Luxley froze with fear.

What… how… why was his father here? Usually, he took dinner in his estate room.

“Come now, boy — speak!” his father roared. Remembering the price of being a mute, Luxley found his courage and said, “Father! I am sorry. Ever so sorry! The lad you see before you is my new tutor in matters of peasant philosophy! His hiring was a sudden affair for me and as I am forgetful, I neglected to follow procedure when inviting him into the castle. This neglect came into conflict with the wonderful Miss Maggie Weather and senior Gaston; both were only doing their jobs. But I, in my rush to rectify my disrespect for authority, only broke more rules by causing a ruckus. I am so very sorry! Please forgive me, my beloved, wondrous, wonderful and wise father!” Luxley spoke, then bowed, literally, as low as he could bend.

A full minute of silence passed; the tension so thick it choked Luxley’s throat. He expected blows. Alas, none came; silence and more tension yet filled the atmosphere. It gripped Luxley and threatened to make him squeak like a mouse.

Mercy reigned, finally. “I forgive you, son. Looks like my lessons on discipline are finally kicking in since you at least know when to come out and admit your lack. Escort your tutor out of our home. Then, come to dinner. We have your future to talk about.”

Fear as thick as stone came over Luxley. Until his father had left, his bow remained low. Seeing his father’s footsteps at the end of the hallway, he lessened his bow, caught his father’s eyes, then broke attention, his father leaving for the dining room.

Looking to Miss Maggie Weathers, who had a smirk of absolute triumph on her face, and then to Zan, who merely looked positively uncomfortable. Luxley shook lightly from the conflict. What did his father mean? They had his life to talk about? What could that possibly imply? ‘A great many things,’ Luxley told himself.

“Come, Tutor; I will escort you out of the castle,” Luxley told Zan, not sure what he was actually doing. Not yet. He would form the plan on the way down.

Following his every move, Maggie kept a close tab on Luxley.

Just as a bit of payback, Luxley mused on taking the long way out of the castle. Heavens know he could use the time to think of a plan. Thinking of his father’s displeasure, however, precluded Luxley from taking such an action. He wanted to go straight to dinner. Otherwise, his father might ‘express’ displeasure with his son’s lollygagging.

Taking the most direct route, then, Luxley had little time to consider. He passed by the confused office clerks of the office he had trashed, Gatson still there helping to repair the mess, and felt like a prisoner being shown off to enemy forces. ‘He had caused a mess to get his way and now look at him!’ his situation seemed to shout. He caught Gatson bearing the same smug smile as Maggie.

Passing through the office, down the staircase, and through the guest entry-wing, they were outside before Luxley knew it. He still didn’t have a plan. So he did what he always did in these situations. He winged it.

With Zan a certain arm’s length away from him and across the drawbridge, Luxley had to pretend for the both of them while also giving Zan indistinct, yet direct, orders. Hopefully, Zan would pick up on what he was insinuating. Speaking politely, as one of his rank would to a Mid-Born tutor, he said, “Mister Zenny! Thank you today for the most excellent lesson on the philosophies of the common man! I honestly dare to say it inflamed my mind. I know you are new in town, so I will recommend the Father Floater Inn and Tavern in town here. Another lesson? Bright and early. Till then!”

Looking more confused than ever, Zan nevertheless complied and walked down the road leading to town with the swagger of someone who lived in town all his life. ‘Good,’ Luxley thought. ‘He will at least fit in… sort of.’

Luxley wanted to monitor Zan, of course, but he couldn’t, not with his father waiting for him. Turning his back much sooner than he would have liked, Luxley walked back through the castle, his indignation burning ever hotter. ‘Let’s just get dinner over with and then I can think about how to get Zan home,’ Luxley finally, at a mental breath, decided.

Near his room, Gatson and another guard were searching and talking. Seeing Luxley, they stopped their activities. “Out of my room, please. Sirs.” Luxley said.

Obviously, they refused. “I need to search for substances. Your father suspects—”

Luxley did not stick around the hear the dribble coming from their mouths. Really, father? You suspect me of being lose with the substances? Cretin of a man!

Maggie took off toward the long-term tutor’s private wing. Her presence was neither expected nor wanted by Luxley’s father during dinner. They had the leftovers from the main meal. Same as the rest of the generally employed.

Alone, except for the honor guard before the kitchen doors, same as every day since his birth, Luxley caught his breathing. Flustered, but needing to go through those doors quickly, he struggled to get his heart rate under control. In, out; in, out. Deeply. He held his breath. Slowly exhaled. Who had taught him that?

Not exactly ready to face his father, Luxley entered the dining hall.

