“So, you’re lost?” my lady asked, her words not quite as harsh as usual.
“Yesh,” the little girl nodded, wiping her eyes as she took a seat on the cracked stairs and leaned against the railing that supported the stairs. “Searched mommy, but I can’t find her anymore. Since last night.”
Her tattered clothes would have made it evident that she was a commoner, but my lady wasn’t in any better shape either. Casey had returned to the arena, for Beth needed her moral support, so only my lady had come rushing down the stairs in rage.
“But why did you touch my mongrel?” my lady narrowed her eyes, not quite happy with the snot on my pants. Neither was I.
“He pushed me down!” she complained, her eyes dropping to the ground.
“Hey, kid,” I loomed over her dangerously, my hands on my waist. “You want me to show you how bad kids get tortured for lying?”
She bowed her head, fear impending in her eyes, as she tried to lean toward my lady sitting beside her. As expected, Letitia deftly avoided her, and she fell sideways, earning a bulge on her head as she collided against the corner of the upper stair. More crying was expected, but some peculiar shouts from the commoners weren’t.
My lady removed her cowl in rage and glared at the assiduous commuters who quickly reverted back to their tasks, may it be loitering around the local shops or rushing back to the arena. Some even turned around to piss against the poles, I presumed drunk. The hygiene was seriously my concern, for all these males didn’t really help make the capital a better place.
“Stop crying,” my lady waved her hand in exasperation and gestured for me to cast [Heal]. I acquiesced begrudgingly.
The little girl sobbed for a while in silence, and my lady sat beside her, annoyed, quite unbecoming of a villainess lady. Then again, she had always had a soft spot for kids, ones who didn’t glare at me, that is. Or ones who didn’t throw tantrums. Ones who did what my lady asked. Ones who weren’t mischievous. Ones…
Well, she hated kids, didn’t she?
I stared at my lady in amusement, and she raised in eyebrows in question before pulling me to sit beside her. We were blocking the left side of the stairs now.
Nevertheless, you don't ask undead to move since you might never be able to move for eternity.
“Move, bastard!” a man with his group of two cronies stopped by, and I shifted askew, letting them cross the threshold to the arena. They scurried away under my lady’s glare and the lambent shades the King’s statue– flanked by the stairs– offered.
Fortunately for them, I was one easygoing undead.
I glanced at the sword of King Berzilius that pointed toward the distant black winter clouds in the sky that had buried the bright sun overhead. Carriages rushed past the street, ushering the slow-moving commuters to run away from the roads. Residences revealed in the distance, away from the market adjacent to the arena that wasn’t as boisterous as the market plaza close to the Marquis manor.
The little girl sneezed, and my lady removed her cloak and handed it to the girl. I raised my eyes in question, but my lady just shook her head and shrugged.
Did the kid remind my lady of her past self? Well, I was beside her all the time, so I suppose she wasn’t lonely.
“Do you know the general locale of your house, girl?”
“Ken,” the little girl said. “Ken’s my name.”
“We didn’t ask for your name, brat,” I said, peering over my lady’s head.
The little girl pouted, and my lady giggled before placing her finger on my lips. “I was lost once,” my lady said, “Do you remember?”
“That was the last time you cried–“
“Not that,” she glared at me in annoyance. “You promised me that you will find me anywhere in the world.”
“I had to stop your wails, my lady,” I said, and almost saw her puffed cheeks. "But well, it won't be hard to find you. There's only one Letitia, after all."
She dismissed me with her hand and glanced at the brat.
I didn't miss the subtle smile on her face as I wrapped my cloak around her and covered her head with the cowl. It surprised me that my casual comments brought a smile on her face. Did I grow stronger after transmigrating? That was bad for the world and all other realms.
“There were a lot of houses. All grey, some grimy. Worn out paint,” Ken interrupted our reminiscing talk, biting her lips. “Blood in my house, knife in my daddy’s stomach. Mommy killed him because he hit her and me. And she disappeared. I cried the night to sleep. But tears died today.”
“Oh wow,” her words had me excited, for there was something good brewing in the kid’s house. “How many stabs, little girl? Did she pull out the gut? Or gouge out an eye?”
“Rudolf!” my lady pinched my cheek hard before turning to the little girl. “Is there a market around your place?”
