The Count of Castle Rock

Chapter XIX- The Lie

Trigger Warning: this chapter contains scenes of sexual content and assault.

Hans walks through the front doors of Castle Black Roost with an air of belonging about him that hadn't existed hours before. Maybe it's the familiarity of the place, its queerness and its sinister aspect. Maybe it's the way the guards call him Sir as he walks, soaking wet, through the foyer and into the main hall. Maybe it's the residual magic coursing through his bodily sphere, a reminder of his greatest accomplishment. He, Hans Heathson, has done the impossible, bending the elements to his will. Whatever the answer, as Hans and Byrghir approach Lord Methuen's sitting room, he finally accepts what Methuen said to his father months ago. Castle Black Roost is now his home.

The doors to the sitting room are open, but the room is empty save for Tavia Dayne. She recites poetry as she walks from one end of the room to the other. When she catches sight of Hans, she smiles and gestures for him to join her. Hans takes her offered hand and tries his best to mimic her steps as she begins to dance to a lowly hummed melody. Eyes closed, she smiles as she leads him effortlessly through the steps.

Despite being alone, she wears a bright pink and yellow tunic with silver hoes and heels. Bright makeup rings her large eyes, standing out upon her skin lighter than the browns of Quinlain's nobility, but darker than the proletariat of Gramshandle. Hans originally thought she was from Hang Du, but she lacked the distinctive hooded eyelids. Her lineage as enigmatic as her attire is gaudy. As with most things in Castle Black Roost, she is a riddle to be solved.

Tavia has been teaching him etiquette and dance twice a week since he moved into his quarters in the castle. Never truly understanding her position and role among the castle staff, Hans is unsure how to address her.

"Umm, M'Lady. Lord Methuen said I was to seek him immediately when I completed today's lesson. Where might I find him?"

"M'Lady? Master Heathson, you know I am no Lady." Tavia leads Hans in a series of turns before picking up the pace of their dance.

"Well, Madam Dayne. Where might I find The Count?"

"Madame?" She dances away from him. "I'll accept nothing less than My Goddess Tavia of The House of Dayne."

Hans chuckles and dances after her as best he can. He isn't graceful and has trouble remembering the steps, but he does his best.

"That would be heresy," he says in a low tone as they clasp hands and continue the steps.

"Alas, you are right. It is apocryphal to utter my worship. I will let it slide. Unfortunately, Count Methuen is entertaining at the moment and can not be disturbed."

Hans looks around confused. The sitting room is where the count entertained visitors. The space is empty and has been so for weeks.

"It is one of his special guests."

"Special guest?"

Tavia tiptoes over to the large throne-like chair reserved for the lord of the manor and sits at its raised feet. Reaching down, she begins to undo the laces on her heeled shoes.

"You were born and raised in Grazing. Surely you've heard the rumors." Her voice becomes base and she projects, filling the space around them with her words. "Once a month, The Count of Castle Rock receives a visitor from the Western Cliffs. The guest arrives in an unassuming wagon drawn by nomad bred horses bearing the mark of The Merchant Prince, Manuel DuShau!"

Hans laughs as she adds her own dramatic drum beats.

"By night, these men and women of varying size and age are escorted by castle staff into The Black Count's private receiving room. These visitors from the west are from all across the realm, speaking in many varied dialects. Their only unifying feature is hair like fire and eyes like emeralds!"