I woke early and couldn't fall back asleep. My mind raced with all the information I had learned yesterday as I tried to process it all. The day itself had gone pretty well. I hadn't felt any lingering effects of the illness after the first day. Ever since I vomited and rested, my body has been improving. Maybe I had been poisoned. Or I could just be paranoid. I was sick, and that meal might not have sat well with me. Maybe my family had caught a worse strain of the disease. I couldn't be sure of anything right now. I would have to keep my eyes open and let Draves do his job.

The carpenter had been more pleasant to deal with than Jorb. Most people were wary of me, but Jorb looked like he wanted to punch me in the face. Mikel actually looked interested in the design, which was good. He also promised to make a frame to put the metal wires in. It was to lay the wood pulp in to make paper.

I joined the Boy Scouts for a couple of years. During that time, I got the dumbest merit badge ever: Pulp and Papermaking. Seriously, when was I ever going to use that out-of-date merit badge? That might have been the boring merit badge that finally made me dig in my heels and refuse to go back. Oh, the irony. We didn't actually make paper, so I can't remember the exact process, but that paper was made of old rags.

I knew that environmentalists would curse me in the future, but I swore to myself that once I had established myself, I would write down all the information I learned about the effects of deforestation and land conservation. I would also encourage the planting of trees.

While I was ruminating, I got dressed. After dressing myself, I called the maids to have a bath ready for me in one hour. Then I left the bedroom and did two laps around the inside of the manor wall as fast as I could. I believe I would have beaten a tortoise, but not by much. Then, I did my old seven-minute workout routine. I got two pushups in, and my high knees looked more like a shuffle. The guards were not impressed.

Draves came over when I plopped down on a stump.

"Are you alright, my lord."

Just... peachy," I huffed out. "By the way, do you know where I can get some rags?"

"I can fetch you some if you need to clean your sweat."

"That would be nice, but I actually want to make paper."

"What is paper?

"It is like parchment. Something to write on, but you can make it from old rags."

Draves gave me a dubious look. "Why would you need that."

"To record and share information. If I can make it cheap, more people will use it. Than more information can be shared between everyone, and when you share ideas, civilization progresses faster."

Draves did not look impressed. "If you need a lot of them, then I recommend speaking with Marshandra."

"Thanks, Captain"

After spending about 10 minutes near the well trying to rehydrate and calm my heart, I dragged myself back inside and headed to the bathtub. I swore I would have them make me a bigger tub at some point. I might as well have them make me indoor plumbing as well, I laughed. Chamber pots were no fun. When I heard that they had just dumped the crap into the pig pen, I almost vomited. Apparently, pigs here could eat anything. Could they do that on Earth?

I checked myself out in the only mirror the manor had. It was a polished piece of metal in a wooden frame hanging on the wall. It was no 21st-century mirror, but it reflected my image well enough to show I looked very similar to my father. The problem was that while he was tall, dark-haired, and handsome, I was tall, dark-haired, and obese. Also, unlike his thick yet neatly trimmed beard, I had a few days of scruff. I needed a razor. I sighed and straightened up. This was not the end. This was just the beginning.

I sat down at my desk and drew out the shape of a dip pen nub as if it were flat without any bends. Afterward, I was satisfied with the results. I called for a softened clay tablet. While I waited, I picked up a bundle of scrolls that either the baron or his wife kept on a table near the two sitting chairs. Unfurling one, I found that it was poetry. I wasn't into that stuff, but I wondered if they were original works or if they had gotten them from somewhere. There was also a half-done embroidery work set there as well. It wasn't anything I could recognize, unfortunately. The poetry was simple and discussed the love of men for their women and vice versa. Only a couple were about the glory of men in battle. I stopped when I got to the "fifty shades of gray" style. I wasn't into literary pornography.

I was relieved when the clay arrived. I handed the servant the scrolls and asked her to put them in the library. She must have recognized it because she arched her eyebrows. At that point, my face turned fifty shades of red, and I told her it wasn't my type of reading. She just gave a polite nod and left the clay and sculpting tool. Before I let her go, I asked her about shaving. She said she was deft with a razor and usually did that for me. That felt wrong, but I was likely to cut myself with a straight edge, so I asked if I could get a shave tomorrow morning after my bath.

First, I went and found Marsh. She was cleaning my old room with Emily.

"Good morning, Marshandra. Good morning, Emily."

Both of them bowed respectfully.

"Good morning, my lord. How are you feeling today?" Marsh said.

"Thank you for asking. Today, I am feeling large and sore, with just a hint of exasperation from my failings. I mean, seriously, look at my feet and ankles. I haven’t done hardly anything today, and they are already starting to swell.”

