"He decided not to court me after that incident," Chrys chuckled, carefully plying a brush through the silky smooth blue hair of her new mistress.
As the brush glided through Nimue's hair, Chrys breathed in deeply, allowing the deep smells of Lavender and some other incense, unfamiliar to her, to fill her nostrils. It had always been her greatest fascination, to smell what incense her current mistress preferred to fill her room with. Apart from that one time, a mistress with a severe flatulence problem refused to use any type at all.
"Girl?" Nimue questioned, returning Chrys' thoughts from the strange unfamiliar smell.
"Yes, milady?"
"You talk too much," Nimue commented abruptly.
Stroking Nimue's soft but fine hair, Chrys immediately apologised, "My apologies, milady."
Nimue's eyes, for the first time since Chrys worked on her hair, tore themselves away from her reflection, "Yet, I find your voice somewhat soothing, where are you from, girl?"
"Thank you, milady," Chrys smiled, her dimples quickly sinking into her cheeks. "The Isles of Clover, milady. They are beautiful at this time of the year, especially at night when the sun starts to set and..." Chrys stopped midflow, aware that her words were likely to irritate Nimue.
A small smile could be seen on Nimue's face, "Your name, girl, what is it again?"
"Chrysanthemum, milady."
"Good gods, what type of mother calls a child with that mouthful?" Nimue replied.
"Most people just call me Chrys, milady."
Chrys continued to carefully knead Nimue's hair, aware that the blue-eyed woman hadn't taken her focus away from Chrys' reflection.
"These Isle of Clover, are they within my empire?" Nimue asked.
Her empire? Chrys wanted to desperately call up lady Nimue for her lack of understanding of her position within the Empire, but to do so would be not only futile but likely extremely dangerous.
"They are a group of islands southwest of Ravenscourt, milady."
Nimue's face screwed up as Chrys spoke, "Oh, don't talk of that place. Arnaud has been in a dreadfully bad mood since that ghastly predicament to the west began."
Chrys did everything she could, not to smile. Since travelling to Lionmane, she desperately missed her home at Ravenscourt, and when news of the reserve army laying siege to it had quickly escalated throughout the city like wildfire, she felt like she had been stabbed repeatedly in the heart. When news of Ravenscourt's triumph filtered through, it had given birth to several celebrations in the sewers of Lionmane. As reports of the last remaining Aex-Igh, Loldirr Wraithslayer, started to surface, becoming more than just a myth, Chrys' actions as the Nightengale had gathered substantial momentum.
"In fact, Arnaud has been in a bad mood since that red-haired slut arrived in Lionmane," Nimue commented with a tinge of venom behind it.
Chrys could feel herself holding Nimue's hair a little tighter, while unnatural thoughts of slamming the blue-haired mistress' head on the table seem to gather at the forefront of her mind.
A wave of anger rose inside of Chrys, one that she was not familiar with and it only seemed to compound itself further as the insult to Loldirr rattled in her mind. It was only when Nimue's soft but bitter voice cut across the room, that the thought of the undescribable damage that Chrys wanted to inflict on her seeped away into oblivion.
"Girl, continue with my hair, we have an appointment to attend to soon."
Chrys did all she could, not to frown at the term 'girl', especially after mentioning her name several times already. She was used to being degraded by those who considered her to be less than human, but from Nimue, it seemed to grate at her. Perhaps it was her narcissistic traits, but more than likely it was the fact that she was the complete opposite of Loldirr.
Thoughts of how Chrys used to brush Loldirr's hair, similar to what she was currently doing with Nimue's, came flooding back to her. The texture of their hair was comparable, soft, fragile, but beautiful, yet while Nimue's was a cold blue, Loldirr's was a flamed red and the colour was a striking resemblance to their characters.
Chrys recalled how Loldirr felt initially nervous around her, unaware of how to conduct herself around a servant, but as her barriers were gradually broken down, so was the warmth of her character. Chrys was her servant, to be used and abused how Loldirr saw fit, yet never at any time did she feel like that was the case. Loldirr treated her as an equal, therefore to serve her was not a duty, it was a privilege.