#

Everything happened so fast, Zan’s heart never stopped fluttering, not for a single second. The arguments with Maggie, with the butler — the confrontation with Luxley’s father?! By the end, Zan survived by going with the flow. It was like being in the middle of a dozen fights at once with a rusty dagger. That was how Zan felt in the middle of it all. And now? He was walking toward a village he never had heard of in a distant land. A land he still didn’t know where exactly was; somewhere in the New Woodland Expanse, but other than that? Nada.

Zan had an orientation, though. Luxley had told him — not directly, sure, but still — to go to the ‘Father Floater Inn and Tavern.’ Zan supposed this was to be the meeting spot later in the night when he was free. Otherwise, why would he tell him to head there? Surely not because a room had already been paid or reserved? That would stretch the imagination.

Approaching the end of the long bluff leading to-and-away from the castle, Zan took one last look at the place he had come from. It was impressive. Tall towers scratched the sky as gargoyles etched in stone ringed every terrace and balcony Zan still glimpsed. Forged in the middle of a tall plateau, the castle lacked any means of entry or escape other than the sole drawbridge leading in to the castle.

Is Luxley a prince? Zan asked himself. I feel like a prince would be better composed than Luxley, though, right? I mean, he forgot a lot of crap today. Then when his father came out, he broke down. So odd.

Searching the sky for the Slipstream while he was gazing at the castle, Zan found nothing. It was a dim evening. Clouds darkening the sky. It is going to rain soon.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Resuming his march to the town, Zan was curious about what an Expanse settlement looked like and who the people seemed. He expected something like pictures of gray-tinted prison camps where no one had any freedom and insect-derived gruel was all they eat.

Instead, he found a perfectly normal town.

A fine mesh of cobblestone streets, hardly unlike what Zan had seen in his own country, lined the layout. Thatched tile roofs and chimneys. Window-sill gardens. It all seemed very normal. Except for one thing: sticking out of the street like thin, artificial trees, were something Zan had never seen before. Hard and cold to his touch, it felt like iron, but it culminated in a bulbous glass tip containing light.

Looking further ahead, Zan saw how these thin iron poles with lights attached lined the streets. Wandering down the streets at a tourist’s pace, fireflies congregated around the poles, creating beautiful scenes of tranquility. Children played around some poles trying to catch the bugs. “Beautiful,” Zan whispered.

Beautiful or not, Zan couldn’t gawk at the splendor of the place forever. He had a tavern to find.

The tavern, when he finally found it, after nearly an hour and more of wandering, was much smaller than he expected. Finely made, for sure, with many festive trinkets adorning its facade, attesting to the fine craftsmanship, drawing the eye like a strange picture.

Entering the establishment, Zan found himself a table. Taverns and bars were not his forte, but he liked the inside of this one. A lone bard fiddled with an instrument Zan had never seen while youthful attendants cleaned the tables and hummed merry tunes. A scent of cooking meats and wine filled the air, though somehow never overpowered the natural aroma of the building’s fine oak.

Sitting at his table, waiting for service, Zan noticed everything, even the tables, was of solid oak. There was a heft to them unseen in cheaper productions which attempted to use the veneer of quality wood. “Hey, what can I get for you, sir?” one busboy said once he got close enough to Zan’s table.

“Oh. My apologies. I do not have any money. I am new in the area and waiting for a friend to join me,” Zan said, seeing no reason to be dishonest, not while he was a guest in a strange land.

“That is alright, my fine sir! I will bring you something — on the house, of course — once I am done with my rounds. In town looking for tutoring work?” the busboy asked.

“How did you know?” Zan asked, surprised someone asked the exact reason he posed for.

“It is your outfit. You academics all dress the same — not like I mean that in a bad way, of course! I am only saying it is very noticeable,” the worker said with a laugh.

In the tumult of everything, Zan had forgotten he still wore the outfit Luxley had given him. Luxley had said it was the suit of a Mid-Born. Mid-Borns, Zan continued to remember, were often tutors to the High-Borns. This busboy mistaking him for what in his country might amount to an aristocratic academic seemed on the nose.

“Oh, yeah. Worry not. I wear this thing so often, I forget I am wearing it. But please, don’t let me distract you from your rounds! I wouldn’t want to get my new friend in trouble with his boss,” Zan replied.

“Well! Aren’t you just delightfully considerate! I will be back. Enjoy the ambiance,” the busboy said, returning to his work.

Phew! I think I handled that interaction well, considering I am not even from the country, let alone the area, Zan thought.

The busboy did not return for a while. As he expected.

In the meantime, he followed the recommendation from the busboy and ‘took in the ambience.’ Between the scent of food, oak, and the mellow music of bards, Zan was feeling extremely relaxed. Though not so relaxed, he felt like he was ‘off’ his edge; Zan glanced repeatedly at the windows whenever someone passed by in the street. ‘Come on, Luxley, where are you? I can’t stay here twaddling my thumbs forever.’