“My lord, you have asked me to let you know when you are saying things you shouldn’t. Putting yourself down is one of those things.”

“Ah, um, that is going to be a hard habit to break. It’s one of my favorite things to do. I'm sure it has to do with some sort of psychological issue I'm dealing with.”

“Psycho-what?” Marsh said in confusion.

“Just ignore me when I ramble. It is safer for your sanity.”

Marsh started to complain again about how I was talking, but I cut her off.

"Marshandra, we don't happen to have any old, worn-out clothes that I could cut up, do we?" I asked politely.

"All our old clothes are cut up into these rags." She said, holding up a dirty cloth.

"Excellent, all the better. Would you mind if I had a small stack?"

"My lord, if you don't mind me asking, whatever for?"

“To make paper, of course," I said as if I was stating something that should have been obvious.

"What is paper?" Emily blurted out before she realized what she had said and turned bright red.

I just smiled, "Paper is like parchment. You can write on it. But unlike parchment that is made from animals, this is made from plant fibers."

Emily kept her head down and didn't even acknowledge that I had spoken. I sighed. "Emily, I am sorry for embarrassing you the other day. I sometimes say things that come out all wrong. I know it sounded like I wanted you to do something inappropriate, and I feel bad about that. I want us to be friends, so if I ever say anything that makes you uncomfortable or hurts your feelings, you let me know. If you don't want to let me know, tell Marshandra, and she will come and yell at me for you."

Her head came up and cocked to the side. She looked at my face, trying to determine if I was telling the truth. "You want to be my friend?"

"Of course, I need all the friends I can get," I said with a smile.

"But I'm just a…"

"A maid? A serf?" I asked. "Remember this, Emily: You are a person. And not just any person; you are a smart, hard-working person. Do you know what would happen if I didn't have you and Marshandra here?"

She shook her head.

"My manor would become a mess and very dirty. Not only is dirt very bad for you to live around because it sometimes brings disease, but nobody would want to visit me in my dirty, smelly manor. You and everyone else here are very important people."

Emily's surprised look was mirrored by Marsh's. Marsh recovered first. "I will get you the rags, my lord."

"Good deal," I said. "Actually, right now, put them in a pot and let them soak in water. I will need something like a mortar and pestle."

"My lord," Emily said meekly, "May I watch you make paper."

"Of course you can. The first part is really boring. I have to soak it all and then mash it up. But after that, you can help as long as Marshandra or another adult is with you. Also, I am not sure how well it will work the first time. It may take some time to get it right."

"Thank you, my lord."

With that, we all left the room. I went to the kitchen to see if I could get some bread or something. I know most of my people only ate twice a day, but I just had to have a lunch snack. Sorry, diet, I can't handle not eating lunch. The cook must have stepped out momentarily because the place was empty. I opened a box to find a few loaves of bread wrapped in what looked like cheesecloth. I grabbed a loaf and tore it in half. I started eating it. It was a little dry, and I wished I had some butter. I would have to ask the cook at dinnertime. I didn't want to get caught stealing from the kitchen. The cook might get mad.

I snuck away as quietly as my large feet would allow. And I am not making fun of myself here. I was never going to be a sneaking individual. I was built like a tank.

Carrie was entering the great hall as I was crossing the room while shoving a piece of bread in my mouth. When our eyes met, we both stopped. Me because I was caught shoving food in my mouth in front of a pretty girl and her because, well, I'm not sure why. Probably because she was alone in the same room as the lecherous baron, I looked away when I realized I was staring. Where was Marsh when I needed her? I really didn't know how to talk to pretty girls; this was Marcus's sister, so I had to be careful. Anything I said might be taken wrong, and I didn't want to make things even more complicated between me and my steward.

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The problem was she had frozen in the doorway. I would have to talk to her. I tried to chew the bread quickly. But it was a somewhat dry piece of bread, so of course, it didn't go down properly without water. So I stood there trying to force my mouth to produce enough saliva to swallow the bread. It was so uncomfortable. Looking at her may be taken wrong, and looking away was rude. Finally, enough of it was gone that I could look at her and ask her to move. When I looked back, however, she looked terrified. It was like I was a lion and about to pounce on her.

"Um, could you please move? I need to get through." She didn't even blink. Oh no, what if she was working up the courage to ask me something? What was I going to say? I had not had to talk to girls since high school. Even then, it was for class projects and stuff. I kind of shut myself off after the car accident for a while and only got back into the social scene when I started my graphic design and animation business. I needed to meet people then. When I got back into the social scene, it was just with the guys I worked with. The few girls I hung out with were playing a couple online games and VCs

I breathed out slowly. Then, in a rush, I said, "Carrie, is there something you need?"

