Chapter 5: Day One.
Lord Heisenberg did not reappear for dinner. He didn't reappear at all.
Iris made a makeshift pillow out of her bundle of clothes, using the potato sack as a second blanket, her cell was surprisingly chill for being inside such a hot factory. Clutched in her hands were the notes, quickly scribbled onto ripped out pages of recipe books or aged receipts from the Duke, messages from her fellow maids, her family.
"I'll miss you so much! You were the best kitchen buddy" said one, the curly writing coming from a girl who'd also managed to last a few years at the castle. She hated the sight of blood, fainted at it, so Iris made a habit of joining her on kitchen duty when they were tasked with preparing plates of raw meat, presented as delicacies to the Lady and Mistresses of the house.
"Remember me whenever you have to sew his clothes!" A newer girl, who constantly had to hide around the castle as she constantly got paper cuts, pricks on her fingers from needles and knives, or nosebleeds from climbing too high on ladders.
The kind messages helped calm Iris, the thoughts of her friends right now, dashing back to the servants quarters as the Dimistecu family got more.. active, through the night. She read the messages over and over until her eyes stung, then dashed them away under her mattress for safety and rolled onto her back to try and sleep.
Only then did Iris come face to face with a blinking red light. She didn't think she'd ever seen anything like it, certainly not in the castle or the village. Perhaps before then… Those memories were fuzzy.
What she did know was that there was a camera on the ceiling of her room. Its flashing light a not so subtle warning. I'm always watching. She rolled over and tried to ignore the idea that somewhere hidden in the factory, her Lord was watching her sleep.
A deafening clang shot Iris out of her bed with a scream, slapping her hands over her mouth immediately after, fear of being heard by her Lord flushing down her spine like icy water.
Her gate was open.
"Go busy yourself today. Do whatever maids do. But.. I am always watching." Came a booming voice from one of the many speakers situated around the halls and rooms of the factory. Iris went to slip into fresh clothes, as per routine, but paused, the ever watching eye of the camera did not need to see her in her undergarments, nor the prayer book hidden underneath. Maybe it was just her room that had a camera, she was a new employee after all, maybe the Lord was just taking extra precautions. Iris hoped that was the case and stepped out of the cell tentatively.
"OH" The booming voice returned, Iris jumping at the sudden noise, in the castle it was rare for her to be snuck up upon by her Lady or Mistresses, either due to the clicking of heels on marble, or buzzing of flies. "One more thing. On my desk in the office are part of your uniform. Put them on and Never. Ever. Take them off. You don't want to know what'll happen if you do." With that threat the hallway once again fell silent. Iris prayed to Mother Miranda that whatever her Lord deemed to be uniform was clean and modest.
Heisenberg's office was the most cluttered but least dirty room from what Iris had been presented during yesterday's "tour". The room basically consisted of a beaten down leather sofa, old sheets hanging on the walls, a large workbench covered in tools and scrap, a desk overflowing with papers, and weighing down those papers, a pile of metal.
Four metal bands, and one chain.
"Now, wrists, ankles, and waist. Chop chop."
Iris couldn't believe it. She was to be chained. Like an animal.
She paused briefly, only to hear a booming "NOW" resonate around the room, and all other rooms nearby. She scrambled at the cuffs, shoving them onto her wrists and ankles. The metal welding together with a click, bended to her Lords will even though he was nowhere near her. The sudden show of power made her squeal with surprise, although the speaker system was off she swore she could hear laughter. She darted her eyes around the room and sheepishly made eye contact with yet another camera, weighing the heavy chain in her hand she debated her options: Be stuck in the same dress until the chain was removed, whenever that would be. Or, lift her skirts in her Lords office to place the chain against her skin. She blushed at the thought but knew that the latter was exactly what her Lord intended for her to do. She quickly threw up her skirts in a rush, fasting the chain around her waist and waiting for it to weld together by her Lord's invisible magic. It did instantly, she threw her skirts back down and smoothed out her dress. Her face was on fire. She hoped the cameras weren't in colour.