“Sorry for the lateness! I had to help a bit in the sink by cleaning up some dishes. We’re a laborer short today,” the busboy said, returning with a pleasant-smelling rag draped around his shoulders.

“Oh, I am sorry about that. Always harder when not everyone is pulling their weight,” Zan replied. Hoping his overly pleasing intent was well read.

“Not your fault, my good sir. Now, let me get you those freebies I promised! I will be right back, so hold tight!” the busboy said, leaving again.

When he returned, the busboy came with a platter of goods. Way more than Zan expected when he heard ‘a little something on the house.’ Four, in total, the busboy placed before him: two drinks, two little plates.

“Sweet-on-heat,” the busboy said, likely a local expression. “Allow me to explain the dishes before you. Here, in the standard wooden mule-mug, is water with ice. Some mint and cucumber flavors it. In the tankard is a local beer made from honeydew-hops. Please understand it is a very weak beer. Family friendly. On to the platter. A small selection of local cheeses supplemented by locally made crackers, berry-dominate spreads, and salted and smoked meats. If you are absolutely taken with any of these products, please know we make them right here in town and available for purchase. Questions? Concerns?”

“No, no — all this looks scrumptious! Incredible, really. Thank you so much for your hospitality…” Zan said, waiting to use the busboy’s name but realizing he actually did not know it.

“What is your name? I’m not sure I ever got it,” Zan said, drooling over the plates.

“Oh, me, sir? My name is Leon No-Father,” the busboy replied, baffling Zan.

Zan’s confusion must have been clear, because the busboy then exclaimed, his pitch high, “Oh! Sir! Are you a foreigner? I only thought you were from out of the province. I am so sorry! Of course, you are from afar; you are here to help us with an advanced technology, perhaps? I am so sorry. If I knew you were from away sooner, I would have been much more hospitable!”

Hurrying to defend the busboy, Zan said, “No, no, no! You have been wonderful, Leon. I am from a way, hence my confusion at your last name. Genuinely, my fine young sir, your hospitality has been exquisite!”

Looking relieved, Leon said, “Wonderful! We pride ourselves on our service here. I would feel bad if you weren’t having as good a time as possible!”

Again excusing the busboy, the two chirped at one another for a moment, making niceties. Really, the whole idea of small talk before a big talk just consumed Zan. He didn’t like not being direct. But the busboy was being accommodating, so he would not make a fuss out of it, especially when free food and drink had been proffered.

Getting to the water first, Zan was thirsty. He drank it down — ignoring the strange and hollow bendy-pylon the busboy had mysteriously stuck in his drink. It was delicious! Ice cold, as if they had pulled the ice directly out from a cave, filled the drink and kept it cool despite the impressive heat of the area.

Next, Zan tried the crackers and berry spread. Incredible was the short of it. Equal parts sweet, tart, and bitter, the crunch of the cracker, mixed with the berries, formed a new texture in Zan’s mouth as if by magic. He swallowed them well.

Then Zan tried the beer. Like spiked water with honey mixed in — a treat at the end of the day, Zan thought.

Finally, he tried the cheeses and salted meats. Only a couple pinches of each, but everything he tasted was beyond like anything he had tasted before.

Finishing his beer and water as he eat the remaining crackers, Zan felt nice and happy with the guest platter consumed; as small as the snack had been, it filled him up surprisingly well. Not that he wouldn’t eat a small feast’s worth of food when he returned to the command center, but now, it would be slightly less so.

“Was everything to your liking?” Leon asked, coming back after leaving to attend to the other guests.

“It was all amazing, Leon. Truly. Some of the best food I have ever had!” Zan said.

“I am so glad to hear you say that! You’ve just made my night! Your friend’s still not here?” Leon asked.

Zan had been so focused on the food, he actually forgot why he was here in the first place — to meet Luxley! Oh, man, Zan said to himself. What is Luxley can’t sneak out and meet me soon? How long will I last up here? How long before the local authorities figure me a bum and toss my ass in jail?

As bad visions and worse paranoias fled into his mind, Leon brought him down to the earth. “I am only curious! Spend as long as you need here. It is our slow time of year, so you’re not using up a table of anything. If your friend doesn’t show by an hour-passed midnight, I will need to toss ya out! But you could come to my family’s home if you needed. We always have a spare cot.”

Leon again touched Zan’s heart. What a generous and kind soul!

“Thank you very much, Leon. I appreciate it. I do. I am sure my friend will be along any moment now,” Zan said, a wide smile beaming across his face.

“I’m happy to hear that! Okay, I gotta go do my job. It was nice meeting you, Mister Zenny!” Leon said, backing out and returning to his labors.

Truly, I again told myself. What a nice people.

Speaking of nice people, Luxley walked through the door minutes later.