The Fer-Mark was a sprawling territory. Vero was amazed how long it could take to travel through only a single lord’s land, and Jean was not even the King. She well understood why his majesty was afraid of so mighty a vassal. Especially considering how lightly men held their own oaths in the present day. Of course, she knew Jean was much too honorable to ever conspire against his sovereign.

The land was flourishing under the Marquis. There was more prosperity than anywhere she had seen in Velois since before the civil war. She knew many places where peasants hid in their homes when lords drew near, but the common people came out to greet them with cheer as they passed. Jean often gave alms to the poor or bereaved as they went, and Vero had to be careful not to let him know how strongly she approved.

She was surprised to learn that taxes on the farming class were so lenient, if Jean was really the richest landholder in the kingdom as everyone said. When she asked about it, he informed her that most of his money came from merchants and craftsmen’s guilds. The Fer-Mark held the richest iron and copper mines on the eastern side of the Ruby Mountains. His family had used that wealth to support the guilds for centuries and attracted the finest metalworkers on the continent.

Then, several decades past, Jean’s great grandfather had used their steel to expand and take control of the entrance to the Umbrian gap. That passage was the only safe trade route between the Ruby and Star Mountain ranges by land, and could be heavily tolled.

Apparently, so much of his wealth came in the form of his personally minted copper coins, and the multitude of minor tolls he charged, he was sometimes called the ‘Penny King’ by his majesty’s court. Jean appeared amused by the title when he told it to her. Vero supposed that a fortune in pennies was preferable to a handful of gold.

They made love together every night as they traveled, and every morning. On occasion they also found some quiet time together in the afternoon.

They were, perhaps, a single day’s hard travel from Jean’s estate – and at least two or three away at the dilatory pace they had set so far – when they stopped at Jean’s hunting lodge beside his personal game forest. It had been decided that most of their camp would go on to the main estate, but that Vero and Jean would stay at the lodge for one last autumn hunt along with his cousin, the marshal, and a few other close retainers such as Antoinette and Lyam.

Jean’s sheriff and spymaster, Ser Mattias and Ser Frederic, would both come to meet them there as well.

The Duc de Emmoi still did not like her, but after too many snide comments at dinner Jean had given him a sudden and firm dressing down in public. From that point on he was much more discreet in his distaste.

Father Ignacio and Aeolus had gone back the way they came to investigate some trouble which Jean did not wish to discuss with her. Ser Renaud was charged with custody of their Umbrian prisoners, and thus forced to go on ahead with the rest of the camp. Vero considered it a shame not to have the opportunity to get to know the wizard or chancellor better. Although she was not at all disappointed to be deprived of the others’ company.

Vero was not sure what to expect from their accommodations, except that of all the homes Jean owned, he claimed this was his favorite. She was astounded when they approached a palace larger than Kaer Longus, Hollowstone, and Greenvale put together- albeit without the surrounding bustle of their castle towns. It was obviously of much newer construction than any of the venerable old halls they had stayed in until then.

The front façade held a colonnade of marble pillars with enormous and elegantly sculpted eaves. The land around the great house had been carefully tended into pleasure gardens, and behind the house the hunting forest stretched out dark and imposing. In her wildest imaginings of the ancient Imperium’s glorious palaces, she had never considered that so grand a home could exist.

It took her breath away.

Two men in very fine clothes came out to greet them. They looked nothing alike, so it was simple to identify them by the descriptions Vero had been given.

The first man was about as tall and broad shouldered as Jean. That was the sheriff, Ser Mattias. His hair was dark and cut short, but he wore the same bravo’s ear piercing as Jean. He was exactly the type of knight that a younger Vero would have tried smiling at, hoping to attract his notice. Even on Jean’s arm, she still smiled at him a little.

The second man was slender, with a scholarly physic. His hair was blond and his face was rather delicate and pretty. That was the spymaster, Ser Frederic. He was not so attractive to Vero as his companion, and certainly not so much as Jean himself. However, he did have a quizzically soulful gaze which she found intriguing.

Jean greeted them both with a warm embrace and kisses to each cheek. He moved to Ser Mattias first, but shared many more kisses with Ser Frederic when his turn came.

“Here, I want to introduce you both to the Lady Veronique. This is Frederic, and that’s Mattias.”

Ser Mattias acknowledged her first with a polite bow of the head. “My Lady.” She could not read his expression.

Ser Frederic smiled warmly and bowed from the waist to kiss her hand. “You are just as beautiful as Jean wrote in his letters. A pleasure to make you acquaintance, Lady Veronique.”

She felt a blush coming on. “Thank-you… -a great pleasure to meet you both. Jean speaks of you both often.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Ser Frederic gave her a very alluring glance. “Only favorably, I hope.”

She may have found him the least handsome of the trio, but Ser Frederic appeared very amiable. On the whole, she thought he made a more favorable first impression than the silent and taciturn Ser Mattias.

“Oh yes! Jean tells me he’s very fond of each of you.”

“Glad I am to hear it.”

Jean moved between them. “Enough out of you, charmer. I met the Lady Vero first.”

“The racer who starts the strongest is not necessarily the man who wins the victory wreath. Nevertheless, I shall concede the contest to you on this occasion in the name of our friendship… no matter how tempting this particular prize might be.” Ser Frederic flashed her a devious grin and Vero tittered like an adolescent, even though she immediately regretted it.

