Ten minutes ago, Sir Thorold had escorted Celeste to Darien's estate.
Rumors along the way left her uneasy, as if Brindlemark's troubles were her fault.
The late Baron had choked on a stew, while his successor ruled fairly for three months—but in his eagerness to please Lady Celeste, he hunted the fearsome Argoth bear in the Thryngard Mountains and met his demise.
Many townsfolk cast the blame upon Celeste, whispering that she was cursed and a bringer of misfortune. Worse still, they claimed she was a witch!
In this realm, any soul accused of witchcraft by the folk shall meet the stake and flames.
Sir Thorold dealt harshly with those who spread slander, yet the rumors persisted, and Lady Celeste's name lay in tatters. Though she labored for Brindlemark, the ignorant townsfolk saw only her fault.
All the way to Darien's estate, her brow furrowed with worry. Yet today, her concern was not for the common folk, but for Darien himself. At the door, her heart quickened; she summoned a graceful smile, a lesson of her noble upbringing.
"Stay calm, Celeste… you've got this," she whispered.
Then a sudden, enticing aroma disrupted the calm she had summoned.
"W-what… what manner of scent is this? Meat? Nay… perhaps some other victuals?"
Meat was the nobles' privilege, scarce among common folk. Though Arvandor Forest teemed with game, it was the Lord's hunting ground, and poachers risked the gallows.
Brindlemark's guard was thin—only two knights remained, aided by a handful of men-at-arms. They could defend the town, but hunting was another matter, and none might enter the forest without the Lord's consent.
Food was scarce in Brindlemark, and meat rarer still. Even the highest-born had little more than simple fare. Under the new austerity, daily sustenance was plain black bread, barely a step above what commoners consumed.
Celeste drew a steadying breath and rapped upon the door.
She had prepared for a long wait, resolved to stand firm should Darien not answer—but, to her surprise, the door swung open ere her hand had fully fallen.
"Good morrow, my lady… may I ask what brings you here? Have you eaten? Would you like to join me?"
Celeste started—here, folk seldom broke fast, taking sustenance but twice a day. The Baron's courtesy left her uncertain.
The rich aroma of the meal struck her at once, and her stomach betrayed her with a sudden, soft rumble.
Darien smiled faintly and led her inside, while Sir Thorold remained outside, steadfast as ever.
"Greetings, my lord," she said, bowing hastily.
Darien, accustomed to such courtesies, received it with quiet calm.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the wooden chair before fetching another plate.
Celeste paused briefly, then seated herself opposite him, mindful of his temper and obedient as any well-bred lady.
"So tidy… and not a whiff of filth," she marveled inwardly. Most dwellings shared quarters with livestock, and the stench was dreadful. Save for the castle, she had never beheld such order.
Darien set before her a plate, a bowl, and a spoon, followed by a small cup.
"What… is this… and cheese?" Celeste murmured, lips parting at the aroma.
Bread was common enough, yet these golden morsels and strange meats were unlike anything she had known, stirring both curiosity and awe.
Though a lady of rank, she had no measure for such fare; even the simplest morsels seemed a rare luxury, and the scent alone tempted her beyond measure.
'What manner of man is this new Baron...' she wondered, curiosity piqued.
Darien, bathed in the morning sun, seemed shrouded in a quiet mystery.
He set before them two plates, each with a few slices of toasted bread, soft scrambled eggs, and thinly cured ham. A small cup of dark drink accompanied the meal.
"My lord… this is—" Celeste began, eyeing the unfamiliar fare.
"Think of it as bread and meat, though prepared in a way uncommon here," Darien replied calmly, as if explaining a simple thing.
Celeste was taken aback. The bread before her was pale and soft, unlike the coarse black loaves she knew. 'Bread so white… even the Queen's fare is not so fair!' she murmured.
Eggs were less surprising—nobles enjoyed them often, and their presence at the table seemed natural.
"Eat, as you welcome," Darien said, serving her a small plate of soft scrambled eggs, toasted bread, and thin slices of cured ham.
Celeste had come seeking forgiveness, yet here she sat at his table. Her fingers trembled slightly as she lifted a morsel of bread with ham to her lips.
The taste struck her instantly. Rich, savory, and fragrant—the flavor was unlike anything she had known. She blinked, eyes wide.
'This… this is… exquisite!' she whispered, marveling at the simple yet wondrous meal.
---
🔍 Did you know?
- Accusations of witchcraft could be devastating. In many medieval towns, a rumor that a noblewoman brought misfortune could endanger her life, even if she had done nothing wrong.
🐧