“Yesh,” her filthy pony bobbed as her eyes roamed around the vicinity. “A big one. With fishes.”
My lady’s eyes lit up at the mention of fishes, but mine for the reason that we could see some blood in a cramped house. We got up, first me, followed by my lady, and lastly the girl who tripped and hurt her head. She stood up on her own, and I healed her bleeding forehead at my lady’s edict.
The market plaza was quite far away, given that we were crunched up in the western part of the capital, and a carriage would be our only mode of transport should we ever decide to get out of the locality. This meant we would earn Beth’s curses for missing her match, but we never raised the point thanks to our tacit understanding. We took matters at hand when we needed to. For now, I wanted to see some blood, and my lady wanted to help a girl who resembled her childhood brat. Self, I mean.
We ambled through the streets, shades of houses varying from sandalwood white to deep yellow and some other stores glimmering in dark brown. The tiles on the roof glittered with red or emerald at times, if not murky yellow. Colorful bricks adorned the pavement to the arena, but usual grey bricks lingered around the rest of the vicinity. A couple of empty carriages were ready for us as we ambled to the parking, or Kygans, as they rightfully called in their unique tongue.
“Market Plaza,” I said to the horse, and the coachman nodded, beckoning us to get on the closed carriage.
The girl struggled to reach the steps of high-steps of the carriage, so I was forced to stuff her inside the carriage under my lady’s pout. When I turned to lift her up, she shook her head hurriedly, wrapping her arms around the shoulders, her ears slightly red. By now, I had ascertained the new, unfamiliar expression as her embarrassment, but it often surprised me that my lady got embarrassed at my casual remarks. She was very bold behind closed doors or when we were alone but struggled to maintain the demeanor in public.
The carriage had two seats opposite each other, and I dumped the kid on one side before taking a seat beside my lady. If some thugs attacked the carriage, then I was saving my lady first, and the fate of other mortals wasn’t my concern. The carriage rumbled for a while as the horse trotted along the roads, my eyes scanning the shifting locality through the small opening in the curtain draped over the carriage.
The wheels of the carriage churned the rocks beneath at times, shuddering violently before resuming the even pace that put the little girl to sleep. My lady covered the little brat with the cloak before she leaned against my arms and fell asleep, the rattling of the carriage forcing her to rest her head on my thighs. I thought of removing my overcoat but decided not to, thinking about her cold resistance. She had my cloak that was washed just last night. I was the one who needed an additional layer of clothing.
It was a long journey, probably slightly more than an hour, but we somehow reached the market plaza despite the Escavs intruding on our ardent journey multiple times. The supposed criminal responsible for breaking into their gallows hadn’t been caught yet, which was heavily reflected in their incompetence. The skeptical ruler’s trust in the men had started dwindling, and his unwarranted doubts toward the noble houses were worsening each passing day. I suppose this would provide an excellent stage for the crown prince to step up and restore peace under the broiling civil uneasiness.
I shook my lady slightly, gripping her hands to prevent getting my arms scratched and my face marred. It did help despite the glare and my lady jumped out of the carriage once the rattling had died down.
I threw a ball of water on the kid’s face, startling her awake, and pointed outside the partially open curtains. Her cheeks puffed out as she closed her eyes at me and forcefully turned her head to her left before jumping down from the carriage.
Was she trying to cast a spell? Kids and their antics were beyond the understanding of common undead.
I paid thirty shins to the coachman once my lady handed me the money and glanced at the familiar bakehouse in longing. Letitia pulled me away from my beloved bread, and we followed the kid who ran around the streets in familiarity. The stores were vacant, streets deserted with chilly winds that wouldn’t have stopped the gyrating tumbleweeds if there were any. The emptiness was attributed to the foiled King’s birthday, the graduation tournament, and undead who enjoyed the bread.
Ken stopped outside the gates of a rundown house, grime clinging close to the walls with crumbling red tiles that adorned the portico. The gate creaked open as the kid pushed it, and we stepped inside, my lady excited for surprises waiting in store for us.
You can hardly blame her for her preference for ambiguities of the world because I groomed her for the past ten years.
