Ten

Both of the maids looked at him for a single breath longer before the older of the two gave him a gentle smile. “Please, follow us. We’ve been expecting you.”

“Can anyone tell me what is going on?” Marcus asked as he ducked his head into the small doorway leading into the back of the expansive manor.

It was very obvious to him that this was the servants’ entrance. It led into a small entryway that then led to three separate doors, all of which were closed. Ignoring his question, the older maid moved to the door on the right, promptly opened it, then walked inside. Her fellow maid followed silently behind her, her hands gently clasped in front of her as she walked.

Marcus had a sudden urge to turn around and run. His ‘master’ hadn’t given him the order to follow them, he was here of his own free will, and that should allow him to leave. Right? He didn’t see why it wouldn’t. But would that be the best course of action? This was the best he’d been treated since he came into this world. Why would he want to give that up?

While he was stuck in his own musings, he continued to follow them. The one doorway led to a long corridor lined with even more doors. It reminded him of a hospital. The hallway was wide enough for three people to walk abreast, and the floors were polished marble, reflecting the white light given off by odd-looking lamps hanging from the barren walls.

They walked past a dozen doors before stopping at one, seemingly at random. It looked no different from any of the other doors they had passed, and Marcus could only guess how the maids could tell them apart.

Once again, the older maid opened the door and led the way inside. A single clawfoot bathtub greeted him, sitting in the middle of the small room. It had high sides that came up to his waist and was almost long enough for him to stretch his legs out fully. For anyone else, it would have been like a jacuzzi, but for him, it was perfect.

Two stools flanked on either side of the large copper tub, white towels piled on each one. A small table rested in the corner of the room, several glass bottles populating the surface of it containing various liquids with just as many colors.

“Tabitha, go fetch the water. Chop, chop.” The older maid said while clapping her hands, prompting the young maid to scurry through a door on the other side of the room.

“Now, can you tell me what’s going on? I mean, c’mon, this is getting ridiculous.” Marcus exclaimed, his frustration over the peculiar situation growing.

“I cannot, no.” The maid said, her eyes drifting over his body as she faced him. “It’s not my place to do so. I do hope you understand.”

“I don’t, not really.” He replied, his hands swinging up over his head. “But whatever, can you at least tell me whose house this is?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Jesus Christ…” Marcus cursed, “So, I’m guessing you want me to have a bath before we do whatever it is we’re doing?”

“That would be for the best, yes.”

“You’re not, like, getting me ready for a ritual sacrifice or anything, right?”

“Oh, no. We do not do that here .” She said with a devilish smirk, belying her mature age.

Just then, Tabitha, along with two other young maids, burst into the room. Each one carried a large wooden bucket containing steaming water that sloshed over the sides as they rushed to fill the tub. Then as soon as they had emptied their buckets, they scurried out of the room only to be immediately replaced by two more maids, each with their own steaming bucket. It only took five minutes of rotating maids with their buckets full of water to fill the copper tub, leaving Marcus and the older maid alone in the room once more.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” She said. “There are soaps in the bottles on the corner table, along with a bell to ring when you are finished… or for when you need your water changed.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Marcus said as he looked into the large tub, the thick ribbons of steam dampening his skin. “Can I at least get your name…”

The click of the door told him that the older maid had left the room, leaving him to his own devices. Marcus shook his head before stripping off his few remaining clothes. He hadn’t had a proper wash in over two months, dips in the river didn’t count, and the hot water before him was irresistible.

He lowered himself into the steaming water, his skin prickling due to the heat. “Ahhhh……”

He let out a relaxed sigh as he leaned his head against the hammered metal of the tub. The water only came up to his chest, but it was enough to warm his entire body, causing a pleasant shiver to run down his spine. He slowly slid down until he was completely submerged, his knees the only things breaking the surface of the water. He made sure to scrub as much dirt and mud from his body with his hands, quickly turning the once clear water into a brown slurry of muck.

He called for new water three times before he felt confident that all of the mud had been washed from his body, the tub having to be cleaned out between each exchange. But now that he finally had clean water, he braved the wide selection of soaps on top of the little table in the corner. He picked up a small bottle before popping the cork that sealed it.