The blue-haired woman that sat in front of her was strikingly different. To Nimue, Chrys was a tool, an object to do her will. Her sole purpose was to make Nimue presentable to the outside world in a manner that made women envy her and men lust for her.
Loldirr was an Empress, who wanted to be a commoner. Nimue, despite her eloquent speech and mannerisms, was a commoner wanting to be an Empress.
"Did you attend the slut's execution?" Nimue asked, her fixation with Loldirr becoming more apparent.
"I did milady, never before have I witnessed such a spectacle."
A rye smile appeared on Nimue's face, "I suppose you have never encountered a Sorceress of the Elements before? Especially from your lowly upbringing from the Isle of, whatever they were."
Chrys continued to smile, despite a tempest raging inside of her calling her to end the life of this despicable woman. "I have not milady,"
"They are simply the embodiment of perfection. Creatures with the ability to manipulate a sphere of the elements and bend it to their whim. The red-haired bitch obviously had the ability to manipulate fire, though her talent was rather raw," Nimue explained, seemingly proud of her knowledge on the subject.
Chrys found Nimue's passion for the discussion somewhat bizarre. She watched as Nimue studied her fingers as she spoke, waving her hand around effortlessly as if it was gliding through water.
Almost as quickly as Nimue's thoughts were focused on the skills of a sorcerer and sorceress, her deep blue eyes fixated themselves back on her reflection. "Your skills are adequate, girl. I believe you will be able to perform your duty as one of my handmaidens sufficiently."
"Thank you milady," Chrys responded, curtseying as she spoke.
"You will be expected to fulfil my needs as and when I require them. I do not excuse tardiness, and my reputation is reflected through you. Therefore, I would expect you to conduct yourself in a manner that is becoming of someone from my retinue. Should you fail to do so, there will be severe punishment, is that understood?" Nimue spoke with an assertiveness that did not appear equal to her physique.
"Yes, milady."
"Good, finish preparing me, for you will accompany me to the lake where you will see, firsthand, exactly what punishment I deem necessary to inflict on those who put my reputation in jeopardy."
Chrys carefully placed the brush on the table before turning towards Nimue's vast array of bracelets. Some were pure gold, while others contained gems that Chrys had never before seen, including one that seems to meld between purple and blue and sparkled red in a certain light. As her eyes focused on it, she realised that it was Dwarvenstone, a stone that was very rarely seen outside of the caves of the dwarven kingdoms.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Nimue responded, her blood-red smile focusing on Chrys' gawping gaze. "Do not let your eyes linger too long, otherwise I may decide that your eyes are not worth keeping."
"Apologies milady, it's just I have never seen Dwarvenstone before."
"I am impressed. Most girls would just call it pretty, yet you're educated enough to know what it is, therefore I assume you know what it's worth?"
'At least half of this castle' Chrys thought to herself
"And if you know," Nimue continued, "then you will know what I will do should it disappear."
Chrys took a deep breath. Nimue's threats were not subtle, and her ability to back them appeared genuine. "I am your servant, milady."
"Best you remember that."
The longer it took to prepare Nimue, the sicker to the stomach Chrys felt. There was no doubt that the blue-haired concubine possessed a beauty like no other; how could the Emperor not have his head turned by the image of perfection? Yet while she was incredibly captivating, her soul was as dark and corrupt as Chrys had ever encountered. She was evil personified, and she possessed an arrogance far beyond her station.
Chrys was no fool, she feared the delicate lady. With Sir Searmundr standing just beyond the door, Nimue would have no hesitation to call upon her enforcer to inflict incredible pain and suffering.
Nimue was also extremely educated and cunning. In the short time that Chrys had got to know her, Nimue's intellect shone through brightly. She had mastered the game of seduction and subterfuge to a point where Chrys felt intimidated. One slip of the tongue, one false move, one tiny inclination of who Chrys was, and Loldirr's insurrection would be over before it gathered any momentum. She must not allow her mistress to know that she was the Nightengale.
