Emily was waiting when he and Lydia finally exited, and she wore the same gleaming set of feathersteel armor worn by him and Lydia. There was no sign of her spectral golden axe, and it must be nice that she could just conjure it instead of lugging it around. That two-handed monstrosity had easily been as tall as she was, but given she had held and twirled it with one arm, it being spectral must mean it didn’t weigh much. Or anything at all.
Drake decided not to ask about the spectral axe unless he needed to know. He didn’t want to question Emily about her rarity unless he had reason to do so, mainly because it would be more evidence he knew jack shit about this world at large.
He was comfortable with Lydia knowing he was new to, well, everything, but he should appear at least marginally competent in front of the rest of the manor staff. That would help keep their morale up. No one wanted to follow the clueless goof who didn’t know why his battle maid could summon a spectral soul-chopping battle axe.
Lydia took the lead subtly, which Drake appreciated. Emily fell into step behind him. He still didn’t have the first clue on how to navigate the halls of his huge new manor, which would be one of the first things he would fix once this business with Westin was over.
As they walked down a long hall, a wide flight of steps, up another hall, and down a side passage, windows ceased showing up. Just wall. That told him they were moving into the center of the manor. After they descended another set of spiral stairs, these made of stone, they entered a hallway that was also carved stone instead of paneled wood.
It smelled wonderful down here, like fresh bread and warm pretzels, which suggested they were approaching the kitchens. A woman in a cook’s outfit—similar to the maid outfits his battle maids wore, but less fancy—walked out into the hallway and gasped. She flattened herself against the wall with her head bowed low.
Drake offered what he hoped was a casual nod as he followed Lydia past her with Emily behind him, but the woman didn’t even look up. The new woman looked to be somewhere between Lydia and Zuri in age, not as old as his mom but definitely not college age like he was. She also had her hair bound up in a thick net/hood thing, but he caught a hint of brown.
It was good to know his decrees had even filtered down the kitchen staff. The—cook?—hadn’t bowed, but she still appeared a little bit terrified. He hoped, once everyone knew he could never order them to hurt each other or follow unlawful orders, they’d relax a little. Given he was gambling his survival on them trusting him, he hoped that quite fervently.
Lydia turned when they reached a stone arch that did, indeed, lead into the kitchens. Those were as impressive as he’d suspected. Four massive stone kilns glowed with the light from faint fires simmering within, and there were counters throughout the space that were covered in carving boards, plates, and food that made his mouth water.
There were three people inside, and one, at last, was a dude! He looked younger than Drake by a few years, but dudes did exist here. Drake could ask a dude to bring him towels and clothes. His staff flattened themselves against the walls and bowed their heads without a word. Drake suppressed his sigh and decided to look the food over instead.
He saw fluffy bread, slabs of freshly sliced meat, gleaming purple grapes, bowls of crisp salad, lines of bowls of delicious-smelling soup, and goblets of sparkling drink arranged with military precision. There were also several big cookpots audibly simmering in active fireplaces, which were also a source of delicious smells. More meat.
Given dark has just arrived, it must be just about time for dinner, and feeding a staff of seventy-six people likely required a whole day of constant cooking. As he mentally went back over his roster, he remembered the manor had four cooks and four scullery staff, which he vaguely remembered also helped in the kitchen.
Could eight people really cook enough food for seventy-six? They must work pretty much all day. He hoped he paid them well. Lydia would know.
His steward took them directly through the kitchen through a much smaller door in the back wall, and that led them into a cramped room filled with casks stacked sideways on big shelves. There were a lot of casks back here, which suggested a lot of wine, mead, or other alcoholic beverages, but Drake barely noticed any of that.
He was too busy staring at the woman waiting for them inside. Sachi. His roster has identified her as 34, but she looked the same age as Lydia.
Her tight brown leather armor hugged her svelte figure, and she had silky black hair that coursed over her armored shoulders, but that wasn’t why he stared. It also wasn’t the ornate silver bow strapped across her back, which was to be expected in a fantasy world. What had him staring like an idiot and struggling not to chuckle were her other features.