It was filled with a light purple liquid, and the smell of it confirmed that it was very similar to lavender. Another bottle held green liquid that smelled of mint, and another reminded him of oranges. He finally settled on a dark green, almost black, liquid that smelled of pine. It was a unique smell, and Marcus really liked the woody scent that clung to his skin. Although, it did remind him of a forest, he prayed he wasn’t developing some kind of complex.

He poured the bottle into the water and once again lowered himself into the tub. He had no intention of getting back out until the water ran cold.

“You look to be enjoying yourself…”

Marcus nearly jumped out of his skin, the lukewarm water sloshing out of the tub in sudsy waves that spread out over the polished stone floor. His eyes snapped open, and his head jerked toward the sound of the voice.

“I knew this was too good to be true.” He mumbled to himself as he saw who had snuck into the little washroom.

Franklin was looming over him in all of his armored glory. The same stoic look of absolute neutrality was plastered on his rugged, clean-shaven face, and his steely grey eyes looked down on him in silent judgment that seemed to suck up all of the remaining warmth in the tub.

“I expected you here yesterday,” Franklin said, his arms clasped behind his back. Marcus had always been impressed by the amount of flexibility his full plate armor provided him with.

Marcus leaned his head back on the edge of the bathtub while at the same time shrugging his wide shoulders. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on yet?”

If Franklin was annoyed with his insubordinate attitude, he didn’t show it. “This is your reward.”

Marcus picked his head back up, looking into the man’s eyes. “For that fetch quest? I thought I failed that.”

“Do you remember what I told all of you the first time you trained with the dummies?”

“‘Nothing is what it seems,’ or something like that. Right, Mr. Miyagi?” Marcus said, rolling his eyes.

Marcus knew he was treading a thin line. He was still very much a prisoner; at any moment, Franklin could decide he didn’t like Marcus’ snide tone and punish him with but a word. Still, Marcus’ patience was wearing incredibly thin, and his anger was beginning to bubble to the surface.

“That is correct…” Franklin said, his face remaining placid but his head cocking slightly to the side. “The others brought back valuable items, although one never did return. You, on the other hand, showed something more valuable than anything that they could have procured.”

“Character?” Marcus asked as he readjusted himself in the copper tub.

“Integrity.” Franklin corrected.

“Close enough… Tell me, is Jorel alright?”

“He has recovered, thanks to you.” He told him, his heavy footsteps carrying him to the door in the back of the room. “Finish your bath. Once you are done, I will explain everything.”

With his bath ruined, Marcus didn’t let himself soak any longer. Instead, he wrapped himself in one of the towels and rang the little bell next to the myriad of soaps. In but a single breath, a maid floated through the door, a bundle of clothes held tightly in her arms.

“Here you are. Please get dressed, then follow me.”

The clothes were well made but very simple. He was given plain black slacks and a white button-down shirt with long, puffy sleeves, much like what the driver wore underneath his vest. The most interesting thing about the outfit, though, was that it fit him very well. Franklin must have had them made at some point.

Just as Marcus had slipped his feet into his new boots, the maid returned to the room to retrieve him. He quickly followed her through the door into yet another hallway that led to a narrow, spiral staircase. Squeezing his way up the stairs after his guide, they came to yet another door, this one very narrow to match the stairs that led to them, but as she opened it and he followed her through, everything changed.

He found himself in a grand foyer, the vaulted ceiling well over thirty feet high. He had thought that he had seen polished stone before, but the marble floors of this room could have made a mirror blush. A wide staircase was to his left, which would have been the back of the foyer if one had come through the front entrance. Its steps branched off in two separate directions as they reached for the second floor, a statue of a flawlessly beautiful woman standing tall between the gilded banisters.

Sitting chairs and sofas dotted the reception area, potted plants and small tables holding various sundries accompanying them. Large oil paintings hung on the walls, the subjects ranging from peaceful scenes of nature to uniformed men posing atop intimidating steeds. If Marcus had to envision a nobleman’s home from the books he enjoyed reading, this would have been it.

All the while Marcus had been absorbing his surroundings, the maid leading him had never stopped moving. He hadn’t noticed until she had crossed most of the massive foyer, causing him to have to run for a few moments in order to catch up. They entered a side room, the doorway much larger than the servants’ entryway had been, telling him this must have been part of the main house.

