Diaries of an Ooze Witch (Entry 3.10) (Part 2) (Patreon)

3.10 Part 2

We walked through the garden path on our way to the mansion as I delighted in the flora that surrounded us. Exotic flowers I had no name for surrounded us in their entire splendor. Heidi remained stone faced, showing not a hint of being enamored. I was quickly realizing that my handler cared little for the fineries of high society. To her, everything seemed a target of her derision. It occurred to me that she was less at home in this environment and this was how she showed her discomfort, disdain. Even if it was for but a moment, I felt a morsel of kinship with her.

As we approached the front stoop of the mansion, servants opened doors for us, letting the incandescent glow of the chandeliers bathe our flesh. The people in attendance turned their gaze to us as I felt the weight of their eyes rest upon my brow. It was not long before I heard a man announce our arrival, “The Director of Sunnil Foundry, Heidi Sunnil, and her guest, Heir to the Steelbane Estate, Joseph de Steele.”

The announcement was met with polite applause from the sea of faces, their eyes set squarely on the two of us, appraising our every move. For Heidi, she appeared stoic in the face of all the scrutiny, as if she had done this a thousand times before. However, as this was my first time receiving such scorching attention, my brow felt damp and knees quivered under the pressure. I had never felt such a thing before in my life, though that probably could be because I had always eschewed social gatherings and my experience with them was lacking. Regardless, I could not let this be the time I faltered. I gathered my courage and composed myself under the glare of the crowd, descending into the foyer with Heidi’s hand held aloft. When the herald began reciting the name of the next couple, I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed as the scrutiny died down. Releasing my grip on Heidi’s hand, I tried to give her some space.

At least I tried to. I felt Heidi’s fingers tighten around my own, refusing to let go. Turning my head toward her, I half expected a look of vulnerability from her, something that would soften my image of the woman who seemed to treat my presence as a chore. Instead, I bore witness to an annoyed expression plastered to her face, as if I had done something to displease her. Before I could even ask what the matter was, she silenced me in a hushed tone dripping with venom, only bidding me to follow her, she guided me through the manor expertly, weaving in and out of the other party goers like a seasoned professional, dragging me along for the ride.

Out of sight of the public, we found ourselves in front of a lone white door deep into the architecture of the mansion. Standing before it, a tall and physically built man stood before us. He gave us a passing glare through the periphery of his vision, almost as if he were testing out a different way to reject people who came upon him. Heidi approached him with a confidence I had not seen in a woman for quite some time. Forcing herself into the man’s field of vision, she met the man’s gaze with her own, cold and steely. For a moment, I thought that perhaps we should find another way around, only to see the man step aside for her with a little bow as he did so. Not missing a step, Heidi stepped up to the door and rapped her knuckles over it. I can hear an indistinguishable murmur from inside sound out before she takes the doorknob and pulls it open. She soon gives me a tired look as if to invite me inside, an invitation I cannot ignore.

We enter into a darkened room lit only by a few candles strewn about the place. Papers and books litter every inch of the furniture, giving it a very lived in feel while also causing me a level of apprehension at how flammable it all was. On the opposite end of the room, a man is seated at his desk with quill in hand. From my angle, I could tell his hair is graying and reaches down to his shoulders, stopping just short of where his purple robes hang off of his frame. There was an air of authority that seemed to exude from the man, a clear indicator that he was master of his domain, and more than likely, the lord of the manor.

“I brought the Steele boy, Lord Diacyst.” Heidi spat her words out, venom hanging off of them as I could feel the revulsion in speaking my family name as if it were a plague. It had become clear that she had been simply acting cordial to me as a matter of procedure, her true feelings finally hanging off of her tone.

The man who would be known as Diacyst tapped his quill to parchment before returning it to its ink well, taking his time to respond, “Thank you Lady Sunnil, that will be all.”

With the illusion of interest for me spent, Heidi released my hand and marched back the way we came, not even sparing a second glance in my direction before closing the door behind her. Sitting upon a few seconds of silence, Lord Diacyst slowly pushed his chair out from his desk before rising from his seat and turning to greet me. Getting a better look of the man in the dim candlelight, I could see his face was carved with a patchwork of wrinkles and scars. Instead of making him look old, they gave Diacyst a rugged charm that seemed to ooze with dignity and perseverance, the kind of look you’d expect from a statesman that only appeared on the pages of a storybook. His purple robes draped over his body, barely concealing a glimpse of his blood crimson blazer beneath, wrapped tightly to his body. The man stood before me with the bearing of a king, regal and proud. He may have stood only a few inches taller than I, but he may as well have been a goliath presiding over an ant. To say that I was intimidated by his mere presence would be a grossly underwhelming description of how it felt. My terror felt akin to a mouse toyed with by the talons of a dragon who had deigned to indulge his curiosity with such a meager, sorry being; an animal barely worth his notice yet still garnering it if only because it provides some form of distraction.

“So, you’re the younger Steele heir.” His words were warm, almost fatherly in tone. I could not help but nod to him in deference.

“I’ve been apprised of what has happened to William.” He continued to expound, “You have my sympathies, Joseph. He was a valued member of my circle and would still be if that blasted madness had not claimed him.”

I paused at this. Had my Brother’s madness made it to the ears of Placedo’s elite? His condition was supposedly a secret, not privy to those outside of the family. To have it said so simply by another brought my shame to the fore. Still, it was not proper for me to appear so melancholic in front of Diacyst, so pushed down my feelings of inadequacy and looked bravely forward at the lord.

“You speak of him as if he were close to you. May I inquire your relationship?”

Upon hearing those words, Diacyst smiled at me with a degree of sorrow on his brow, “William was a trusted confidante and partner in the flow of ores through Placedo. I considered him an invaluable partner and friend, a relationship I would hope that I could extend to you.”

It was clear as day that he was trying to butter me up. Calling him out on it now would not serve my purposes, it was better to not let such words distract me from my purpose. I decided to continue the conversation, hanging questions on his words.

“You tell me that my Brother was trusted. What exactly did he do that was so instrumental to your operations in Placedo?”

Diacyst rubbed his chin as if to consider my inquiry, “William was a visionary when it came to the markets. With his knowledge, he was able to predict how the iron market would be impacted with the presence of your family iron on the market. It was through his ingenuity that he developed a system to safely funnel excess iron dealings onto the underground markets to protect the prices on the public markets. We were able to avoid a costly market war and controlled the flow of iron into and out of the city.”

I could tell he was feeding me lies almost immediately. To believe my Brother would be cunning was not a stretch, but to believe for one moment he would not have contested Diacyst’s hold over the market was stretching the integrity of the story. Still, I imagine Diacyst knew this as well, but he had something I did not: Power and Legitimacy. I had no standing to contest his story, and to know it with no real options, I swallowed my pride and accepted the tale he wove.