The dice rattled across the wooden table, one almost falling off, coming to rest at the very edge. A three and a four. Damn. Matthias placed another small silver pfennig onto the table, adding a fourth layer to the pile covering the small "VII" carved into the table.
"That's the eighth toss in a row I've lost money."
"Ah, stop yer bitchin'."
That from a large muscular man, leaning forwards from a chair that looked too small for his broad frame. He scooped up the dice, scratching his thick beard as he surveyed the table. There was a tiny seven in the center with a three, five, six, eight, nine, ten, and eleven carved into the table as well, arranged in a circle around it. A pile of coins was stacked in the middle with three more off to one side, one each above the six, nine, and ten.
The burly man tossed the dice, taking care not to have them collide with any coins. Two pips on one and four on the other. He grinned as he lifted the pfennig off the "VI", adding it to a glittering pile before him.
"Tha's th' fif' toss in a row I've won money."
"Ah, go to Hell."
The big man guffawed as Matthias lifted the dice once more. He shook them between his clasped hands and dropped them onto the table. The sound was a soothing rattle to his ears. Matthias had made these dice himself, to replace the set he damaged when a knocked over chair had the poor fortune to crack off the corner of one from their old set.
He had carved them carefully and slowly from bone, and polished them until they were smooth and clean. Formed into perfect a cube as his untrained and inexperienced hands could achieve. The pips he marked using a nail with a blunted tip heated to be white-hot. Matthias had very slowly touched the metal to the bone, burning little circles into each side. He ended up getting his fingers blistered thrice and wondered belatedly if it might not have been better to bribe the smith into doing this instead.
Still, the dice looked quite fine, and Matthias was secretly very proud of them. His only concern was the creature the bone had come from. Large bones were plentiful in this Covenant. Matthias was now less than... wholly certain it was actually the leg bone of a calf as he had first thought. He kept this particular possibility from his dicing partner, just in case. It was probably fine.
The dice seemed to possess little loyalty to their creator though, coming up a three and costing Matthias yet another coin. He grumbled darkly under his breath. Of course, the money was basically useless, even though these were true white pfennigs. Good silver from reputable mints, not the debased currency that was becoming ever more common. Some of them were likely hundreds of years old. None of that mattered though. No one ever accepted coins of any sort directly from a servant of a Covenant, let along the rulers of one. Explaining to the local turnip seller that the Magi had violently enforced rules forbidding the creation or illusion of gold, silver, and gems rarely helped.
So, ultimately, Matthias was not upset about the actual coins. They might as well have been leaves. It was more the notion of the man before him taking what was his. Matthias never backed down from a game with him, the lout, if only so he could win and take something in return. By Matthias' reckoning, this happened not nearly as oft as it should.
Matthias swept a hand back across his scalp, smoothing his hair a touch. He always found it mildly strange to not be wearing a helmet. Not only the helmet, but no armour at all. He had spent his entire adult life either in military service to a lord or servitude to Magi Mordicant. He routinely slept in full armour, ate in full armour. He wore it in his dreams and he had even worn most of it a few times during sex, long ago. To sit in idleness for hours in a simple tunic and hose, boots but no gloves, was an odd feeling.
He felt uncomfortable being unarmed as well. Of course he never willingly possessed no weapon at all, but the dagger tucked through his belt was a poor substitute for his spear, or a nice heavy crossbow. He knew there were weapons nearby, that he was certainly allowed to use at his whim, but they were not his weapons. They didn't feel as reassuring in his hand, and he doubted he would be able to fight to his full potential with a weapon he had never held before.
Yet, that was the reason he was here was it not? He was supposed to be relaxing. He was supposed to be engaged in mundane, wholesome acts. He was in no brutal war, there was no monster stalking him through the trees. He was home. The Black Forest Covenant. There was a small army of servants and soldiers sworn to obey the Magi, and vast numbers of dead that could be pressed into battle during an emergency. The Covenant itself was a sprawling citadel of stone, towering and intimidating, set atop a mountain.
More potent than all the men and all the walls together though, there were three full Magi in command. Magi who could, if begrudgingly forced into violence, unleash three completely different facets of devastation, chaos, and death upon their enemies. Neither hedge wizards nor dabbling fortune-tellers, these were experienced sorcerers who held no qualms about using their power to bring merciless ruin upon others.
All that, and yet... Matthias never felt safe. Hell, Magi Mordicant was as likely to just watch you die as save you. Magi Sophia did... things to the minds of those that displeased her, regardless of if they be stranger or decades long loyal servant. Magi Jakobs was the least stable of the three; he would set a man alight on the spot if the poor fool accidentally disrupted one of his impossible to understand rituals.
Still, such musings were mostly academic. At the moment Matthias figured he was roughly as bodily safe as any man could hope to be in this world. Not only that, but he was indoors with a fire, food, and company. He needed to stop brooding on death and focus on the game. Considering how rarely he was allowed to do as he pleased and how brief his stays at the Covenant often were, to savor the drought was the least he could do.
The big man tossed the dice. They skittered across the worn surface, displaying a total of four. A pass then, four being the only number where nothing happened. In a way Matthias enjoyed getting fours. It was the only number that did not require any thinking. Matthias spent a lot of his time trying not to reflect too deeply. Fours were his friends.
If there was any man alive that might be considered Matthias' friend, it was the man seated before him. A rough looking specimen. His hands were scarred and calloused, his face weathered and deeply creased beneath his dense brows. The man was somewhere in early forties, but his eyes seemed closer to ninety. Matthias had no idea what the man's birth name had been, but everyone called him Gerhart.
