Witch of Fear [Mild horror, Isekai High Fantasy]

Matilda had never felt so lost. The corridors she passed through as she hurried along in Lady Stephine's wake wound and weaved, twisted and turned all through-out the upper reaches of the castle. They traveled through a myriad of dry chambers and up damp steps. Up and up and up, they went, ascending ever further up the tower.

Candle flames danced merrily with their passing.

Outside, the howling storm continued to bellow like giants calling to one another. Whips of lightning lashed. Thunder boomed. Dark clouds warred and raged, crashed and smashed, sending evermore sheets of icy rain down onto the world below. The castle shook in the rumble of thunder's passing as if struck by a wayward boulder tossed from a giant's hands. Windows were battered. Doors struck. Inside, the people cowered with drink in hand but merriment lost.

Matilda shivered as the shutters rattled. She wished (oh, how she wished) to be abed once more. To be wrapped up in the warmth of blankets and furs.

It was not to be.

On she continued to climb, ascending higher and higher through icy corridors.

She glanced ahead where the other of her two-person troupe strode. No words had they spoken since the handmaiden had procured her services. The silence that descended upon them, only broken by the rumble of thunder, was oppressive. Stifling. Matilda wanted to break the silence, but she didn't know what to say.

Questions rattled through her brain. Danced across the tip of her tongue.

What was expected of her? What was she required to do? Why had that old hag, the head cook, recommended her? (Aside from for revenge, of course.) Was the Lady of the castle as beautiful as rumored? (Matilda had only seen her from afar.) And, most important of all, how long would this task take?

Instead, what eventually escaped her lips was this; "Has there been any word of the Lord?" she blurted.

The abruptness of her question accidentally startled her guide, causing her to stumble. After she'd caught herself, Lady Stephine leveled a glare Matilda's way. When she was sure the other girl was appropriately cowed, she let out a high-born huff and answered, albeit reluctantly.

"No, there has been no word yet. Not that any rider could make it through the storm even if the lord was so inclined to send one. It'd be a foolish waste of life, and the lord is no fool. Most like, they are safe and waiting out the weather somewhere safe. We merely need to wait for it to pass. You'll see."

Matilda didn't know which of them Lady Stephine was trying to convince the most. After a beat, she looked back harshly at Matilda.

"You'll not spread such rumours otherwise. Or else there'll be trouble. Do I make myself clear?" she asked in that way that made it clear only one answer would be acceptable.

Matilda just nodded in reply.

"Good. Let's be off then. We've dawdled too much already, and there is much work to do."

With conversation spent, silence befell the pair once more. On they walked in the soft-lit gloom, their soft-shoed feet tap-tapping away on the soft-stone floor. Long fingers of lightning lit up the hallway with each strike outside, making the shadows dance their frightful jig. Eyes that did not see, did not watch.

Why, oh, why could she not see?

Pain. Flaring. Flashing. The world roared.

Eyes. Eyes in the dark. Glinting and glaring. They'd been plucked long ago from skulls, pale and dark.

Red on the walls. Red on the walls and doors. Red on the walls and doors and halls.

Footsteps of crimson.

Matilda shook. Her eyes darted. She could not see. She could not see. She could not see. She could not see.

Why?

A door. Matilda re-awoke from her nightmare, forgetting all she did not remember. Was not told. Did not hear. She came to a stop abruptly, almost running into the handmaiden's back. They'd arrived at their destination. Matilda lifted her aching eyes and took in the door to the Lady's chambers.

It was a good door, made of solid oak and banded by iron to keep the fairies and goblins at bay. A sturdy lock adorned it. From within the folds of her dress, Lady Stephine withdrew a key of shining brass and inserted into the awaiting lock and, with a solid-sounding thunk and clunk, unlocked the door to swing it open. And as it near-silently opened on well-oiled hinges, the handmaiden ushered (see pushed) Matilda inside.

As she stumbled in, Matilda was immediately hit with a wall of scent; that of soft incense mixed with the aroma of a low-burning log fire. Blinking away the gloaming, she looked around the room.

The bedroom was fairly large (twice over that which Matilda shared with five others) and lavishly decorated. Expensive tapestries and paintings decorated the whitewashed walls in between tall bookcases adorned with leather-bound tomes and a truly massive bed whose four-poster frame rose up until it almost brushed the ceiling. Soft sheets clad the queen-sized mattress stuffed with feathery down upon which a myriad of pillows resided. Hanging curtains blocked most of the bed from sight, but that did little to quell Matilda's desire to lie upon it.