I wanted to believe that helping the kid came second to her after her ardent zeal to uncover the mysteries, but I doubted the pipe dream would be realized anytime soon. She was a human underneath the shell of undead persona, so there was no helping that.
We saw a woman sprawled against the degrading wall of the foyer, and Ken burst out crying, glancing at the aforementioned woman. My lady stood before me, clutching my arm as the distinct smell of blood assuaged us. The woman’s face was marred with tears, but her gaze toward us wasn’t a friendly one, despite the fact that we had just helped her reunite with her daughter.
Typical ungrateful mortals. They never ever change despite all the novel horseshit they spew in every new century.
“They helped Ken, mommy,” the little girl spoke up for us, but it made little difference.
“We know you killed your husband, lady. If we wanted you arrested, we would have brought Escavs and not your kid. Though, I doubt Escavs could lock you up in the gallows given their current dilemma.”
“What do you want?!” the woman asked, her eyes less repulsive.
“You can leave the city, commoner,” my lady spoke, much to my surprise. “There’s a band of thieves southwards who’ll try to rob you if you got enough shins. Get them to help you by explaining your plight. If it doesn’t work, tell them a portly mercenary sent you and that he’s coming to collect money soon.”
She didn’t wait for tears of gratitude, nor for me to check out the body, and stormed out of the house. I sighed and followed her out, trying to get a peek inside the open windows for signs of bloodshed. I was disappointed but obliging to my lady’s wishes came naturally after having served as her butler for a long while.
“Why is your mother still your weakness, my lady?” I asked as we reached the streets. I didn’t quite like the fact that Chantelle was holding her back, even after almost a decade long of my unbiased machinations.
“That’s the human in me, mongrel,” my lady had a shadow of a smile on her face. “One that lets me obsess over you unconditionally. You don't want to be forced to kiss my feet every morning now, do you?”
I didn't miss the amusement in her tone.
"Do I?" I laughed, and she stared at me, flabbergasted.
"Pervert."
"I'm not," I pointed at the bread on a random display of a store beside the empty streets. "In exchange, buy me more bread."
She chuckled, and we ambled back to the manor in silence, no longer interested in riding the carriage back to the arena.
“So, you’re lost?” my lady asked, her words not quite as harsh as usual.
“Yesh,” the little girl nodded, wiping her eyes as she took a seat on the cracked stairs and leaned against the railing that supported the stairs. “Searched mommy, but I can’t find her anymore. Since last night.”
Her tattered clothes would have made it evident that she was a commoner, but my lady wasn’t in any better shape either. Casey had returned to the arena, for Beth needed her moral support, so only my lady had come rushing down the stairs in rage.
“But why did you touch my mongrel?” my lady narrowed her eyes, not quite happy with the snot on my pants. Neither was I.
“He pushed me down!” she complained, her eyes dropping to the ground.
“Hey, kid,” I loomed over her dangerously, my hands on my waist. “You want me to show you how bad kids get tortured for lying?”
She bowed her head, fear impending in her eyes, as she tried to lean toward my lady sitting beside her. As expected, Letitia deftly avoided her, and she fell sideways, earning a bulge on her head as she collided against the corner of the upper stair. More crying was expected, but some peculiar shouts from the commoners weren’t.
My lady removed her cowl in rage and glared at the assiduous commuters who quickly reverted back to their tasks, may it be loitering around the local shops or rushing back to the arena. Some even turned around to piss against the poles, I presumed drunk. The hygiene was seriously my concern, for all these males didn’t really help make the capital a better place.
“Stop crying,” my lady waved her hand in exasperation and gestured for me to cast [Heal]. I acquiesced begrudgingly.
The little girl sobbed for a while in silence, and my lady sat beside her, annoyed, quite unbecoming of a villainess lady. Then again, she had always had a soft spot for kids, ones who didn’t glare at me, that is. Or ones who didn’t throw tantrums. Ones who did what my lady asked. Ones who weren’t mischievous. Ones…
Well, she hated kids, didn’t she?
I stared at my lady in amusement, and she raised in eyebrows in question before pulling me to sit beside her. We were blocking the left side of the stairs now.
Nevertheless, you don't ask undead to move since you might never be able to move for eternity.