Gerhart was the gatekeeper for the Covenant's main entrance. He slept, ate, and worked all day and night in the same three rooms. He was tasked with keeping an eye on the narrow winding road which led up to the fortress front, and none save the Magi were allowed in or out least they spoke to him first. While important, this duty was less eventful here at the Covenant than the same position at a more mundane castle or city. The Covenant received very few visitors. Usually the only ones to come and go were people who lived here, simply waved through the entrance after identifying themselves.
Fortuitously for Gerhart, he was naturally patient and enjoyed being alone. He saw himself as one of the blessed, as he almost never had to interact with the Magi. They barely ever left, and on the very rare occurrence outside Magi visited, Gerhart was of course far beneath their notice. He just opened the door for them and they promptly forgot about him. If an angry spirit or a malicious fey tried getting in, or worse, tried getting out, well, it wasn't his responsibility to stop them was it? He opened the gate, he closed the gate, and he tried to ignore the unnatural howling or random blazes coming from the inner areas.
Perhaps it was this innate inclination towards solitude and quiet which had drawn Matthias and Gerhart to dice together. Matthias came and went often, and each time Gerhart was the last person he saw as he left and the first upon his return. Through nothing else but simple exposure an acquaintance would inevitably form. They spent little time together, on the face of things, but it was enough for them both.
Their meetings were more or less all the same. Matthias would come to the second floor of the gatehouse, where Gerhart's meager bed and belongings resided. They would sit at the square table with three chairs, one of which was so rarely occupied it had a layer of dust at all times. They would eat some bread and cheese and vegetables, with rare additions of meat or fruit. Gerhart drank watery beer and Matthias drank water. And they rotely played dice for hours and hours.
Gerhart sat by an arrow slit, diligent and always with an eye on the approach. Matthias sat near the small brazier, tending it as needed to keep them as warm as possible during the winter watches. They diced for money, which they never ran out of. What did they have to spend it on? None in the town or villages nearby would take it and none in the Covenant needed to pay for anything at home. If Matthias had an unusually sour run of destiny, Gerhart just pushed to him a pile of silver and proceeded to win it all back.
Dicing was the only activity, with the only variation being different games with said dice. Neither minded though, to them it was peaceful not boring. What Gerhart occupied his time with during Matthias' travels Matthias never asked. In turn, Gerhart never wanted to know where he had been or why he had been there.
The dice clattered once more across the table. The first showed a one right away, the other spent a moment spinning on a corner. Matthias watched it intently; might this finally be a change in the winds? Yes! It landed another one. Matthias grinned as he scooped up three coins, everything but the pile over the seven. He added one to each of the stacks before him, his money being much more organized than Gerhart's large messy heap.
Gerhart smirked, amused by the tidy and meticulous way Matthias organized coins that had no real value, which he was probably going to lose shortly anyways.
"Well good, tha' jus' means I get t' spend more time takin' yer money 'fore you run out. Yer like a drunkard but with dice."
"Enjoy it while it lasts. Magi Mordicant told me a few days ago to return to him a few hours from now."
Gerhart shuddered. Subtly, a mere shake of his hands and stiffening of his jaw. Only those who knew him would even have seen it. Magi... The fear they caused in normal men was so deep, so unconquerable, Matthias had seen courageous soldiers and stoic battlefield surgeons go pale at nothing but a memory of being near one.
"A pity tha'. Yuh play dice with yer soul yuh do, talkin' t' tha' ungodly death wor'sh'per. I don' know how yuh bring yerrself t' always toss 'em 'gain and again. Maybe yuh really are a drunkard wi' dice."
"Don't start speaking like some fat old mother. I will be fine."
The game continued. Dice thunking onto wood, making the pfennigs clatter when they landed too close. Coins went back and forth, neither player making any real gains or losses, though the pile in the center grew to be eightfold tall. Things went back to the more common outcome though, soon enough, eliciting a long sigh from Matthias. Gerhart had rolled dual sixes, the best possible. He laughed with mock malice as he placed the edge of his broad palm on the wood, scrapping it in a wide sweep across the table, gathering all eleven coins to his pile.
Matthias smacked his fist on the table, and stood up irritably. Damn, he had hoped to get that big pile over the seven for himself.
"Alright, I need to stretch my legs."
"Go 'head, it'll give me time t' stack meh winnin's in cute lil' piles like yers."
"Ah, rot in Hell. You gotta be cheating or something, way you always win like that."
Matthias began to idly pace around the room, rolling his shoulders and bending his knees. A splashing sound caught his ear, coming from the courtyard. It was one of several in the Covenant, here the entrance plaza past the main gatehouse. Matthias lifted his chair, and placed it down sideways in front of an inwards facing arrow slit, seating himself for a better look.
On rare occasion the Magi used their powers to give some boon to the people living with them, though these actions usually had an ulterior motive. Magi Jakobs, years ago, had decided one day he wanted water. A lot of water. Far more than the cisterns and basement wells held at the time. Without further ado, he used his mystic rituals to crack open the stone courtyards and indoor floors, both wooden and stone, driving narrow fissures far, far down into the mountain. Water gurgled up from these in even, though unending, flows.
Of course, he then just left them there. Deep dark jagged cracks in the middle of everything, water slowly flooding all over. The master builder and workcrews went into a panicked frenzy, doing all they could and eventually beseeching the assistance of the other Magi, who only intervened once water started threatening some of their books.
