Spring 24, 1388

  FIELDS

  81 Strawberries — 19/36 Days (Masterwork) (1x1) — 81 tiles.

  81 Potatoes — 19/20 Days (Masterwork) (1x2) — 162 tiles

  81 Peas — 19/23 Days (Masterwork) (1x2 — Trellis) — 162 tiles

  GREENHOUSE

  9 Broccoli - 9/10 days (Poor) (1x1) - 91 tiles

  SEED MAKERS NOT USED

  216 Uncommon Carrots being sold by Jasmine.

  324 Uncommon carrots to be delivered.

  Current Finances: 60 Gold Pieces (Clean), 270 Gold Pieces (Unlaundered), 30 Golds Escrow (Clean)

  I returned home late at the night, each step being smoothened over by the rolling bank of fog. I peeled the dark leather and spidersilk regalia off as soon as I crossed the threshold from the outdoors to the interior of my hovel.

  I stripped it all off, the touch of the leather and fabric feeling like anathema to my skin. My white hair stood on end, spiking upwards atop of trembling flesh. I raised my right hand to my face and meticulously peeled the spidersilk gloves off, left hand daintily touching the cuff between index and thumb and dragging it away so the dried up blood didn’t touch my skin.

  My wrist was red, and flakey. Rivulets of blood found their way between the openings and then stained upwards. My vision was shaking, but I could trace the blood up against my palm and fingers. I frantically attempted to clip my right hand against the cuff of my left glove.

  The first attempt couldn’t hold on, both my fingers and left hand were shaking too much. I tried again, and again, before giving up. I brought my wrist to my teeth and bit down on the cuff, peeling it off that way.

  I dropped the gloves atop the pile of clothes on the ground and then stared at both of my hands. They were coated in blood, stained like fruit paste that clung too deeply and pigmented my pale skin. I followed the staining down, and, standing in the nude, I could trace the blood winding up my arms, towards my chest and then creeping up my shoulderblades. I had no mirror outside of my reflection on the window.

  And the last time I looked at my reflection, I summoned her. I shivered, and quickly draped loose fabric over the window so I didn’t have to look at it.

  Now, I had to deal with the blood.

  I needed water, but with no internal source, I’d have to go to the well outside, and procure it bucket by bucket. I raised my hand up to the sky, and started hearing the howling winds of my Symphony

  “You AMARIL-DAMNED BITCH”

  “What are we going to do after?!”

  “You’re one of those folks…”

  The words broke through the music of winter, and the howling screams and cries of fear of my… audit burned through the dins of war I often heard as a [Harvester].

  At the back of my hands was thick, voluminous splattering of blood. As I clenched my fingers, the warm liquid coated my skin and dripped onto the floor.

  My stomach turned, and I quickly released. I couldn’t – wouldn’t – call on the Symphony. I quickly glanced outside.

  I crept to my door and slowly opened it, peering into the darkness. The warmth of the spring night was inviting, and I had no interest in staining my other clothes in blood. I took a tentative step to the outdoors, but immediately saw a figure approaching.

  I slammed the door shut, locking the rickety wooden frame with the rusting iron chain.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

  I didn’t answer, leaning with my back against the door. My breathing was ragged and sharp. It could have been an inquisitor, but I didn’t have my knives on me. It could have been Laertes or Wizex, needing more instruction for killing. It could have been Addy, coming to ki–

  “Lady Hart, I can see your shadow blocking the hearthfire,” Ophelia called out from the other side. I screamed, quietly I hope, and ran to the hearth to stomp it out. It plummeted the hovel into complete darkness, save for the moonlight creeping in through the unblocked crevices.

  “...Is this about earlier, Lady Hart? I apologize for squandering the gift you had given me and abandoning you for pleasures of the fle–”

  “OPHELIA! I NEED WATER!” I shouted, returning to the door and keeping it locked.

  “Water? Lady Hart, did you burn your foo–”

  “It’s Ashley! I’m no bloody noble lady! Imma farmer! And I need to take a bath!”

  “I… see. Lady Ha–”

  “Ashley!”

  “...Ashley, then. Are you alright?”

  “Just get me the water!” I shouted back, which led to nothing happening. I saw the blocked light underneath the door move away, and a moment later, the noise of something hollow dropped outside.

  I quickly peered outside to see the tub there, but when I saw a form approaching I shut the door quickly. A few minutes later, there was more knocking on the door.

  “La– Ashley. Your bath is prepared, and I have prepared some soap and oils for you. Would you like me to att–” Ophelia began, her voice having an odd strain to it.

  “NO! GO AWAY! AIN’T NO [FARM GIRL] THAT SEES AN ATTENDANT. I SHAN’T HAVE ASKED!” I immediately responded. Ophelia inhaled deeply.

