Ulrich had been close to 80 years old. He felt weird swimming in his new mother's womb. Especially because he couldn't see. An unborn baby's eyes were naturally closed. He could only hear some dampened noise. Ulrich assumed that he would be born soon since he was conscious.
He moved slightly. He could feel his feet touching the womb's walls. Ulrich wondered whether his mother felt those movements. He pondered what he could do to facilitate the birth process. Slowly and carefully he turned. He was almost strangled by his own umbilical cord. He stopped when gravity told that he was upside down. According to all he knew this was the ideal birth position. From then on, he moved only to keep his position.
Ulrich waited. He didn't know how long. At times he slept. When he woke up he would correct his position. He could feel himself growing. Apparently, he had gained consciousness long before he was ready for birth.
The onset of labor was sudden. The sensation was difficult to describe. Ulrich could feel the change in the walls surrounding him. He really wasn't looking forward to his birth. Ulrich remembered the quite frankly disgusting mess at his children's birth. And now it would be him in that mess. Fully conscious. Making new memories.
It wasn't as bad as Ulrich imagined. It was much worse. The worst part were the smells. He was an Izraf. He could smell it all. And unlike other Izraf children who didn't know what they smelled, he identified it all. If he had been capable of puking, he would have.
He could also feel warm hands holding him. Someone was pressing him against their chest. He guessed it was his mother.
Ulrich wriggled slightly. He noticed that his body seemed rather cat-like. The only difference seemed to be that his legs and arms were connected slightly differently to his torso. He couldn't move his tail. Not intentionally at least. Some movements were reflexive but unlike his other extremities that felt familiar, he had never before had a tail. Exploring his body some more, Ulrich learned that there were only three parts of his body not covered by fur: his palms, his soles and his genitalia. And that was all he could find out for now.
Like other felines, he was born blind and deaf. He had mentally prepared for this in the womb. Regardless, it was an unsettling sensation. He could feel fingers prodding him from all sides and could never see them coming. He couldn't even hear his surroundings. It was absolutely quiet.
For some time, maybe a few hours. He had no idea why the disparity was so large since actual cats in his old world took weeks to fully develop their sensory organs but already on the same day he was starting to hear faint noises and his eye lids were starting to respond. He felt as though he could slowly open his eyes. The first light filled his vision as his eyes took several minutes to grow accustomed. He tasted the air taking in the various smells in his surroundings. After some time, he had discovered that he seemed to have a second "nose" in his mouth through which he could smell the unique scent of his mother and a few other people in the vicinity.
His mother hadn't left him, he had even experienced the pleasure of drinking his mother's milk. While from an 80-years-old's perspective it was gross, he couldn't deny that it was just about the tastiest nourishment, he had had in a long time.
Apart from her, he could also identify four other signatures in the air. With his eyes and ears open he now began to take in his surroundings once more. Directly in front of him laid a furry, black arm. Following the arm to his source he could see a male Izraf lying beside his mother, hugging her in his sleep. He assumed it was his father. His mother's fur was was much brighter in colour with a brown tint.
A human woman sat next to the bed. She was holding his mother's hand. She smiled as Ulrich looked. It was a smile of joy. A dwarven woman was washing cloths next to a small fireplace. Her actions were practiced. Maybe a midwife. Probably not a doctor. They would not be practiced. The only man, a fairy, stood in front of the doorway facing outward. He was guarding. Ulrich was astonished. So many people cared. Maybe his first birth was similar. He didn't remember. This, he would.
Moving his gaze from the people, he observed the room. It seemed used. The walls had once been plastered. He could still see the remnants among the bare bricks. The floor was uneven. Worn-out in front of the fire place. The fireplace was small, plain. The metal grate covering it was warped. Maybe by the long-years of heat? Ulrich wouldn't know. There was no door. There were broken hinges. The blanket was thin. Sown together. Patched. The mattress hard. The bed frame was battered. He could see dark stains on it. Ulrich didn't know for sure but he assumed it was blood and excrements.
His parents were poor. Beloved by some but unimportant to most. This room wasn't theirs. It was left to the servants. Used to birth their offsprings. Away from the dormitories. Ulrich assumed they slept in dormitories. Ulrich assumed they were servants. He should be one. Servants couldn't have privacy. There'd be no need for this room. The dwarven women had assisted his mother in birth. The human was a friend. The fairy gave his mother space. His father supported her. That was his conclusion. This wouldn't be an easy life.
---
For the first few weeks Ulrich drank his mother's milk. She weaned her kitten off milk after 8 weeks. In those weeks Ulrich didn't grow much. He learnt to walk. Stumble. His motor skills didn't suffice for more. He made progress on his tail. He could make noises. He couldn't talk. He knew the language. He could understand. Ulrich did his best to develop "normally".
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He couldn't spot a hint of the system. It didn't respond. It didn't pop up. Ulrich chose to give it time. His service had not yet begun. By now Ulrich understood a few things about his new life.
His mother had a weird premonition to call him "Ulrich". She saw something in it. His father didn't. He acquiesced. He wanted sex.
His mother was called Aoife. His father was called Oisin. They had no surname. Why did Izraf seem Irish? Maybe the glowing man would know. Ulrich didn't. He might learn.
His father only got one day leave for his son's birth. His parents were bottom rank among the servants. They weren't special. The bottom rank comprised roughly 500 servants. All slept in dormitories with 50 occupants each. Divided by gender. Ulrich slept in his mother's bed.