Cat ears. There were big black cat ears on either side of the woman’s scalp, nestled into her silky black hair above where her human ears were missing. She also had a tail, a long floofy one, which twitched back and forth in possible annoyance as she tapped one booted foot.
Her eyes looked mostly normal—white—save for the fact that her pupils were bright orange. Not a normal pupil color. Fortunately, she didn’t have whiskers, and why would a woman need whiskers?
Would she crawl around on all fours and push her head into things? Would she purr if he scratched her head between her cat ears? Why was all this freaking him out so much?
“The vero have arrived?” Lydia asked.
The—catgirl?—with the bow grinned a decidedly evil grin. Her white teeth weren’t flat like his, but sharpened to tips. “I rounded up those squirrely little scamps just like you asked, m’lady. Is this the new lord? He’s shorter than the old lord.”
A catgirl. He had an actual catgirl on his manor staff. Drake again felt a dangerous urge to cackle and fought it with every last bit of willpower he could muster. Keep it together, Drake. She’s no stranger than anything else you’ve seen here.
The catgirl—Sachi—swished her tail as she peered at him with seemingly intense interest. “Is there a problem, lord?”
Drake got it together enough to shake his head. “No, no problem.”
“Never seem a demi before? Or do you have a problem with demis? Despite what you may’ve heard, I am housetrained.”
Drake mentally roll dodged away from anywhere near answering that question. “It’s good to meet you, Sachi. Lydia tells me you’re the best archer and scout we have.”
“She’s right. But Lydia usually is.”
“Then let’s set out immediately. Don’t want to give those Proudglade knights any more of a head start than they’ve already had.” Lydia had promised they’d free Sachi once outside.
Sachi eyed him with visible interest that made him even more uncomfortable. “I suppose it is about that time, lord.” Her tail stood straight and came to a complete halt.
It looked like she was trying to decide how he might taste. As in, she was thinking about eating him, and not in a sexy way. In an Ow God that hurts stop biting me way.
“Sachi,” Lydia said firmly.
“Right, mistress, off we go.”
Sachi slipped one arm behind a cask, and Drake heard a faint but audible thunk. A whole section of wall shook and rumbled visibly before drifting open like any door would in the manor, except this door was made of heavy bricks. Beyond, a dark tunnel yawned.
Sachi darted down that dark tunnel with shocking speed. She was gone in the blink of an eye, and apparently had no trouble seeing in perfect darkness. He remembered then that Sachi didn’t have a rarity listed in Zuri’s roster. That column had been blank.
There had been no explanation for the missing info in the tome Zuri had given him, so he didn’t know why Sachi’s rarity was not listed. Did demihumans not have rarities? Or did all demihumans have the same rarities, and there was another list somewhere?
Drake heard flame ignite at his side, then glanced at Lydia to find her holding a single burning torch. Where had she gotten the torch? Did they just keep torches tucked away in this big pile of casks? She had nowhere in her armor where she could fit a torch.
Shuffling feet were Drake’s clue to look behind him. An older brunette woman in a basic black and white servant outfit—one of the kitchen staff—entered the already cramped room and bowed her head. Lydia turned to her.
“Meryl, you will close the door behind us once we’re inside. We will not be returning by this route tonight, so you need not wait for the signal to open it. After we’re off, return to your duties in the kitchen and proceed as if nothing has changed.”
The woman who made that delicious meat—Meryl—eagerly nodded her head. “Of course, mistress.”
Some people in this manor kept calling Lydia mistress, but not all. Emily didn’t do that. Was there a rank system going on here beyond lord and servants?
Drake vaguely remembered that with old noble servants, there had been boss servants and servant servants, which meant there was rank among the servants as well. The steward served the lord, but all the other servants served the steward, and the kitchen staff were likely of a lower rank than the battle maids. He’d figure it all out later.
Sachi was long gone. She hadn’t waited for them. He didn’t want to keep the hungry-looking catgirl waiting, especially since she’d be free to eat him the moment he freed her from the blood pact. He motioned for Lydia to lead the way, and she moved into the tunnel.