“Move, bastard!” a man with his group of two cronies stopped by, and I shifted askew, letting them cross the threshold to the arena. They scurried away under my lady’s glare and the lambent shades the King’s statue– flanked by the stairs– offered.
Fortunately for them, I was one easygoing undead.
I glanced at the sword of King Berzilius that pointed toward the distant black winter clouds in the sky that had buried the bright sun overhead. Carriages rushed past the street, ushering the slow-moving commuters to run away from the roads. Residences revealed in the distance, away from the market adjacent to the arena that wasn’t as boisterous as the market plaza close to the Marquis manor.
The little girl sneezed, and my lady removed her cloak and handed it to the girl. I raised my eyes in question, but my lady just shook her head and shrugged.
Did the kid remind my lady of her past self? Well, I was beside her all the time, so I suppose she wasn’t lonely.
“Do you know the general locale of your house, girl?”
“Ken,” the little girl said. “Ken’s my name.”
“We didn’t ask for your name, brat,” I said, peering over my lady’s head.
The little girl pouted, and my lady giggled before placing her finger on my lips. “I was lost once,” my lady said, “Do you remember?”
“That was the last time you cried–“
“Not that,” she glared at me in annoyance. “You promised me that you will find me anywhere in the world.”
“I had to stop your wails, my lady,” I said, and almost saw her puffed cheeks. "But well, it won't be hard to find you. There's only one Letitia, after all."
She dismissed me with her hand and glanced at the brat.
I didn't miss the subtle smile on her face as I wrapped my cloak around her and covered her head with the cowl. It surprised me that my casual comments brought a smile on her face. Did I grow stronger after transmigrating? That was bad for the world and all other realms.
“There were a lot of houses. All grey, some grimy. Worn out paint,” Ken interrupted our reminiscing talk, biting her lips. “Blood in my house, knife in my daddy’s stomach. Mommy killed him because he hit her and me. And she disappeared. I cried the night to sleep. But tears died today.”
“Oh wow,” her words had me excited, for there was something good brewing in the kid’s house. “How many stabs, little girl? Did she pull out the gut? Or gouge out an eye?”
“Rudolf!” my lady pinched my cheek hard before turning to the little girl. “Is there a market around your place?”
“Yesh,” her filthy pony bobbed as her eyes roamed around the vicinity. “A big one. With fishes.”
My lady’s eyes lit up at the mention of fishes, but mine for the reason that we could see some blood in a cramped house. We got up, first me, followed by my lady, and lastly the girl who tripped and hurt her head. She stood up on her own, and I healed her bleeding forehead at my lady’s edict.
The market plaza was quite far away, given that we were crunched up in the western part of the capital, and a carriage would be our only mode of transport should we ever decide to get out of the locality. This meant we would earn Beth’s curses for missing her match, but we never raised the point thanks to our tacit understanding. We took matters at hand when we needed to. For now, I wanted to see some blood, and my lady wanted to help a girl who resembled her childhood brat. Self, I mean.
We ambled through the streets, shades of houses varying from sandalwood white to deep yellow and some other stores glimmering in dark brown. The tiles on the roof glittered with red or emerald at times, if not murky yellow. Colorful bricks adorned the pavement to the arena, but usual grey bricks lingered around the rest of the vicinity. A couple of empty carriages were ready for us as we ambled to the parking, or Kygans, as they rightfully called in their unique tongue.
“Market Plaza,” I said to the horse, and the coachman nodded, beckoning us to get on the closed carriage.
The girl struggled to reach the steps of high-steps of the carriage, so I was forced to stuff her inside the carriage under my lady’s pout. When I turned to lift her up, she shook her head hurriedly, wrapping her arms around the shoulders, her ears slightly red. By now, I had ascertained the new, unfamiliar expression as her embarrassment, but it often surprised me that my lady got embarrassed at my casual remarks. She was very bold behind closed doors or when we were alone but struggled to maintain the demeanor in public.
The carriage had two seats opposite each other, and I dumped the kid on one side before taking a seat beside my lady. If some thugs attacked the carriage, then I was saving my lady first, and the fate of other mortals wasn’t my concern. The carriage rumbled for a while as the horse trotted along the roads, my eyes scanning the shifting locality through the small opening in the curtain draped over the carriage.