  “I… see. If this was about earlier, I am truly, very sorry, and I will endeavour to not leave my Lady’s side aga–”

  “GO AWAY!”

  There was silence, but I could see her shadow blocking the doorframe. “...As you wish, Ashley. If you seek my service, you need only ask.”

  I said nothing, waiting for the shadow to leave. I snuck out again, and saw no one there. I could confirm with a simple [Soul Sense], but…

  “YOU AMARIL-DAMNED BITCH….”

  I couldn’t see anything in the darkness, so I slowly glanced around. The shifting of bushes showed glowing eyes, and in the distance, the shadows moved closer every time I stopped observing them. I had to be quick.

  The water in the basin was warm and steaming, and I dipped my hand in it. The clear water reflected moonlight, and I assumed myself, so I stayed away from the edge. I dunked my hand in to get rid of the less dry blood, but when I pulled out, they still glistened red. The tub itself was tainted, turning crimson.

  I screamed again, and heard rustling nearby. I immediately shot my head up, just to see Mirchie approaching from her house, weary eyed and aroused from slumber. Her pink nose sniffed at me, as she hopped beside me.

  “STAY AWAY!” I shouted, waving my bloodied hands at her. The rabbit however bounced towards me, before bunting her head against my open palm. Her black and white fur rubbed against it, staining her red.

  “MIRCHIE! You can’t touch me! Not yet!” I tried to reason, but it caused her to sniffle at me. She just jumped atop of my lap, and then peered into the bloody water. I picked the rabbit up and put her to the side. Her fur was getting coated in blood, but she seemed more angry about the displacement.

  I took the animal fat - lye - that Ophelia had given me as soap, and it smelled like mint and carrots. I dipped it quickly in the bloodied water, but the emerging bar was just… wet, not stained.

  I immediately rubbed it against my hands, scraping away into my bloodied skin. My hands burned from the friction, but it was clean. I dipped it into the water, before taking a cloth to wipe it off.

  It was still red, and the blood dripped on the floor.

  I screamed again!

  I got back beside the tub, pushing my entire arms into the warm liquid. I poured oil atop to loosen up the debris and stained skin, before forcing soap into it. I dunked again, but my arms came off the same, if not worse.

  There was too much blood in the tub.

  I ran towards the well, dropping the bucket to pull out fresh well-water. It was infested with rot, but I could live with that. I dumped it over my body, and the blood…

  Remained.

  This went on for more than an hour, till my hand hurt, my skin burned, and the bar of soap was nothing but a distant memory. The tub radiated the crimson pool to the sky, and I wasn’t any cleaner. My screaming and shouting turned into nothing but panicked sobbing. By then, Mirchie was fully awake, hopping beside me. I had to remain vigilant, since while she managed to remove the blood from her fur, I could recoat her.

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  I’d empty the tub in the morning. I poured oil on myself to sleep in, and hopefully clean away this filth in the dawn.

  I walked back into my Hovel - and Mirchie snuck in despite my best efforts - and then heard the sound of water being dumped out. I felt this weird sensation of shame and judgement in my gut, but went up to sleep on my lumpy mattress.

  And I just saw faces in my dreams. I opened my eyes 30 minutes later, surrounded by darkness. There was a heavy weight on my chest, but that turned out to be a sleeping rabbit. I tried closing my eyes again, but all I saw was blood and screams.

  I’d try to sleep for a bit, wake up, stare at the ceiling, then drift away.

  I assume morning came when Mirchie jumped off me, thumping her way to the front door. The golden glows of sunlight peeked underneath the door, and I let her escape. I peered outside to the grown carrots and scowled.

  No one wanted more uncommon carrots, so converting them back into seeds was a pointless, waste of time exercise.

  And the masterwork crops weren’t even mine! I borrowed the money for them through Madeleine, with a promise to pay her back. Even the broccoli growing wasn’t my own money!

  None of it was my work.

  What was my work was my bloodied hand and body.

  During the morning, while everyone was out, I drew more well water for my clean tub. I poured it in, and began the bathing ritual. No matter how much soap I used, oil I poured, or how hard I scrubbed, the blood wouldn’t remove itself from my skin.

  I tried hotter and hotter water till it was boiling, and it would not disappear. Between the periods where I needed rest, I could taste the rich, copper-like sensation as I bit into… well, anything. My stomach growled, but I couldn’t handle the taste.

  That was my week. No more planting, just maintenance of the crops. I couldn’t see the point. Nothing I did here was my own work. It was someone else's, someone fixing the mistakes of a girl who was just too clever for her own good. My eyes drooped, my stomach growled, and I was still unclean.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

  “GO AWAY!” I immediately shouted, trying to avoid the banging on the door.

  “Lady Hart, It has b–” her regal voice began.

  “IT’S ASHLEY!” I corrected her again.