In the end, the Covenant had several new fountains and wells, and a mildew problem for months. The residents adapted quickly though, finding such easy access to endless amounts of clean water very helpful. Suddenly all who dwelt there's cloths were cleaned more often, the fortress was somewhat fresher smelling, and fire was no longer as pressing a concern.
Like everything else in the Covenant the fountains were hardly works of art, but they were practical and sturdy. The one nearest the entrance, which Matthias was now looking upon, was a wide stone circle about knee height. A narrow stone pillar rose in the center, as tall as a man, with water trickling from four holes near the top, one on each side. The water drained from the basin at an equal pace to that incoming, and while Matthias knew where the water came from he had no notion of where it went.
It was the figures around the fountain that interested him though. A woman and three of the dead. Two of the dead were holding a length of rope above their heads, a score of paces distant. The third was carrying a very large woven basket, which looked to be filled with fabric of some sort. It was at times hard to determine, but from their clothes and wimples covering whatever might remain of hair it seemed as if all three of the dead had been female.
Matthias stared bitterly at the trio. Truly, there was no greater example of the unholy and unnatural potential of the ars magica than the freakish creatures before him. The most routinely visible display of this Covenant's arcane taint, there were over a thousand of the dead around the Covenant, though they did vary more than they appeared to at first and many were kept out of sight.
Matthias hated them. They made his skin crawl. They invaded his dreams. People were buried for a reason or at least burned. It was important. You went not hanging dead bodies upside down from trees in brightly colored clothing, so they jigged in the wind. No, to do so would be flagrantly perverse and disrespectful. So how much worse then, what the Magi did to these poor people? The black sinner outright desecrated the dead, every moment of every day.
Perhaps they were evil, and mayhaps they were not. But the actions they took, the abominations they created, were just... unquestionably wrong. It was sacrilege. It was defilement. It was rabid and twisted and insane to force dead bodies to walk around. All serving the Magi dreaded death even more than ordinary folk always do. For when you died, the Magi would rape your body, and make you worse than a slave.
Matthias knew not if they imprisoned a soul. He hoped against it but chose not to dwell on the matter. If they did contain one, trapped inside there...
Matthias closed his eyes, and prayed. Prayed that God would not turn his grace away from this dark place; nor the people that lived here. That they, and he, were more than just walking corpses who happened to yet still be breathing.
Deep breaths. Death would come, as it does to all men. He needed to focus on life, focus on the dice. Opening his eyes, he looked once more down upon the courtyard fountain. The four figures remained there, and they seemed to be in the process of rinsing laundry. The woman was taking wet clothing from the large basket held by the one, dunking them into the water, and hanging them on the rope held aloft by the other two dead.
What a contrast she was, standing beside the dead. Thin, but with a figure. She had impressively long black hair, kept in a thick single braid with a kerchief tied around her head. She wore a loose gray linen with no other adornment save a tiny cross necklace. Woman's fashion was something Matthias had little experience with, but he knew this was nothing more than an undergarment, perhaps sleepwear at best. Barefoot, Matthias thought she seemed a little unsuited for such a brisk day, but the longer he watched the less he cared.
Soaking the clothes, the woman quickly became soaked herself. Matthias leaned forwards a bit in his chair when he discerned the woman was indeed wearing only that layer. It clung to her. Clutching her every curve, sheer when pressed against her skin. The peaks of her chest were dusky, but clouded by the film of her dress. The water and the chilly air made them stand out blatantly. The dress formed folds, shadows stretching vertically from under her breasts to her stomach. It was fascinating to watch her move. The way the temporarily transparent parts of the dress shifted, growing and disappearing as she leaned one way and another.
Water dribbled down her calves as she smoothly walked from fountain to rope and back. Wisps of hair escaped her kerchief, hanging limp, swaying as she bent to soak another piece of clothing. Matthias was entranced. Every move of her body, every time she plunged a lump of cloth forcefully into the water. Shaking and swirling them below the surface. It was almost sensual, in its way.
The dress was more alluring than simple nudity. It hid, it flashed, it teased the imagination. The sky was overcast, but a few rays, stark and crisp, shone upon the woman and fountain. Water sparkled as it slid over her lips and tucked below her chin. The pool's surface splashed as she vigorously dunked and revealed and dunked once more each item. That motion of her body, the fervor she put into her every action, it reminded of other things entirely.
The splinters of gold blazing down on her form, it was like angels held polished metal to direct light from Heaven upon this dancing symbol of femininity. She reminded Matthias of the statues he had seen in Constantinople. Matthias wanted her. Wanted her more than any of the rampaging looters had wanted those works of bronze and marble. He would make the water cascade around them. He would make her gasp like the crashing of a waterfall! He would...
Mary, mother of God, what was he thinking!? He ripped his gaze away from the woman, scrunching up his eyes as hard as he was able. In the name of Christ, what was wrong with him? Damn. Dammit. That wasn't a living statue; it wasn't a figment of a lusty dream or boyish fantasy. No, it was a real woman, a teenage girl moreover. Jesus and the saints...
He knew her. Her name was Saadet and her mother was an assistant cook for the Covenant. She could not be older than nineteen, mayhaps as young as sixteen. Matthias had never conversed at length with her, but he knew of her, as she was different from the rest confined in the Covenant. Rather than coming to the Covenant from the outside, Saadet had been born within. Her mother was not pregnant when she arrived seeking refuge from some trauma in Cilicia that only the Magi knew in detail. Matthias had walked in those lands, they were even worse now than they had been when she was there. He did not think less of her for fleeing.