Turning away from the temptation, she took in more of the room. Directly opposite the bed stood tall a stone fireplace within which embers crackled away inside piles of white ash and blackened logs. A bearskin rug laying before the fireplace offered a cozy respite from the icy floor.

On the other side of the room, nestled in a far corner beside a bay of tightly shuttered windows, rested a private wooden bathtub complete with hanging cloth curtains and a series of wooden cabinets meant for holding all kinds of luxury skin and hair care products. Matilda doubted she'd ever see such in her private life, let alone use.

Wardrobes lined another wall, full of clothing and shoes with all sorts of expensive lace and embroidery. Next to them sat a small table festooned with ink-stained papers and quills. Unable to read herself, Matilda didn't bother peeking at them. Instead, her attention was drawn to a much more interesting sight; a full suit of armor.

It sat in another corner upon a stand, looking rather heavy and distinctly imposing. It wasn't like those she'd seen the guard wear, as instead of a simple breastplate or brigandine over cloth, it was a full set of bronze-colored plate-mail bedecked with shining jewels.

Before Matilda could investigate further, Lady Stephine spoke up from behind her as she shut the chamber door with a bang like the thunder outside. "What are you gawking for?" she snapped. Taking a series of cloth rags from a small dresser beside the door, she tossed them Matilda's way. "You start wiping everything down while I go see about getting us a fresh pail of water. You think you can manage that? Oh, and don't you dare touch the Lady's arms or armor before I return — you'll just make a mess of it all or hurt yourself."

Matilda nodded her assent as she caught the rags out of the air. Rolling up her sleeves, she set to work as the handmaiden left.

The work lasted for hours. Long enough for the sun to set and the storm to begin a nocturnal conquest. And it was only when the pair (Lady Stephine having returned at some point with a bucket of water) had wiped all the surfaces down, and scrubbed the tub spotless, and de-ashed and re-lit the fireplace, and de-mothed the wardrobes and curtains, and changes the bedsheets and fluffed the pillows, and polished the Lady's private armor to a mirror shine (with Lady Stephine's permission and hawkish oversight) that Matilda dared to relax.

Letting out a heavy, exhausted sigh, Matilda collapsed into one of the plush chairs decorating the room. It was only after she wasn't reprimanded for doing so that she realized she'd been left on her lonesome. Presumably, Lady Stephine had stepped out to discard the grimy water and rags, or to do some other errand for the Lady of the castle.

How foolish, she thought to herself, leaving her all alone within the bedchambers of the Lady.

It took a lot of effort on her path not to dive onto the plush bed. The only thing stopping her was all the work she and Lady Stephine had put into making it all neat and tidy. Still, it was a close thing.

Matilda instead took to meandering around the room. Her eyes drifted between all the things she'd not had a chance to investigate before, what with all the cleaning she'd been doing. Curiosity took her not to the armor and weapons, as she'd had her an eyeful of it whilst polishing it, nor to the books she couldn't read, but to the paintings that adorned the walls.

The first of which was a portrait framed by gilded gold. It depicted a noblewoman fair clad in familiar shining armor and cloth. She was beautiful. Short, wavy brown hair framed stoic high-born features and sun-kissed bronze skin. Sharp hazel eyes stared out pensively over an indistinct landscape of farms and fields, turned side-on to the painter as she stood atop a stone wall of some likely bustling city. Fine brushstrokes highlighted the golden rays of dawn as they glittered across a heavy necklace of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires sat upon her armored breast. Behind her drifted a velvet cape of red and silver in a painted breeze. A sword and shield rested gently at her side; the coat of arms depicted three silver towers upon a field of red.

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Inscribed along the painting's frame were the words "Lady Else Markova of Prague."

Matilda froze. "Huh? Since when could I read?"

So enamoured with the painting and figure within, Matilda didn't hear the unhurried footsteps approaching from beyond the closed door, nor did she hear said door open, or it close again after a brief curious pause. It was only when a voice, soft but firm like the rebuke of a lioness, spoke up behind her that Matilda noticed the arrival of another.

"That was never my favorite painting," the voice said. "It took many days for the painter to finish. Days I could've dedicated to something more worthwhile and interesting. Do you know how boring it is to stand like that doing nothing? That's not even mentioning how hot it gets in that armor."

Matilda let out a squeak of surprise and spun around, coming face to face with a familiar figure, one she'd just been admiring in painted form, staring down at her like a lioness did a mouse they'd caught scurrying through their den.

The only thing that passed through poor Matilda's floundering mind as she gazed up into the lion-like gaze of the Lady of the castle was that she had some rather cute freckles adorning her nose like a constellation of stars.

