Hours after that meeting, I exited the castle. I am the only one that my lady permits to leave. The guards are not permitted to, but some certainly tried in the past. My lady dealt with them accordingly.
Late in the evening is the best time to find willing girls for my lady’s blessing. Those who brought their father’s farm goods into the village market left for their homesteads by sunset, and I could always find a willing farm girl.
I see two young women on a cart bound westward from the village of… I am not entirely sure. I cannot recall the name of it. I have had trouble with nomenclature of anything these past few years. I do often wonder why that is.
One of the women is very lithe, fair in face and slender in form. Her eyes dance from one point to the next, ever so gracefully. Her hair was like that of a raven’s feathers, black and foreboding.
She will be perfect for my lady. It is only a matter of convincing her to come along with me. Wearing only my nicest attire that my lady gifted me, the persuasion will not be difficult.
“Good evening, miss.” I say, “May I have a moment to speak with you?”
Curious, but altogether wary, she stops the cart and turns to face me. Her beauty was exquisite, I notice again. Her friend flashes a knowing grin before turning the other way so as not to face us.
“Good evening to you as well.” She says ever so simply. Her voice is melodious and not unlike a bird’s song. Every motion of hers radiates with grace, although she is merely a farm girl.
“My name is William.” My name is not William. I have learned it is better to use pseudonyms in my lady’s work. My real name… well, I’ve long forgotten it. My lady never uses it, and I do not recall it. I suppose it could have been William just as much as anything else. “I am a royal servant of Mistress Morgan, who is in need of a fair handmaiden for help her in daily tasks.” Morgan is not my lady’s name either. I have never heard my lady’s name spoken, nor have I ever needed it.
“Mistress Morgan? I’ve never heard of anybody by that name. Are you pulling the wool over my eyes?” She says, smirking. The farm expression is much different than my lady’s dialect, but I have come to accept that in my searches.
“I would never do such a thing to you, miss. You have yet to tell me your name, but we can discuss that on the way to the keep.” That is the hook that gets most of them. My clothing was evidently finely made and I had the general tone of royalty. The mention of a keep only serves to shut the lock. The lies I had told would mean nothing in a moment’s time, and once at the castle they were useless anyways.
“Oh, can we?” she replies with a wink as she hops off the cart. I had evidently won her over, as I had many before. “My name is Lucilia.”
And with that, we are off.The rest of this story can be found here.
My hiatus from LEGO building has finally come to a complete end, and I'm back to building the brick once again! It's been about a month since the last chapter was posted, and I'm glad to be back at it. Expect more regular builds from me in the weeks and months to come. C&C always welcome.