"Come, girl," Nimue instructed as Chrys draped her long flowing winter coat over the seductress. As Nimue took a hold of the dyed dark blue animal fur, she wrapped it tightly around herself; preparing to take a trip outside of the keep.
The creak of the door saw Sir Searmundr gradually slant his head toward the exiting concubine. As Chrys looked to follow Nimue, Sir Searmundr growled in her direction, his face frowning at the young mousy-haired woman.
Chrys could feel her hands sweating as she pulled the door shut behind herself. At the side of her eye, she watched as Sir Searmundr placed both of his hands around the Zweihänder, a sword, that despite having the tip of the blade resting on the floor, quite easily reached up toward Chrys' eye line. As she took steps behind Nimue, the loud clunking of the Lionguard's armour echoed behind her. He was just far enough not to be in her personal space, but just close enough for her to feel the presence of pure strength and anger.
Chrys' plan to take out the enemy from within was starting to feel like a huge gamble, one that she would struggle to overcome. The bitterness, the anger and the rage; she could feel it all around her, waiting for an opportunity to strike her down and obliterate her plans. Despite all her apprehension, however, it was too late to back out now. She had gambled everything on this hail mary to be as close to Nimue as possible, and to pull out now would put her life in far more danger than it currently was in.
***
The wind was bitter, the chill in the air harrowing, despite the coat that she wore, Chrys instinctively took to crossing her arms in hope of building up some much-needed warmth. She could feel her cheeks burn as she took steps to the small lake secluded away just outside the city walls.
Her trip had been one of self-reflection. Nimue did not speak and Sir Searmundr had taken to snarling at Chrys at every opportunity. He need not have done it, Chrys was already deeply intimidated by both him and his charge. She only felt at ease when the lake appeared and the other handmaidens of Nimue had already gathered beside it.
As Sir Searmundr pointed toward the other five handmaidens for Chrys to stand beside, a sigh of relief came as she took her position next to the elderly Grishild.
Grishild did not look, her ageing face was devoid of any sense of joy and her grey plait draped over her shoulder, felt as cold as the wind that burned Chrys' cheeks.
"How have you found working for the mistress?" Grishild spoke, her voice barely audible over the cutting breeze.
Chrys turned toward Nimue who had taken to standing away from the women that awaited her every need. Sir Searmundr took to standing over her like a shadow.
"Challenging," Chrys responded, aware that Grishild's loyalty to the Aex-Igh rebellion was without question. "She acts as if she is a queen, yet I fail to see any sense of nobility in her."
"Your observations are well founded, people don't call her the Sapphire whore without reason," Grishild spoke with a sternness that brought a chill to Chrys. "Don't let her catch you calling her that. Her justice is not swift or fair."
"Where is she from? Her accent isn't Isovinian, and her demeanour is not from anywhere that I know. She acts of noble birth, but there is a lack of refinement about it, I simply can not gauge anything about her," Chrys asked.
"Nobody knows," Grishild explained, her greying eyes focusing on the calming chilled water. "She came here, some six winters ago, married to a Sir Dederick of Harpyshore."
"Harpyshore?"
"Yes, he was no more than a knight-errant, an estate of around six acres."
Chrys glanced over to the woman around four times her age, "was?" she asked.
"The Lady Nimue caught the Emperor's eye. It wasn't long before she was forsaking her husband's bed for a much grander one, and it didn't take much longer before she conspired to become a widow. Sir Dederick was sentenced to death for witchcraft and treason, yet thanks to the Queen and her ability to survive, Nimue's ambitions to wed the Emperor have been scuppered," Grishild explained.
"The Queen?"
"Yes, she still lives, but is far away from this hell hole."
Chrys rubbed her arms desperate to warm her thin, delicate arms. "What of Nimue before she came here?"
"Nobody knows," Grishild continued, "rumour has it that not even her previous husband did."
Chrys watched as Sir Searmundr turned away from the enigmatic Nimue and headed toward a caravan that had been hidden carefully from sight until this moment. As he reached it, he threw a young woman from it before grabbing a hold of her arm tightly and dragging her toward the lake.
