As soon as they arrived back at the lodge, Jean ordered the boars roasted for supper. Then he took Vero up to his room where they made use of his private bath. She washed his back and he washed hers.

When they were both clean, he lifted her and carried her onto the bed.

“Do we have time to lay down together now? Or will you fuck me for half a minute and then insist that we run down to supper?”

“Mattie is my oldest friend, and you may have just saved his life today. I think you’ve earned a special reward.”

He kissed along her leg, then moved higher.

“What are you-? Oh! Is this appropriate?”

His mouth was occupied, and he did not respond.

How had this happened? Was it not less than a year ago that she was half starved and sleeping on the hard ground? Now she lay on silk sheets while the richest man in the kingdom kissed her very intimately. How had things taken such a wonderous change for the better?

And how long would it be until everything changed again?

She had already given up all her charms to the Marquis, and now very soon they would be returning to his home. It could only be a matter of time before she lost the factor of novelty which appeared to hide all her flaws from him.

Vero did not think that Jean would treat her with cruelty and simply cast her out. She refused to believe that she could love a man with so little care for her. He would try and let her down slowly. But, even so, there would be a terrible moment when she would see him look at another woman. That would be the deathwatch beetle which turned all their old feelings to dust and ashes.

They might stay together for a time after, but that would be the end of the integrity of their love. He would say all the same words to her, but they would ring with obvious falseness and hypocrisy to her. Even when they shared their basest and most animal passions, it could only be utterly indecent once everything else they shared had become hollow.

It would only hurt them both, the longer she stayed from then on.

Vero had already decided to depart the moment love’s draught became bitter. Then they could each keep their memories of one another safe and pure.

Until then, she intended to give herself over to him completely, and experience the joy they shared without reservation for as long as she could. Thus, storing up as many warm memories for herself as possible, for the cold days thereafter.

“Like that, my love. Don’t stop, sweet one.” She put her fingers through his hair.

Their eyes met and held one another.

When they were finished, she threw herself into his arms. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Jean kissed her and she eagerly opened her mouth to receive it. Their tongues met, danced, and intertwined.

“I told you when we first met that I’ve spent my whole life studying beautiful women.”

They redressed and went down to supper. The boar was excellent, and once again the cider came easily.

Ser Henri continued to refuse any part in the joviality. But Vero, Ser Frederic, Jean, and even his cousin were all in high spirits. Ser Mattias took a middle course, sometimes trading words and japes with the rest of them, and sometimes making curious sullen faces.

When they had finished, Vero and Jean returned to their room. They made love one final time, and then went to sleep.

The city of Fer was large and cosmopolitan. It was not the largest city she had ever seen; both the capitol Vermillion and the Imperial City were larger. However, at a certain level of population, the differences between sufficiently sized metropolises faded into academic obscurity to Vero. The city was large enough that a master of almost any trade could be found within its walls, including a university of occult science.

The walls of the city were high stone, and several villages had grown up into fully fledged towns within eyesight of them. These settlements bore their own names, but they may as well have all formed a single urban mass.

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As they passed through the main gate, Vero noticed that the walls bristled with cannons. She reflected that the walls were strong old stone, but cannon fire would quickly bring them down with a sustained attack. Presumably, that was the reason Jean’s own cannons were kept prepared for counter-battery fire.

They rode down the main boulevard in parade formation. Vero had dressed in pants and rode Papillon herself. Many of the common people came out to wave to them as they passed, and the guild masters formally greeted them in the city square.

The weather was still fair, even so late in the year, and everyone seemed to treat their lord’s return as an impromptu holiday. Merchants hawked their wares, and food stalls served the onlookers.

The sun was just over the horizon when they had spied the city walls, but it was past mid-day when they finally reached their destination. The Iron Hall, ancestral home of the Marquis de Fer, loomed up above them with starch authority.

A clear space had been left around the fortress so that attackers could be kept under fire as they approached. The walls were double layered and built in an odd star shape with projecting points. Vero presumed it had been done for arcane purposes, and Jean confirmed it when she asked. His wizards had calculated that such angles served as a ward against cannon fire.