"I don't think I've seen you around before?" Lady Else's question was asked softly but with steel, demanding answer. "What are you creeping about in my chambers for?"

Matilda gulped as her heart beat heat into her chest. She became distinctly aware of the height the noble lady had on her, and of the weapons just behind Lady Else - not that she needed them, judging by the thick biceps she sported. While it was unusual for a woman to be trained in the martial arts, at least beyond those of a footpad or hunter, those of blue blood tended to regard social conventions as more of a suggestion than hard rules. Especially those of great wealth, fame, or power.

Sweat gathered along Matilda's spine as she quailed before the stern gaze of the warrior noblewoman. Her heart skipped a beat when Lady Else crossed her arms over impatiently, making her biceps look even larger.

"Well?"

"Cleaning!" Matilda blurted out. "I was cleaning, my lady!"

Lady Else blinked languidly. She briefly gazed around the room, taking in its freshly cleaned state fully for the first time before turning back to the smaller woman before her. "So you have. I've never heard of a burglar cleaning before. Or perhaps you are a spy instead?"

"I'm not a burglar!" Matilda shouted indignantly, before paling at the disrespect she'd shown her superior. "Um, and I've not a spy, my lady," she carried on valiantly.

"If not a burglar, and not a spy either, then what are you? A mouse? A bird?"

"I'm-" Matilda stuttered, "I'm just a maid. From the lower kitchens. Lady Stephine requested that I help her to clean your room seeing as all the other handmaidens, your handmaidens, took ill with the weather. She should be back soon. Uh, my lady." Matilda attempted a curtsy that was so poorly don't it made Lady Else wince.

"There's no need for all that 'my lady' business, just Lady Else is fine," Lady Else said, her posture relaxing. "Do you happen to have a name, little mouse?"

"Huh? Oh! My name is Matilda, my- uh, Lady Else."

"Matilda. That's a fine name," Lady Else said, her leonine eyes searching Matilda. Seemingly having seen whatever it was she'd been looking for, she turned and strode over to a table sat beside the shuttered windows to seat herself in one of the two plush chairs there. Before Matilda could breathe a sigh of relief or make her escape, Lady Else gestured for her to sit in the other chair. An offer which Matilda reluctantly obliged.

On the small table sat a jug of wine and two cups. Lady Else reached out for them. "Care for a drink?" she asked.

Matilda shook her head. "No, thank you," she declined demurely. She figured she'd need her wits as un-muddled as possible to escape the upcoming conversation with both her dignity and job intact.

"Your loss," Lady Else shrugged before pouring herself a near overflowing cup of rich red for herself. After taking a healthy swing from it that had Matilda staring in amazement, and with no small amount of respect, she turned her attention back on the maid she'd caught. "You said you work in the lower kitchens? For how long?"

"Um, for five years, your- my- Lady Else."

"Is that old maid Nancy still as ornery as a fly-bitten bull?"

"Do you mean the head cook?" Matilda asked, a smile tugging at her lips at the comparison. "She is. It was her that got me assigned to do extra work and help clean up your chambers," she huffed. "Likely because she thought I was slacking off or something. Not that I was! Or that it was any great effort on my behalf to help out! I'm not saying that your chambers aren't great! They are! They're wonderful. I was just saying it wasn't a problem for me to help clean up around here! Not that I'm saying you're a messy person!"

Lady Else snorted with laughter into her cup at Matilda's panicked rambling. "Stop! Stop!" she said as wine dribbled down from her nose.

Matilda starred on in horror at both the mess splattering the freshly cleaned table and the noblewoman laughing across from her. As the stress and absurdity of the moment overwhelmed her, Matilda felt some hysterical laughter of her own bubbling up her throat. It escaped her freely, much to her horror and embarrassment.

When the pair's chuckled finally died down, Matilda hastily rushed to help Lady Else to clean up.

"Sorry about that," Lady Else said between her last petering chuckles.

Horrified even further, Matilda hurriedly replied. "No! No, it's all my fault, my Lady!"

"Stop that! You just set me off again, little mouse. And what did I tell you about all that 'my lady' business," Lady Else rebuked her gently.

"Sorry!"

Lady Else of Prague let out a sigh before refilling her spilled cup. The rich red swiftly disappeared between her lips. Another sigh escaped her, this time a contented one. "I needed this."

Matilda blinked. "The wine?"

"That, and a good laugh. There are fair few reasons for it lately, what with this blasted storm raging on like a drunken harlot and the Lord of the castle being away without word."

