Drake sat back on his plush and comfortable couch and resisted the urge to pump his fist. This world’s demented gods had tried to force him to become the master of a manor full of slaves, and he’d told them to go fuck themselves. Even if he died the moment he stepped out of this manor, he’d just freed these people from twisted blood magic forever.
That... was satisfying.
The blood pact still existed, of course. He couldn’t be completely sure a future manor lord couldn’t reverse what he’d said somehow, but any manor lord that tried that would have to know the exact decree he’d made. Also, if their next manor lord tried to make these people hurt each other or do evil shit, they could kill the bastard themselves.
Moreover, by all the laws and customs of this world, Drake remained the new lord of Gloomwood Manor. He’d defeated the old lord in battle, and he’d found a way to neuter the blood slavery pact the old lord left behind. Leading willing followers was the only way he would consider this job... and, shockingly enough, he was now considering it.
Was he insane? If he stayed here and accepted the title of Lord Gloomwood, he could be murdered at any time. No sane person would agree to stay here and serve in this role with death hanging over them... but perhaps he wasn’t entirely sane.
Back home, his co-workers and even his friends had often told him he was too ambitious for his own good. Many said he was too confident, even reckless. Looking back, he now wondered if they’d simply been more scared of failing than he was.
Failure had never scared him. Even death had never scared him, and not because he was reckless. He simply wasn’t afraid to put his life on the line if the reward was worth it, and owning his own manor might just be a reward worth risking his life for.
There was also the reality that, while he didn’t want to own a manor full of slaves, he also didn’t want to die. As unpleasant as the truth was, he had to accept he might be stuck in this strange world for good. If he left this manor he’d likely die in a ditch, poor and alone.
Yet if he could convince these people to follow him willingly, at least he’d die rich. Now that he’d solved this pesky slavery problem, there was no reason to just walk out the door. If these people wanted him to give up this title, he’d simply ask them to let him live here until he got home to thank him for freeing them... but if no one else wanted to step up, he’d lead.
And he was just cocky enough to think he might even be good at it.
“So, Lydia. Shall we spread my decree through the rest of the manor?”
His steward was, Drake was certain, the key to his success, and not just because of the advice she could offer. Everyone in this manor likely trusted her a great deal. If he could get Lydia to trust him and vouch for him, everyone else would fall in line.
Lydia visibly gathered herself. “Lord... I’m not sure we should.”
“I told you, anyone who wants to serve me has to choose to do so.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me. After seeing how the old lord perverted our blood pact, I am eager to try another way. But I believe springing your new decree upon everyone without preparing them could leave our manor vulnerable to attack.”
“How so?”
“If we were to simply announce your new decrees right now, and then we were attacked before we reorganized, our defenders might not know who was in command or if their orders regarding defense even applied. They might flee rather than stand at their posts.”
“So unless they’re compelled by blood magic slavery, people won’t defend the manor?”
“I do not know. I have never served in a manor where people could simply ignore the orders of their lord. Once you alter the blood pact for the others, all sorts of betrayals and desertions will become possible. We could be betrayed and overrun before we reorganize.”
Was she being cynical? No. She was being realistic. Of course the former lords wouldn’t organize their defenses to account for the fact that people could refuse their orders or betray their manor lord, because they had blood pact slavery to force compliance.
Drake didn’t regret his decision to free Lydia and everyone else from their blood magic compulsion. Once he learned how they’d been abused by the old lord, and how it could easily happen again, he had to end it. But all moral scruples came with a cost.
“So how would you suggest we free everyone?” he asked.
“Allow me to organize meetings with our sub-commanders where we can explain this change in our manor’s policies and prepare them for it. Once they understand the changes you mean to make, we can discuss how best to adapt to these new policies, and then they can aid their subordinates in this adjustment. This will also give me time to consider how we must reorganize our defenses, and how we can ensure those tasked to defend us will do so.”
