The Drunken Swordsman and The Maid

Alright, alright, maybe I was a bit quick to judge. This isn't so bad. It could definitely be a whole lot worse.

I get up from bed, and let me tell you, I feel like I'm barely reaching the height of a garden gnome.

Not exactly the tall, brooding, and handsome hero I imagined. But I can work with this.

I make my way to the window, trying to see what's happening out there.

It’s the dead of night, but the streets are alive with action! People scurrying about, horses and carts rolling by, everyone with a purpose. It's like organized chaos out there. And the variety of people too! Plain-looking folks mixed in with the most exotic bunch I've ever seen. Amaraia wasn't kidding about the diversity here.

I try peering into some buildings, but no luck. It's like they've got the curtains drawn on my nosy little self.

A few buildings stand tall with walls of stone and some shallower ones that seem made out of brick. I step away from the window and crack the door open a bit, peering outside cautiously, checking if anyone might happen to be lurking around the hallways.

It’s a ghost town out there. No one is around, and it's darker than a black hole, save for those dim lights on either side down the hall. I slip through the doorway, ninja-style, and close it quietly behind me.

I tiptoe through the hallway, careful not to disturb a single soul. Even the walls here are all posh and fancy.

I spot more doors, some busts of people I don't recognize, and all sorts of fancy hallway decorations. But as I near the end of this fancy corridor, something grabs my attention.

Behold, a giant painted portrait of a family.

Now, I'm no genealogy expert, but I take a few educated guesses as to who's who in this picture. These people must be important in some way or another. I gotta say, it's a bit like walking through a museum of mysterious family secrets. I wonder what kind of stories they could tell? But for now, it's just a big ol' mystery waiting to be unraveled.

Alright, let's see what we got here. From my expert art critic perspective, we've got quite the family portrait going on.

The father, oh boy, he's got that neat and dapper look, like he just walked out of a fancy schmancy magazine. Dark long hair, pale skin, and not a single emotion on his face. Looks like he's the stoic type, huh?

And right next to him, we've got the mother, sitting all proper and elegant. But don't let that fool you, she's got this malevolent smile that could give you the chills. Silver hair flows down past her shoulders like some gothic waterfall.

And here comes my favorite part, the dynamic duo! The cheerful boy to the left, rocking a dark robe, windswept hair, and even some pointy ears to boot. Looks like he's taking after his dapper dad.

On the other side, we've got the girl.

Gotta be the boy's older sis, I'd bet my money on it. Messy ink-black hair, pointed ears (like it's a family trait), and those eyes!

A shade of red that could stop you in your tracks.

And check her out, dressed in elegant black, with that gentle expression... but something's off, and I can't quite put my finger on it. Guess there's more to this family than meets the eye.

An interesting elven-looking family for sure. They've gotta be the ones who live here.

Now, where do I fit into this whole household dynamic? Am I the boy in the portrait, or maybe just a guest passing through?

Heck, maybe I'm the humble servant boy here to fetch the fancy snacks.

I'll have to find a mirror somewhere to be sure. But that's easier said than done. Attempting to find one while stumbling around in an unfamiliar house in dim lighting and also trying to be as quiet as possible is not an ideal method of otherworldly exploration.

I just need to keep my wits about me and avoid crashing into any furniture.

✠ ✠ ✠

In hindsight, perhaps this wasn't such a great plan, considering how hard it has been to move around unnoticed thus far. And now I have to hide. Again. The first time, I overheard some gruff voices that screamed ‘don’t mess with us.’ And just now, I caught a glimpse of someone in a maid outfit.

Diversity thy name is whatever this place is.

I'm not exactly sure how big this house is, but the number of rooms seems never ending. I haven't even tackled any stairs yet, so who knows how many stories this place has.

Could be a tower, or maybe even a whole-ass castle for crying out loud. But nah, I don't think so. I remember peeking out the bedroom window, and I wasn't that high up.

So, maybe not a full-blown castle, but it sure does feel like one to a guy like me.

I take a deep breath, hoping the coast is clear. Slowly, I make my way towards a staircase, my ears on high alert for literally any sound.

All's quiet upstairs. Hopefully.

I reach a landing and pause, scanning the area. It’s deathly silent again.

I'm at a crossroads here. I should probably go back upstairs and catch some Zs, but dang, the thrill of late-night exploration is just too irresistible. Plus, maybe roaming downstairs will give me some insights into the folks living here.

But honestly, I hope I don't run into anyone. The world seems nice enough on the surface, but who knows what kind of characters dwell in this house. If anything happened to me I'd just be back seeing Amaraia again! And, as beautiful as she is, I'd hate to die again so quickly.

As I weigh my options, a strange sound from below makes me nearly fart my soul out. Grunts, heaves, and the unmistakable clang of metal. Looks like I'm not the only night owl around here.

I take slow steps forward, following the sound. The closer I get, the louder the fighting noises become. As I approach the entryway, instead of charging in like a hero, I opt for some cheeky peeking.