Her face went bright red. "Forgive me, my lord," she said as she took quick steps to the side. She kept her head down. So I started walking to the door. Should I say something? Would she take it the wrong way?

"Um, thank you, Carrie. Have a nice day." That would be safe, right? Nothing that could be interpreted as sexual harassment. Ugh. I needed someone with me at all times. I put my back to the wall and let out a deep sigh. Just at that moment, Hyrum came around the corner.

"Are you okay, my lord?" He said with concern evident in his voice.

"I was just… I passed Carrie in the great hall, and I fear I may have said something to her at some point while drunk that may have been inappropriate."

"If you will forgive me, my lord, but it wasn't just once," Hyrum said seriously.

"Blast it, that stupid alcohol," I put my hand to my face. "How bad was it?"

"My lord, I would rather not. I don't…"

"Hyrum, Please. What did I do? I didn't, um, you know, do anything to her." I know I had asked Draves, but Hyrum may know something he didn't.

"My lord, your interaction with her might have been similar to what a drunk might done to a tavern wench. If you will, please forgive me, my lord." He did not look happy about having to say that.

"Well, crap buckets. At least I didn't try and force myself on her."

"My lord, if you don't mind me saying so, you have changed over the last few days."

"I'm trying, Hyrum, I really am. It's just I have been such a—"

"Lord, you need to not dwell on it. It will not help you to think of a man you never want to be again."

"You're right, of course, but it's so hard when everything surrounding me constantly reminds me of who I used to be. People are either afraid of me or disdainful of my presence. And it's not like they don't have cause to be. Even my people's struggle to farm the land is a reminder of what a pathetic human being I am."

"The fields are not your fault. Your father and brother made decisions concerning fields."

"But I had ideas that could have helped. My father asked me if I had suggestions, and I stayed silent. I think he did it to embarrass me, but still. I should have said something or just done it myself."

"Are you speaking of your new plow? Would your father have even let you?"

I didn't say anything because I had no idea what Amos had come up with for a solution when his father asked. I just let Hyrum assume he was right.

He hesitated momentarily before saying, "Did you know I almost cost the Captain his life once?"

I took my hand away from my face and looked at him.

"We were on patrol on the western edge of the land east of Alfer. The people said they had seen bandits in the hills. I had moved away from my position in the formation, allowing a group of bandits to get the jump on him. When I arrived, he was fighting off three and had already killed one. Of course, as you can tell, we walked away, but Captain almost died of a fever caused by a slash to his side. Do you know what he told me when I said I wanted to leave the guard? Mistakes happen; do better. And I have. The regret of what I did hasn't gone away, but I have never been out of formation since."

"Thank you, Hyrum. You're a good man."

"That's all I can hope to be. Now, how about I escort you to wherever you need to go so you don't scare any more pretty girls?"

"Do you think putting a bag over my head would work?"

"For fear of offending you, my lord, I will refrain from answering."

That made me laugh. "Alright, let's go find Marshandra and see if she has my rags ready."

"Rags, my lord?"

"I will show you if my idea actually works."

We found my two favorite maids back in my room, cleaning out the fireplace. "Can I help?"

"My lord, this is not the work for a lord," Marshandra said sternly.

"Ah, that is alright. I was thinking of taking more of a supervisory role."

"Supervisory, my lord. What does that mean." Emily asked.

"Oh, it means I stand over her and make sure Hyrum helps you."

Hyrum's eyes widened. "Actually, my lord, I must get back to my duties," he said as he backed out of the room.

As he left, Emily laughed. "You're funny, Lord Amos,"

"It is always a pleasure to bring a smile to my friends' faces. Now, where are those rags?"

Marsh recovered and just shook her head. "Your cloth is outside on the west side of the manor house. I also put a mortar and pestle out with it. Let me know if you think it is soaked enough, and I will have someone grind it for you."

"Thank you, Marshanda, and thank you both for your work," I said and left the room.

I was not going to have someone else grind the cloth. I wanted to do it myself. As I left the front door of the manor house, I turned around and backed up to look at this sad excuse for a nobleman's home. It was a shabby stone and mortar building shaped like a rectangle. It had only one story and a wood-shingled roof. When Draves first told me I was a noble, I thought of the Elizabethan era—three-story manors with arching windows. Before I left my room, I thought that because I was unloved by my parents, my room was sparse. Nope, this place was just all-around crappy.