The tightly controlled nature of life for servants of the Magi meant the identity of the father was a matter of some curiosity. According to Gerhart half the Covenant believed Magi Mordicant or Jakobs was the father. The other half believed Saadet's mother was forced to copulate with a demon as part of a bargain by the Magi. In the eyes of many people, the two were basically the same.
It was a shame really, the poor girl. Living where she did meant she never would be courted by an outside person. She could never leave for long and no stranger could enter. Yet one might think she might find acceptance among fellow Covenant dwellers. Over one hundred and fifty people lived there, with noticeably more men than women. At least eighty of those who dwelt within were the grim, foreign-born soldiers that swore total allegiance to Magi Sophia, for reasons Matthias never understood. Surely a few of them were kinder than the rest, and there were always a couple young fools that ran away from home or the military or the law not yet truly realizing their servitude would be permanent.
One might guess it would be a simple matter for her to find romance. A beautiful and exotic girl such as she. Her skin was darker than the norm in this region, but not so swarthy as to garner hatred as a Saracen. She was clever, and by all accounts a gentle spirit. Such presumptions would be in error though. The mere possibility, no matter the likelihood, of a Magi being her father deterred even the most lovelorn fool. Child of a demon was scarcely better. The same shivering fear that had protected her as a small child from rocks and teasing and malicious pranks also condemned her to a life with few if any friends. Let along a suitor.
Reminded of Gerhart, Matthias shook his head harshly, and turned back towards to the table, repositioning his chair and sitting upon it. Gerhart was grinning at him with a smug look smeared across his features.
"The Hell are you looking at?"
"Ah, nothin'. See an'thin' interes'in' in th' courtyard?"
Gerhart raised his eyebrow mockingly, though Matthias' only reply was reaching for his cup. Gerhart chuckled, from him a low rumbling sound like boulders rolling down mountains.
"Sh' started doin' a bigg'r share o' th' washin' ‘bout six month past. Usu'lly has th' same three dead wi' 'er. They are "her" dead, such as it is. Used t' be lot o' men watched from places they fig'ured she couldn't see. Affer a couple weeks o' 'em starin’, th' blackfeathers started watchin' th' watchers. Tha' put th' fear in 'em sure 'nough. Now whiche'er courtyard sh' goes t' is abandoned when sh' do any sort o' washin' or cleanin'. Hell, when sh' baths, entire sections o' th' Covenant be empty of men."
"And you just by chance decided not to ever mention this to me, you ugly boar. I notice you didn't include yourself in that little tale. Hard to believe. I always figured you were like a stag in rut, except all year around. You've never shied away from a grinning village girl. Hell, a few times you paid for it. I should know, you used my money."
"It weren't yer money, I won it from yuh fair and square. So it were my money. But nah, I got me a woman, have f' bit more th'n a year now."
"Yes, and I recall you saying it is a different thing; being faithful to one woman and looking at another.
"In Magi Sophia's eyes, it is 'nough."
“I... see. Pay me no heed, there is no need to discuss it."
"I no mind, by her standards sh' were forgivin'. Leen'ent, th' wretch'd bitch. It were a dream. A stupid dream. I don't e'en know why I dreamed what I dreamed; it sure as hell weren't somethin' I ken 'bout when awake. It were 'bout fuckin', a lot o' fuckin', between me and Magi Sophia. Don' look at meh like that dammit! In th' dream sh' was younger and curvier. In th' dream sh' smiled a' meh. Is hard t' recall th', yuh kno', details, but we start'd out cloth'd, in this tower at th' top o' a castle. I’ve no ken where I got this from, it sure Hell didn't look like this pile o' rottin' shit. Anyways, we fuck'd, and sh' was sleepin' on meh chest right 'fore I snapped awake.
I know yuh think me vulgar, but r'lly, it wasn't tha' bad. I mean, it were practic'lly fuckin' borin'. I don't understand why sh' were s' damn upset, it weren't foul o' mean-spirit'd. Yeah I was a lil' rough with 'er but I didn't really hurt 'er, and sh' sure Hell seemed to want it and enjoy it durin' th' dream. But in th' name o' God, upset sh' were.
I kno' not how sh' ken. A single dream on a normal night in th' mind o' someone sh' looks at maybe once a month and talks t' maybe four times a year. Fuckin' Magi and their Devil-born s' called "Gifts". However sh' found out, th' bitch made 'er displeas're known, believe yuh me.
I woke up tha' mornin' with th' worst pain in meh head I e'er felt in meh life. Curled up in a ball, pissin' and vomitin' on th' floor. Cryin', sobbin' like a babe, helpless 'fore this awful, awful pain. I'm sure no mortal man could endure tha' much sufferin' without passin' out. Sh' must have done somethin' t' meh, t' make meh stay awake f' e'ery moment o' e'ery hour, all day and night. By th' Virgin Mary, it were 'orrible... I don’t have th' words.
I don't 'member this, but someone came lookin' fer meh. I wouldn't eat but they forced some water into meh. Saved meh life, whoe'er th' fuck they were. Th' pain was constant, endless. It didn't ebb and flow, nothin'. Meh whole fuckin' world were reduced to agony. Then it stopped, jus' like tha'. Like meh mind were on flames and someone tossed a bucket of water on it. I found out later it lasted a 'ole three days, from th' mornin' I first woke up t' th' mornin o' th' fourth day.
