“Crap! Sorry… I didn’t expect you…” Luxley said, completely taken by surprise.

“You have a tutoring session today, young master,” Miss Maggie Weathers said.

Luxley couldn’t see his own face, but he knew he had a blank expression. “We will need to reschedule. I’m sorry, miss maggie.”

Gatson spoke next. “I assume you want to reschedule my meeting as well? Young Master, you’ve already rescheduled this meeting three times now. What am I to tell your father?”

“Why do you have to tell him anything? He’s conked out on wine all day and night, anyway. Just make something up.”

“I do not lie, young sire!” Gatson said in his usual unbending way.

“Fine! Then tell him the truth. I didn’t feel like talking about fecking military careers! Tell him I’m anti-war or something. That will get him off my back.”

“That is a terrible idea, Master. I will do no such thing—”

“I don’t care what you think. Tell him I am anti-war and if he has a problem with that, he can talk to me at the dinner table like a normal fecking father. ‘Kay? Sounds good. Now get lost!”

“Watch your tone!” Maggie scolded. “You might be your father’s son, but that is no excuse for—”

Luxley was not listening to Miss Maggie Weathers, however. He had already left the two snooping advisors to their problems and left down the hall to the library.

‘Why were they outside my door?’ Luxley thought. ‘Something is amiss. I need to keep my guard up. They’re up to something.’

Luxley entered the library. Though the library belonged both to the denizens of the castle and to him, personally, it doubled as one of the largest libraries in the empire.

Easily the size of a small town, the library spanned several floors, demanding a full-time staff to maintain. In the winter, roaring fireplaces serving fresh hot chocolate and wafer cookies were a staple, while, in the summer, iced tea with fruit slices and salted jerky from around the world — not to mention cheeses galore — attracted visitors far and wide.

Personally, what Luxley most enjoyed about the library was its calming scent. Aged history and memory.

Luxley sped to his private section of the library. To get there, he had to cross through a fine wire-mesh barrier sealed around his whole reserve. The lone security guard passed him through without notice or incident. The guard knew who he was, obviously, as he had been coming to the library since his birth. The guard himself had been employed since his birth. Hence, they knew each other like family.

“I know we get little time these days, young master, but how is your day?” the guard, Finger, asked him.

“Wonderful, actually,” Luxley told the man. “Don’t tell anyone, but a special friend came to visit me today. I am so happy and excited!”

“That’s great, sir! Truly! I envy you. Your youth. The future ahead of you. Get to my age and all that is there to greet you in the morning is weird new aches in your body,” Finger said, laughing it off.

“Sorry… someday I will build my own library, and you can come to work there for me and will get paid enough to build your own village!” Luxley said, not sure what he should say in a situation with an adult complaining about un-changing things.

“Mighty fine of you to say, lord; have a great day, sire!”

Luxley nodded and went into his private section.

Normally, the library was well lit with windows aplenty. With Luxley’s secure section, though, heavy drapes and specially tinted glass, imbued with wonderful, light-dulling colors featured, making the space much more study-friendly.

Finding the books he needed quickly — Luxley knew practically every title on the shelves — he gathered them in his arms and quickly ran over to the check-out desk.

“Hello. How are you today?” Luxley asked the librarian, Jayne, whose age he was never sure of and who he had known for too long now to ask directly. Her age was only relevant because Luxley had known the woman all his life, yet she never aged a day. Highly unusual.

“I am fine…” Jayne said.

“I’m good. If you’re wondering…”

“I was not wondering.”

“Oh…”

Jayne resumed, noting the books Luxley placed before her. She marked the inside of their library card, closed the covers, did the same for the next in line. This was what she did all day, every day. If she was not working for Luxley’s reserve, she was working for another section of the library. Luxley knew her and the library as one. Although none of the workers had lodgings within the castle, Luxley had seen her in the library, doing something, many nights. Even after she had spent literally the whole previous day laboring, helping guests. Whenever he asked the Castle Master — essentially the labor lead for every worker in the castle — they never knew what Luxley was talking about. So, he stopped asking.

Jayne finished marking his books and returned them to his grasp. “Will you be needing use of your private study chamber, my lord?”

“No thank you, Jayne. I am returning to my personal chambers.”

“Very well. Have a pleasant time, milord. And tell your friend hello.”