"Who's that?" Chrys asked.
"Jayen."
Chrys recognised the name but couldn't initially place it, but when she did, her heart quickly sank to the ground. "What is going on?" She asked, an anxiousness washing over her.
"Nimue's justice," Grishild responded, "I'm sorry Chrysanthemum if I had told you of Jayen's fate, it is possible you may have not wanted to finish what the Nightengale had started."
Chrys looked in horror as Jayen, probably only two or three winters older than her, was thrown unceremoniously into the lake. As Sir Searmundr raised his Zweihänder toward the young delicate woman, her damp face started to drench itself in tears.
"The price for tardiness, is a harsh one," Nimue spoke, her voice cutting through the wind like a knife through butter. "Anything that you do that puts myself or my reputation in jeopardy will be dealt with harshly. You all serve me, and my will, at my bidding."
Chrys could feel her heart churn, and the cold that battered against her face had long been forgotten. As the girl who begged for her life stood with water up to her knees, her body freezing from fear and cold, Chrys couldn't believe that her need to infiltrate the enemy would cost the girl her life.
"Do not interfere," warned Grishild, her voice cracking as the girl's cries became louder.
Nimue raised a hand, and a smile etched itself onto her face. As she flexed her fingers, the water around Sir Searmundr and Jayen appeared to ripple, and as she continued to do so, Sir Searmundr lowered his sword and stepped out from the lake.
Chrys was left in disbelief as pools of water started to merge, swirling angrily against each other as two forms appeared to raise themselves on either side of the terrified Jayen. Flowing and churning around the hapless woman, Jayen screamed anxiously before the liquid forms engulfed her, pulling her into the depths of the lake causing a human-sized ripple to paint itself on the lake's surface.
Just as the water appeared to calm, Nimue lowered her hand and almost instantly Jayen's head appeared, water dripping effortlessly off her drenched head.
Jayen coughed and spluttered, her breathing ragged and forced, but as Nimue raised her hand again, the water engulfed her once more.
Bitterness and anger ravaged Chrys' mind as Nimue's hand continued to raise and drop. Each time her hand dropped, Jayen appeared, attempting to grasp any ounce of air she could. Once the hand was raised, Jayen disappeared once more into the depths.
Over and over the splashing of water, the coughing and spluttering, the helpless cries and shouts continued for several minutes, but to Chrys, it felt like hours.
Lowering her hand once more, Nimue smiled as Jayen failed to reappear.
Chrys could feel the burning in her arm from the cuts she had inflicted on herself. Each cut was a person, someone who had died as a result of her decisions and actions. Tonight she would inflict another cut for a woman she had inadvertently killed. Her eyes were raw from tears, and her anger at this blue-haired woman was almost unbearable, but as Nimue turned away with her shadow closely following behind, Chrys knew that she couldn't let her emotion take control of her thoughts.
The other handmaidens turned away from the lake, all of them looking whiter and more anxious than when they arrived, while Grishild appeared deflated and distraught from the prior events. All of them had witnessed this before, but it appeared that it didn't get any easier.
The rebellion that Chrys was instigating had also become infinitely harder. Stirring up hatred for the Emperor and his Sapphire whore was child's play, they were already despised by the people. It just needed something to stir dissension between them and their nobles for things to be prepared for the true Empress' arrival.
Yet none of Chrys' plans had prepared her for this. Nimue may have been some whore, jumped up to a position of importance far beyond her station, but now she had shown her true colours.
She was a Sorceress of the Elements, a woman with the ability to manipulate the second sphere, the sphere of water, and instantly, despite her small stature, she was by far the most powerful and dangerous person in Lionmane.
With this revelation now apparent, Chrys didn't need to create discord between the nobles and the Emperor, she just needed to do what she could to turn the Emperor against his Sapphire whore. With the amount of power each of them held, they could easily tear apart the empire from within, then all it would need is for Loldirr to overcome the victor and take her place as the saviour of Isovine.