This sounded exactly like how a big construction company would roll out a huge policy change. Start by explaining it to middle management, get their input to make sure nothing was being missed, and let them pass those changes down to their skilled laborers. It made sense.
“How long would that take?”
“Two or three days at most.” She was looking more confident and intrigued with every word. “With your counsel, I believe we can reorganize our manor’s operations around this new decree without sacrificing our combat readiness or leaving us vulnerable to attack. Together, we can ease our people into this new arrangement.”
“You mean how we motivate them to defend this manor without slavery?”
“While I do not agree the blood pact is slavery... yes.”
He liked Lydia’s confidence. “So we’re suggesting we roll out my new decree to people who won’t freak out, in a way that doesn’t put the manor at risk. It also sounds like, if I do this, you’re still willing to serve as my steward. Even after I wrecked your blood pact?”
“This transition will be difficult,” Lydia agreed. “But this manor is my home, and these people are my people. If we are to try things your way, which I am willing to do, I can best protect our manor by serving as your steward.”
“And what makes you think I’m even qualified to be your manor lord? Wouldn’t you be better at the job?” Better he ask that question than let her ask it, of herself, later.
She blinked. “Qualified... lord?”
“Why do you want me to lead this manor? I know nothing about your world. My only qualification seems to be that I stabbed an old fucker in some smelly robes and stole his keys and wallet. These are your people. Why don’t you want this title?”
Lydia didn’t answer immediately. Was there a catch she hadn’t told him about?
“I know me becoming Lord Gloomwood because I killed the old lord seems natural to you because that’s how you’ve been taught it should work, but imagine your laws didn’t insist whoever kills the old lord becomes the new lord. Would you still want me as your manor lord?”
“Yes,” Lydia said immediately.
He was surprised she answered so quickly. “Can you explain why?”
“Could you first confirm an assumption I’ve made about you?”
“I... suppose.”
“You do realize that once you change the blood pact as you have done, you will make it possible for everyone here to not just refuse your orders, but betray you? Even kill you?”
“I’m not thrilled about that,” Drake said. “But yes, I understand that.”
“Even I could kill you. Right now. I could seize your title by slitting your throat.”
“I’m aware of that as well, but I don’t think you’ll kill someone if they’re not a threat to you or your people. Moments ago, you tried to deceive me to protect everyone in this manor and in the town nearby, even knowing I could execute you for that. That tells me you’re a good person, somebody who wouldn’t just murder a guy trying to help her.”
“But what if you misjudged me? Why make yourself so vulnerable?”
“Because your stupid blood pact is so one-sided. If I understand it properly, it compels everyone who joins it but the manor lord. The manor lord can’t be compelled to do anything.”
“That is correct.”
“So I didn’t see any way to compel future manor lords to not make you all slaves again if I die. I can’t compel future manor lords not to abuse and enslave you. The only option that gave me was to make sure you could murder all future manor lords if they turned out to be an asshole. So yes, I am aware you can now kill me, if you want, but the alternative was worse.”
Lydia nodded. “The first responsibility of a manor lord is to protect their people and their manor. To protect their thralls from all who would harm them. Through your actions, you have shown me that you will lead our manor as a lord should. That is why I wish you to lead us.”
Drake considered her words. She sounded like she believed them.
“Also,” Lydia amended, “I have another motive as well. I assume that the manor lords in your world run their manors without blood pacts?”
Drake considered how best to answer that. “They do.”
“Then that is another reason I wish you to lead. You seem confident you can motivate us to defend this manor without the blood pact.”
He did his best not to chuckle. “Let’s just say I have some ideas.”
“So I wish you to serve as our manor lord so you can implement your ideas in a way that will protect people for whom I care deeply. Finally, every manor lord needs a competent steward, and I cannot fill both roles. I have served as steward here for four years, and I know our people and how this manor operates better than anyone here.”
“So there’s no one else who could do the steward job as well as you?”
She colored slightly. “Yes.”
