Chapter Text
Darrin
The goddess arrived quite unannounced, riding a gleaming white mare seemingly designed to further her image. She waved off her guards at the gate. “Stay here,” she ordered airily. “Lord Darrin is more than capable of safeguarding me while I am on his property. He will not allow me to be harmed.”
The guards obediently took up positions near the gate as workmen opened it for her, and she rode through. “My lord? May I request respite at your glorious estate?”
Darrin waved off his engineer and rolled her way with a grin. “Of course, Starlet. Make yourself at home - if you can in a construction site.”
“Have your man assist me, will you, Treasure?” She asked, still sitting in her side saddle, her posture erect, her hair and make up nearly perfect enough to wonder if magic were involved.
August was already moving, removing the need for Darrin to order him to do so.
Once on the ground, Aurelia smoothed her skirts and offered Darrin her hand. “Hello, my lord. What a lovely construction site you have here.”
He shrugged and took the offered hand for a perfunctory kiss. “It’s a start. I’m hoping to have the servants’ quarters livable within the month, but the rest will take longer.”
She surveyed the rock and beams stacked in neat piles while holding one perfectly manicured hand to shade her eyes from the sun. “He’s found one set of your mercenaries,” she whispered as August moved away.
“I wasn’t exactly hiding those. Everything they’ve done in my name is legal, and helpful to someone important.”
“August has also told him of a scruffy man who comes and goes and brings you gifts. He’s actively looking for the man.”
“That’s unfortunate, but so long as he continues to refuse my help there’s not much I can do. I’d hate to lose that one, though.” Darrin said soberly.
Aurelia stepped closer to the timber that already had been fastened into place and raised her voice. “It seems you’ve made quick progress indeed. Will these be the kitchens?”
“No, this one is the laundry. The kitchen is there, next to it. Servants’ dormitories will be across the hall, and upstairs in this wing will be the rooms for… Well, just for me I suppose. Typically the guest rooms would be in the other wing.”
“I’m surprised you plan on stairs at all. They seem so cumbersome for you.”
“They are, but the only stairs will be the servants’ ones and the grand ones in the main entrance. Somehow I can’t envision ramps leaving quite the same impression. I’ll have a… let’s call it a lift, behind the entrance staircase, and ramps to go up and down at the ends of the wings. I won’t need help to maneuver through most of the house.”
She nodded and continued moving slowly around the area, ensuring that Darrin could keep pace. “Have you planned for an exercise room for yourself? Your physical capability will need to be honed, especially as you get older, won’t it?”
He barked a laugh. “What for? The chair gives my arms enough exercise as it is, and the problem with my legs has to do with the nerves, not muscle.”
She went entirely silent as she continued her perusal. “August, my horse. Have a nice day, my lord,” she said without even glancing at him.
His face fell as he realized some sort of misstep and rolled after her. “Starlet-”
“Yes?” Her syrupy sweet, goddess facade was back in place. He hadn’t realized it had been missing until it suddenly returned.
He paused, unsure. “I appreciate you coming.” Darrin finally finished in a lower voice, more sincere than the one he used during their social events.
“Do you?” She turned, accepted August’s help to mount and urged her mare toward the gate.
He watched her go and glanced at August. “You’ve known her longer than I have. Any insights?”
August looked uncomfortable. He took a few moments before saying, “Lord Vovlan has high expectations for those of his household. He would not tolerate any action based on faulty information.”
Darrin exhaled and shook his head. “So she felt she’d made a bad assumption and is berating herself for doing so. I suppose we’ll see if she can get over it.”
“If you’ll forgive me, Sir, one does not ‘get over’ such things with my master.” His jaw worked for a moment before he added, “He is a meticulous accountant.”
“I am not him, and she should know that by now. That aside, I’m not someone with any authority over her. She shouldn’t let me or anything I say get to her.”
August nearly let his comportment slip before he caught himself. “I believe you’ve had too little exposure to the fairer sex, my lord.”
Darrin chuckled humorlessly. “I am certain you are right. I’ll see if I can write something that doesn’t sound like groveling later. For now, we have work to do.”
“For what it is worth, Sir, I’ve not seen Mistress Aurelia so uninhibited with anyone since she was a child.”