Drake followed right after her, and while he couldn’t hear Emily’s footsteps behind him—feathersteel armor really was stealthy—he did pick up the sound of her breathing once his ears had recovered from the raucous sound of the hidden stone door closing behind them.
No one spoke as they walked through the narrow tunnel. It was scarcely tall enough for Drake to walk upright, and his armored shoulders constantly brushed lightly against the walls. It sure was a good thing he’d never been claustrophobic. Anyone claustrophobic would be freaking out right now.
The tunnel smelled moldy and wet. They walked for what felt like forever. His manor was massive, and according to Lydia, this secret underground tunnel began directly near the center of it. Lydia had also said that the tunnel let out beyond the manor grounds, deep in the forest somewhere, so it made sense that they would have a bit of a walk.
He hoped Lydia’s torch didn’t go out. He wouldn’t want to fumble along this narrow tunnel in utter darkness. He didn’t want to think about what sort of gross worms or dirt or undead zombie things he might stumble into. They probably had undead here, right? It wasn’t a proper fantasy world without a few undead.
Finally, after what felt like way too long to Drake, Lydia’s torchlight revealed a worn but sturdy-looking wooden ladder leading up. She set the torch in an empty metal holder on the wall and clambered up without a word. Drake spotted a small circle of moonlight above, like an open manhole in the middle of a street.
Emily bumped lightly into his back. “Go on now, lord! I’ll get the torch after you’re up. But don’t you dare tell Sachi your new orders until I’m there to watch.”
Drake glanced back at her. “Why not?”
“I want to see her expression!”
Drake waited until Lydia was most of the way up, then climbed. This ladder was no challenge, even in armor. He was almost out. He was really doing this. He was setting off on his first quest in this fucked up fantasy world.
He couldn’t help but feel pretentious running around the woods in his new feathersteel armor with his battle maids and catgirl in tow—was he the LARPer, now?—but he had a very real purpose today. Saving his new manor and everyone in it.
He wasn’t going to let these people die. He was actually getting to like some of them.
Emily was waiting when he and Lydia finally exited, and she wore the same gleaming set of feathersteel armor worn by him and Lydia. There was no sign of her spectral golden axe, and it must be nice that she could just conjure it instead of lugging it around. That two-handed monstrosity had easily been as tall as she was, but given she had held and twirled it with one arm, it being spectral must mean it didn’t weigh much. Or anything at all.
Drake decided not to ask about the spectral axe unless he needed to know. He didn’t want to question Emily about her rarity unless he had reason to do so, mainly because it would be more evidence he knew jack shit about this world at large.
He was comfortable with Lydia knowing he was new to, well, everything, but he should appear at least marginally competent in front of the rest of the manor staff. That would help keep their morale up. No one wanted to follow the clueless goof who didn’t know why his battle maid could summon a spectral soul-chopping battle axe.
Lydia took the lead subtly, which Drake appreciated. Emily fell into step behind him. He still didn’t have the first clue on how to navigate the halls of his huge new manor, which would be one of the first things he would fix once this business with Westin was over.
As they walked down a long hall, a wide flight of steps, up another hall, and down a side passage, windows ceased showing up. Just wall. That told him they were moving into the center of the manor. After they descended another set of spiral stairs, these made of stone, they entered a hallway that was also carved stone instead of paneled wood.
It smelled wonderful down here, like fresh bread and warm pretzels, which suggested they were approaching the kitchens. A woman in a cook’s outfit—similar to the maid outfits his battle maids wore, but less fancy—walked out into the hallway and gasped. She flattened herself against the wall with her head bowed low.
Drake offered what he hoped was a casual nod as he followed Lydia past her with Emily behind him, but the woman didn’t even look up. The new woman looked to be somewhere between Lydia and Zuri in age, not as old as his mom but definitely not college age like he was. She also had her hair bound up in a thick net/hood thing, but he caught a hint of brown.