Drake grinned. “Don’t ever hesitate to say that, then. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“So...” Lydia paused as if preparing her closing argument. “In summary, I believe you and I would work well together. Our ideals align, which suggests that between the two of us, we can finally protect everyone in this manor the way they should be protected.”
He nodded sympathetically. “You’ve really had a rough time here, haven’t you?”
The tiniest bit of her composure cracked. “It was not always like this, you know. Living here, at Gloomwood Manor, was not always this difficult.”
“How was it different?”
“Lord Gloomwood... the man who served as manor lord before the man you defeated, and the man who defeated him... he was a good lord. I never knew him, but others here did. Even now they speak of his benevolence and strength of character. Some even say living under cruel men like our last lord is our punishment for failing to protect him. Our penance.”
“That’s dark,” Drake said. “But unlike those others, you can see why your blood pact is flawed and dangerous. Why we have to get rid of it. Right?”
“I can see how it might be possible to do things differently. The Eidolons never intended the pact to be used the way the last lord used it. He perverted a holy trust into something horrific.”
To Drake, it sounded like the Eidolons were just massive idiots, or perhaps entirely ignorant of human nature. Still, he wasn’t about to argue with Lydia on her points. She had just told him all the reasons she was willing to serve him if he led this manor.
“I appreciate that,” Drake said. “And I suppose it would be wrong of me to swoop in, force you to change every aspect of how you run this place to fit my personal beliefs, and then leave you running a manor with no clue how to do it my way. Do you have seagulls here?”
“I have never heard of such, lord.”
“What about birds that live near the beach?”
“We have many of those, lord.”
“So we have a term in my world. Seagull managers. They swoop in on a team that has a working system in place, insist everyone change how they’re doing things, then swoop out. In other words, they show up, shit all over everything, and then leave.”
Lydia snickered quietly before she covered her mouth.
“That was a laugh. I heard a laugh there.”
She lowered her hand. “You may have imagined it, lord.”
“So this is going to be a partnership,” Drake said. “I’ll lead this manor my way, without slavery. I’ll defend it and its people from anyone who wants to wreck the place, and you’ll make sure I don’t screw this up. We do this together, as a team.”
“And we will protect you, lord,” Lydia assured him. “I aided in your abduction. You would not be here if not for me. Protecting you is how I can make up for that transgression.”
While it wasn’t fair for her to blame herself for what she’d been compelled to do by blood magic, Drake also wasn’t about to turn down her help. This was a way he could take the mad plunge of accepting life as a manor lord—meaning he’d be filthy stinking rich—without compromising his moral principles. Lydia was choosing to help him of her own volition.
“Then I accept the title of Lord Gloomwood. I’ll lead you the best I can and do my best not to fuck it all up.” He grinned in hopes it would set her at ease. “And while I was trying to wrap my head around all this, it was nice to know you couldn’t lie to me.”
Her brow furrowed. “You keep using that word. What does it mean?”
“What does... what mean?”
“What does ‘lie’ mean?”
Drake watched her to ensure she wasn’t finally unloading the longest joke setup in the world. She really did appear perplexed. He felt entirely inappropriate excitement.
“Are you telling me you don’t know what a lie is, Lydia?”
“I do not. Is that a type of magic from your realm?”
“Lying is saying false things. Like, for example, let’s say I told you I was a zarovian.”
“But you are not a zarovian.”
Time to see how serious she was. “I am actually a zarovian, Lydia.”
Her eyes widened as she stared in wonder. “Even while concentrating, I cannot detect the illusion, and your speech is impeccable! Are all denizens of your realm so skilled at illusion magic? Is that why the former lord abducted you?”
Holy shit. She believed him! Just like that stupid Lord Gloomwood had believed his name was Clint Eastwood. That meant the guy who’d tried to kill him today hadn’t actually been a moron, just incredibly gullible. It suggested no one in this world could lie.
This was fantastic. If no one in this world could lie, he was going to have a massive advantage as a manor lord. He wasn’t about to use this world’s twisted blood magic to help him succeed at his new job, but this?
He was going to abuse the fuck out of this.