I went around the side of the manor house to the bucket and found the rags thoroughly saturated. There was a stump of wood with the mortar and pestle sitting on it. I picked up the mortar and pestle, then scooped some rags into the bowl. Sitting down on the log, I began to mash the rags. After about two minutes, I could see the gray cloth begin to fray. Unfortunately, it was also about that time that my arm began to ache. Amos really was a lazy git. Seriously, I was pretty much bedridden for the last few years of my life, and my body wasn't this weak. After a few more minutes, I had to switch hands. Half an hour and many breaks later, I had this small amount of fibers ground to a pulp. I had nowhere to put it, though. Hindsight truly is 20/20. I looked behind me and saw Jack walking across the yard.

"Hey, Jack. Can you get me a bucket of water?"

Jack did a double-take when he noticed me. After staring at me for a moment, my words were finally processed in his brain, and he bowed. Then, he took off quickly towards the well. I would have done it myself, but I had to act like a baron sometimes. Okay, maybe sitting on a stump while grinding cloth was not very lordly, but hey, I did delegate a task.

When he came back, I dumped the goop into the bucket.

"If you don't mind me asking, my lord, what are you doing."

"Making paper. And before you ask the next obvious question, paper is like parchment, except instead of animal skin, you use plant fibers. I am grinding up this old cloth, and then I will lay it in a frame until it dries. When it does that, I will have a flat sheet of paper that I can write on. It should be faster to make than parchment."

"Well, good luck, my lord."

"Thanks, Jack. Have a good day." Looking at the small glop of pulp in the bucket and the huge amount of rags in the other, I groaned. This was going to take forever. Halfway through the next grind, I heard feet moving across the lawn.

"Baron Amos Bicman. What by the Endless realms are you doing?" Marsh shouted at me.

Oh man, she totally had the mom voice down. Jack must have snitched on me. It was probably all over the manor now that Baron Amos Bicman was sitting on his fat butt grinding cloth. Not that I was doing this in secret in any way. I decided to answer her before she got really mad.

"Is this a trick question?"

"What?"

"Well, you asked what I was doing, but you know what I am doing, so maybe it's a trick question."

Her shadow, Emily, had followed her out and gave an adorable laugh. Marsh glared at her.

"Don't encourage him, dear. He needs to act like a baron, not a common worker."

I have to admit this kind of annoyed me. "What is wrong with common workers? Would you rather me go back to being a drunk fool who embarrasses himself and humiliates everyone else?" I snapped.

She stepped back as if slapped. Then she sighed and, in a softer voice, said, "There is nothing wrong with being a common worker except for the fact that you don't get to be one. You are the lord of this manor, and you have to act like one. And in case you are wondering, being a drunk fool is not part of being a baron. Now get up and let someone who knows how to use a mortar and pestle do that."

"Ouch. That was unnecessarily harsh. How do you know that I was doing it wrong?"

"Your posture is all wrong. Let me show you."

Carrie

I sat on the bed that Mother and I shared. My thoughts were all muddled. I hadn't gone down to the great hall for supper. I stared at the wall, trying to figure out what had happened. He hadn't done anything. Before his father got involved, he was always touching me or saying the most awful things to me. Afterward, there were still the looks that made my skin crawl. Like I was being undressed right there in front of him. It was almost as if…

"What happened? Why weren't you at dinner?" my little brother said as he entered the room. Blunt and to the point, as always.

"I wasn't hungry," I said in a voice that sounded distant to me.

"Carrie, what happened?" Marcus demanded.

“I… the lord… I-"

"Did he touch you?" Marcus roared.

I shook my head. I was still trying to figure things out, and my brother was just making things worse. “He… he…”

Marcus came up to me and shook me roughly. "What did he say to you?!"

"Stop it, Marcus. He just told me to get out of the way."

Marcus released me and started pacing the small room. "That self-righteous, arrogant, stuffed-up-"

I interrupted him before he could get even more worked up. "He didn't say it like that. He said could you please move. I had frozen in the doorframe. And he asked me to move."

"Why did you freeze? Was he doing something? Was he hiding something?"

"No, I was just surprised he was there."

"Are you covering for him?" Marcus growled. "You wouldn't be hiding here if he hadn't done something to you."

"NO! Marcus, he wouldn't even look at me. He just stood there looking anywhere but at me as if he were afraid of me. I don't think he wanted to talk to me, but he had to because I froze in the door frame."

"He was afraid? No, no, that doesn't make sense. It must've been Marsh. She's got him under control. She stopped him from making Emily bathe him. Or maybe he doesn't want to lose his good-guy image. He's trying to make everybody think he's changed. He knows you would've told Marsh. This whole act would be for nothing. We've got to get out of here before he does something. I wrote a letter to my uncle. As soon as we hear back, we can leave, and we will take as much as we can with us."

"Don't worry, Carrie, I won't let him hurt any of us ever again. And soon, everyone will know he has been lying to us. I will force him to tip his hand and reveal his true nature."