She had two months of leave after birth. Ulrich would spend his days with the dwarven woman after that. Trita. She took care of all children. She was middle-aged. For a Dwarf that meant around 230 years old. She had always taken care of the children. Trita was well-liked and well-paid. She was good at her job.
Ulrich would be expected to start working when he turned four. He would be groomed to serve the young lady, Ymira Traberg. His family, along with hundreds of others, served House Traberg. They were an ancient noble household of High Elves. Or long-eared bastards as the more discontented servants called them. High Elves were cruel and haughty creatures. Their builds were naturally lithe, their posture elegant and their appearance of an surreal, almost universal beauty. They had great physical strength and great magical talent. Being naturally smart and calm, they dominate all other species. Sub-types of the elven race are simply viewed as lesser. Other races are enslaved. There were outliers among the Elves. Some didn't bear that attitude. House Traberg did. They were close supporters of the crown and their racial views.
Ymira Traberg whose future was undecided and yet set in stone, was born five days before Ulrich. Her parents, Duke Raton and Duchess Yirma, had decided that they gift her a personal servant for her fifteenth birthday. Ulrich's parents translated that intention during one of their arguments.
"Those long-eared bastards wanna give her our son as a personal plaything, you daft woman!"
"You don't get it, do you, Oisin? He will be her PERSONAL SERVANT! No one will touch him. He will be king amongst our people."
The argument hadn't ended well. Ulrich was tempted to agree with his father but his mother was ultimately right. It was a significant rise in status. He just had to be a perfect servant. He believed in himself. His father didn't. Ulrich didn't like his father much. Neither did his mother. He often wondered why his parents had a child together.
Ulrich treated his fourth birthday like his final exams during his banking apprenticeship. Every skill he practiced to perfection. Every bit of information he revised endlessly. Every action was deliberate and perfectly executed.
He spent hours practicing perfect penmanship in the dust. When he learnt to speak he practiced clear pronunciation. He learnt all about the house he served in and the people he served with. He made full use of the middle-aged Dwarf. Titra knew everything. He manipulated his mother into falling out with his father. His father's rebellious mindset could jeopardise his chances. He took any opportunity he got to work and prove his skill.
Within four years, Ulrich transformed into a neat boy who did as he was asked when he was asked, spoke when spoken to, remained silent at all other times and moved swiftly and unnoticeable. The best servant is the one you don't notice. While the masters of the house didn't know of him, the house steward observed him closely. He was responsible for absolutely everything in the Traberg mansion. He was also responsible for choosing the young heiress's "gift". The duchess would punish him if Ulrich didn't live up to her expectations. The steward's head would not roll. He was skilled. He was safe. But it would be extremely unpleasant. The duchess had skills too. All proper High Elves did.
But the steward liked what he saw. Ulrich's development was exceptional. The man was pondering how to proceed. Considering the boy's progress up to this point with no training, the steward saw it almost necessary to challenge this promising potential to its utmost.
---
The day after his fourth birthday, Ulrich was separated from his mother. The steward's right hand picked him up in the morning at sunset and brought him to a small house where Ulrich was greeted by the steward himself, the Lord of their people. Among the servants, the steward was God. They feared his judgement and his gaze more than their masters'. Ulrich did not know the steward's name. He didn't need to. The steward's identity was "the steward". Ulrich tried to ascertain the steward's attitude.
"I have followed your development with great interest, Ulrich.", the steward stated flatly.
"It is my honor, sir."
Ulrich had no right to say anything else. Titra told him that the steward likes direct and concise statements, just like he likes discipline and precision. Ulrich trusted her on this. The steward showed no reaction.
"As you have turned four, it is time to fulfill your duty towards this household. It is apparent that you knew what that duty entails for some time now."
For a split second, there seemed to be a hint of appreciation in the steward's eyes. Ulrich might've imagined it.
"From now on, you will be trained. Do not disappoint me or this household.", the steward said curtly.
"Yes, sir."
Ulrich decided that he had imagined it. The steward turned around and disappeared through a door. As if on cue, another door opened. A handsome Demon stepped through. Few demons were found among servants. At least, Ulrich hadn't seen many. Titra told him that only Incubi and Succubi were worth the effort for most nobles. The reasons were obvious. This Demon was known as Gaïl. He was the personal attendant of the duchess.
"Good day. You will have three teachers. I will teach what it takes to serve a woman. Your lessons will be practically applied except for sexual services. We will cover those only after your twelfth birthday.", Gaïl spoke with a smooth voice.
The Demon waved his hand and a line-up of five girls entered the room. One looked entirely different from the next.
"You will learn to adapt. Our lessons will focus on providing a woman a pleasant time when you wash her, braid her hair, or relax her, to name some examples. We will start immediately."
---
Gaïl's lesson lasted for nine hours. After the lesson Ulrich was led to a small but clean room that was to be his home for the next few years. The servant accompanying him mentioned that his future quarters would look similar. The food provided to him had also considerably improved.
Ulrich was dead tired but he still noticed the comfortable mattress, thick blanket and soft pillow. That night he dreamed of a bath filled with women as a huge demonic hand slapped the back of his head whenever the woman right in front of him wasn't moaning with pleasure. Never in his 80 years of life had he provided a woman with that good a time. Gaïl's teachings had been eye-opening.