Drake sat back on his plush and comfortable couch and resisted the urge to pump his fist. This world’s demented gods had tried to force him to become the master of a manor full of slaves, and he’d told them to go fuck themselves. Even if he died the moment he stepped out of this manor, he’d just freed these people from twisted blood magic forever.
That... was satisfying.
The blood pact still existed, of course. He couldn’t be completely sure a future manor lord couldn’t reverse what he’d said somehow, but any manor lord that tried that would have to know the exact decree he’d made. Also, if their next manor lord tried to make these people hurt each other or do evil shit, they could kill the bastard themselves.
Moreover, by all the laws and customs of this world, Drake remained the new lord of Gloomwood Manor. He’d defeated the old lord in battle, and he’d found a way to neuter the blood slavery pact the old lord left behind. Leading willing followers was the only way he would consider this job... and, shockingly enough, he was now considering it.
Was he insane? If he stayed here and accepted the title of Lord Gloomwood, he could be murdered at any time. No sane person would agree to stay here and serve in this role with death hanging over them... but perhaps he wasn’t entirely sane.
Back home, his co-workers and even his friends had often told him he was too ambitious for his own good. Many said he was too confident, even reckless. Looking back, he now wondered if they’d simply been more scared of failing than he was.
Failure had never scared him. Even death had never scared him, and not because he was reckless. He simply wasn’t afraid to put his life on the line if the reward was worth it, and owning his own manor might just be a reward worth risking his life for.
There was also the reality that, while he didn’t want to own a manor full of slaves, he also didn’t want to die. As unpleasant as the truth was, he had to accept he might be stuck in this strange world for good. If he left this manor he’d likely die in a ditch, poor and alone.
Yet if he could convince these people to follow him willingly, at least he’d die rich. Now that he’d solved this pesky slavery problem, there was no reason to just walk out the door. If these people wanted him to give up this title, he’d simply ask them to let him live here until he got home to thank him for freeing them... but if no one else wanted to step up, he’d lead.
And he was just cocky enough to think he might even be good at it.
“So, Lydia. Shall we spread my decree through the rest of the manor?”
His steward was, Drake was certain, the key to his success, and not just because of the advice she could offer. Everyone in this manor likely trusted her a great deal. If he could get Lydia to trust him and vouch for him, everyone else would fall in line.
Lydia visibly gathered herself. “Lord... I’m not sure we should.”
“I told you, anyone who wants to serve me has to choose to do so.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me. After seeing how the old lord perverted our blood pact, I am eager to try another way. But I believe springing your new decree upon everyone without preparing them could leave our manor vulnerable to attack.”
“How so?”
“If we were to simply announce your new decrees right now, and then we were attacked before we reorganized, our defenders might not know who was in command or if their orders regarding defense even applied. They might flee rather than stand at their posts.”
“So unless they’re compelled by blood magic slavery, people won’t defend the manor?”
“I do not know. I have never served in a manor where people could simply ignore the orders of their lord. Once you alter the blood pact for the others, all sorts of betrayals and desertions will become possible. We could be betrayed and overrun before we reorganize.”
Was she being cynical? No. She was being realistic. Of course the former lords wouldn’t organize their defenses to account for the fact that people could refuse their orders or betray their manor lord, because they had blood pact slavery to force compliance.
Drake didn’t regret his decision to free Lydia and everyone else from their blood magic compulsion. Once he learned how they’d been abused by the old lord, and how it could easily happen again, he had to end it. But all moral scruples came with a cost.
“So how would you suggest we free everyone?” he asked.
“Allow me to organize meetings with our sub-commanders where we can explain this change in our manor’s policies and prepare them for it. Once they understand the changes you mean to make, we can discuss how best to adapt to these new policies, and then they can aid their subordinates in this adjustment. This will also give me time to consider how we must reorganize our defenses, and how we can ensure those tasked to defend us will do so.”
This sounded exactly like how a big construction company would roll out a huge policy change. Start by explaining it to middle management, get their input to make sure nothing was being missed, and let them pass those changes down to their skilled laborers. It made sense.
