Chapter Text
He hums a song to himself as he leisurely makes his way back to the factory. It's a song Heisenberg heard on the radio and it's stuck in his head. When Miranda finds out that he got the old radio in his workshop working again, she's going to be pissed - he's calling his bluff and keeps whistling and humming new songs to himself. She hasn't called him on it yet, but he awaits that day with anticipation and satisfaction.
Pebbles and frozen leaves crunch under the soles of his boots as the sun rises over the mountains. The November sun is cold and powerless, the light cool and it casts only faint shadows across the frozen landscape. The air is already cold enough that it reveals small clouds as he exhales. Mixed with the smoke from his cigar, they rise into the air, then disappear after a few seconds. He watches the clouds and listens to the silence of the village. Feels good.
Except for the river to his left, hardly anything can be heard. Serenity is laid over the mountain range by this quiet morning, a soft blanket that hides the horror below. It's so grotesque it's almost laughable. But just almost and so he exhales heavily, stopping his hummed song. The birds chirp and the sun shines as if all is well with this place, but it is not.
A snail shell breaks noisily under his boot, cracking and crunching, and he doesn't look to see if there was life inside. Instead, he soaks up the sound, the pitiful cracking, and he thinks, ponders the broken generator in his factory and how to fix it. He needs the power, but he has to get spare parts to fix it first. The Duke doesn't get back up to the factory for another three days, so the order will have to wait - on top of that, that greedy bastard is charging prices that make a business man like him choke on them.
However, there is no alternative.
He arrives at the small wooden bridge that connects the detour from the castle to the factory. The main stone bridge is currently under water, the mechanism suspended for the time being for repairs to the train chains. One more thing he needs to do urgently to keep Miranda off his back.
The detour hugs the shape of the mountain, it's more of a hiking trail than a real road. There is a good view of the river, and the Beneviento house and garden can be seen on the horizon. He can hear the roar of the waterfall all the way here, a steady white noise in his ears. Heisenberg prefers the hammering and hissing of his factory, but the sound of the raging water masses also has a calming effect on him. It lulls him to sleep, improves his mood and brings peace to his mind. Makes his Cadou shiver with delight and the pain in his neck isn't as prominent anymore.
Meeting with Miranda always upsets Heisenberg. He bows humbly to her, but with a look behind the lenses of his sunglasses that could kill. She knows he hates her. She is not stupid, and after all, all the inhabitants of this area are connected to the Megamycete - but he is still sure that in the end he will have the last laugh. Until then, it's smile and nod, do what Miranda says and enjoy these little moments of peace.
The bridge over the river is old, but still sturdy. His boots make a dull sound on the old wooden planks and he looks down at the river that winds along below him like a dark snake. One survives a fall from this bridge without any problems, but only a few meters downstream the rapids begin - they, together with the sharp slate rocks in them, are a death sentence.
Then something catches his attention.
Standing in the middle of the shallow water of the river is a woman. This unexpected sighting makes Heisenberg stop dead in his tracks. He takes the cigar out of the corner of his mouth and licks his lips. What is a young woman doing so far out, away from the village? And what is she doing in the icy water at this time of year? Temperatures had been dropping for days to the point where the river began to freeze on its banks.
Her hands are currently wringing out the soaking wet hair, which she washes in the rippling masses of water. Even from a distance he can see the trembling on her skin, the shiver of the cold November air on her wet body. With flushed cheeks and hands, she squeezes the last of the water out of her hair and tosses it over her shoulder, straightening from her stooped posture.
Fuck, she's only wearing a white, thin undergarment that has become almost completely transparent from the water. It hugs her tits in a tight way that makes Heisenberg gulp. The rosy nipples lift the wet fabric, hardened by the cold that surrounds them.
He can feel his cock getting hard.
She then notices him, notices his gaze, and he feels like a stable boy just caught staring at the milkmaid's tits. He can't avert his gaze, though, because then he feels even more caught. So he continues to stare, and she returns his gaze with fiery defiance, with a strength and confidence in her posture that makes him raise a brow slightly. His cock twitches.
Any normal and sane woman from the village would immediately cover herself and run for the hills. They are afraid of Heisenberg, the dangerous man in the factory. The monster who hunts and devours the young women in the corridors of the metal colossus. But she stares back, almost as if she is challenging him. Stubborn, that in any case.
He accepts the challenge.
