41st Day of Summer, 516 AV
"S-Sir?" Tulip quivered against the door of the study, struggling hard not to let the platter in her hand tremble lest the silver or porcelain shake and clatter. "Your supper, master. It's getting-"
The door opened slowly, but there was no hand against the latch. The slave inhaled sharply as she saw her master sitting at his desk with his back to her, overflowing with all manner of parchments, letters, books and scrolls like some vast graveyard of literature. She wasn’t looking at that however, but instead at the hand held out to his side, half closed, as if he were holding a door handle and pulling it open.
"Leave it on the table."
She did as she was told. Never once a thank you from her master, or even a nod of acknowledgment, there was nothing from master Alaric Dumat save his orders, instructions, or the terse commands that were to be obeyed without question or hesitation. She remembers often how once she had defied him, in the early days, standing up to his curtness in a vain and childish attempt to salvage some of her dignity in the process. That's was when he had first showed her what he truly was, and what her ‘dignity’ meant to him.
She bent and placed the tray down, and Dumat turned to her slightly. She dared not look, but found herself doing just that anyway, catching his eye under thick, graying brows. That glimmer, that silent sheen of a smirk that existed solely in the look he gave her, It was enough to make her bones quake.
Tulip had lived in the Sea of Grass her whole life before they’d caught, chained and dragged her kicking and screaming up north. Since then she had raised two children and lost three more to the red fever. She'd seen men she hated die, just like those she had loved. She'd done awful things to provide for her kin, both to herself and to others. Yet through all that, Tulip was not an evil or sadistic soul. She was just trying to survive like everyone else, and in a way the Drykas born took some small measure of comfort in that. She could not however, say the same for her master whose gaze now served to remind her just what kind of man she was looking back at… Alaric Dumat was a monster who craved power. Not for the glory or the prestige; but for what it allowed him to do. To others, to their hopes, to their dreams. He reveled in it as much as he did his coin and luxury. It was why men feared him so, because they knew he would do anything -sacrifice and destroy anything- just for a little more…
"An-Anything else, S-Sir?"
“You may go.”
Again, she did as she was told, but this time with a little more haste in her step. It was only when the slave had made it back to the pantry downstairs did she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She'd passed the two Aquila guardsman on the way -one in the hallway outside Dumat’s chambers and the other forever making the rounds up and down the stairs between them.
"I can’t take this anymore..." She murmured to herself, forehead cooling on a wet rag she had retrieved from one of the filled wash basins. "Maybe I can-"
... a breeze?
Yes, she was sure she felt it. Tulip frowned and turned, stepping from the cool pantry into an equally cold wind against her face. She followed where it came from, herbs and hanging spices rustling softly as the breeze brushed by them and Tulip's frown turned into a scowl. If bloody Caleb had been sneaking in here again and left that bloody window open, so help her god she’d-
There it was, flung open wide as the aperture!
"That little...”
Oh, that cocky manchild would rue the day he made this mistake again. How many times had she told him! She stomped over to the window, her mind awash with all the vile and foul curse words she’d spent years learning from her uncles and years more teaching her children never to repeat out loud.
She reached the window and moved to slam it shut, but that was when she saw it; a smear on the sill. It was a footprint, and it was fresh. He can’t even clean up after himself, that damn… boy…
Tulip’s frowned deepened and the outrage drained from her face, replaced by confusion and suspicion as she abruptly remembered; It couldn’t be Caleb, he and his boys had been out in the wilds raiding for nearly a week now, they’d have only just come back today, if even, and knowing him, he’d be spending the whole day at the tavern, along with all the coin he’d earned. But if not Caleb, then who-
She heard the movement behind her a tick too late, sliding fast and smooth from behind the pantry door where it had been waiting for her to turn her back. She tried to turn around, to part her lips and let out a cry, but a rough, calloused hand silenced her before she even had a chance.
Panic set in, or at least it would have had not the shattering blow that followed splintered her vision and plunged her world into darkness.
The door opened slowly, but there was no hand against the latch. The slave inhaled sharply as she saw her master sitting at his desk with his back to her, overflowing with all manner of parchments, letters, books and scrolls like some vast graveyard of literature. She wasn’t looking at that however, but instead at the hand held out to his side, half closed, as if he were holding a door handle and pulling it open.
"Leave it on the table."
She did as she was told. Never once a thank you from her master, or even a nod of acknowledgment, there was nothing from master Alaric Dumat save his orders, instructions, or the terse commands that were to be obeyed without question or hesitation. She remembers often how once she had defied him, in the early days, standing up to his curtness in a vain and childish attempt to salvage some of her dignity in the process. That's was when he had first showed her what he truly was, and what her ‘dignity’ meant to him.
She bent and placed the tray down, and Dumat turned to her slightly. She dared not look, but found herself doing just that anyway, catching his eye under thick, graying brows. That glimmer, that silent sheen of a smirk that existed solely in the look he gave her, It was enough to make her bones quake.
Tulip had lived in the Sea of Grass her whole life before they’d caught, chained and dragged her kicking and screaming up north. Since then she had raised two children and lost three more to the red fever. She'd seen men she hated die, just like those she had loved. She'd done awful things to provide for her kin, both to herself and to others. Yet through all that, Tulip was not an evil or sadistic soul. She was just trying to survive like everyone else, and in a way the Drykas born took some small measure of comfort in that. She could not however, say the same for her master whose gaze now served to remind her just what kind of man she was looking back at… Alaric Dumat was a monster who craved power. Not for the glory or the prestige; but for what it allowed him to do. To others, to their hopes, to their dreams. He reveled in it as much as he did his coin and luxury. It was why men feared him so, because they knew he would do anything -sacrifice and destroy anything- just for a little more…
"An-Anything else, S-Sir?"
“You may go.”
Again, she did as she was told, but this time with a little more haste in her step. It was only when the slave had made it back to the pantry downstairs did she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She'd passed the two Aquila guardsman on the way -one in the hallway outside Dumat’s chambers and the other forever making the rounds up and down the stairs between them.
"I can’t take this anymore..." She murmured to herself, forehead cooling on a wet rag she had retrieved from one of the filled wash basins. "Maybe I can-"
... a breeze?
Yes, she was sure she felt it. Tulip frowned and turned, stepping from the cool pantry into an equally cold wind against her face. She followed where it came from, herbs and hanging spices rustling softly as the breeze brushed by them and Tulip's frown turned into a scowl. If bloody Caleb had been sneaking in here again and left that bloody window open, so help her god she’d-
There it was, flung open wide as the aperture!
"That little...”
Oh, that cocky manchild would rue the day he made this mistake again. How many times had she told him! She stomped over to the window, her mind awash with all the vile and foul curse words she’d spent years learning from her uncles and years more teaching her children never to repeat out loud.
She reached the window and moved to slam it shut, but that was when she saw it; a smear on the sill. It was a footprint, and it was fresh. He can’t even clean up after himself, that damn… boy…
Tulip’s frowned deepened and the outrage drained from her face, replaced by confusion and suspicion as she abruptly remembered; It couldn’t be Caleb, he and his boys had been out in the wilds raiding for nearly a week now, they’d have only just come back today, if even, and knowing him, he’d be spending the whole day at the tavern, along with all the coin he’d earned. But if not Caleb, then who-
She heard the movement behind her a tick too late, sliding fast and smooth from behind the pantry door where it had been waiting for her to turn her back. She tried to turn around, to part her lips and let out a cry, but a rough, calloused hand silenced her before she even had a chance.
Panic set in, or at least it would have had not the shattering blow that followed splintered her vision and plunged her world into darkness.