“How long would that take?”
“Two or three days at most.” She was looking more confident and intrigued with every word. “With your counsel, I believe we can reorganize our manor’s operations around this new decree without sacrificing our combat readiness or leaving us vulnerable to attack. Together, we can ease our people into this new arrangement.”
“You mean how we motivate them to defend this manor without slavery?”
“While I do not agree the blood pact is slavery... yes.”
He liked Lydia’s confidence. “So we’re suggesting we roll out my new decree to people who won’t freak out, in a way that doesn’t put the manor at risk. It also sounds like, if I do this, you’re still willing to serve as my steward. Even after I wrecked your blood pact?”
“This transition will be difficult,” Lydia agreed. “But this manor is my home, and these people are my people. If we are to try things your way, which I am willing to do, I can best protect our manor by serving as your steward.”
“And what makes you think I’m even qualified to be your manor lord? Wouldn’t you be better at the job?” Better he ask that question than let her ask it, of herself, later.
She blinked. “Qualified... lord?”
“Why do you want me to lead this manor? I know nothing about your world. My only qualification seems to be that I stabbed an old fucker in some smelly robes and stole his keys and wallet. These are your people. Why don’t you want this title?”
Lydia didn’t answer immediately. Was there a catch she hadn’t told him about?
“I know me becoming Lord Gloomwood because I killed the old lord seems natural to you because that’s how you’ve been taught it should work, but imagine your laws didn’t insist whoever kills the old lord becomes the new lord. Would you still want me as your manor lord?”
“Yes,” Lydia said immediately.
He was surprised she answered so quickly. “Can you explain why?”
“Could you first confirm an assumption I’ve made about you?”
“I... suppose.”
“You do realize that once you change the blood pact as you have done, you will make it possible for everyone here to not just refuse your orders, but betray you? Even kill you?”
“I’m not thrilled about that,” Drake said. “But yes, I understand that.”
“Even I could kill you. Right now. I could seize your title by slitting your throat.”
“I’m aware of that as well, but I don’t think you’ll kill someone if they’re not a threat to you or your people. Moments ago, you tried to deceive me to protect everyone in this manor and in the town nearby, even knowing I could execute you for that. That tells me you’re a good person, somebody who wouldn’t just murder a guy trying to help her.”
“But what if you misjudged me? Why make yourself so vulnerable?”
“Because your stupid blood pact is so one-sided. If I understand it properly, it compels everyone who joins it but the manor lord. The manor lord can’t be compelled to do anything.”
“That is correct.”
“So I didn’t see any way to compel future manor lords to not make you all slaves again if I die. I can’t compel future manor lords not to abuse and enslave you. The only option that gave me was to make sure you could murder all future manor lords if they turned out to be an asshole. So yes, I am aware you can now kill me, if you want, but the alternative was worse.”
Lydia nodded. “The first responsibility of a manor lord is to protect their people and their manor. To protect their thralls from all who would harm them. Through your actions, you have shown me that you will lead our manor as a lord should. That is why I wish you to lead us.”
Drake considered her words. She sounded like she believed them.
“Also,” Lydia amended, “I have another motive as well. I assume that the manor lords in your world run their manors without blood pacts?”
Drake considered how best to answer that. “They do.”
“Then that is another reason I wish you to lead. You seem confident you can motivate us to defend this manor without the blood pact.”
He did his best not to chuckle. “Let’s just say I have some ideas.”
“So I wish you to serve as our manor lord so you can implement your ideas in a way that will protect people for whom I care deeply. Finally, every manor lord needs a competent steward, and I cannot fill both roles. I have served as steward here for four years, and I know our people and how this manor operates better than anyone here.”
“So there’s no one else who could do the steward job as well as you?”
She colored slightly. “Yes.”
Drake grinned. “Don’t ever hesitate to say that, then. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.”
