Michael’s thin and almost emaciated body trembled slightly as his consciousness began to stir. There was a slight lag before he shot up from his back, instantly scanning the surroundings for threats as his heart beat wildly in his chest.
An unfamiliar room greeted him, lit up by a flickering lantern that created dancing shadows on the wall. He saw bookcases filled with old looking tos, aging wooden furniture and cobwebs scattered around the ceiling.
Confusion washed over him.
Where am I?
He looked down, seeing a musty yet warm blanket covering his lower half. It took only a glance to realize he was still filthy, wearing the sa clothes he’d had for the past couple of weeks.
Michael felt a sense of pity for the person who would have to clean the bed and sheets, but more importantly, he needed to find out where he was.
The last thing I rember was arriving in front of the gates... Did the mage’s bring here?
"Oh good, you’re awake." A woman’s voice called as the door swung open, startling him.
Her face was lit up by the lantern, showing a woman in a simple black dress barely in her twenties. The fair skin and warm smile on her face left him feeling reassured—safe even.
"W-Where am I?" Michael asked, his voice sounding rather unnatural after not being used for so long.
"You’re in one of the guest rooms of Lord Winterborne," she said, approaching him from the door.
Michael flinched subconsciously, only for the woman to stop in place.
"Oh you poor thing, it must have been tough on you out in the wilderness," she said, her tone filled with empathy, "don’t worry though, you’re safe now."
Michael felt his body relax, hearing the care and concern in her voice. It felt like this woman didn’t have any ulterior motive, so he subconsciously let down his guard.
"I still don’t know what’s happening," he admitted, "why has the lord taken in?"
In all honesty, he didn’t have much of a plan outside of coming to Whitevalley Town. The best Michael had hoped for was to sleep on the streets for a few days before looking for so stable work.
After accumulating enough capital, he’d be able to apply for one of the cheaper magic academies and beco a mage. As long as he was studious, he would be able to at least get strong enough to protect himself.
But that was as far as he had planned.
So waking up in the residence of an unknown Lord was quite surprising.
Instead of answering his question, the woman approached him and gently reached out, grabbing his hand. They were a little rougher than he’d expected, but they were warm to the touch.
"I’m Shirley, one of the maids in Lord Winterborne’s employ. What’s your na sweetpea?" she asked, smiling at him gently as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Michael looked at the woman and couldn’t help but compare her to the maids at his old ho. He had expected to see so derision hidden beneath her eyes, or an ulterior motive, but all he could sense was sincerity.
"My na is Michael..." he replied softly, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly from embarrassnt.
Shirley’s smile widened and she patted the back of his hand, "What a wonderful na," she exclaid, "do you have a family na as well?"
Though the question sounded a little probing, Michael wasn’t offended.
"Ellis..." he replied softly.
Michael chose to abandon the Aurelius na, a decision that he hadn’t made lightly. Apart from his mother who had married into the family, he felt no attachnt to such a na, in fact, all it brought was bitterness.
While he could have chosen to take his mother’s maiden na, he was worried that her family might investigate and look into his identity. By throwing away his last na, Michael was going to start a new life, one with the sole purpose of finding his mother’s killers.
"Ellis? I’m not sure I’ve heard of that family before," Shirley muttered, tilting her head in thought.
Michael nodded. He had co up with the na as a tribute to his mother Alice, it was close enough that whenever he heard it, he would be reminded of her.
"Well, I guess that leads to my next question. Where are your parents?" she asked kindly.
"They are dead." Michael stated plainly.
Though he didn’t know the fate of his father, he didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, he was far better off without the man in his life, regardless of his newfound strength.
"Oh sweetie..." Shirley moved forward and brought him into her embrace. She squeezed him tightly, rubbing a hand on his back as if trying to bring him comfort.
Michael was slightly taken aback, but he did not resist her. He wasn’t sure if he even could since his body felt so weak at the mont.
Shirley pulled back after a few minutes, holding him at arm’s length. "Let’s get you cleaned up and put so food in your belly, you’re skin and bones," she exclaid, looking him up and down.
"Ah, your dress..." Michael said, looking down at her once clean and pristine outfit. It was now marred by dirt after hugging him a mont ago.
But Shirley waved her hand dismissively, "it’ll co out easy enough." She said, getting to her feet. "Now co, once you’ve bathed, the Lord has invited you to dine with him and his family."
Before he could refuse, Shirley grabbed his hand and easily lifted him from the bed and carried him in her arms. Once again, she seed to not care about how filthy he was.
"My word... You’re so light," she comnted, a hint of sadness in her tone.
However, Michael didn’t hear her.
"Thank you..." he muttered, biting his lip hard.
This was the first kindness he’d experienced since his mother’s death, stoking his emotions.
"You have such good manners," Shirley said, letting out a giggle, "now let’s get you cleaned up. I bet you’re a handso boy under all that filth."
"I knew it!" Shirley exclaid, ruffling Michael’s hair affectionately, "You’re so handso."
Michael felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassnt as the maid finished bathing him. Even at his insistence that he could bathe himself, the woman had not budged, showing a caring yet stubborn side that he didn’t know how to handle.
Eventually, he had no choice but to give in to her persistence.
Reviews
All reviews (0)