It was good to know his decrees had even filtered down the kitchen staff. The—cook?—hadn’t bowed, but she still appeared a little bit terrified. He hoped, once everyone knew he could never order them to hurt each other or follow unlawful orders, they’d relax a little. Given he was gambling his survival on them trusting him, he hoped that quite fervently.
Lydia turned when they reached a stone arch that did, indeed, lead into the kitchens. Those were as impressive as he’d suspected. Four massive stone kilns glowed with the light from faint fires simmering within, and there were counters throughout the space that were covered in carving boards, plates, and food that made his mouth water.
There were three people inside, and one, at last, was a dude! He looked younger than Drake by a few years, but dudes did exist here. Drake could ask a dude to bring him towels and clothes. His staff flattened themselves against the walls and bowed their heads without a word. Drake suppressed his sigh and decided to look the food over instead.
He saw fluffy bread, slabs of freshly sliced meat, gleaming purple grapes, bowls of crisp salad, lines of bowls of delicious-smelling soup, and goblets of sparkling drink arranged with military precision. There were also several big cookpots audibly simmering in active fireplaces, which were also a source of delicious smells. More meat.
Given dark has just arrived, it must be just about time for dinner, and feeding a staff of seventy-six people likely required a whole day of constant cooking. As he mentally went back over his roster, he remembered the manor had four cooks and four scullery staff, which he vaguely remembered also helped in the kitchen.
Could eight people really cook enough food for seventy-six? They must work pretty much all day. He hoped he paid them well. Lydia would know.
His steward took them directly through the kitchen through a much smaller door in the back wall, and that led them into a cramped room filled with casks stacked sideways on big shelves. There were a lot of casks back here, which suggested a lot of wine, mead, or other alcoholic beverages, but Drake barely noticed any of that.
He was too busy staring at the woman waiting for them inside. Sachi. His roster has identified her as 34, but she looked the same age as Lydia.
Her tight brown leather armor hugged her svelte figure, and she had silky black hair that coursed over her armored shoulders, but that wasn’t why he stared. It also wasn’t the ornate silver bow strapped across her back, which was to be expected in a fantasy world. What had him staring like an idiot and struggling not to chuckle were her other features.
Cat ears. There were big black cat ears on either side of the woman’s scalp, nestled into her silky black hair above where her human ears were missing. She also had a tail, a long floofy one, which twitched back and forth in possible annoyance as she tapped one booted foot.
Her eyes looked mostly normal—white—save for the fact that her pupils were bright orange. Not a normal pupil color. Fortunately, she didn’t have whiskers, and why would a woman need whiskers?
Would she crawl around on all fours and push her head into things? Would she purr if he scratched her head between her cat ears? Why was all this freaking him out so much?
“The vero have arrived?” Lydia asked.
The—catgirl?—with the bow grinned a decidedly evil grin. Her white teeth weren’t flat like his, but sharpened to tips. “I rounded up those squirrely little scamps just like you asked, m’lady. Is this the new lord? He’s shorter than the old lord.”
A catgirl. He had an actual catgirl on his manor staff. Drake again felt a dangerous urge to cackle and fought it with every last bit of willpower he could muster. Keep it together, Drake. She’s no stranger than anything else you’ve seen here.
The catgirl—Sachi—swished her tail as she peered at him with seemingly intense interest. “Is there a problem, lord?”
Drake got it together enough to shake his head. “No, no problem.”
“Never seem a demi before? Or do you have a problem with demis? Despite what you may’ve heard, I am housetrained.”
Drake mentally roll dodged away from anywhere near answering that question. “It’s good to meet you, Sachi. Lydia tells me you’re the best archer and scout we have.”
“She’s right. But Lydia usually is.”
“Then let’s set out immediately. Don’t want to give those Proudglade knights any more of a head start than they’ve already had.” Lydia had promised they’d free Sachi once outside.
Sachi eyed him with visible interest that made him even more uncomfortable. “I suppose it is about that time, lord.” Her tail stood straight and came to a complete halt.
It looked like she was trying to decide how he might taste. As in, she was thinking about eating him, and not in a sexy way. In an Ow God that hurts stop biting me way.
“Sachi,” Lydia said firmly.