Franklin waited for him in there, his hands still clasped behind his back as he stared out through a large bay window that overlooked a small garden. Two sofas faced each other in the center of the room, underneath them was a plush, crimson carpet that crunched underneath his boots as he was led over to one.

“Thank you, Margret. You are dismissed.” Franklin said without turning around to face either Marcus or the maid named Margret. He waited until the door clicked , signaling that they were alone. “I am sure that you have many questions.”

“No shit,” Marcus said in a huff, instantly regretting it when Franklin turned toward him, a quiet anger on his composed face.

“Tread carefully,” Franklin growled as he turned the rest of his body to face Marcus. “I have been tolerant of your mouth as of late, that will end now. You will learn to speak respectfully and seldomly. In fact, I wish not to hear your voice at all. Is that understood?”

A vein bulged from Marcus’ forehead as the seal branded onto his back flared to life. He had apparently found the limit of Franklin’s patience and would have liked nothing more than to push it even further. But his muscles refused to move to his will, forcing him to stand there in silence as his nerves were set aflame.

“Wonderful,” Franklin said as he moved to the back of the sofa across from Marcus, resting his hands atop its back. “Now, you have been chosen for an extremely important position. It is one where the utmost loyalty is required, thus the reasoning behind us seeking out a branded slave. The irony of you being a criminal chosen for such a role is not lost on us, but we have had time to look into your arrest and have found the circumstances to be questionable at best.”

Franklin knew he was innocent, and he still forced him through that hellish training? Why hadn’t he been freed then? Why didn’t he care? Marcus was enraged when he heard those words and strained against the magic holding his body back from strangling the man in front of him.

“I can see that you are upset.” Franklin stated, “But let me say that once the slave seal has been put into place, no magic can dispel it. Even if we wanted to, you will be a prisoner to it until your sentence has been served.”

Those words only dampened the fire burning within his chest by a slim amount. His anger at the injustice of it all still consumed most of his mind, making it hard for him to think of anything else. But Franklin just let him stand there, stewing in his feelings, waiting for Marcus to calm down so that he could continue.

“When you were apprehended at the gate, you were searched. Along with the items that did not belong to you, they also found a mana stone of unusual proportions.” Franklin explained like he would the weather, “Needless to say, it was worth a small fortune, and what easier way to claim it for themselves than to simply get rid of the man it belonged to.”

This explanation didn’t help Marcus’ irrational anger one bit. Was this the entire point of this meeting? To lock him away in his own body and piss him off, hoping that he would kill himself from trying to break free from the slave seal . No, Franklin said something about some ‘position,’ a job he wanted Marcus to do. He had to calm himself down if he wanted to find out what that was.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Marcus decided to take a seat on one of the sofas next to him. Nodding his head, Franklin did the same, perching himself and his full suit of armor on the edge of the sofa across from him.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

“The man that purchased you is Duke Dresden, and as I am sure you have deduced, is the man that employs my services. He has a single daughter, Lady Alissa.” Franklin took a moment to collect himself, his always present mask of indifference cracking, showing signs of sorrow and disgust. “She is to be married and, due to certain… stipulations, cannot bring along a regular guard detail.”

Marcus sat there, motionless. Being unable to talk made this all the more difficult. He had several questions he would have loved to ask, but as merely attempting to speak would cause him significant pain, could only absorb Franklin’s words in silence.

Franklin, who had the power of a mind reader, opened his palms toward Marcus and spoke, “You may ask your questions.”

Like a switch had been flipped, the constant strain on his jaw muscles disappeared, leaving his mouth free to move however he pleased. “There’s really no way to get rid of the seal?”

“No, there’s not.” Franklin shook his head. “The magic binds to your soul. I must admit that I am no mage, but as far as I know, nothing can untangle the two.”

Marcus reluctantly nodded his head while chewing on his bottom lip. He had expected that answer, so he didn’t know why he even bothered asking. Still, he felt like he had to make sure. Also, this world was filled with magic; surely there was something that could free him from his servitude.

“Alright,” Marcus said, changing the subject. “Why me then? I know you said I showed ‘integrity’ or whatever, but what about the other two? Even you said my swordplay was abysmal, wouldn’t they have been a better choice.”