She thought she ought to make a jest to let Jean know that she was not serious. “My Lords, please. These laurels have already decided whose head they wish to recline atop.”

All three of them laughed. Only Ser Mattias looked taken aback, and she hoped he was not the type of be offended by a bawdy jape. Vero stood up straighter, but otherwise tried to show no outward sign when Jean gave her behind a friendly squeeze.

They went into the lodge and Jean began to give her a tour of the rooms. There was an entire wing of the house dedicated to bedrooms for guests, enough for everyone in their company to have their own private apartment. In addition to the classical great hall, there was also a separate ballroom with a stage, and theater acoustics in the designs of the roof and walls. Then there was yet another smaller and more intimate dining hall, with only enough room for a dozen people at most.

The kitchens that fed the whole house were enormous and bustled with the domestic staff, although their party was quite small now that the others had gone on ahead without them. In the kitchens, however, their tour took a long detour when they learned that a batch of apple cider had only just been finished.

Everyone drank deeply. Apart from Ser Henri and a handful of Jean’s bodyguards, who took only a single mug each. Vero also tried to remain temperate, but she did take some poppy milk and cannabis when her leg ached. Their company quickly became very jolly with one another.

By the time they had sobered enough to continue, it was time for supper. So, they went back into the smaller dining hall. There they ate turkey stuffed with onions, celery, and wild mushrooms- and of course, took more cider. The food and drink made them all sleepy, and they decided to go to bed early to take an early start the next morning.

Vero was a little lightheaded when she stood, and pretended to come over faint to induce Jean to carry her. He obliged her without complaint. She was warm from the cider and perspiring all over. For some reason she had a curious desire to nuzzle his chest, a whim she gave herself over to with great relish.

“Stop squirming, will you? I’ve had a few myself, and I’m likely to drop you if you keep it up.”

“I want you.”

“Excellent. Now stop moving so I can get us into the bedroom without knocking your head against something.”

“Naughty boy. Don’t you know it’s unchivalrous to approach a dignified lady such as myself with your trousers bulging like that? And it’s your own fault that I am a proper noble lady now. Suppose I sent you away to see to it yourself?”

“Then you would be left alone to see to yourself.”

Vero laughed in a way she hoped sounded convincing. “Women don’t do such things.”

“Yes, they do.”

“How did you know that? Mama told me I had to be very careful so that no one would ever find out.”

“Oh… I’m a student of human nature. There are, I think, fewer differences between men and women than either would like to believe.”

They entered the bedroom. It was massive and contained a huge library with multiple shelves, all packed with books. A fire crackled in its place. She could see a door with engraved brass fittings led into a separate solarium for study.

The bed was enormous and canopied. Jean laid her down on top of it. The mattress was filled with feathers and the sheets were silk. The headboard bore a huge rendition of his house’s emblem carved directly into the thick oak structure of the bed. The bed posts were gilded in gold and ended in horse heads.

Vero began to laugh uncontrollably.

“What is it?”

She was still in fits of laughter while she crawled across the huge bed towards the cord to drop the canopy. Jean followed her by walking on his knees while they traversed the length of the mattress.

Vero dropped the shroud around them.

“What a ludicrous thing to keep in a house so large everyone has their own private room.” She observed as her laughter faded.

“The bed is an heirloom. I had it moved here. My family’s ancestral castle was originally quite small. We’ve expanded it over the years, of course. But as a whole city has grown up around it, there are more considerations to make. And most of that space must also be given over to administrative functions. My father was the first child of our house to be given his own private room.” He took his own turn to laugh. “I understand it was a matter of contention at the time.”

“At least it shall keep those horses from watching us… Why don’t we simply stay here? I think this place is wonderful!”

“This is where I would live all the time… If men were like bees in a colony, and lived in perfect harmony with no need for justice. Alas, they do not. I need to resolve all the myriad domestic matters which have arisen in my absence. This late in the year that will mean wintering in the city. We’ll return here in the spring once it’s pleasant to travel again.”

“The master’s bedroom there is private now a days, isn’t it?” A horrible vision flashed before her eyes. “Gods! Your wife doesn’t sleep there does she!?”

“No, precious. My room is private. The Marquise has her own room for herself and her maidservants. Lyam’s cot is in a separate sleeping closet… I have sent word ahead for a guest room to be prepared for you and your maid. There will be – certain nights – when the cycle of the moon is right for Marie to conceive…”

Vero presumed ‘Marie’ was the given name of the Marquise de Fer, his wife. They never discussed her in detail.

“Oh yes, I understand completely. I don’t want to do anything to prevent you from fulfilling your marital obligations. Now- begin please.”

“As you wish. Turn over.” Jean commanded and Vero obeyed. She felt his fingers working at undoing the laces of her dress. “Godsdamn knots…”

It seemed to take forever, and she heard him whispering curses behind her. Then the laces came loose all at once with the cut of a knife.

“Jean!”

“I shall pay to have the dress fixed later.”

He pulled her clothes off her with much less delicacy than Antoinette would have employed. She much preferred his method.

She turned back over and watches his eyes sweep across her form. She may not have been proud of her own appearance, but she was glad to see her body still held Jean’s interest.

He put his knife back into its sheath and then tossed his belt onto the floor. It was rougher treatment then she would have given the weapons on it, but she supposed he could afford to be careless. She stopped him in the process of disrobing further.

“Let me.”

“Your servant – as always – my Lady.”