“Right, mistress, off we go.”
Sachi slipped one arm behind a cask, and Drake heard a faint but audible thunk. A whole section of wall shook and rumbled visibly before drifting open like any door would in the manor, except this door was made of heavy bricks. Beyond, a dark tunnel yawned.
Sachi darted down that dark tunnel with shocking speed. She was gone in the blink of an eye, and apparently had no trouble seeing in perfect darkness. He remembered then that Sachi didn’t have a rarity listed in Zuri’s roster. That column had been blank.
There had been no explanation for the missing info in the tome Zuri had given him, so he didn’t know why Sachi’s rarity was not listed. Did demihumans not have rarities? Or did all demihumans have the same rarities, and there was another list somewhere?
Drake heard flame ignite at his side, then glanced at Lydia to find her holding a single burning torch. Where had she gotten the torch? Did they just keep torches tucked away in this big pile of casks? She had nowhere in her armor where she could fit a torch.
Shuffling feet were Drake’s clue to look behind him. An older brunette woman in a basic black and white servant outfit—one of the kitchen staff—entered the already cramped room and bowed her head. Lydia turned to her.
“Meryl, you will close the door behind us once we’re inside. We will not be returning by this route tonight, so you need not wait for the signal to open it. After we’re off, return to your duties in the kitchen and proceed as if nothing has changed.”
The woman who made that delicious meat—Meryl—eagerly nodded her head. “Of course, mistress.”
Some people in this manor kept calling Lydia mistress, but not all. Emily didn’t do that. Was there a rank system going on here beyond lord and servants?
Drake vaguely remembered that with old noble servants, there had been boss servants and servant servants, which meant there was rank among the servants as well. The steward served the lord, but all the other servants served the steward, and the kitchen staff were likely of a lower rank than the battle maids. He’d figure it all out later.
Sachi was long gone. She hadn’t waited for them. He didn’t want to keep the hungry-looking catgirl waiting, especially since she’d be free to eat him the moment he freed her from the blood pact. He motioned for Lydia to lead the way, and she moved into the tunnel.
Drake followed right after her, and while he couldn’t hear Emily’s footsteps behind him—feathersteel armor really was stealthy—he did pick up the sound of her breathing once his ears had recovered from the raucous sound of the hidden stone door closing behind them.
No one spoke as they walked through the narrow tunnel. It was scarcely tall enough for Drake to walk upright, and his armored shoulders constantly brushed lightly against the walls. It sure was a good thing he’d never been claustrophobic. Anyone claustrophobic would be freaking out right now.
The tunnel smelled moldy and wet. They walked for what felt like forever. His manor was massive, and according to Lydia, this secret underground tunnel began directly near the center of it. Lydia had also said that the tunnel let out beyond the manor grounds, deep in the forest somewhere, so it made sense that they would have a bit of a walk.
He hoped Lydia’s torch didn’t go out. He wouldn’t want to fumble along this narrow tunnel in utter darkness. He didn’t want to think about what sort of gross worms or dirt or undead zombie things he might stumble into. They probably had undead here, right? It wasn’t a proper fantasy world without a few undead.
Finally, after what felt like way too long to Drake, Lydia’s torchlight revealed a worn but sturdy-looking wooden ladder leading up. She set the torch in an empty metal holder on the wall and clambered up without a word. Drake spotted a small circle of moonlight above, like an open manhole in the middle of a street.
Emily bumped lightly into his back. “Go on now, lord! I’ll get the torch after you’re up. But don’t you dare tell Sachi your new orders until I’m there to watch.”
Drake glanced back at her. “Why not?”
“I want to see her expression!”
Drake waited until Lydia was most of the way up, then climbed. This ladder was no challenge, even in armor. He was almost out. He was really doing this. He was setting off on his first quest in this fucked up fantasy world.
He couldn’t help but feel pretentious running around the woods in his new feathersteel armor with his battle maids and catgirl in tow—was he the LARPer, now?—but he had a very real purpose today. Saving his new manor and everyone in it.
He wasn’t going to let these people die. He was actually getting to like some of them.