The wheels of the carriage churned the rocks beneath at times, shuddering violently before resuming the even pace that put the little girl to sleep. My lady covered the little brat with the cloak before she leaned against my arms and fell asleep, the rattling of the carriage forcing her to rest her head on my thighs. I thought of removing my overcoat but decided not to, thinking about her cold resistance. She had my cloak that was washed just last night. I was the one who needed an additional layer of clothing.
It was a long journey, probably slightly more than an hour, but we somehow reached the market plaza despite the Escavs intruding on our ardent journey multiple times. The supposed criminal responsible for breaking into their gallows hadn’t been caught yet, which was heavily reflected in their incompetence. The skeptical ruler’s trust in the men had started dwindling, and his unwarranted doubts toward the noble houses were worsening each passing day. I suppose this would provide an excellent stage for the crown prince to step up and restore peace under the broiling civil uneasiness.
I shook my lady slightly, gripping her hands to prevent getting my arms scratched and my face marred. It did help despite the glare and my lady jumped out of the carriage once the rattling had died down.
I threw a ball of water on the kid’s face, startling her awake, and pointed outside the partially open curtains. Her cheeks puffed out as she closed her eyes at me and forcefully turned her head to her left before jumping down from the carriage.
Was she trying to cast a spell? Kids and their antics were beyond the understanding of common undead.
I paid thirty shins to the coachman once my lady handed me the money and glanced at the familiar bakehouse in longing. Letitia pulled me away from my beloved bread, and we followed the kid who ran around the streets in familiarity. The stores were vacant, streets deserted with chilly winds that wouldn’t have stopped the gyrating tumbleweeds if there were any. The emptiness was attributed to the foiled King’s birthday, the graduation tournament, and undead who enjoyed the bread.
Ken stopped outside the gates of a rundown house, grime clinging close to the walls with crumbling red tiles that adorned the portico. The gate creaked open as the kid pushed it, and we stepped inside, my lady excited for surprises waiting in store for us.
You can hardly blame her for her preference for ambiguities of the world because I groomed her for the past ten years.
I wanted to believe that helping the kid came second to her after her ardent zeal to uncover the mysteries, but I doubted the pipe dream would be realized anytime soon. She was a human underneath the shell of undead persona, so there was no helping that.
We saw a woman sprawled against the degrading wall of the foyer, and Ken burst out crying, glancing at the aforementioned woman. My lady stood before me, clutching my arm as the distinct smell of blood assuaged us. The woman’s face was marred with tears, but her gaze toward us wasn’t a friendly one, despite the fact that we had just helped her reunite with her daughter.
Typical ungrateful mortals. They never ever change despite all the novel horseshit they spew in every new century.
“They helped Ken, mommy,” the little girl spoke up for us, but it made little difference.
“We know you killed your husband, lady. If we wanted you arrested, we would have brought Escavs and not your kid. Though, I doubt Escavs could lock you up in the gallows given their current dilemma.”
“What do you want?!” the woman asked, her eyes less repulsive.
“You can leave the city, commoner,” my lady spoke, much to my surprise. “There’s a band of thieves southwards who’ll try to rob you if you got enough shins. Get them to help you by explaining your plight. If it doesn’t work, tell them a portly mercenary sent you and that he’s coming to collect money soon.”
She didn’t wait for tears of gratitude, nor for me to check out the body, and stormed out of the house. I sighed and followed her out, trying to get a peek inside the open windows for signs of bloodshed. I was disappointed but obliging to my lady’s wishes came naturally after having served as her butler for a long while.
“Why is your mother still your weakness, my lady?” I asked as we reached the streets. I didn’t quite like the fact that Chantelle was holding her back, even after almost a decade long of my unbiased machinations.
“That’s the human in me, mongrel,” my lady had a shadow of a smile on her face. “One that lets me obsess over you unconditionally. You don't want to be forced to kiss my feet every morning now, do you?”
I didn't miss the amusement in her tone.
"Do I?" I laughed, and she stared at me, flabbergasted.
"Pervert."
"I'm not," I pointed at the bread on a random display of a store beside the empty streets. "In exchange, buy me more bread."
She chuckled, and we ambled back to the manor in silence, no longer interested in riding the carriage back to the arena.