“From what I’ve been told, you used that warhammer well enough against the Bramble Wyrm.”

Marcus cocked an eyebrow, “You talked to Jorel? I thought he was already knocked out by the time that happened.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t speak to him.” Franklin explained, “I had each of you followed during your journey through the forest.”

“Oh…” Was all Marcus said as he clamped down on his anger that had flared up once again. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to give himself an aneurysm due to his fluctuating blood pressure. “So, all that time running through the woods… there was someone just following me around?”

“They were told not to interfere. Under any circumstances. I’m sorry.” Franklin apologized, actually giving Marcus a slight bow of his head.

At least he apologized, whatever good that did. “So, you picked me because I’m a good guy and can kill big lizards real good?”

“Not just anyone can kill a Bramble Wyrm. There is a reason they are feared, not just within the Dead Forest , but everywhere.” Franklin clarified. “And it is not only that. Throughout your training, you have displayed exceptional abilities, both physical and mental. You are everything we could have hoped for in a protector for Lady Alissa.”

“I think you’re putting me on a pedestal I don’t think I’ll fit on,” Marcus admitted, not feeling confident that he could do what he was asking him to do. He had provided security before, but that was for a strip club, not a nobleman’s daughter. He might have been ignorant of most things in this world, but even he could see the difference between the two.

“I will admit that we wish there were a better solution, but the conditions of the agreement between Duke Dresden and the Prince forbid Lady Alissa from bringing along anything but her property. This is the only way to ensure she has someone she can rely on.” Franklin explained.

“Property, huh?” Marcus bristled as he ground his teeth. He didn’t think he would ever get used to being considered anything other than human. “If that’s the case, then why not brand a bunch of people and send them with her? She’d be a lot safer with more than just me.”

“We can only stretch the spirit of the agreement so far, and sending you along will most definitely upset the prince’s family to some degree.”

That made sense to Marcus. It sounded like Duke Dresden had found a loophole in whatever contract he had made for his daughter’s marriage and was taking full advantage of it, but he just didn’t want to push it too far. Marcus thought that if the man was so concerned about his daughter’s safety, why would he want to go through with it in the first place? Then again, he wasn’t a duke and had no idea how any of their political circles worked.

He didn’t really care, either.

“So, a prince, huh? Is she going to be a queen then?” Marcus asked, trying to imagine what it would be like to live in a palace, but could only envision all the unruly peasants storming the place and chopping all of their heads off.

“Lady Alissa is to marry the third prince of the Pol Trulant kingdom, so she is unlikely to assume that role, but their matrimony will still serve to strengthen the tentative alliance between our two kingdoms.”

“Awesome.” Marcus huffed, “I’m assuming I don’t have a choice in the matter, right?”

“You do not, no.” Franklin conceded as he rose to his feet. “Now come, we are to meet with the Duke before he introduces you to Lady Alissa.”

Marcus followed Franklin back the way he came, shortly stopping at the wide staircase before climbing them. They took the right fork, stopping on a wide landing that looked like a smaller version of the foyer below.

A tall plant with wide, rippling leaves caught Marcus’ attention as they moved off the landing. Its finger-width branches reached past even his head, and deep violet flowers gave off a unique scent that reminded him of the ocean. He wanted to stop and ask about it, but Franklin kept marching by, his destination the only thing on his mind.

Apparently, they didn’t have time to stop and smell the roses.

They passed more doors and marched atop more carpeting than Marcus had ever seen in his life. The manor was enormous, and he couldn’t think of any building from Earth that he could compare to at least none he had ever been in. He had seen pictures of Buckingham Palace, and whatever the French one was, he couldn’t remember its name, and those had to have been close to what he was seeing now.

Eventually, they arrived before a huge set of double doors, polished brass outlining the ornate etchings adorning it. The doors themselves were at least twelve feet wide and sixteen feet tall, making him feel small for once in his life. Franklin spared no time opening one of the doors, cracking it just enough to allow them both to slip inside.

Marcus noticed first the smell of old paper and leather, quickly followed by the fiery ball of orange light clearly visible through the immense windows making up one entire wall. The other walls were hidden behind floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, jam-packed with thousands of books. The room itself was very long compared to how wide it was; it was like looking down a tunnel lined with books, and the setting sun was at the other end.

