Castle Mroczna - Mistress' Hunger

Castle Mroczna - The Mistress' Hunger

Katarzyna sipped the latest batch of wine, and her face furrowed in mild disgust.

The woman standing before her, one Elsa Munster, frowned more deeply than they already were, their fears confirmed.

"The batch has gone bad, hasn't it?" Elsa asked.

Katarzyna nodded and sighed in disappointment, placing the glass down on the massive barrel, too tall for normal humans, but convenient for her.

"It has a foul taste. Not as bad as it could be, but that does not matter," Katarzyna explained.

It was rather disappointing news, but it seemed something had gone wrong during the production of the latest wine. Vermin, or some sort of insect or disease that had afflicted the grapes but gone unnoticed. Normally Katarzyna provided some oversight when the next batch of wine was being processed, from the growth of the grapes, to the ageing period.

But lately, she had been hounded by letters and messages from that upstart duke whom she had been engaging in diplomacy with.

Despite her thrall's diplomatic best efforts to manipulate the Duke, the younger noble had seemingly gotten a taste of throwing his weight around, and was trying to make less reasonable demands of House Mroczna, which was eating into Katarzyna's time.

She knew this was a possibility, but this man was starting to grate on her patience, and she only had so much of that.

Meaning she may have to resort to a particular course of action. More overt... but the results would be far more favourable. And it'd be rather fun.

It did leave Katarzyna wondering where the Duke got this sudden change of attitude from, however. He'd been rather simple to manipulate early on, stroking his ego doing a lot of the heavy lifting, and even now it was quite effective. But he had become obstinate, thinking himself a more important figure in the continental nobility than he really was. Perhaps all that ego-stroking was to blame, but correspondence Hector Cruz suggested that perhaps someone else was whispering in the Duke's ear now.

Well, Katarzyna could only figure out who it was and deal with them, or go ahead and lay claim upon the Duke. A more brash move, but at least it would keep him nice and behaved. But that would require time and effort to do so discretely.

Until such a time, this ruined batch of wine was a frustrating development, but at least it was caught early in the ageing process, only put in the barrels a week ago.

They only realised something was off when one of the servants working the cellar noticed an odd smell. And Katarzyna had smelled it too, leaving her rather impressed with that man's nose. It was rather subtle, and it'd take an expert to notice it, an expert with a refined sense of smell. For Katarzyna, her sense of smell was beyond human, so it stood out to her immediately.

Poor Elsa was starting to shift, the middle-aged winemaker perhaps fearing Katarzyna's wrath, but the towering vampire simply pressed a gloved hand to the woman's shoulder.

"Dispose of the wine, make use of it if you can, and we'll start over," Katarzyna ordered. "When you are done here, take your staff and get something from the kitchen, you've earned it."

Elsa nodded, and Katarzyna spied the subtle wave of relief over them.

"Of course, my Lady," Elsa answered, and turned around to fetch the few others who worked with her.

Even after years, Katarzyna's servants still harboured some amount of fear for her. She didn't mind it, it often made more salacious interactions all the more enjoyable, a bit of spice to proceedings. But on occasion, it did bother her, she had no intentions of doing them any harm, and even when her temper flares, she does not take it out on uninvolved parties.

It wasn't the fault of the winemakers. Sometimes things happen.

All the same, the situation had left a foul taste in Katarzyna's mouth, and it wasn't just the bad wine.

The Castle's expenses were covered by trading wine with the nearby villages, and that helped procure things for Dolina Mroku as well. Now that they had expanded their trade with nearby countries and duchies, they were growing a newfound wealth. But that wouldn't continue if they couldn't maintain steady production, even if their wine wasn't the sort to be mass produced. Even premium products for a small clientele wouldn't survive inconsistent supply and production for long.

Really, business was such a draining thing, but necessary for her ambitions, carefully measured as they were.

Katarzyna left the cellar, crossing the castle grounds to the courtyard. The sun was falling towards the horizon, the shadows cast by the battlements slowly consuming the last vestiges of sunlight within the walls.

A chill filled the air, one of her servants rushing past with a quick courteous nod, hugging a shawl tight around them, but Katarzyna was not perturbed.

She smelled something cooking in the kitchen, wispy smoke leaving the vents above the windows, the aroma of garlic and pork tickling her sensitive nose.

A roast. A lovely meal for her servants, and there was no doubt several sides of pork currently cooking in order to feed everyone such a treat. She'd partake as well.

But after the disaster below, Katarzyna was rather craving something else; something sweeter to her than any other flavour on Earth, and a much better substitute for something mildly salty, creamy to boot.

She'd wait until later, after dinner was finished with. She had to gather a number of 'volunteers' to suit her current cravings. After all, her hunger was not something so easily satisfied, and they would have to satisfy a great deal.

For nothing quite got her appetite up like the need to soothe frustration and disappointment. Her daughters knew this well.

But this time, they could not satisfy what Katarzyna was hungry for.

She stood on the upper floor overlooking the lounge, listening to her servants chatter and joke in the dining hall beyond. Normally that great room was reserved for feasts with important guests, as Katarzyna found it rather dour for anything smaller than that, but the head servants had put something together on their own initiative, latitude she allowed them out of trust. And it did well to keep the spirits of the castle's servants buoyed, these times where they could relax and indulge a little.

It would be rather hypocritical of her if she didn't. But truthfully, she'd been observing those who entered the hall to pick and choose what servants she wished to attend to her later that evening.

As she stood there, swirling a glass of some of her personal vintage, Aniela quietly stepped up to the railing next to her.

"