It weren't enough f' th' bitch though. As if I were e'er goin' t' have a dream like that' again, if in I ken this is what would happen? But no, sh' wanted t' make sure. E'er since then, and note yuh, this all happened o'er two years past, I get a new pain in meh head if I get horny, or plain spen' too long thinkin' dirty thoughts. It's not like it were. Nothin' will e'er hurt like tha' 'gain, except maybe burnin' in Hell. But it's still bad, still near cripplin' if it lasts too long. It builds, startin' like a gnat flyin' near meh ear and endin' up like a swarm of hornets stingin' and bitin' meh eyes.
Th' damn bitch, how could sh' just'fy this shit? I am, and yuh know I’ve been since th' firs' day, polite, respectful even in 'er presence. A man sh' 'ave some fuckin' sanctity when 'e is alone, on his own time; 'spec'lly in' 'is own fuckin' 'ead. Thank Th' Good Lord it only 'appens when I am here. After I go, maybe, an hour’s walk from here it don't 'appen. They are Satan worsh'pers, all fuckin' three o' 'em! I fuckin' hate 'em, but Hell, I’m not shamed t' say, I fuckin' fear 'em just as much as I hate 'em."
The big man was slowly grinding the dice inside his meaty fist. Matthias coughed and decided to change the subject. For his own peace of mind, to salvage Gerhart's disposition, and to save his beloved dice.
"Lord knows few actually like a Magi. Most come here in desperation, and even those that choose to when they don't have to only do it before they understand what they are agreeing to. Alright, enough talk of Magi and their magics, tell me more about this woman of yours. I'm glad to hear you have one, but how can that work with this matter regarding Magi Sophia."
"Heh. Sh' don't live in th' Covenant. Is a farmwife, in one o' th' villages not far from town. Well, in a manner of speakin'. Isn' r'lly a wife see, sh' is a widow of a good four years now, and we sure as fuck 'aint married t' each other. I go and visit 'er as often as I can, which us'lly isn't much, two, sometimes three visits a month. Visits are short too, only one day, sometimes two."
"Where does she live?"
"I jus' told yuh ya stump, on th' edge o' a village near th' town."
"I heard you, you fat bastard. Think you are such a jester? Where exactly? You said this pain in your head can happen far from here. Fine, so obviously she lives a fair distance away. But how can that endure, since you must remain here and watch the gate? Is there a second gatekeeper I do not know about?"
"Nah, it's like this. Some o' Magi Sophia's mercenaries watch th' gate f' meh when I am gone. See, they 'ave a habit of stayin' out real late, drinkin' mostly, some fightin' and fuckin' too no doubt. Once in a while th' others accide'lly leave a fellow or two behind. Or one gets lost, or thrown in th' pillory, or wha' 'ave you. If they come stumblin' back in th' dead o' night, well, they outright beg t' be let in as quiet like as can be. Magi Sophia wants 'em all 'round durin' th' night see? Person'lly I don't think sh' really cares that much 'bout one or two, since sh' don't 'pparently do nothin' when it 'appens. If sh' knows what goes on in meh dreams, sh' sure Hell knows when a soldier o' 'ers gets back after dark.
But th' soldiers, they dread th' thought worse than a plague. They would go on th' knees and beg with tears in th' eyes if I refused t' open th' gate. Maybe it were just th' drink talkin'. But anyhows, they all owe meh one. So they make it up t' meh, now and 'gain, by watchin' th' gate f' a bit when I visit meh woman."
"I see. What's this woman like then? Must be a good thing to make you give up a village girl on the side now and again."
"Heh. I tell ya, sh' isn't what I thought I would spend meh time with. She's got wrinkles on 'er face, deep ones. Sh' aint old, jus' th' weather and th' worryin'. Tough, calloused hands. Th' look like yers, covered in a whole lot a' little scars. She's skinny, but she's like rope, stronger than sh' looks. She's got little tits, keeps 'er hair in two braids, and dresses like a fuckin' man. 'Er hair has a bunch of streaks in it, diff'rent from th' usual gray hairs people get from age. You can tell this woman is a farmwife, tell sh' lived a hard life, just by lookin' at 'er.
Lord knows farmin' anythin' around here is damn hard, damn hard. Even more so since 'er husband died, or got killed, or ran off, I'm not even fuckin' sure how best to call it. She's really quiet, ya know? Always seems kinda sad. Prays a lot. I'm a good and solid Christian man and th' Lord strike me dead if I ever stray, but sh' still makes me feel like a dirty pagan now and again.
But sh' sure as Hell ain't no nun or nothin'. Sh' swears, sh' drinks, sh' wears fuckin' men's clothin' all th' time, she'll strangle a rat or a chicken or what have you with 'er bare hands, and sh' definitely fucks me out o' wedlock. All that, and more, and yet somehow it always feels like I am th' damn sinner, and never 'er. Fuckin' women."
"That does not sound like the kind of woman I associate with you. How did this come about?"
"You know, o' all things, it was tha' fuckin' bitch and 'er fuckin' mind games tha' started me and meh woman."
"Ironic."
"What th' fuck does "eye-ron-ick" mean?"
"Nevermind, continue."
"Right. So, after six months of this headache shit, I was gettin' really frustrated. I hadn't s' much as kissed a girl in six months, let alone fucked one. I couldn't even do anythin' in meh own head! I was always in a bad mood and I was gettin' mean. When a day came that th' gate got damaged, I leapt at th' chance. Th' smith was busy with somethin' about that crazy fucking fire Magi. So I said I would take care o' it myself. I went t' town fer a replacement part fer th' gate, knowin' it would take all day. I wanted to get some air, see if I could walk off meh bad mood.