“So...” Lydia paused as if preparing her closing argument. “In summary, I believe you and I would work well together. Our ideals align, which suggests that between the two of us, we can finally protect everyone in this manor the way they should be protected.”
He nodded sympathetically. “You’ve really had a rough time here, haven’t you?”
The tiniest bit of her composure cracked. “It was not always like this, you know. Living here, at Gloomwood Manor, was not always this difficult.”
“How was it different?”
“Lord Gloomwood... the man who served as manor lord before the man you defeated, and the man who defeated him... he was a good lord. I never knew him, but others here did. Even now they speak of his benevolence and strength of character. Some even say living under cruel men like our last lord is our punishment for failing to protect him. Our penance.”
“That’s dark,” Drake said. “But unlike those others, you can see why your blood pact is flawed and dangerous. Why we have to get rid of it. Right?”
“I can see how it might be possible to do things differently. The Eidolons never intended the pact to be used the way the last lord used it. He perverted a holy trust into something horrific.”
To Drake, it sounded like the Eidolons were just massive idiots, or perhaps entirely ignorant of human nature. Still, he wasn’t about to argue with Lydia on her points. She had just told him all the reasons she was willing to serve him if he led this manor.
“I appreciate that,” Drake said. “And I suppose it would be wrong of me to swoop in, force you to change every aspect of how you run this place to fit my personal beliefs, and then leave you running a manor with no clue how to do it my way. Do you have seagulls here?”
“I have never heard of such, lord.”
“What about birds that live near the beach?”
“We have many of those, lord.”
“So we have a term in my world. Seagull managers. They swoop in on a team that has a working system in place, insist everyone change how they’re doing things, then swoop out. In other words, they show up, shit all over everything, and then leave.”
Lydia snickered quietly before she covered her mouth.
“That was a laugh. I heard a laugh there.”
She lowered her hand. “You may have imagined it, lord.”
“So this is going to be a partnership,” Drake said. “I’ll lead this manor my way, without slavery. I’ll defend it and its people from anyone who wants to wreck the place, and you’ll make sure I don’t screw this up. We do this together, as a team.”
“And we will protect you, lord,” Lydia assured him. “I aided in your abduction. You would not be here if not for me. Protecting you is how I can make up for that transgression.”
While it wasn’t fair for her to blame herself for what she’d been compelled to do by blood magic, Drake also wasn’t about to turn down her help. This was a way he could take the mad plunge of accepting life as a manor lord—meaning he’d be filthy stinking rich—without compromising his moral principles. Lydia was choosing to help him of her own volition.
“Then I accept the title of Lord Gloomwood. I’ll lead you the best I can and do my best not to fuck it all up.” He grinned in hopes it would set her at ease. “And while I was trying to wrap my head around all this, it was nice to know you couldn’t lie to me.”
Her brow furrowed. “You keep using that word. What does it mean?”
“What does... what mean?”
“What does ‘lie’ mean?”
Drake watched her to ensure she wasn’t finally unloading the longest joke setup in the world. She really did appear perplexed. He felt entirely inappropriate excitement.
“Are you telling me you don’t know what a lie is, Lydia?”
“I do not. Is that a type of magic from your realm?”
“Lying is saying false things. Like, for example, let’s say I told you I was a zarovian.”
“But you are not a zarovian.”
Time to see how serious she was. “I am actually a zarovian, Lydia.”
Her eyes widened as she stared in wonder. “Even while concentrating, I cannot detect the illusion, and your speech is impeccable! Are all denizens of your realm so skilled at illusion magic? Is that why the former lord abducted you?”
Holy shit. She believed him! Just like that stupid Lord Gloomwood had believed his name was Clint Eastwood. That meant the guy who’d tried to kill him today hadn’t actually been a moron, just incredibly gullible. It suggested no one in this world could lie.
This was fantastic. If no one in this world could lie, he was going to have a massive advantage as a manor lord. He wasn’t about to use this world’s twisted blood magic to help him succeed at his new job, but this?
He was going to abuse the fuck out of this.