Luxley didn’t have the energy to consider how Jayne knew about his ‘special friend,’ meaning Zan. She always had strange circumstances about her. ‘She is probably a mutant,’

Luxley told himself.

With plenty of books in hand, Luxley rushed back to his room. Although he was a special individual within the castle, everyone knew, even the strangers, to not gawk or stare.

He didn’t like the attention. Hated famemongers, forbidding them from the castle grounds.

On his way back, Luxley hoped no one had entered his chambers. He didn’t like people entering his room. It was his space. No one else’s space. Why should they feel so empowered as to intrude upon his living quarters?

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“I thought I told you guys to beat it!” Luxley said, seeing Gatson and Maggie hand around the end of the hallway like phantoms in an exorcised mansion.

“We have business in the castle not related to your situation, my lord—”

Luxley didn’t care and cut Gatson off. “Again, refer to my previous comment. Get out!”

This time, that did the trick, and the two wandered off, though much too slowly for his taste. Luxley considered asking the security head to refuse them entry to the castle. Then he thought better of it. His father would pitch a fit if he did something like that without first asking him. As much as he hated to admit it, both Gatson and Maggie were closer to ‘High-Born’ end on the Mid-High-Born scale than most. He couldn’t, at his age, act without his father’s permission.

Still, the two weirdos gone, Luxley could safely re-enter his chambers and resume his hangout with his friend.

Or he could if there hadn’t been a disturbance and the maid — the door open, full on hysterical fit — was having a yelling match with Zan.

Luxley groaned. ‘One problem after another,’ he muttered. He entered his chambers to sort it out.

The maid was a nice young woman named Hilda Primrose. Disfiguring scars covered her face. Originally a refugee from a faraway, conflict torn land, Luxley’s father took her in as a measure of mercy and gave her employment here in the castle. Since then, she had proven herself as a hard worker and someone with a pleasant disposition, even with the times got rough. Why she was screaming now, then, he could only guess.

“What’s going on here?!” Luxley yelled.

Hilda was hysterical. Clearly, she had discovered Zan in his closet.

Speaking of Zan, he was on the other side of the room, dodging nicknacks thrown his way by Hilda.

Once Luxley entered, Hilda stopped her rampage and turned to him. “Sire! Please, get away from here. There is an intruder in your chambers!”

“That is no intruder, Hilda! He is my… tutor! My tutor, Hilda!”

The realization slowly dawned on Hilda. “Your… tutor?” she said, her handle of the local language much better than it was years ago, when she first came to live amongst the castle’s denizens, but still troubled.

“But why was…”

“I’m weird, okay! I like closets!” Zan said, no other way out of the situation.

“Like, closets? Oh! I understand… very sorry! I will return tomorrow and clean from top to bottom!” Hilda rushed out of the room and bowed low to both boys.

With Hilda gone, Luxley had to leave, too. He had to rush over and—

“Mater Luxley, what is this commotion about?” a voice said. Gatson.

“Shet!”

“What is happen—” Zan started.

But it was too late. Gatson, likely already nearby with Maggie when the commotion started, turned a corner. Luxley tried to insinuate to Zan he should hide, but flapping his arms wildly toward the closet or washroom only communicated so much information.

Gatson and Maggie approached once more. This time, they had the gall to enter his room. Of course, they saw Zan.

“Who is that?!” Maggie said, shocked.

“I have never seen this young man before. Is he a friend of yours?” Gatson asked.

Luxley’s heart raced. He calmed himself, though, by reminding himself it was okay; well, not ‘okay’ but hardly the end of the world. Luxley had planned (originally) on Zan accompanying around the castle, hence the tutoring disguise. The only loose thread was the guest sign-in sheet.

“He is my—” Luxley said, almost saying ‘friend.’ He relented at the last moment, however, and said, “Tutor. He is my tutor.”

“In matters of what, might I ask?” Gatson said, glaring at both boys.

“In matters of Low-Born Philosophy and Ethics!” Zan said, striding toward Hilda, Luxley, Gatson, and Maggie from across the room.

Zan stood before them, head held high. Luxley thought for a moment he passed well for an authentic Mid-Born.

“Why, pray tell, milord, would you ever need to study something so blase?” Gatson said, full of elitism.

“Why wouldn’t I? Can’t I have hobbies?” Luxley replied.

Gatson had nothing immediately to say, though Maggie did: “Is this why you’ve been dodging my lessons? Because you’ve been full up on this humanistic drivel?”