I spent a bit of time loafin' 'bout th' market, it being market day 'n all. I overheard this woman I didn't recognize havin' a loud argument with a merchant. Th' were arguin' 'bout th' price o' some food. You travel too much t' be known 'round 'ere. But I see everythin' that goes in and out o' this gate. I can tell some o' th' local sellers and merchants are more scared o' th' Magi than th' others. They tend to give th' Covenant dwellers little gifts, like free food or a trinket. If th' think it placates th' Magi or somethin', th' poor fools 'ave no idea...
But still. I walked up t' this woman, seeing another opportunity. I was sick o' being afraid all th' time, sick o' being pushed around by scrawny little old fuckin' Devil-worshipers. I wanted t' flex muscle, I wanted someone t' be afraid o' me, and I wanted t' plow a fuckin' woman.
So I tapped th' woman on 'er shoulder, we got t' talkin'. Sh' was a bit nervous. I mean, I get it you know? Can't blame 'er. Large angry lookin' stranger that works for ungodly witches suddenly wants t' chat wi' ya. Sh' warmed up a bit though, when I started gettin' 'er things. Typical right? I took 'er 'round t' everyone in town I knew feared th' Magi more than usual. I was mysterious and creepy and y' know, a bit savage soundin'. They gave me everythin' I asked fer, and even things I hadn't thought of.
Th' woman had brought a basket t' market, but it ended up bein' much too much shit f' 'er t' carry all th' way back 'ome, and there were a real good chance some thug would steal it all on 'er trip back anyways.
So o' course I offered t' carry it all home. I'm fuckin' chivalrous like that. I knew I would get an earful f' not only gettin' back after dark but also not gettin' th' part f' th' fuckin' gate. I didn’t give a damn. I was feelin' really good from showin' a bit of fang 'round town, and Lord knows I was horny as fuck from starrin' at this woman's tits and ass. She wasn't exactly a Frankish princess, but sh' still got meh cock up.
We got t' 'er home at 'bout sunset. It's a little place. Not a hovel, it's not that bad. But defin'ly a poor peasant's house. A couple kids ran out, a girl o' 'bout fifteen or s' and a boy 'bout maybe four. I was cussin' inside with every filth I knew in ev'ry language I had ever heard. Th' damn woman was married with kids. Shit.
Turns out not though. No man was at th' door. Kids never said a word 'bout a father. I was thrilled 'bout that, but fuck was I disappointed overall. I didn't even get t' come in, let along a kiss or a fuck. Th' woman thanked me, said she would add me t' 'er prays tonight, and not only shut th' door but I could hear 'er bolt it too. I was pissed.
But I mellowed on th' way back. Alright. Fine. No sex. But were that really such a bad thing? All it really meant was th' woman were not a slut. I was lettin' meh bad mood from th' past six months blend with m' good mood from th' last six hours. It was messin' up meh morals. Sure I like a good slut now and 'gain, but this woman hadn’t, you know, actually done nothin' wrong. It wasn’t right o' me t' be angry at 'er, or angry 'bout anythin' really.
I thought 'bout going back th' next day when I got that gate part made in town. I didn't. I thought 'bout 'er a lot fer th' next two weeks. I didn't have much else t' do at night besides listen t' th' shriekin' bonfire that fucking Magi was pokin' and proddin'. I thought a lot 'bout 'er voice. It weren't a pretty voice. Like sand rubbed between two flat pieces o' wood. But I don't know. I liked it. I don’t know why, but I liked it.
Let me tell ya... I had some 'orrible headaches during those two weeks. Finally I grew some balls I guess, and went back t' 'er house one afternoon. Sh' hadn't asked me t' come back or anythin'. Hadn't really shown any desire at all t' see me 'gain. But sh' let me in. Sh' let me in and we spent half th' night talkin'. I still didn't get a kiss or a fuck, but that time I guess I didn't really care.
I went back some more, every couple weeks. We talked usually. If I showed up early enough I helped a little with th' chores. I played with he' boy sometimes 'fore he went t' sleep. All three o' them were cautious and reserved. I couldn't blame them. Heh, I can be fuckin' scary sometimes, without tryin' to be.
I learned a bit 'bout 'er and 'er family. Sh' had always been a harsh and proud woman. Sh' married a man sh' didn't like much just because sh' had known 'im f' a long time. I found out while takin' a piss that there is a tiny graveyard in th' woods near 'er house. Th' graves seemed really little. Too small f' even a child. I figured they were cats maybe, that th' kids had buried.
I asked in town, and found out sh' has problems giving birth. Th' girl were 'er oldest child, from 'er second or third pregnancy. People didn't really know th' exact number, but in thirteen or so years o' being pregnant all th' time only two babies lived more than a few days. And th' girl 'as a birth defect, 'er knees don’t work right so sh' can't bend 'er legs. Th' boy ‘aint right either. He’s one o' those moron types. Not like one o' those droolin' simpletons with arm up by their chest, but he’s stupid as a log and can’t seem t' talk good.
Th' graves are there because th' churches around here will bury a newborn baby, but refuse t' put anythin' dead before it were born in their cemeteries. Say it is proof God did not want 'em in th' world at all, let along his house on Earth. There was somethin' else too, but people wouldn't talk 'bout it. Not t' me anyways. You know how it is.
So sh' were never popular with th' people 'round 'er. 'Er husband was ashamed and folk whispered behind 'er back. Fuck, I know what that is like. We connected because o' it. One of th' few things we had in common. Eventually, she was drunk, and told me somethin' else. 'Bout 'er husband, and why nobody in town ever gives 'er fair prices f' anythin', like that damn merchant sh' was arguin' with.