Curse these tiny legs! I'm on my tippy toes, barely able to see a thing through this small barred window.

What do I see? A... guy? Swinging a sword around like he's dancing in a tavern. He's got some serious muscles on him and is moving with no apparentness at all like that of a town drunk. Funny thing is, he kinda reminds me of the father in that fancy family portrait I saw earlier.

But wait, he's just swinging that sword around for... nobody? Is he… practicing, maybe?

I pull back from the window, deep in thought. This guy might own this ridiculously huge place. So, if he's the big boss, where does that leave me in this grand mansion of mystery?

My stomach has other plans. It decides to remind me of its existence with a dramatic rumble as I sit down in this dingy hall.

I'm hungry. Like, ‘I-need-an-onigiri-now’ kind of hungry.

But before I can get too lost in food fantasies, my ears pick up the sound of approaching footsteps.

I wince in total apprehension as somebody is about to round the corner.

"Hello?" The girlish voice asks out loud. "Is anybody here?"

Before I can do anything, someone runs smack dab into me.

It was the maid from before. She's now kneeling down to get to my level, her eyes filled with surprise.

"Oh my goodness! Master!" She exclaims a bit hushed, staring wide eyed at me. "Are you alright? What are you doing out of bed this late?"

"Yeah, thanks," I reply, smiling awkwardly.

Wait did she say master? I could've sworn she just called me 'master'.

She says it with absolute certainty, almost as if she wasn't kidding around.

"Master Lucien 'The Doombringer' Valerian Marcellus Draven Ignarius Alarion Seraphis Brahmeus. Please, for your safety you know you can't be down here this late, your father would have your head if he found you prowling about his training room." She states sternly whilst still kneeling to get to my eye level.

Yeah, she's definitely not kidding around.

While I may finally know my ridiculously long-ass name, that's still pretty much all I know for now.

I still haven't figured out my place in this house or this whole new world I'm supposedly part of.

"Oh, um... yeah, I, uh... was just..." Gosh, what am I gonna say? I'm totally lost here.

I don't have a clue about anything in this place. Sighs, guess I'll have to wing it.

Uh, could I, you know, get some food? I had a nightmare and woke up starving.” I whisper trying to play into the innocence.

I glance down at my feet, feeling the nervous sweat starting to form. Her gaze is intense. Sweats even more, and then I blurt out, "I mean, I'm really sorry to bother you with such a weird request."

She looks at me, and her expression softens. Relieved, I think. "Don't worry about it Master Lucien. But you mustn't bother your father during his training, may I remind you, when he trains in the art of Drunken Sword Fighting, he tends to be a more method actor. Breaking his focus could be deadly."

Ah, so that sword waver dude is actually my old man? A high-functioning alcoholic who can still handle a sword? Yeah, no way I could've guessed that right away!

Also I supposedly just woke up from a nightmare. How is this comforting for a kid?

Nervously, I glance down again, hoping she gets the message. She then places a comforting hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle rub.

Softly, she tries to reassure me.

"You must understand young master, we're here to protect you from harm's way. I did not mean to frighten you. Come along, we're going to the kitchen." She smiles sweetly at me, guiding me back through where I came from and past several other doors.

We come to another hallway that leads to a grand archway. The maid extends her hand out, letting me pass through first.

Wow, that kitchen is something else. It's like medieval elegance took a trip to the palace and they had a wild lovechild or something. The sweet after-scent of delicious meals lingers in the air, making my stomach do the happy dance. And that aroma of baked bread… Whoever's cooking in here is an absolute wizard!

This kitchen is such a culture shock to me. This is nothing like my grotty apartment back home.

Everything here is so fancy, clean, and super organized. Every single thing has its designated spot.

It's like walking into one of those high-end restaurants where everything's all posh and elegant.

Now that I think about it, even the maid's outfit is on point. It's like it's tailor-made to fit her slender frame, and, uh, her big round… you know…

Definitely can't miss that.

If this is where all the rich and fancy folks hang out, count me in! I can feel my hands clenching and unclenching with excitement. This place is like paradise for the privileged! I can barely hold it all in!

"You sure are full of energy this late, master. Something's different about you." The maid speaks softly, her eyes scanning my face curiously.

She sure is one fine-looking maid. Her brown hair is neatly tied up in a bun, with brown eyes and those cute freckles sprinkled across her face. Not bad at all.

She's rocking that whole black maid's dress with white lace frills. I guess that's the ticket to elegance around here.

"Sorry, what's happening?" I blurt out embarrassed, shaking my head a bunch. Her eyes glisten in the flickering candlelight.

"You just feel different is all Master. Pay it no mind. What would you like to eat?" She asks.

I gotta think about that one, it's been a while since I had a decent meal. How should I go about answering that?

"Ermmm... I'd like to eat... uh... fried rice? I don't really care what kind, just as long as it tastes good."

