It had been two weeks and Iris had settled into a pleasant routine. Get up, get changed in the bathroom, a surprisingly large room with a public shower, two toilets and a boiler that would bark and growl whenever Iris tried to get the water warmer. It had taken her near three days to make it clean enough that Iris didn't fear disease going in without shoes on, but it had now become a safe haven. No cameras.
She'd taken to writing in her prayer book there, ever since living in the factory she'd found her dreams to be clearer. Perhaps in the castle, with the near constant blood loss, thinking and remembering became harder.
Last night she had a dream about some sort of party. She was a child, she had a bright dress on, there were multicoloured lights in the air, like fireflies, and loud music. There was a cake, so bright and loud, nothing like the baked goods in the village. A large creature appeared in the dream, with soulless black eyes, purple fur, and some sort of spike or horn protruding from it's head but Iris was not scared, but elated. She smiled as she jotted down the strange name of the creature, that she'd loudly proclaimed before waking up.
Tinky Winky.
"I don't pay you to sit on the toilet all damn day get out here" Her Lord's voice was much closer than Iris thought, he'd gotten better at being softer on his feet lately, it was becoming harder to anticipate his presenced. The man usually kept to giving orders over the speaker system, too busy to come up to the ground floor to chat face to face, so whatever this task was, it must have been important.
Iris squeaked a quick apology and threw on fresh clothes for the day. Strapping her book to herself with a worn belt, wedged between her skin and chain.
The chain was becoming a bother. The cuffs too. The heavy metal, not intended for being worn as accessories, rubbed constantly on Iris's skin, knocking against her ankles and wrist bones, causing dark, mottled bruises to form and pang with pain every time she tried to walk too fast, or lift something heavy. The chain around her waist was the most problematic, rubbing at the sensitive skin of her waist, nipping at her and creating small welts every time Lord Heisenberg gave her a warning squeeze.
She liked to think it wasn't noticeable pain, as a maid at Castle Dimitrescu that was a vital skill. Her Lady hated to see maids in general, but especially a crying one.
Smoothing her dress and hair, she left the bathroom. Leaving her night clothes in a basket she'd found and placed in the room during her time cleaning. Waiting for her in the kitchen was her Lord Heisenberg, who was leaning against the counter, chewing a cigar as usual, tapping a boot impatiently on the floor, a piece of paper scrunched up in his fist.
"I don't know why you insist on spending so long in there making yourself up just to clean. I'm not even around enough to get dolled up for!" Iris paused, genuinely confused on what her Lord considers "dolled up", as she had on a ratty old maids dress, a tight bun and shoes that looked like they'd been through war.
"I'm sorry my Lord." The man huffed, shoving the crumpled paper at her.
"Collect these from Duke, elevator, then put them away. I'm busy and just coming up here was already a huge waste of time." The man then stomped off before Iris could question where the elevator even was.
Iris quickly went through all of the rooms Lord Heisenberg had granted her access to on the tour, in case she was stupid and happened to miss an elevator, but to no avail. It must have been somewhere else, in the great unknown that was his factory. It felt like a test.
Iris worried her hands together, clammy with anxiety. On one hand, she'd be breaking his rules about going into an area that was forbidden to her. But on the other hand, he would miss his order if she didn't go. The Duke tended to appear and disappear at random at Castle Dimitrescu, he wasn't the type of man to wait around. It seemed either way she'd be punished. But at least with the order from the Duke, Iris would satiate some curiosity on what the rest of the factory looked like. Even if it was a measly elevator.
The door that led outside of the living quarters was heavy steel, Iris gave a quick, wary glance to the camera positioned just above the door, wondering if her boss was watching. Maybe he was and if he didn't want her to leave he'd force the door shut, but the thing swung open with ease. She took that as some sort of unspoken permission. She quickly moved through the dark hallway, down a couple stairs and entered what must have been the main hub of the factory. Her jaw dropped at the sight.