  “It is not, Lady Hart. Before I break down this door, I must inquire: Are you avoiding me for my lack of discipline at the Gryphon, or are you avoiding everyone for… what Laertes and Wizex had informed me about, and what the Inquisitors are investigating?”

  “DOES ADDY KNOW?!” I responded, as calm as I could.

  “Alright, it is the latter. I will apologize again for my lack of discipline, but I imagine you do not remotely care about that. I should have been by your side. Now, however, Lady Hart - open this door, or I will break it down.”

  “GO AW-” I began, but the door creaked on its hinges. This was followed by another loud smash that forced the bolts and screws holding the hinges to shatter off the frame. A third slam sounded through my hovel, but the door was already off its hinges. Ophelia lifted it up and threw it backwards, as harsh sunlight bathed my dark hovel.

  “Lady Hart, why are you undressed? Your home smells atrocious and…” her unnatural poise shifted, and a moment later, her ‘human-like’ face was an inch away from mine. Her long black hair was braided into a ‘rope’ behind her head, and the rest of her hair waterfall’d down. Her blue eyes sparkled, and the black dress she wore seemed like a gown that melded with her shadow – far too fancy to greet a [Farm Girl].

  Her hand gripped mine, and I could feel the warmth in her fingers. Artificial, created by my Symphony. I looked away. “What did you do to your skin?” she asked me.

  “It’s blood, Ophelia! I can’t get it off.”

  “...This looks like bruising and scalding, not blood. Have you been scraping your skin?”

  “Yes! I keep trying to wash it off, and it won’t get off.”

  “Your skin won’t get off your skin, Lady Hart?”

  “No! THE BLOOD wont get off my skin.”

  “...What blood, Lady Hart?”

  “I swear to Amaril above, you call me Lady Hart again an’ I’ll slap you.”

  “You’re more than welcome to, Lady Hart, if it’ll make you feel better. With how frail you look, and… the uneaten food about, I regret to inform you that you would faint first.” Her hand flipped mine against her own, inspecting my bloodied skin. “Have you been like this for the last week?”

  “I’ve been trying to wash it of–” I began, but Ophelia’s other hand came to the underside of my jaw, and closed my mouth with one finger.

  “I see. I will draw you a bath, get you new clothes, and a me–”

  “Ophelia,” I interrupted. “What d’ya wan’?”

  “Sorry, Lady Hart?”

  “Ya don’ wanna be my [Foreman], ya don’ even like me, I think ya said ya ain’t attracted to me - thank Elora - so, what d’ya wan’?”

  She hesitated for a moment, confusion etched on her face. Finally, her grip against my wrist tightened. “...To serve? I apologize if my earlier sentiment was seen as dismissal. However, I can not just allow idle conversation with my Lady when she looks this haggard. Now, you will either come with me, or I will take you with me and clean you up.”

  “Well, ya bett-” I couldn’t finish my sentence before Ophelia looped her other arm around my legs and hoisted me up against her shoulders. “I’LL BITE!” I screamed.

  “You are more than welcome too, Lady Hart,” Ophelia stated, before carrying me outside. She then placed me into the empty tub. “Your skin is too scraped for a proper bath. Hold still, Lady Hart.”

  “What d’ya even want?!”

  Ophelia said nothing, but pulled out Rosehip oil. She poured a small dollop of it onto her palm, and then a quick call for green balefire. She rubbed it between her palms, and then knelt behind me. “Head up, Lady Hart.”

  I did not obey, but it didn’t stop Ophelia’s warm hands from gripping my chin and lifting my head skyward. The sweet smelling oil was fragranced like the roses it was made from, and my body immediately revulsed. It was too luxurious, too rich for someone like me.

  “When we first met, Lady Hart, I had told you that pursuing my father was not a good idea. It was that my kind do not see love, we see power and control. All hierarchies, vampiric or not, are based off this. I am sure your… boy-toy,” she began, her words having a strong sense of disdain when she talked about Addy. “He too is aware of this. It is a feudal way of thinking - to serve your father, your lord or lady, your king and queen.”

  I said nothing, but I still tried to squirm away from Ophelia’s grasp. Her warm, soft fingers massaged oil against my scarred skin, lathering it into my neck and jawline first, before moving up to my scowling face.

  “Stay neutral or those scowls will set, Lady Hart. When I had first seen you, you seemed defiant and flippant to the hierarchy. Then, days later, you broke my collar for… nothing.”

  “That’s not true. I needed a guide to the for–” I began, but her fingers clenched under my jaw and shut it. I tried fighting the grip, but Ophelia did something odd.

  She leaned down from above me, and kissed my cheek. Her lips were soft, and the entire feeling was… physically unpleasant, but emotionally… It felt comforting. There wasn’t anything wrong with Ophelia’s lips, and I’m sure anyone else would be honoured, but it was physically ‘irksome’ to me.