Waiting for further instruction for a beat Iris found only silence, so she figured that was it for conversation. She made her way to the supplies closet and grabbed a bucket, mop, duster, and some chemicals in spray bottles. She chose the kitchen first, a dismal place with dirty dishes piled up, decaying food scattered in the small fridge and a worrying amount of sharp knives and cleavers hanging above the old stove. Iris scrubbed at the windows first, with vinegar and the back of an old newspaper that was placed on the rickety dining table. She assumed it was ok to take, the crossword and sudoku had already been filled in with her Lord's surprisingly elegant, but illegible writing. It took two attempts to fully clear the windows, which were thin and narrow at the top of the ceiling, requiring Iris to balance on an old wobbly chair to reach.
She scrubbed at the dishes until her arms screamed out for rest, nearly vomited when clearing out the fridge, dousing the whole thing in hot water and baking soda, and shined the surfaces and floors until her legs nearly gave out on her. The ever daunting camera light prevented Iris from sitting for a break, her Lord was already displeased, and clearly easy to anger, she didn't need to be caught slacking off on her first day. Instead of rest Iris carried out menial tasks, like dusting and rearranging the cupboards. She went to organise some of the many papers, mostly handwritten reports from what she could tell, but was given a warning squeeze at her waist by the chain. A shiver ran down her back, and she dropped the papers instantly, eyes darting to the camera and bowing apologetically, scurrying out of the kitchen with her tail between her legs.
She spent the rest of the day scrubbing the other windows in most of the available rooms and scrubbing down any surface that wasn't overflowing with papers. She had stepped into her Lord's office to do the same but received another squeeze by the chain and quickly left, clearly her Lord didn't want her snooping through his writing. It made Iris wonder if Mother Miranda was right to be paranoid of her son, and if she was, how angry she'd be when Iris would not be able to present any evidence for or against her hypothesis that Lord Heisenberg was up to something. Iris hoped the man was just warming up to her, that this was a type of probation, like how new maids in Castle Dimitrescu weren't allowed near the wine, in case their clumsy, inexperienced hands ruined a perfect batch.
It was as the outside light was dying, whilst dusting in the garage room, trying not to cringe at the spiders crawling around the dark corners, did Lord Heisenberg's voice return on the speakers. A sudden break to what had been nearly a day of complete silence.
"I'll be up soon, make some dinner quick." Iris blanched, she wasn't a cook, didn't need to be at the castle not with her Lady and mistresses diets, plus there was barely any food to cook in the first place. She hurried to the kitchen in a panic, racking her brain for what she'd seen that was available. There was plenty of oil, garlic bulbs and onions, pickled peppers and some cans of tinned potatoes and tomatoes. In the back corner was a lone bag of pasta, barely enough for one person but Iris had to make do unless her Lord loved to eat plain potatoes with a side of onion. The old stove roared to life, pots and pans were filled with oil and water, pasta and veg with a frantic flare as Iris begged to Mother Miranda that Lord Heinsenberg wasn't a fussy eater.
She was just plating up, hoping it was enough as she'd used up all the pasta and tomatoes available, did Iris hear the thud of boots. Lord Heisenberg swaggered in without a word, puffing his cigar, which seemed to be a permanent fixture on his face, and settling into one of the chairs of the dining table. Iris wished for fresh herbs to make the dish look better, settling for an extra flick of salt and pepper, serving her Lord the basic, measly meal with eyes trained downwards, waiting for the imminent anger, insults, and potentially beating.
"Where's yours?"
What? Iris blinked stupidly.
"Excuse me my Lord?"
The man sighed, as if she'd just asked him a grand, arduous task. A clean fork from the drying rack came flying over, hovering in front of Iris's face, the man pushed the bowl to the middle of the table, and gestured for her to sit. What? This was unheard of, Lady Dimitrescu didn't even let maids sit on the furniture, let alone sit whilst being in the same room, with her, to eat with her. She found herself frozen in shock, irritating the Lord in front of her who glared behind smoky glasses. She grabbed the still hovering fork, and collapsed into the chair like a doll. He continued to stare at her, like she was a drooling idiot, until she took a mouthful of the pasta.