"Perfect weather for a dip, isn't it?" He calls from the bridge down to the river, a deep, throaty purr in his voice.
She doesn't answer, instead finally turning away from him. He sees the scoff in her breath though, and it spurs something in him. No longer frozen in place by the apparition, he starts moving, reaching the end of the small bridge and the trail that leads down to the river.
Small stones break away under his boots, bouncing into the frost-covered undergrowth as he makes his way down to the woman. The Lord of Metal's interest is piqued, it's a rush, a burst of joy, but it quickly dries up, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness.
She is gone.
When he reaches the bank of the river, there are only dark waves and the whisper of the water at his feet. Disappointment mixes with the smoke of the cigar in his lungs and he growls, low and short. He blows out the smoke and puts a hand on his hip, shifts his weight to one leg. There's no sign of the woman anymore, with the wet hair and the nicest pair of tits he's ever seen. And if he thought that from the distance to the bridge, they definitely look even better up close.
He turns around once more, gray eyes searching the surroundings. Like a hungry wolf, he looks for any sign of movement: A rustle in the bushes, the trail of a deer waiting to be snatched by the hungry predator. But nothing happens. Somewhere in the ruins he can hear crows cawing, followed by an excited fluttering. The black birds swoosh over his head, downright laughing at him with their loud cawing.
He clicks his tongue and exhales. Such a shame, it could have been such a fun morning.
Only when you hear the Lord's heavy footsteps moving away do you dare to exhale. You hug your dress tightly and it becomes wet from the water in your hair and undergarment. The cold is slowly getting through to you, now that your heart is calming down and the adrenaline is washing away and dying down in your body. Winter bites into your skin, reddening your cheeks and nose on this icy morning by the river.
Waiting just a little bit more, you cautiously peek out from behind the tree. The scratchy bark of the spruce you are hiding behind rubs unpleasantly on your bare skin at the shoulders. It hurts, but to escape Heisenberg's hungry gaze, you had to press yourself tightly against the tree. Now he walks away, unhappy with the outcome of this encounter, and you can breathe a sigh of relief.
You don't fear the lord of the factory, no. But meeting him would probably make things much more complicated than necessary. Especially considering that his morbid curiosity can quickly become a problem for you. Should he pry into your affairs, it would make your life harder than it already was. And more important now was to fulfill your duties to Donna Beneviento on time. Judging by the sun, it was already almost 8 o'clock in the morning. Almost too late.
If not for Heisenberg's appearance, you would have finished your morning wash more quickly, but now your usually private place for personal hygiene was no longer private. Surely the meddlesome, overconfident man would come here again the next morning to see if he'd meet you again. You sigh. You must find a new place to pursue your personal hygiene in peace. And judging by his look, he was very interested in seeing you again.
Hastily you throw on your dress, even though you'll be changing it for work clothes in a few minutes anyway. But Donna Beneviento sewed it for you and she likes it when you wear it. The embroidery on the sleeves and collar are so neatly stitched, it would be a shame if it rotted in your little closet. She's good to you and you're happy to work for her instead of, say, Lady Dimitrescu. Admittedly, it's harder to keep your secrets from Donna - but she's affable and, except for that annoying doll Angie, pleasant to deal with, too. So it's alright - for the moment.
You trudge up the path to the house, hurrying through the garden and to the elevator. The keys in your shoulder bag jingle loudly as you pull out the bunch of keys. With one or two deft movements of your hand, you have already pulled out the right key and you insert it into the small hole in the elevator's control panel. At the top of the elevator shaft, a small bell rings and Donna knows that an employee is using the elevator. No pollen is released because it's just you moving to the Beneviento house. No need to worry, no danger.
The elevator starts moving with a jerk and a rattle after you press the button for 'up'. It takes a moment for you to arrive at your destination, so now you smooth out the beautiful dress and hastily braid your hair to look less like a child of the woods.
Donna likes it when you look pretty. She likes it when your hair is braided. Sometimes she stares at you until she changes her mind and looks away from your non-mutated face. Is she jealous of your non-mutated features? Possibly, yes.
Angie, on the other hand, often tugs at your hair and laughs, yelling loudly and teases you - to no avail. You remain calm and composed, giving neither Angie nor Donna a reason to pay more attention to you than necessary. The less they pay attention to you and your private life, the better.