Massive, hulking metal as far as the eye could see. Water rushed from somewhere down below, so far down Iris imagined Hell itself to be at the pit of the factory, keeping it fiery hot and churning. Occasionally lifeless bodies would swing down a conveyor belt system, being whisked away to unknown places. Iris cringed at the sight, she knew the dead were all given to Lord Heisenberg's factory, but she assumed for cremation, not for whatever this was. She imagined her grandmother, when she had died they'd wrapped her body in a white cloth and spread flowers around her body, which lay on a cart ready to be taken to the factory to be "put to peace". This didn't seem peaceful.
Shaking thoughts of her grandmother's body swinging around amongst the metal, Iris moved forward towards a large door with buttons. This surely was the lift. It opened immediately, and there he was, set up as if he'd always been there, was the Duke.
"Ahhh Iris! I was waiting for you!" The Duke's loud, cheery voice was always filled with warmth. He was always smiling down at her and the other maids whenever they were set for collection, and made sure to know each of their names. It was a task Iris always looked forward to.
She politely curtseyed and passed him the list, which he examined through some reading glasses that looked microscopic in his giant hands.
"Ahhh yes, yes. The usual." The man hid the list away and with a sudden clap, presented two crates near the door with a flourish, "There's your orders my dear no need for payment that has already been pre-arranged"
"Thank you Duke," Iris curtsied again and went to pick up the heavy crates and leave but was stopped by a loud, A-hem.
"I'm sorry Duke, is there something else?"
Presented in the man's hand was an object wrapped in cloth, "This my dear is for you. Every morning and night rub the afflicted areas, and the pain should evaporate! Though do be sure to let our Heisenberg know that those silly bonds he has you in are a nuisance." Iris felt her stomach drop, the Duke always seemed to have the power of omniscience. The man seemed to understand her fears, a giant hand ruffling her hair gently.
"Don't you worry miss Iris, I won't say a word."
She hefted the two crates, the cream balanced precariously on top, with a grunt and said a polite goodbye to the Duke who seemed amused at her struggling under the weight of her Lords Heisenberg. She shuffled slowly back to the safety of the living quarters, a deep sigh of relief as she passed the threshold of what was explicitly "ok" for her to be.
Both crates were filled with typical household items, toothpaste, toiletpaper, soap, peppers, potatoes, meat, fish and even some baked goods. Iris put them all away, the stretch of reaching up to the high cupboards irritated the welts around her waist like hell, she hoped the Duke wasn't exaggerating his magic cream. As she put away the last bag of rice and pasta, ready to hurry off to the bathroom to use the cream, Lord Heisenberg's voice crackled over the speakers.
"Whilst you're there get a quick lunch on I'll be up in 5" He sounded tired, his voice low and breathing heavy.
Her wounded skin would have to wait.
She quickly made up some sandwiches for her Lord, with thick cut fresh bread, lettuce and sliced tomatoes, and some dressing and meats, with a coffee waiting next to it. Her Lord went through coffee like it was water. He did the same with whiskey.
The man appeared as she set the table, a metaphorical rain cloud hanging over his head, even his hat looked droopy and sad. She guessed it had been a bad morning in the factory. Or night, she'd rarely saw or heard her Lord going to his quarters. He slumped into the chair and stared at the presented food with bleary eyes, uncovered by glasses which was a very rare occasion. Even without the glasses obscuring Iris's vision she found the man hard to read.
"What. Is. That." His voice was clipped, stormy, making Iris flinch. A gloved finger pointed at the cream container from the Duke, a metal sphere still wrapped in white linen.
"Oh, just some cream, the Duke gave it to me."
"Is that so?" He drawled, picking up the item and inspecting it as if it was a bomb. "And how did you pay for that?"
"It was a gift my Lord."
She wasn't sure what spurred on the reaction, his teeth gritted, chair shoved aside as he shot up and stalked towards her, the cream still in hand, the other hand shooting out and grabbing at Iris's wrist, tugging her closer.
"You expect me to believe that pile of shit? What did you tell him? I knew you were snooping around up here, trying to find dirt on me. Bet that Leech put you up to it huh? Or Mother Dearest? She picked you special just for this didn't she, couldn't imagine why, from the look of this dump you're clearly no wizz at cleaning, but no.. You weren't brought here to clean. Were you?"
Iris didn't answer, too scared to speak, to blink, to breath.