It was pretty good.
Iris continued to pick at the plate, noticing that her Lord would not take in more than two bites before waiting for her to eat more. It was sweet, and down to Earth, something she'd never imagine one of her Lords to be. He even let her eat the last bit, before stretching back in his chair, assessing her over his glasses.
"So.. tell me maid, what is life really like in the whale's castle?" She almost choked, surely this was a test, maybe this whole thing was a ruse, an interrogation hidden as a simple change of role. She swallowed, racking her brain for the correct response.
"It was good. Work was hard but fair. Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters were kind, and treated us well-"
"Don't lie to me." The man growled, the cutlery rattling slightly on the table, "Especially about that bitch. So… Try again."
Iris felt like a bug under a magnifying glass, with the sun's sharp rays broaching the horizon, ready to cook her. Her mouth felt dry, it took her a couple attempts before she was able to speak again.
"The girls, my fellow maids, they are so sweet and kind. I miss them. I will miss my bunk bed, sharing a room with so many girls, we're up in one of the towers, furthest away from the Lady and mistresses. Despite the warmth of the castle, the servants quarters are like ice. We buddy up in the winter sometimes." She smiled at the memory, squabbling over threadbare blankets, and who was hogging which side of the bed felt like a dream compared to her lonely cell.
"The mistresses, they can be.. Difficult. And my Lady is very particular. They want everything perfect. So we must be fast, silent, like ghosts. We can journey around the castle without them ever knowing, like little fairies cleaning up their messes."
The man scoffed, "Well that won't be happening here, even without those chains I'd be able to track you down no matter how hard you hide." He smiled darkly, the chain at her waist once again squeezing her as a warning.
Iris in that moment felt bold, and decided to test the waters of her new situation, the pasta would be a nice final meal if it went wrong.
"I don't know my Lord," She smiled, "I've snuck up on you before."
If the man was shocked he didn't show it, instead propping up his boots onto the table that Iris had spent an age scrubbing and shining, leaning back and lighting yet another cigar.
"Oh really?" He drawled, smirking around the cigar. It made Iris's stomach flutter.
"Yes. I saw you in the Castle's Kitchen… Urinating in the wine."
The Lord barked out a laugh, slapping his thighs and hitting the table. His laugh was deep and rich, Iris felt good making him laugh, it felt like the most useful thing she'd done all day.
"Fuck me that was a night. That big bitch really thought she had me, acting all uppity towards Miranda, trying to get her to put me on a tighter leash." He wiped a tear from his eyes, chest heaving from laughter, "Man that was a good one. I thought I'd just taint a couple of her maidens" He made air quotes over the word, giving her a wink, "then let me way out, but then I stumbled across that bucket and, well when ya gotta go.." His words disappeared into boyish snickering.
"How'd she take it?" He asked her, his laughter finally dying out, a playful smile on his face.
"Oh no, I didn't tell a soul. If my Lady found out…" Iris paused, thinking about her fate, "Well, I wouldn't be here that's for sure."
"Yeah and then who'd I share my food with." Iris blanched at the dig, was ready to throw herself to his feet in apologies, but the man smirked at her again, getting up from the table and washing the plate and pots that she'd left to soak. She couldn't believe that her Lord was doing her chores. She made a start to stand, run over and take over the work but a short, snapped, "Sit" glued her to her seat.
After washing the dishes, Lord Heisenberg left Iris alone in the kitchen with a lazy wave of a hand and a grunt of "night". She dried the dishes and put them away, sweeping up any dust or dirt that may have settled from her last go of the room, then wiped down the table.
When she put herself to bed, her cell door locked by itself like the night before, but much gentler this time.
As she lay in her sad excuse for a bed, something her Lord said came to her. Miranda. He'd simply called her Miranda. Iris wasn't sure what that meant, maybe he was just especially close to her. But she filed the information away in the back of her mind.
Just in case.
Note: A long chapter next.