Meanwhile, the ivy on the wall of the house is encroaching on the patio, and you make a mental note to trim it a bit in the spring. That you hadn't done it this fall had been a bad decision, because the ivy was already old and multiplying way too fast for your liking. Donna preferred to have aesthetically pleasing plants in the front yard and she didn't like it when the house was overrun by ivy. But since the temperatures had already dropped too low in recent weeks, it was now too late to trim the ivy without damaging it in the frost. Hopefully, the mistress of the house wouldn't notice until spring.
"Good morning." The moment you enter the house, you already meet the Lady Beneviento. She stands in the reception room, Angie in her arms, and whispers her greeting to you softly. The smell of old wood hits you, mixed with dust and a sweet smell of flowers and herbs. The Beneviento house smells musty, moldy, because that's what it is: the moisture from the waterfall seeps into every crack and allows mold to thrive under the floorboards. Donna won't let you do anything about it, though; on the contrary, she even seems to like it.
But well, it's not your house. And hopefully you didn't have to stay too long either.
"It's late!!! You're a minute late!", Angie croaks out, wiggling back and forth on Donna's arm. "Pretty little servants aren't late!!!"
Apologetically, you bow your head. That seems to be enough for Donna already, and Angie quiets down.
"I have...two chores for you today," she says, barely audible. "The family grave needs to be cleaned. And...I wish...a listing of the plants you plan to plant next year..."
Rarely does she speak so many words at once and you nod gracefully. The listing shouldn't be too much work, and since you don't know the exact condition of the family grave, you can't accurately estimate the amount of time it will take. It promises to take a lot of muscle, though, because the tomb isn't exactly small like the ones in the garden. It's a tiny mausoleum, outside the gardens in front of the house and also remote from Claudia's grave. You had only seen the mausoleum from the outside until now, but fortunately for you, it's not as big as the one Castle Dimitrescu holds.
Questioningly, you tilt your head toward Donna.
"No more...tasks." she whispers in response to your silent question. "But soon...you'll be...bringing herbs to the village. I'll let...you know when."
With that, she turns and leaves, while Angie giggles on her arm and waves goodbye with her wooden arms. You wait until she's disappears on the stairs, listening to her footsteps on the wooden floorboards and finally the clack of her bedroom door closing behind her.
Only then do you move, turn, and walk back out the front door. Cold winter air cleanses your lungs from the mold, wraps around you like a cold hug, and you take a long breath that makes little clouds rise to the sky. It's time to get to work and that includes first changing in the freezing cold tool shed and packing everything needed to clean the graves.
You're used to a cold bath in the river, but getting undressed in the small, rotten shed is strange every single time you do it. The garden tools are in the way and you have to be careful not to accidentally knock them over with your elbow. More than once you almost hit yourself in the face with the rake while trying to pull your work overalls over your hips.
One good thing about it, though, is that in the winter the overalls provides much more warmth than Donna's dress. The coverall's fabric is thick and strong, protecting you from the weather and cold, which is something you could use on jobs like the one you were doing that day.
You grab the metal bucket from the corner and toss one of the old wire brushes into it, along with a rag and scouring milk from the shelf. A hand brush to boot, along with dustpan and finally the rose shears.
Satisfied, you check your equipment and nod to yourself. Yes, that will have to do. The way to the mausoleum is only about a 20-minute walk away, but you don't want to be constantly going up and down in the elevator.
Your thoughts involuntarily wander to your encounter with Heisenberg as you stand in the elevator just a minute later, waiting for it to arrive at the bottom. Your bag is slung over your shoulder, the bucket of utensils and the broom are in your hand. Thoughtfully, you rub your thumb against a notch in the broom handle.
He could become a problem. Karl Heisenberg is someone who likes to snoop around. He can't stand people poking their noses into his business - but loves all the more to acquire knowledge about others. Especially when he can use it to his advantage. That he's not as loyal to Miranda as the other Lords, you've known that for a long time. The cheeky mystery man is up to something, and even if curiosity tickles you a little... Your own endeavor is far more important than this madman.
You need to get out of Heisenberg's way before he can develop any more serious interest in you. So far, you've been laying low and keeping a low profile. The fact that Miranda had sent you to Donna was very good, because the reserved Lady was not as curious as Dimitrescu or Heisenberg. As long as you did your work decently, the puppeteer was satisfied and didn't inquire further.
And as soon as an opportunity arose, you were on your way to Miranda's laboratory and could finally free your sister from the clutches of the Black God!