Karen Florence (15)
A few days had passed since Rihardt was formally knighted.
His elevation hadn't drastically changed my life. It wasn't as if I'd stopped being Rihardt's maid, after all. I attended to him just as I always had.
That said, the work was hardly grueling, as I'd mentioned before. Personal maids didn't handle menial chores — in modern terms, the role was closer to a secretary's. I memorized his routine and schedule and kept him informed; I smoothed down his clothes when his appearance got rumpled; I maintained a ledger of his expenditures. There were other duties beyond those, but Rihardt handled most things himself. So in practice, those three were the whole of my job.
They'd be right to call me a wage thief.
All of this left me with a great deal of free time, which I spent managing Rihardt's basement. In truth, I suspected that was the very reason he'd appointed me his personal maid in the first place. Kidnapping and imprisoning a person, it turned out, took far more care than one might imagine.
Meals alone proved the point. It wasn't simply a matter of providing three squares a day; we had to weigh the eyes of the other servants, which forced every action to be measured and cautious. Rihardt's appetite was large enough to draw less scrutiny, thankfully, but still — we can't afford to get caught. It was best not to leave so much as a thread for trouble to snag on.
Then there was the laundry. Karen's bedding, quilt included, needed regular washing, and in an age without washing machines, every last piece had to be scrubbed by hand. I had my fill of chapped hands on cold mornings back in the army, thanks. Carrying hot water down to the basement every other day to bathe her was no small burden either. If I were still a man, perhaps — but lugging kettles of hot water with a woman's strength was genuinely draining. At least the basement had a toilet installed; otherwise, dealing with her waste would have been its own special ordeal. As if our relationship weren't embarrassing enough already.
Which brings me back to Karen. Once Karen Florence warmed up to someone, she clung like a leech. I'd guessed as much from how she behaved toward Rihardt, but the reality was worse than I'd imagined. She asks for an awful lot, that one.
I could have refused her requests outright. I didn't want to be that cold. She was, after all, the woman I was forcing my hands on. If what I felt toward Karen was guilt, so be it; if it was remorse, fine. Everything I did was my own way of settling a debt of conscience.
Anyway — after the incident, Rihardt had given me exactly one order regarding Karen. Train her as you see fit for now, Lucy. But don't skip a single day. Perhaps because he'd acknowledged me as a partner in all this, he'd said there was no need to report on Karen Florence unless something unusual happened. At a glance, it looked like he'd lost interest in her. I didn't jump to that conclusion. Knowing Rihardt, he was surely still planning to break the defiance Karen had shown him. So I couldn't ignore his words, and I trained her once a day, every day.
Training her didn't mean coercion or pain. That was never my taste to begin with. My aim was to guide her body into sensitivity — to teach it sexual pleasure. I brought her to climax two or three times a day. Because Karen more or less understood my situation and position, she never fought me with any real ferocity. She only grumbled things like your hands are creepy or your eyes are lecherous.
What was I supposed to do about that? Setting her personality aside, Karen Florence was a beauty where it counted. And I'd spent so many years as a man that my heart skipped for women more readily than for... I shook my head. At this rate, I had no right to object when she called me creepy and lecherous.
In any case, the steady training had made me an expert on Karen. Which positions she favored. How she reacted when I touched one spot versus another. What words pushed her further over the edge. Perhaps I knew her body better than Karen herself did. Musing on thoughts that would send Karen into a rage if she ever learned of them, I arrived at the basement.
The iron door stood open, of course. It was far too heavy for me to ever budge, so Rihardt left it unlocked ahead of time. Thanks to my thorough tidying, the chamber looked less sinister than before. Though the moment Rihardt properly enjoys himself, it'll be filthy again in no time. I shuddered at the image — blood everywhere, every kind of fluid mingling, a strange reek hanging in the air. More so knowing Karen Florence would be the one suffering through it. I wanted to spare her that if I could, but when had anything ever gone the way I wanted?
"Lucy's here!"
She must have sensed my presence, because Karen raised her voice. Being locked up alone must have been unbearably boring — her voice carried an unmistakable note of joy.
"I've been wondering this whole time — how do you always know it's me? It could've been Rihardt, couldn't it?"
"Once you focus on listening to the footsteps, you can just sort of tell, can't you?"
"I don't know how you do that."
"It's easy!"
Easy for you and Rihardt, maybe. Ordinary people like me call that a special talent, thanks.
"...Why don't you just have your meal."
"Ah-ha! Dodging because you can't do it yourself!"
The meal I'd brought on the tray was bread, meat, and stew. At the sight of it, Karen's red eyes sparkled like stars.
"Wow, that looks delicious!"
It really did taste good. The bread was nutty, the meat tender with a satisfying chew, the stew seasoned just right. If only it hadn't gone cold on the way down, it would have made a genuinely fine meal.