  Emotionally though, as soon as her lips touched my cheeks, my bloodied hands rose up to hold her head, to keep her there for a moment longer. She was warm. She didn’t pull away, keeping the sensation for a moment.

  Until I finally released. She moved away slowly, before pouring oil on her hands again. She heated it up and then her fingers began to massage my cheeks and forehead.

  “You did not need to. I also am very sure you did not plan it. For my kind – for any knight, Lady Hart – such an act is unheard of. Then, when I offered my leash to you, what did you do?”

  “Your le–” her fingers clenched my jaw shut again, but leaned in to kiss my other cheek. “Okay.. I get it, I won’t talk.”

  “Thank you, Lady Hart,” Ophelia responded, pulling off me again, and then massaging the oil onto my head. “I will do your hair last. This is absolutely filthy. You really do not like your white hair, Lady Hart.” she gave a soft laugh, but then her hands moved down. Her palms rubbed my shoulders, before sliding down atop of my chest.

  Instinctively, I tried to cover my breasts, but Ophelia’s hands gripped my wrists and easily pushed them aside.

  “You did not take it! Even now, you find the idea abhorrent. So, I was still bound to my father… and your boy-toy murdered him. Good.” Her hands started on my sides, palms tracing over my bony ribcage. “Sit up so I can massage your back.”

  I slid forward, wrapping my arms around my knees. The hot oil was soothing, though the overpowering smell of roses made me feel like I smelled too much like Ophelia.

  “When he was dealt with, it was a case of finding my own place. You brought me into your flock, housed me, and when I asked to become an [Ancient], you just gave it to me without stipulation. You understand you created a progeny of the First Vampire - a gift my kind performs civil wars for - with no expectation of control.”

  I said nothing, seeing as Ophelia didn’t want me to talk. I just eased into her fingers, which pushed into the knots of my back. I felt the muscles kneaded against, before releasing with a satisfying crack.

  “And finally Laertes. A Drakhuul - a completely separate breed, all since I asked. And all of that for 3 stipulations. The least aggravating is not to harm Oakheart, which I assume applies to me as much as it applies to the goblin and my general. I wouldn’t have hunted in my own territory to begin with. Your second is to buy vegetables, which is the most inane use for Wizex and I. But it’s the third that I do draw umbrage with, since I do not understand your obsession with the [Inquisitor].”

  I sighed at that statement, wanting to fight back regarding Adrian, but I couldn’t. Instead, Ophelia wrapped her arms around me, resting her head against my skull. I squirmed, since while I enjoyed the safety it was all… A bit too much.

  “All of these, Lady Hart, are incredibly minor for what a [Vampire] would have to deal with, let alone an [Ancient]. Vampires live in a hierarchy. And all you’ve asked for is a Seneschal, one that wishes to stand by your side, not one bound. So, take this as my vow, Lady Hart. Wherever you shall go, living or dead, I swear my fealty to you – willingly. If you would need my hand ripped from my body as a proof of loyalty, I will give it to you.”

  I finally turned around to stare at her, fighting against her grip. “Ophelia… I don’t think I can give you what you’re looking for. I… appreciate your service and affection, but I don’t…”

  “I am aware, Lady Hart. I don’t feel attraction either. Just fealty, and loyalty – and I know I would want to serve you, not be for–” she began.

  However, I leaned in and pressed my lips atop of hers. Her artificial breath was warm, and her black lips were far too soft. It was wet, but I pressed myself just a bit deeper. It felt different than Adrian’s lips, warmer and far more plump. Her teeth pressed against my mouth, softly pressing down against the flesh.

  I then quickly pulled away. “I would love to have you by my side, but.. . I want you to know. If… someone… asked, I would throw this all away now.”

  “And I hope if Adrian and you ever got together, you would find a way to have me manage your household.” Ophelia stated, wiping her mouth. Her face wasn’t cringing or shocked, unlike me. Internally, I felt nothing by the affection, finding myself comparing her to Adrian.

  Always, Adrian.

  I closed my eyes, but felt her hands continue to pour oil on my bloodied skin. I leaned my head back into her body then. “Ophelia?”

  “Yes, Lady Hart?”

  “Do I have blood all over me?”

  “Not that I can see, Lady Hart.”

  “Can you wash me off then, and prepare some clothing? If it’s no bother –” she pressed her fingers against my jaw.

  “You are the Lady of the house. Act like it. We are all aware that we can leave at any time - it is a permission you have given all of us, or at least to Wizex and I. But your idea of independence is a byproduct of your days at the academy. For the rest of us, we all serve a lord or lady, Lady Hart.”

  I nodded. “I want to visit Noel. Would you care to accompany me?”

  “For you? Always. I have taken care of the cr–” Ophelia began, but this time, I put my fingers atop of her lips.

  “I trust you, Lady Hawthorne. Always.”

  Who should the next interlude belong too?