“Maybe? Maybe not? Maybe I just don’t like you?” Luxley said, intentionally going for shock humor, though Miss Maggie Weathers likely didn’t interpret it as such.

With a gasp, Maggie recoiled and left the room. “Get the feck out!” Luxley told Gatson. Harder than Maggie, Gatson locked gazes with Luxley. But he broke. They always broke before him.

Chasing them out of the room and making sure they were truly gone, Luxley popped his head back into the room just to say to Zan, “Stay put! I have to add your name to the registry, or we are fecked-on-a-shet! I’ll be right back!”

Luxley gave up the ghost of timidity — he bounded down the castle, unsurprised to find Gatson heading in the same direction he was going.

Passing by Luxley shoved himself — gently, but enough to trip up Gatson, causing him to stumble — and spoke low and fierce to him at the moment’s discretion between their passing: “Don’t play with fire, Gatson!”

Not waiting for a response, Luxley shot straight into the main stairwell at the center of the castle. He bounded down the stairs when he couldn’t ride down the handrail’s freshly waxed and slippery surface. It was dangerous to do so, considering the immense hurt he would suffer and never recover from should he fall. Luxley was desperate. If Gatson was heading to the guest sign-in office, like him, then he already snuffed out the possibility of Zan’s forged identity. Which meant, possibly, he knew Zan was the same intruder from before and something highly unusual was happening with him and Luxley both. ‘Leave it to middle managers to wreck the most havoc!’

Bounding into the lower offices for the many clerks and feather-pushers employed by Luxley’s father, Luxley made no excuses and behaved as he knew Gatson — being an adult of employ and simply an adult in general — would not behave: leaping on and cross tables, Luxley sauntered his way straight down the middle of tables, flimsy space dividers, and crates full of ink-pustules and more, causing untold havoc as he spat out apology after apology.

Leaving chaos in his wake, knowing as well Gatson, being a senior member of staff, would need to slow down and address the chaos, Luxley continued his raid until he reached the front-end security office.

“Oh, young sire, how can I—” a guard asked him before Luxley moved with aggression toward the registry kept inside the central office. Snatching the book out of a man’s hand, and running to a nearby mop closet, Luxley said, “I will be right back! Need to, uh, read it real quick!”

Slamming the closet door behind him, Luxley was thankful this tiny operations closet had a little, itty-bitty window at the height of the room, letting in sunlight. He flipped through the book until he reached today’s sign-in sheets. Using the attached ink-quill pen, he wrote a name — Zenny Bowlder — into the space between two more recent guests. It was the first name to come to mind. Not the most original, considering it was only a ‘take’ on Zan’s actual name, but it was the best he could do under-pressure. Same with writing it between two other names. Luxley doubted the Guard Consul would typically allow a person so sign so slapdashedly, but for the fine arts, maybe Zan’s persona was lowly educated? So that could be an excuse.

Whatever the particulars would be, Luxley would confront such hanging elements when the time came. For now, he left the mop closet and handed it back to the office clerk. “Sorry. Had to make sure it wasn’t poisoned.”

“P-p-poisoned?!” the man stuttered.

“Worry not. It is fine. Report any unusual behavior, though, okay?” Luxley said, slowly leaving the security office as though he hadn’t cut a disorderly swathe moments ago.

Returning to his chambers, Luxley took the way back, which, although slower, avoided the clerical office he had partially decimated; he would have to remember to apologize profusely the next day. Though he avoided the office, he poked his nose inside, just to see: what did he see? Gatson in a tizzy, attempting to placate a dozen laborers. Luxley laughed and returned on his way, taking the scenic route.

Back, finally, Luxley entered to find Philipe — the butler — in his room, arguing (somehow) with Zan about whether he would join them for dinner. Luxley had forgotten the time.

Yes, it was time for the evening meal! Once again, he yelled at himself, “how could you forget the time?! You stinking buffoon! You little—”

“I need to ask… ‘master Luxley,’” Zan had said once Luxley entered. How many times had Philipe interrogated Zan about dinner?

“He will be—” Luxley was about to say he would escort Zan out of the castle after dinner. Before he could, who else, but Miss Maggie Weather made an appearance. This time, she was not alone, however. Luxley’s father was behind, a scowl practically of storm clouds raging.

“Son!” Luxley’s father said. “What in every pit of damnation is going on here?! Tell me now, you worthless baboon!”