The storm roared; giants clashing high above. A flash; lightning; it illuminated their faces through the slim cracks in the shutters. Shutters that rattled in their moorings. Lady Else looked stoically grim in the light. She stared out at a sight unseen, as if she could see beyond the shutters at the raging storm that hid her lawful husband and liege.

"You must be worried."

Lady Else turned at Matilda's question to stare at her with lion eyes. In her chest, Matilda's heart seized up with fright. After a long, tense moment in which the young maid feared she'd over-stepped, the noblewoman's hazel eyes softened. She took another drink before replying.

"Am I worried?" she asked, more to herself than Matilda. "I suppose so. More for what that'd mean for the castle and our lands."

"I don't understand," Matilda said.

After taking another deep drink of her cup, Lady Else explained. "Lord Miroslav and I didn't marry for love or any of that silly nonsense from those dreadful books or tales. No, we married for alliances and money. Namely, my alliances and his money. He owns a few silver mines that my father wanted and you can guess the rest."

Matilda graciously helped Lady Else refill her cup. It drained just as fast as the last.

"If he goes missing, or worse, turns up dead, there goes that alliance and I'll have to head on back to Prague to be some widow or sent off to a convent or something inane like that. I'd sooner be an adventurer or robber baron than that!" Lady Else slumped in her chair and cradled her cup with a glassy eyed look.

"Um, I'm sure it won't be that bad?" Matilda offered tentatively.

Lady Else offered her a kind smile. "Thank you. While your comfort is appreciated, it is unnecessary; I am a big girl and can deal with whatever life throws my way. But look at me ramble! I shouldn't be bothering you with all my troubles!" Quickly, she sobered up and stood. Only a dusting of red on her cheeks gave away her drunkenness.

Matilda stood hurriedly and tried to offer another ill-fated curtsy, almost falling on her face after stepping on her dress (she really didn't know how to do one.) Lady Else caught her before she could hurt herself or embarrass herself more than she already had. For a moment long, they simply stared at one another; Matilda held in Lady Else's gentle arms.

Leonine eyes roamed. They sought Matilda's own, seeking, querying, searching the wide, quivering orbs for something in them that lay within her own. Her mouse shook in her arms, but not from fright. And in that, she saw what she longed for. A smile, kind and happy, curled on her lips.

Matilda's heart beat so much it hurt.

Slowly, they drew closer like the tide pulled to the shore by the moon's bidding.

An inch separated them now.

The scent of wine filled her nose. She longed for a taste.

Loud and wild, her drumbeats boomed, thundering in her chest louder than the lightning. Heat radiated off her like a raging inferno. Matilda drew closer. She closed her eyes. Lips almost touched, brushing against each other's breath; sour and warm. A hand touched her chin. Her breath seized.

A kiss... almost.

Suddenly, the sound of loud footsteps and the opening of the bedroom door broke their trance. The pair distanced themselves hurriedly, Matilda blushing up a storm to match the one outside. She turned to see who'd shattered the spell liquor and longing had placed upon them.

Lady Stephine stood in the doorway, just now noticing her sworn Lady inside.

"Lady Else! W-what are you doing here?!"

"And where else would I be?" Lady Else said. Gone was the softness she'd unveiled before Matilda a moment prior, and in its place, steel remained. No, not just steel. A flicker in her eye belied hidden anger; that of a warrior having her prize denied.

A shiver ran through Matilda when she saw that. It made her question a lot of things about herself.

"I didn't mean that, my lady," Lady Stephine said with a hurried curtsy far more practiced than Matilda's own awful attempt. "I just thought you'd be still down in the halls. If I'd have known you'd have wanted to retire early, I wouldn't have left this maid to finish cleaning up. I hope she hasn't inconvenienced you?"

"Far from it. She's been most... entertaining." Lady Else's eyes flickered to Matilda's blushing face. She now spoke to Matilda, ignoring Lady Stephine standing awkwardly in the doorway. "It was nice meeting you, and I very much enjoyed your company. If you wish to continue our discussion where we left off, you know where to find me. Now, I bid you a goodnight. Lady Stephine, please see Miss Matilda back out."

With another curtsy, Lady Stephine hurriedly ushered a blushing Matilda away, closing the door swiftly behind her.

Lady Else, self-made warrior of Prague, stood alone for a moment, staring at the door for a moment. Reaching up, she brushed her stained lips that'd felt the ghost of a touch from Matilda's maiden lips. "Matilda," she muttered with a sigh. A wince pulled her from her musings. Her hand pressed against her temple. "Damn headaches."

Outside the room, Matilda wandered away, her head in the clouds.

She got lost fairly quickly.