"Were you?" He squeezed her wrist, grinding the delicate bones against her cuff, her bruised skin screaming. She winced but tried her best to not show the pain on her face. Her Lady hated seeing her in pain when drinking, it annoyed her, took the "fun" out of it. Iris had a feeling Lord Heisenberg was the opposite, that he'd like the pain.
"I'm sorry Lord Heisenberg, please I'm sorry I'm sorry" She babbled, her free hand was squeezed into a fist, nails biting into the palm until blood rose out of the half moon cuts. "I was sent here to clean! M-Mother Miranda said I was here to clean and to l-listen to you!"
He released her, shoving her backwards, spine knocking into the kitchen counter, shooting a bolt of pain through Iris's body.
"Listen to me?"
"Y-Yes Lord Heisenberg. Clean your factory, do as you say, Listen to you."
He leant back, gloved hand stroking his scruffy beard, the sudden rage seemed to dissipate. Like Lady Dimitrescu, her Lord's anger appeared and disappeared with as much notice as the Duke did, often only calming once some poor soul was punished. At least in the Castle there were a dozen other potential victims for her Lady's anger. Iris was all alone here.
"Keep doing it." Her brain short circuited.
"Excuse me my Lord?"
"Keep listening to me. Keep listening to every little thing I say and do every little thing I say. If I tell you to not breath you better damn pass out before I say otherwise. Got it."
"Yes Lord Heisenberg."
The Lord seemed satisfied by that, turning his attention back to his forgotten lunch. Iris prayed to Mother MIranda that he liked it.
"Sit."
She did. Eyes trained to the table. He ate in silence.
When he was finished, he pushed the plate away, Iris grabbed it to wash it immediately but the Lord grabbed at her extended arm, eyes trained on the cuff. A finger traced the bruises circling it. With a quick "come hither" motion of his hand, Iris gave him her other hand to be observed with the critical eye of a scientist.
"Guess I didn't think these things through."
Iris didn't respond, she didn't know what she could say that wouldn't end with further wounds.
"Guess that's what the cream's for?"
"Yes Lord Heisenberg.. I didn't say anything to the Duke but-"
"He just knew yeah yeah I know what he's like."
He twisted her arm gently, assessing her skin but mostly Iris thought he was just messing with her. His gloves were rough but warm, it felt weird being touched by a Lord like this.
"Guess the other's are the same?" He gave her a once over, eyebrow cocked.
"Yes Lord Heisenberg." He snorted, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. Stroking her wrists with both hands he gave a dark laugh.
"That's why you're suddenly limping around the place?" Iris nodded meekly, the man gave a dark chuckle, tipping his hat at her, "Well, I just thought you were so.. Happy, being around a man, after so long in that oestrogen filled shack of hers that you got a little, overindulgent lets say. And was just.. Walking it off"
Iris went bright red, eyes wide, mouth open.
The man removed a glove from his hand, grabbing the cream container whilst snickering at her face. The lid was spun off and the smell of lavender permeated the room. He scooped up a small dollop and plopped it on one of her wrists,
"Oh it's ok my Lord I can-"
"Shut it."
With a click both cuffs dropped from her wrists, a gloved hand gently grabbed her forearm, which had been left slack on the table after her Lord had released her wrists to remove his gloves. He rubbed small circles of cream into her whole wrist, covering each bruise and welt with the care of a physician. Iris was surprised at his gentleness, at the emotional whiplash this man seemed to bring every time she was around him for more than a few minutes. He switched to the other wrist and continued his ministrations in silence, occasionally his eyes would stray from her wrist, his eyes were a cool green, like sage. It reminded her of a forest, nature, being outside in the fresh, damp air. Not in this metal cage. She tried to not maintain eye contact for long, it made her feel uneasy, anxiety filled butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
Once satisfied with his work, her Lord sat for a moment and stared at her, she could see the cogs moving in his head but couldn't imagine what he was thinking. If it was her Lady, it would be how a maid who bruised so easily was a nuisance, and not worth the upkeep.
"I'll let you off for now. Go on, do.. Maid stuff."
Her Lord got up suddenly, and as he left, the clatter of metal cuffs and a chain landing onto tiles rang through the room.