"Go ahead and eat."
I held out the utensils. Karen didn't take them. I frowned — I knew exactly why.
"Aaah."
Karen Florence opened her mouth wide, showing off her neat rows of teeth. Was she a baby bird squalling to be fed? The first time, I'd fed her by hand out of consideration — she wore heavy shackles on her wrists — and she'd kept it up ever since.
"Is it too difficult to eat by yourself?"
"Yep. Way too difficult. Feed me, Lucy."
"Do you have any shame at all, Karen?"
"Would any be left? You make me come every single day, without fail."
The jab landed cleanly. My ears burned crimson. Karen took one look at me and burst out laughing.
"You crumbling over a little dirty talk is hilarious. You, of all people — the one who torments me so viciously, so relentlessly!"
Her having lost all reserve presumably meant our relationship was in decent shape. And that was only possible because Karen Florence was, at her core, an oddball. By any normal standard, can the woman who helped lock you up and the woman who's locked up actually become friendly? I could feel my common sense buckling as I shot back,
"It's my job, so what choice do I have? Besides, is it really fine for a nun to be spouting dirty talk like it's nothing?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"Wouldn't the Church normally have something to say about that?"
"Given the position I held, nobody much bothered."
At that, I remembered what her position had been.
"Ah. Battle Nun."
"The work itself is brutal, so a little rough language got a pass. More importantly — when are you feeding me, hmm?"
"You'll have to stop chattering before I can, won't I?"
At that, Karen obediently opened her mouth. Her red, glistening lips caught my eye far more than they should have. I steadied my tangled feelings and fed her, bite by bite.
I'd judged the meal sufficient for one small girl — provided that small girl weren't Karen Florence. Fitting for someone who moved her body so violently, her appetite was enormous. Bite after bite, and soon the tray was empty. Karen chewed and swallowed the last morsel of meat, smacked her lips, and asked,
"None left?"
"No."
Finished, Karen stretched luxuriously.
"Ughaaaah, I'm all stiff and sore. I can't even remember the last time I saw sunlight."
She said it lightly, but my conscience twinged all the same. Here we were, keeping a perfectly healthy woman from so much as a ray of sun.
"I'm sorry."
"I told you, apologies are useless. Did you bring what I asked for?"
Karen had requested the Lou Church's scripture. Seeing this side of her, I remembered all over again that Karen Florence truly was a devout nun at heart.
"...Didn't you leave a request with me?"
"But it looked like you'd brought it."
Perceptive, aren't you.
I produced the item she wanted, and we fell into small talk. It was becoming something like our own little routine.
Promising Karen a proper feast next time, I left the basement. When I returned to my room, Rihardt was waiting for me.
"Managing the basement in my place — quite the burden, isn't it?"
He'd been living at a relentless pace since becoming a knight. His workload had swelled, and he didn't look particularly happy about any of it. He surely hadn't come here to exchange pleasantries.
"Isn't it simply what must be done as your maid, Young Master Rihardt?"
"Gotten a little closer to Karen, have you?"
"There's been... progress in our relationship."
"That's a relief."
A relief for whom, exactly? Because now you've got a nice gauge of how best to torment her?
Rihardt settled into a chair, rested his chin on his hand, and studied me.
"I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?"
My heart plunged. There was something heavy in his manner, and anxiety began to seep up through it.
"As if I could refuse to listen?"
"Oh, come now. How can my accomplice have such a poor sense of responsibility?"
Accomplice when it suits you, that's all.
"...Then the good news first, please."
"I've received a posting to the capital. You and I will be setting out within a few weeks."
It was so abrupt that all I could do was echo him.
"...The capital?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
What on earth could the Count's household possibly need in the capital?
"You might not know this, Lucy, but my knighting ceremony was held in abbreviated form."
That tedious ceremony, that whole rigmarole — just the abridged version? How much time does the real thing swallow, then?
Perhaps my revolted expression amused him, because Rihardt smirked and went on.
"You're wondering what that has to do with the capital, aren't you? And you'd be right — since it was held even in shorthand, there's no strict need to go. But the current King of Machellih summoned me personally. I imagine he wants to lay eyes on the eldest son of House Line, now that he's become a 'knight.'"
The king of an entire nation, calling on him in person? Clearly, House Line was as powerful as the rumors said.
Hold on.
A trip to the capital meant a considerable stretch of time away. So what was supposed to happen to Karen?
Rihardt read my expression and looked positively satisfied.
"This is why I like you, Lucy. You really are quick on the uptake."
He smiled, soft and gentle — the kind of smile that put whoever saw it at ease. But I knew exactly how deliberately that face was constructed. Which was surely why my heart felt this unsteady.
"I intend to break Karen completely before we leave for the capital. That way I can bring her along, can't I?"
Wow.
Now that is bad news.