Of course, much like with the rest of the manor, furniture dotted the open areas. Little chairs that looked extremely uncomfortable, big sofas with velvety fabric stuffed to bursting with fluff, hardwood tables propping up either vases filled with colorful flowers or strange objects that Marcus couldn’t identify. No one else occupied the room except for a man sitting cross-legged on a chair on the other side of the room, right in front of the massive windowpanes.

Marcus marched along with the armored Franklin, taking an entire five minutes to finally arrive in front of whom Marcus assumed was the Duke, and the hooded man who had purchased him. Obviously, he was dressed much differently now than he was that day. An ocean blue silk vest covered a pitch-black undershirt complete with puffy arms and golden cufflinks modeled into little roses; his pants matched his undershirt, both in shade and material, and his black shoes were polished just as expertly as the marble floors of the massive foyer.

It looked like he was going to a funeral.

“My Lord.” Franklin started with a bow. “This is the man I have chosen for the task.”

Duke Dresden had already been scrutinizing Marcus from the time they entered the room, making him feel like the man could peer into his very soul. Maybe he could? Magic and all that. Marcus, for his part, copied Franklin’s little bow. No one told him how to behave in front of a Duke, and he didn’t want to make himself seem any more uncultured than he already was.

He had grown up in a large city in America and, just like everyone else, was told that everyone was equal. Of course, he knew that that really wasn’t true, but he still didn’t have to fear being whipped for pissing someone off.

“He is late,” Duke Dresden commented in his low, authoritative voice. His deep blue eyes left Marcus and bore into Franklin, who still held his head down in a bow.

“Forgive me, My Lord. I wished to give him proper rest, and I did not anticipate that he would sleep for so long.”

“No matter,” Duke Dresden dismissed as he got to his feet. He circled around Marcus, studying every inch of him as he spoke. “How did he do during your instruction?”

“Exceptionally well…” Franklin said as he finally lifted his head.

“Hmmm…” Duke Dresden hummed to himself as he continued his little circuit around Marcus.

“Uh… Hi.” Marcus finally said as the duke came around for the third time.

Marcus’ innocuous greeting caught Duke Dresden’s attention, causing him to look up at him with nothing but curiosity burning behind his eyes. “Show me Franklin. Show me how exceptional he really is.”

The sword felt light in Marcus’ hand, his thick fingers wrapping around the hilt like a gorilla holding a twig. The blade was a little bit longer and thicker than the ones he had trained with before, but even with the extra iron; it still felt overly flimsy to him. He reviewed the stances Franklin had drilled into him, still finding them uncomfortable to stay in for any length of time. It wasn’t that his body wasn’t flexible enough, but for some reason, the stance just didn’t feel ‘right.’

“Are you ready?” Franklin called out, standing at the other end of the little garden they had come to spar in.

The sun had nearly fully set, bathing the shaped hedges and blooming flowers in an array of warm, beautiful colors. Soft, springy grass reached up just past Marcus’ laces, the dark shade of vibrant green melding against his black boots.

“I guess so,” Marcus answered, not feeling all that confident in his chances against the armored man.

He had sparred against Franklin more than a few times during the last several weeks. Not once did he win. Even with his much larger size, he had been trounced unequivocally. The others fared only slightly better, even with their previous experience with the sword. If Franklin were an artist, he would have been Picasso, and Marcus, a three-year-old eating the fingerpaints.

“Do not hold back, do you understand,” Franklin said as he spread his feet wide. “This will be your final test. Do not disappoint me.”

Marcus felt his seal tingle slightly, telling him all that he needed to know about how serious this was. Franklin had made that an order, one that he would happily follow. He had been feeling especially frustrated since coming to the duke’s manor and needed something to beat on. He only needed to actually hit the man.

Marcus let out a deep, steady breath as he closed his eyes, trying to be as Zen as possible. Just like all those martial arts movies he’d seen as a kid. “Sure thing, boss.”

“Begin!” Duke Dresden barked, marking the beginning of the match.