They passed the first gate and found the garrison waiting for them, standing at attention in the killing field between the walls. A smaller party in regal attire waited for them at the second gate. Vero recognized Father Ignacio, the captive Umbrian nobles, and Ser Renaud. Along with them were two women of extraordinary beauty.

The first woman had long flowing golden hair which came down as far as her waist. Her features were soft and kind. She wore an exceptional deep purple dress with fathomless skirts that trailed far behind her, carried by maids wearing complimentary – though obviously inferior – gowns to match their mistress. There was a diadem ornamented with emeralds on her head like a princess.

Vero thought the woman was the fairest that she had ever seen, excepting perhaps Mama.

The second woman was exceptionally beautiful herself, although age had begun taking its toll. Her hair was grey, but still appeared supple. Her face was sleek and avian, and she was very tall, taller than Vero. The woman looked to match Jean’s six feet. Wrinkles showed themselves around her eyes, but that and her hair were the only hints of her mature age. Her chest in particular appeared to defy gravity’s hold, which was especially impressive, given its bountiful size. That may have been a result of the rather provocative dress she wore.

There was a man on the older woman’s arm of about her own age, with the colors of salt and pepper in his hair and beard. He was broad shouldered and had a handsome face, but Vero found him just a few years too old for her own taste. Although she might have felt differently if she did not have such an embarrassment of riches to hand, already surrounded by the company of beautiful men which she presently kept.

“Mother!” Jean dismounted at once and ran to embrace the older woman.

They held one another so tenderly it made Vero a little melancholic.

“I didn’t know you and Ser Elan would be here to greet us!” Then, almost as an afterthought, Jean turned to the golden-haired woman. “Hello, Marie. You look very beautiful today.”

The Marquise acknowledged her husband with the faintest movement resembling a curtsy. “It’s good to see you again.”

The noble lady’s voice almost sounded like music to Vero, she was very fond of listening to it at once.

His mother kissed Jean on both cheeks. “I told Mattie and Freddie to keep it a secret. Elan and I intended to spend the Jubilee here.”

“You would both be very welcome. Here, let me introduce you to the Lady Veronique.”

Vero dismounted and curtsied deeply, even though she wore no dress. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser and Ladies.”

The Marquise smiled with perfect manners. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Veronique. Jean speaks of you often in his letters.”

Ser Elan kept his expression guarded.

Jean’s mother refused to disguise the fact that she was not impressed, and ignored Vero from that point on. “Jean, we have serious business to discuss now that you’ve returned.”

“We’ll discuss it after supper tonight. Marie and I need to get everything put back in it’s place now that I’ve arrived.”

“As you say, precious.” She kissed her son again, and they all went inside.

Jean immediately set upon the task of having their things unpacked. Vero stayed back from him, as she supposed he might appreciate some time with his family. They all seemed much more capable at directing domestic staff than she would be.

Ser Frederic introduced her to Saul the dwarf, who served as Jean’s steward. Together they gave her a tour of the keep. Saul possessed a shy disposition, but also a keen sense of humor if one cared to listen. Vero quickly took a liking to him. She also noticed that Ser Mattias seemed to follow them from room to room as they went, but he said even less than Saul.

The castle was almost as large as Jean’s hunting lodge, but there were so many people always coming and going on one type of business or another that it felt much more crowded. Their tour ended with the quarters that had been prepared for her. Antoinette was there with her wardrobe and other things.

Antoinette was making efforts at needlework when they entered, but she jumped up at once when she saw them to make a deep curtsy. Ser Frederic appeared to charm the girl with a simple smile. Then the men left them alone to dress for supper.

“Oh, Vero! It’s like a wonderful dream. I beg you not to wake me.” Antoinette threw herself on their bed. “I’ve never slept on a feather bed before.”

“Nor I, until recently.”

Vero lay down next to Antoinette and they relaxed in the quiet together for several minutes before rising again.

She was shocked when Antoinette showed her the new dresses waiting for her. They stretched out at her like some kind of hideous undersea monstrosity, with suffocating tentacles to wrap around their prey. Leviathans which sought to consume her whole. Apparently, these things were applied to the victim in stages, with the different pieces being affixed in layers.

Neither of them knew where to begin with any of those gowns, but Vero still wished to make a good impression. She chose her favorite of the old dresses, the red one.

Jean had been right; the vomit did wash out.