryth said, smirking. "Here you are, all alone, without either of your lovers to take your mind off this madness."

Sarya blushed faintly and raised an eyebrow.

"How did you know about Ketrik and I?"

"The duke told me. We don't hide much from one another."

The blush deepened a bit, then faded.

"I'm glad he has you," Sarya said. "Someone he can trust and count on, for matters both personal and professional."

"You have me, too, my lady," Neryth said, her voice almost solemn, for once. "The duke trusts you, and has thrown his support behind you. Which means my sword is as much yours, as it is his."

A warm smile spread across Sarya's face, and she reached out to rest a soft hand upon Neryth's wrist.

The captain looked down and grinned.

"This your way of coming onto me, my lady?"

Sarya laughed and pulled back.

"No. Not that I'd mind, of course, but we have bigger things to worry about."

"Right. Solve this mystery, then we can fool around."

The duchess laughed again.

"Perhaps. Though I admit, things are-"

Someone else knocked at the door, and Neryth opened it, revealing one of Davik's clerics. He bowed low.

"Duchess Chera is ready, my lady. She shall share breakfast and tea with you in the gardens."

"I shall be down in a moment." The cleric stepped away, the door swinging shut behind him.

"Right," Neryth said. "You go enjoy your fancy breakfast and see what you can get out of the duchess, and I'll do some discreet snooping." She nodded through the window at the tower. "And once night falls, maybe I can see about what's going on with that tower, if that has anything to do with it."

"Only if my negotiations fail," Sarya said. "Things may be odd here, but I'll not worry about them if Duchess Chera commits troops to our cause."

Neryth nodded at that, but even if they did succeed, she wanted to sate her curiosity. Something odd and nefarious was going on here. As someone who had gotten up to many nefarious deeds in her life, she knew how to recognize such a situation when she saw one.

"Just...be careful," Sarya said, reaching out to give Neryth's hand a quick squeeze. "Lucan would never forgive me if I got you killed or hurt."

"Me?" Neryth laughed. "Careful? Never."

Sarya chuckled a bit, then headed out into the hall.

***

One of Davik's monks escorted Sarya down towards the beautiful gardens. Now that she walked past the hedges and bushes, she saw how untamed and overgrown they were: within a few weeks, the ducal gardens would have resembled a wild forest, rather than the grounds of an estate.

Near the lakeshore were a few simple wooden tables and chairs, upon which sat a short, slightly plump young woman, wearing a drab brown dress, more befitting a commoner than a noblewoman. She wore a simple crown made of bronze, which no other duke or duchess would have been caught dead wearing. Her wispy blonde hair fluttered in the wind, and her dazed, distant eyes stared out over the lake.

Sarya paused for a moment. She barely recognized the woman. Chera, though shy and reclusive, had always had a spark of intelligence in her eyes, and a fire in her gaze whenever she'd spoken of any religious topics. But the woman sitting before her seemed half-asleep, and not just due to it being so early.

Davik stood at Chera's side, and smiled at Sarya's approach.

"My lady," Sarya said, nodding in greeting as she took a seat.

Chera's eyes flitted away from the water and she smiled weakly, and mumbled something.

"As I said, my lady," Davik said to Sarya. "Her ladyship is quite ill. But she insisted on being able to greet you."

"Greetings, yes," Chera said. Her smile strengthened and reached for her tea with trembling fingers. Davik stepped forward to help her raise the cup to her lips.