"An odd request Master, but I shall prepare it at once." She says.

Cripes, if that's what they call ‘odd' around here, I can't even imagine what counts as normal in this wacky world. Seriously, I need some answers ASAP. I'll get around to that though, no problem. I'm resourceful like that.

The maid stands up, taking a few steps towards one of the many cooking stations lining the wall. "You're very lucky it's not a school night, young master. If it were the usual day, your father would be furious."

Who would've thought that at 26 years old I'd be going back to school?

It also sounds like even in this world my dad's a real strict bastard. I can only imagine he doesn't let up with punishments either…

As the maid goes about preparing the rice on that fancy stone stove, I take a good look around the room. I’m the only one dining right now.

Curiously, I turn to her and ask, "Hey, sorry for my terrible memory, but... what's your name, ma'am?" Never hurts to be polite, right?

She turns around to smile at me with the most gentle expression. "Not a problem, Master. I am the Principal Maid known as Emilia. With so many staff bustling about the mansion, a poor boy your age can't be expected to know everyone by name."

That's awfully kind of her. Although, I wonder if I could somehow get more out of her...

"So what exactly does a principal maid do?" I'm trying my best to convey genuine curiosity.

Upon hearing that question, she perks up.

"No one's ever been that inquisitive of my work, Master Lucien. You see, a Principal Maid's role is responsible for ensuring that clothes, especially your training and ceremonial garments and linens are washed, ironed, and properly stored. Additionally, we provide any kind of support to any member of the Seraphic Council during their stay at Barathrum Castle. Our payment in return is food scraps, another day of life and a small allowance."

Ah, so this joint’s a freakin' castle. Yeah, I had a hunch it was gonna be something grand like that.

What a spooky name too!

It’s no wonder I got lost in this labyrinth of doors and halls. But she seems to know this place like the back of her hand.

Principal Maid, huh? Sounds like slavery with extra steps. Probably goes for all the other workers too.

I can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for them. Must be some serious stuff they've gone through to end up like this. Whatever it is, I'm gonna make sure they're not mistreated or treated like garbage in this place.

"Well, I guess there are worse situations to be in." I replied.

Emilia nods before continuing on.

"Right you are Master Lucien, you could always be one of those gardeners or farmers that always plow the lawn or mow the grass in the morning or take care of the animals constantly around the clock. I could never get too involved with those sorts of jobs though; too much arduous work for someone like me."

To each their own I guess.

"Your fried rice, Master." She says, coming over to offer me two bowls.

My stomach can't resist joining the food discussion. She places the dish in front of me, and I waste no time. I take a big spoonful of rice, and it's like a flavor explosion in my mouth.

"Mmm, this is actually really good," I say with genuine appreciation. I'm grateful for her effort to make sure everything tastes delicious.

"It's really good. Where do you get this stuff?" I ask.

"The rice is imported from a distant place in the East called Byzmea. Your father actually went there on a little 'business trip' not too long ago..." She says in a cautious tone.

Oh, I know that tone all too well. It's the one people use when they've got something to hide. I need to figure out what she's trying to say with that.

"Is that so?" I inquire, hoping to keep the conversation flowing.

"Yes, Master. He came back quite wealthy from his venture. Both in gold and precious goods from Byzmea."

"What does my father do on these business trips?" I question her.

She shifts around in her seat across from me, seeming uneasy now.

"Quite a bit Master. His 'business ventures' have been rather successful; a lot of goods have been forfeited by enemy forces but the rebellion in Byzmea ambushed again, causing him some trouble. He sent some of his men to help out, but they weren't able to stop the rebels entirely."

I frown at that remark. She tried her best to hide it but it came out anyway.

"Are my father's guys okay?" I ask.

"Our men are all gone, young Master; the resistance who is still up and prowling about is to blame. I guarantee that your father will come back with a vengeance tenfold. Which ties into why I didn't want you disturbing him during his practice. He lost close comrades in that battle. All of us will never forgive Byzmea."

I can totally see her sugarcoating the gruesome details for my delicate ears.

Who's 'us' though? Am I part of this whole drama she's talking about?

Skeptically, I doubt this is anything more than gossip about my old man being back in town. Can't be true, right?

The maid pauses after seeing the confused expression that was plastered on my face.

"I shouldn't trouble you with all these harrowing topics Master." Emilia says, shaking her head and waving her hands out passively. "It's best we get you to bed."

She takes my empty rice bowl and places it in the sink, leading me back upstairs by the hand.

I latch onto her hand and follow closely behind her.

Why'd she backtrack now? She seriously can't just blurt out a huge chunk of lore and expect me to be happy with her not adding anything else, can she?

"Please, tell me more." I plead quietly, pulling her closer to me.

She stops mid step, turning toward me with concern etched on her face. "Master, I'm sorry. Your father and mother will reveal it to you when they feel the time is right."

That much is evident. At this rate, I better learn as much as I can.