Sweet Persuasion

Standing before a large wooden double door Dasha grabs a gem encrusted pin from her hair that lets her fine brown locks fall to move with the gentle winds. Examining the silver needle, she starts bending it in small measured angles with her hands.

Nancy horrified is whispering in harsh admonishment, “Countess! What are you doing?! We’re going to get caught and then expelled from the church. And then?! We’ll be ridiculed and shamed by everyone!” She pants in a panic attack at the notion of breaking into holy grounds. “I don’t want to be expelled from the county and forced to be a wildling living off berries and moss. I’m too young to never get to live.”

“Shush, Nancy, I’m trying to concentrate,” Dasha mentions with no concern for the ramifications if they are caught as she finishes manufacturing a lock pick.

“I’m concentrating too… On our future! What if the Count’s so ashamed that he divorces you and you have to join me living in the woods. Can you sleep on the ground with the fear of wolves or worse stalking you every day. I don’t wanna die being eaten by wild animals no matter how tasty I am,” Nancy cries.

With a couple quick and deft twists, Dasha has the door unlocked and she casually opens the church to enter into the vestibule, “come or your crying will attract attention and you will get arrested.”

“I can’t, this is so wrong, what about smiting’s? God doesn’t take kindly to trespassing and Papa raised me to be an honest and moral girl,” Nancy says to herself when she realizes that Dasha has already gone inside the dark church.

Debilitating conflict finally gives way to acceptance as she surrenders to duty to chase after Dasha, “wait for me. If I get caught, I’m not going to get caught alone.” Once inside, Nancy closes the door tight then quickly falls in behind her master.

“Yes, yes, Nancy,” Dasha replies with clear apathy to her concerns while casually strolling across the marble tile floor as if she owned the building.

Without lit candles as you typically see during services, only the stained glass on the far wall illuminated the church’s nave in surreal dim light of every hue. Lead frames holding the colored glass revealed stylized shapes of four past saints and saintesses that formed the prominent religion of the empire. A god that moved with the seasons to present challenges and offer joyful rest for the hard work on the field whether with scythe or by sword.

Nancy quickly knelled in the center aisle to offer a prayer of forgiveness,” please forgive this poor soul Lord of grain and flower, Lord of life and death….” while Dasha ignored any thought of reverence to purposefully stride into the side chambers.

As the clack of her master’s heels on the marble tile starting to grow quieter indicating she was being left behind, Nancy hurriedly finished a rushed prayer. “Amen,” then chased after Dasha, “wait, wait, wait.”

Walking down a long simple hallway with several doors on the left and right and a set of stairs leading up to the second floor, Dasha started recalling her memories, then realized that the sound of a wood plane faintly sounding against wood cut through the quiet. This sound was all she really needed to find her way to the man she needed. Walking towards one of the room’s entrances, she knocks loudly then opens the door ignoring any care for civility, “Kevin, how are you doing?”

A man of his early thirties with long scraggly dark hair in coarse overalls stares shocked into stillness at the interloper disrupting his peaceful work carving the wooden panel. “Ack,” is the only word that he can form.

“Ah, same as always I see,” Dasha remarks not bothering to consider engaging in conversation with a man that she has known many times over. Kevin has the talent of a gifted master carpenter that could mold wood as if it were clay. Eventually others will learn of his genius, but that would be many years in the future, and it never gave him a chance to show his talent before god inflicted the world with the latest random cataclysm.

Standing before him on a floor covered in curled wood shavings from hours of passionate work, Dasha recalled the heart of his motivation, meanwhile Nancy rounded a corner finally finding the meeting out of breath, “ah, there you are. Who’s this man?”

“Um, can I help you ladies,” Kevin asks flabbergasted.

“Yes, do be a dear and come with me. I have some work for you, and only you have the talent I need,” Dasha states as an order showing no interest in entertaining persuasive discussions. “There are a couple statues that require superb carving skills and it’ll take too long to fetch someone from the capitol.

Kevin regains a little bit of composure while Nancy hides behind the Countess to ask, “um, Miss…”

Dasha interrupts and corrects him, “Countess.”

The carpenter bows in realization, “my apologies for not recognizing you, Countess Hilcrest.” He continues hesitantly, “my lady, I can’t really stop what I am doing…”

“Yes you can,” she inserts herself again, “I will pay you what you are worth.”

“It’s not about money…” he hedges to give him time to form his thoughts, but Dasha isn’t interested in negotiations.

“Yes, it is, and if you need extra motivation,” she turns to Nancy and motions with her hand.

Obligingly, Nancy digs into her satchel and pulls out small finely crafted wooden box then hands it over to Dasha who accepts it carefully. Once in her hands, she turns around and presents it to the man while opening it slowly to let the candle light glitter off the white crystal grains, “you will do anything for this, won’t you? Your work here will certainly not make you enough to afford pure grains of sugar like this.”

Kevin drops his wood plane and approaches carefully and entranced at the sight of such a rare substance. His hands trembling from trying to control his passion for the taste of the sweetest treasure in the world. One that he would give up anything for, “please, let me have some…”

“Of course, my dear employee,” she would have smiled, but this was not the first time Dasha had won over the man’s heart and mind, and after a half dozen times, her lack of acting skills starts to shine through.

Slowly and carefully his trembling hands reached for the box as if it was the most precious item ever created. Having it now in his possession and after setting it down on the worktable that he cleared with a careless sweep that knocked every item onto the floor with a crash, the cherished sugar container was waiting.

Slowly he licked his finger and placed the wetted digit on the top of the contents to adhere untold grains then brought it to his tongue and relished to sweet addiction and confirming its purity. With a pause, he holds back his weakness with tear filled eyes before turning to the Countess with all resolve, “who do you want me to kill.”

Nancy’s jaw drops, “what?!”

Dasha is completely surprised as well with her mouth open aghast, but after a breath regains her composure to correct the assumption, “you do not need to go that far, Kevin. But I do have some work I want you to start on. How about right now?”

“Yes, my liege! My life is yours,” he proclaims without reservation.

Dasha wants to facepalm while Nancy shirks back more afraid than she expected behind Dasha’s dress. “Um… Sure. I just need you to carve some horses and such… I keep forgetting that there are no half measures with you, is there?”

Kevin bows deeply, and Dasha notices that he has found another taste of sugar that she didn’t even see occur. “Did you already get father Frederick’s approval,” he wonders though it clearly wouldn’t change his mind.

“No I have not, he’s busy making breakfast and trying out his favorite nun attire.” Turning towards the exit, she comments nonplussed, “I would hate to interrupt his: me time.”

“Of course… Wait, what,” Kevin gets caught off guard once again, but Dasha and Nancy are already leaving so he doesn’t bother to ask further. “Coming,” he announces quickly, then carefully closing the lid to his precious sugar, he chases after his new master.