It comes back t' th' fuckin' Magi. 'Er husband, 'bout four years ago, got sick o' th' childbirth problem, and sick o' people talking about how 'e was messed up. They were sayin' it wasn’t th' woman that was th' issue. His seed was unholy, and God didn't want his children in th' world.
He came here, th' fool, and demanded an audience with th' Magi. I remember him now, but I didn't make th' connection between him and 'er until sh' told me. I told him t' fuck off, but he wouldn't leave and wouldn't shut up. What could I do? Either I let him in or I shot him. Th' other two were busy s' he talked t' that death lover Magi, o' all fuckin' people, askin' fer help. I didn't see any o' what happened next but several others swear it's true.
Th' Magi refused. Said there was no quick or easy solution t' that and he saw no reason t' put effort into it. Th' man insisted. He said 'e would do anythin', all he wanted was a little help f' him and his wife. Th' fool. He wouldn't let it go, and then he got angry. I think Th' Gift was affecting his mind. Th' Magi ordered him t' be gone, and th' man accused him o' being a charlatan.
Th' vile bastard killed him. Right then and there struck 'im dead. I don't know if what happened next was more th' Magi or th' husband, but some time later th' corpse walked back through th' village t' their house. 'Er and th' kids hid inside, but th' corpse broke down th' door. Then it kept tryin' t' embrace 'er. You know how those corpses are, sh' couldn't possibly fight it off, and it stood there holdin' 'er while sh' screamed and cried. Eventually, it dropped 'er and wandered off. The next day Magi Sophia's soldiers found it in some field and brought it back t' th' Covenant.
Sh' almost went insane, and nearly died o' fright. Maybe sh' didn’t almost do a little bit o' both... That’s why sh' got so many wrinkles around 'er eyes when sh' ain’t really that old. Th' scars on 'er hands are from his teeth and nails, pushin' his face away from 'ers and trying t' pry off his fingers.
Sh' broke down cryin' when sh' told me all that. Sobbin' real hard. I'm not good at that kinda situation. I sorta held 'er while sh' cried. Not gonna lie, it occurred t' me that this was more or less th' easiest time t' get 'er fuckin'. But no, no I was ashamed o' even havin' th' thought, and even more ashamed that I worked f' such a pack o' monsters.
We prayed together that mornin'. I never fuckin' prayed s' hard in meh life. Heh. We haven’t spoken o' that night again. Or 'bout 'er husband, th' Magi, or 'er lost children. I left, returned here. Ill in heart; that this place was m' home, and that m' lord was a Satanist.
I go back now, not very often but pretty regularly. We started fuckin' not long after. I tried t' be gentler with 'er than I was with other woman, but I don't know. I think sh' gets some kind of release from havin' it rough. Like somethin' was gatherin' up inside 'er over th' years since 'er husband died, maybe even before that, and sh' scraps a little bit more o' that stuff off 'er soul each time we fuck.
I help them as much as I can. Nobody accepts money from a servant of a Magi, but they fuckin' accept those exact same coins from 'er. Two of every three coins I win from you eventually ends up with 'er actually, though o' course I never give 'er too much at once. She’d be too proud t' accept a lot o' money from anyone, and if sh' suddenly got rich everyone would get suspicious o' 'er. I tell 'er t' quietly give what sh' don’t need t' th' church for alms. I figure sh' is hidin' most o' what sh' keeps, so someday sh' can move 'er and 'er children somewhere very far away. Prob'ly uses th' rest t' buy food.
I figure I don't love 'er. I think I can honestly say that I do not love this woman. I mean that’s not what love is, right? But it's not only sex. It’s not. I just, I don't know. I will be happy not sad if sh' goes far away. It’s better that way. I feel so damn... guilty inside, when sh' looks into meh eyes. Like it was, or is, me that is th' cause of all 'er grief and sufferin'. I didn't stop 'er husband from enterin' here. I didn't stop his corpse from leaving. If sh' knew that I'm sure she'd never open 'er door again. Sh' would hate me! I'm not good with this shit, and we never talk 'bout th' future. I don't want to think about it.
I bring 'er a bag of fruit and some pretty baubles, fuck 'er, and leave real early in th' morning. Sometimes I fix a hole in 'er roof or sharpen a farm tool. Sh' doesn't love me. She's never loved me. Sh' ‘aint never going to. But sh' ain't told me once not t' come back."
Gerhart seemed to lose himself in contemplation, rolling the dice between his thick fingers absently. Matthias leaned back against the window frame; giving Gerhart time to organize his thoughts. He wondered if he could ever be content with the woman Gerhart had described. Did he really need his woman to love him, or would a woman who wanted him near her be enough?
It probably would be enough. Matthias had not believed he would find love like in a song since he started serving Magi Mordicant. The Magi, they stripped everything from a man's life except the things needed to fulfill his duties. More than that, they dominated every aspect of his day. He did not leave the Covenant without consent of the Magi. He could not get married before asking them. His wife could not give birth unless she had their permission. He slept when they told him to sleep; he was awake when they wanted him to be awake.
With a life like that, where was room for romance? How could he take a girl for a surprise meal by a creek? How could they get lost in each other’s arms and forget the troubles of tomorrow. He had no house for them to be in, no family to welcome them. He could not support or shelter them. Not really, since he needed the Magi to support and shelter him. He had no freedom to pursue a fresh love or life somewhere else and no one had the freedom to pursue him. Lacking all the possessions and qualities most women and their families looked for in a match, what sort of woman would even want to?