Marcus’ eyes snapped open just in time to see Franklin closing in fast, and they immediately grew two sizes bigger as he took a hasty step back in a panic. He hadn’t expected him to be so fast; in all of the matches during their training, he had never moved like he was now. It was unnerving.

He was just in time to block a downward strike with the edge of his blade, the shock that ran through his arm telling him that the kids’ gloves were off. Franklin, having his first swing intercepted, kicked out with his left leg, aiming for Marcus’ knee. Not expecting such a tactic, Marcus could only eat the blow, shifting his weight in an attempt to lessen it.

It didn’t work as well as he would have liked.

Marcus was saved from a debilitating blow but was still knocked off balance and driven back several steps. Franklin didn’t let up one bit. He was going for blood. He swung his sword from the hip, the blunt blade whistling through the air at an incredible speed.

Marcus was already in a tough spot, and the fight had just begun. He didn’t know which was worse, the anger he had been feeling about his situation or the embarrassment of being so one-sidedly handled. They were both almost unbearable, and if he didn’t do something now…

Marcus, instead of trying to parry or dodge the strike, took a risk and stepped into it. He didn’t know if it was the right move or not but figured that the pointy end was the part he wanted to avoid, and the only place to do that was up close. He twisted his body and lunged forward, all while holding his blade perpendicular to the ground.

The two blades met once again, but he hardly felt the impact as he reached out for Franklin with his free hand. Startled by the sudden grapple, Franklin kicked back with all of his strength in an attempt to create some space between them, his boots digging divots into the preened lawn.

Marcus’ fingers missed the man’s neck but still managed to latch onto his gorget like a steel vice. His knuckles popped, and his shoulder screamed as Franklin pulled away, but Marcus didn’t let go. He planted his feet into the ground like a tree and yanked with all his strength.

Franklin’s eyes went wide as he was pulled off of the ground, his entire body becoming momentarily weightless. He tried to bend his body in a way that would allow him to catch himself, but Marcus didn’t let him have the chance. Using his much greater size as leverage, Marcus pulled down, slamming Franklin’s body onto the hard ground.

The clatter of steel armor and the subtle crack of bones reverberated throughout the garden. Franklin was on the ground in a heap, Marcus standing over him, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. It took him a moment to realize just how hard he had slammed the man, and once he had, immediately bent down to check on him.

Thankfully, Franklin was still breathing. He really hadn’t meant to hurt him so badly; it looked like he had at least broken an arm, and his head had a lump already starting to form just above his brow. He had to wonder why his slave seal hadn’t stopped him from injuring him so badly; it had to have been because he was ordered to.

“Step aside.” Duke Dresden ordered as he calmly walked up behind him.

Marcus’ muscles moved before his brain had even processed the words, carrying him off to the side and giving the duke plenty of room to work with. Much like the healer had done with Jorel, the duke bent down and placed his hand over Franklin’s chest. A warmth radiated from him, not only telling Marcus that he was casting a spell but also sending a rush of rejuvenation through his body as he stood nearby. He didn’t think that that was a purposeful byproduct of the spell.

A white light appeared underneath Duke Dresden’s hand before sinking into Franklin’s body. Franklin’s twisted arm folded back into place, the sounds coming from the limb causing a shiver to run down Marcus’ spine. The lump of his head also deflated at a visible rate, like a balloon losing all of its air. It only took a minute after the duke had finished healing him for Franklin to open his eyes. He looked around for a moment before practically jumping to his feet.

“Good. Very good.” Franklin said, his body wobbling slightly as he shook his head. “That was most unexpected. You did not show nearly as much speed during our earlier sessions. If I did not know better, I would think you had been holding back.”

Marcus shrugged his shoulders, “No, not really. I really don’t know where that came from.”

“It appears that you have chosen well, Franklin.” Duke Dresden interjected, cutting off their short conversation. “For him to defeat you in single combat is impressive, not many can boast such an achievement. See to it that he has a meal and room to rest. I wish to speak to him in the morning before he meets my daughter.”

At the mention of food, Marcus’ stomach rumbled audibly. It had been a few days since he had eaten last, and Marcus found it strange that it had taken him this long even to notice. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to ruminate on the oddity as Duke Dresden marched back toward the manor, and Franklin led him in another direction, towards a smaller door further away.