Of course, the Magi were only part of the problem, the other was the magic itself. The Gift was a terrible thing to experience in person, but it could be avoided by staying physically away from the Magi. The wraiths, the enchantments, the whispers you can't be sure you heard... Those stalked you every hour of every day. What sane person would choose to live with one foot in Hell and the other in a fever dream just because a social pariah with a tainted past professed their love?
Sex was not unduly hard to acquire. But love? It seemed so utterly removed from the strict and dangerous life of servitude to a Magi. It seemed to have no place in that grim fortress of corpses. How utterly absurd a mental image it was, giggling children playfully chasing each other beneath trees that had no leaves in summer, dark flocks of dead birds watching their every move. Other Covenants were no better. Matthias had been to several. The particular flavor of danger and fear might be markedly different from the Black Forest, but it was never any better. Some were worse.
So what was wrong with a widow in a farmhouse on the far edge of town? She didn't lock her door when you walked by. She didn't hide her children out of some not completely unfounded fear they might be taken. She didn't throw rocks or rotten fruit, she didn't whisper behind your back. True, she didn't love you either, but surely the rest of it balanced out that deficit.
Would it be enough to make a man happy...?
Was it right, to expect that from a woman? Could he knowingly allow a woman who could have something else, someone better, to sacrifice her life even if she wanted to? If he believed he would eventually bring her great suffering and pain? Could he accept it? Was it even his to decide either way? He thought about a woman who he knew he was hurting. He could tell himself it was a misunderstanding. Could hide, run, delay. He could choose not to look, act as though he hadn't seen. But he could not forget, could not unknow what he knew.
Which was less cruel? What would hurt less?
Which was less cruel? What would hurt less?
Matthias rolled these questions around in his mind as he looked back out towards the courtyard. Saadet was gone, a wet trail on the cobblestone the only indicator of her departure. The water didn't look enticing anymore. The rays of sunlight remained, but now they reminded Matthias more of cracks in the floorboards shining to the cellar than the caressing hand of Heaven's grace.
Gazing at the abandoned fountain, he felt ashamed of his earlier thoughts. Saadet was likely the most innocent person living in the Covenant, but in that moment all he had thought about when looking at her was selfish desire. That it was a transitory flicker unacted upon did not excuse him. He had always known that if for some inexplicable reason she did entice him to her bed, he would refuse. How could he spoil such airy purity? Saadet was a beautiful and healthy woman, but it would all be wasted on him.
Saadet should be allowed to leave the Covenant. She deserved to find some squire with a good future ahead of him, to sweep her up and carry her away to a richer, more peaceful land on the back of a strong horse. She deserved to smack the fingers of little boys trying to steal an apple tart; to teach a little girl that looked just like her how to sew. She deserved to gossip with friends in the village market, to stroll lazily through the meadow with no other purpose in mind than to pick as great a variety of flowers as possible.
She didn't deserve a cell darker than black. She didn't deserve to spend hours of her day speaking to corpses. She didn't deserve the rumors, the whispers. Witch, the woodsman said. Daughter of a Magi and the Devil claimed the old woman. Hollow and soulless simulacrum, formed from tears and blood, told young men whom she had blithely ignored. She was so much more than those things. So much greater! And yet, by no worse sin than being born in a Covenant, she would spend the rest of her life a slave and a prisoner.
In truth Matthias did not want to rip the thin soaking dress from her body and make her writhe in the throes of passion. No... No what he really wanted was to give her his cloak, dry her hair, and free her! Free her from the claws of Magi Mordicant and the others! Free her from a life of bondage to madmen and sinners and tombs!
"Matthias!"
Gerhart's gruff voice shattered his rising tide of emotion like a lightning bolt striking the ice of a frozen lake. Matthias whipped his head around, eyes wide with unfocused anger, almost falling out his chair. Gerhart looked at him as calmly and languidly as ever. He had spent so long inside the walls of a Covenant that nothing Matthias could have said or done would have shaken him. Offhandedly dismissing the look on Matthias' face, he gestured a muscled arm towards a different window.
Limbs splayed, half out of his seat, Matthias followed the direction with only his eyes. His face and body still as a gargoyle. Standing no less motionless in the arrow slit was a raven. It almost seemed like it might have been alive, if not for the overt emaciated thinness and the way it never moved. This one had starved to death, probably an experiment by the Magi on how long they could use sorcery to keep a creature alive without food.
"I tried getting yer attention when it showed up. I had t' say yer name five times before yuh listened. Yuh should hurry; I imagine th' devil will not be pleased that he had to send a raven t' fetch yuh."
"Right... Right... I was supposed to meet him. Damn me..."
"Alright, well, if he sends yuh off somewhere stop in 'fore yuh leave. We'll have just one last toss o' these dice. Heh. I might ne'er have 'nother chance to take yer coin."
"Your faith in me is a light during the dark times of my travels, you ugly swine. I'll make an effort to bring back something good you can give to your woman."
He gathered what he had brought, shut the door firmly behind him, and decided it was worth risking Magi Mordicant being a sliver more upset to take the long way there, along the walls, and avoid that damn courtyard and that damn fountain.
Save the fair maiden from the tower. How noble he aspired to be. How gallant. Save the fair maiden... Matthias shook his head, trying to dislodge those kinds of thoughts from his mind. As he walked towards his master and lord with even less enthusiasm than he usually did, Matthias could not stop a dry, rasping chuckle from escaping him.
"Truly," he thought, "I can't even save myself."