Darrin’s expression grew a little darker. “Then perhaps it is just as well if we’re at odds. Your lord won’t let this go on forever, and it will be easier on her when it ends if she dislikes me.”
“As you say, my lord,” August said with a bow, falling silent and returning to his perfect servant persona.
Fisk
“Leave off the wardrobe today, Mara,” Darrin said when Fisk brought the girl into his rooms as had become the normal routine. August would arrive shortly with breakfast. “You’re going on an outing with Fisk.”
He could see the big man thinking through the possible reasons for the command. “Is she shopping for new materials?”
“You can stop on the way back and get some new materials if you wish, but no. There’s a slave auction today, and people are going to wonder if I don’t start making a bid or two for slaves, even if I’m unsuccessful.” Darrin met Mara’s fearful eyes and nodded towards the door, sending her to do anything she might wish before leaving the inn.
“What are you sending her for?” Fisk hissed. “If all you want is for me to make a few bids and let other people win, I can do that without her.”
Darrin glanced again at the door again before he quietly answered. “I inquired as to what would be on offer. Three of them are northern children. It’s a long shot, but if she recognizes one of her sisters, bid whatever it takes. There’s five hundred gold in this pouch. That should be more than enough, and if you find other options that look promising, go ahead and try to get them.”
Fisk took the heavy pouch and hesitated. It wasn’t right to take the girl somewhere like that - it seemed like she’d only just started to smile, content in the job she had and the way Darrin saw that her needs were met with a quiet trust that she was doing what she should. Yet there wasn’t anyone else to identify her sister if she was there, and Darrin couldn’t very well just buy every northern girl under the age of fourteen.
“I purchased clearance to see the options up to an hour before the actual auctions start. Identify at least three to bid on. Once they’re past you can bring her back if she doesn’t seem to be handling it well.”
The young lord didn’t look any happier about it than Fisk felt, and that alone kept him from saying something sharp. Instead, he nodded and left to find Mara.
She came along easily enough, but he could see the fear in her eyes. He wanted to erase it, but he didn’t have the words and it took some time before she spoke up.
“If you’ll forgive my asking, Mr. Fisk, why is his lordship sending me with you?” The teen asked quietly.
Fisk glanced down at her, the girl’s eyes big with concern and struggled with what to answer. It seemed cruel to get her hopes up. “Who knows what goes on in his lordship’s head? But if I had to guess, I’d say he wanted to see if you could use an assistant.”
“I guess if his lordship means to quit going to the tailor and gives me all his work, I will need an assistant. Is that his plan?” She asked, gripping the seat of the wagon with both hands.
“I don’t know,” Fisk sighed, on edge from knowledge of where they were going and what they were likely to see. “I don’t understand half of his plans, and the ones I do he doesn’t tell me all of. Guess that’s part of being the lord. Don’t worry, though. He likes your work - he’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”
“He’s not selling me? Tell me truly, please, Mr. Fisk?”
“Of course not!” He said sharply. “I wouldn’t let him, even if he wanted to. I think Lady Aurelia would have something to say, too - she was pretty happy with your work on his clothes.”
The girl tensed, looking up into his eyes. “The mistress? She’s so beautiful. Her clothes are perfect. Everything about her is perfect. She likes my work?”
He softened a little in the face of her fragile hope. “How could she not? Even I noticed he looked better, and I don’t notice clothes.”
“His tailor was dressing him like a regular man and he isn’t a regular man. He needs clothes that are made for him, not some well dressed dandy with spindly arms and working legs!”
Fisk chuckled and pulled the girl into a side hug like he would have for his sister. “I’m sure he appreciates the defense. I’m glad you seem happy working for him. I didn’t think it was really possible for someone to be happy while enslaved.”
The girl looked at the horses drawing the wagon and said softly, “If I’m not happy as a slave, I don’t guess I’ll ever get to be happy, will I? I don’t want to be sad all the time.”
“Some slaves are granted freedom. Some run away to places it’s illegal. But I think for now you’re safest where you are. Darrin will at least see you fed and safe.”
“When my lady sold me she said she hoped I’d get a horrible master. His lordship isn’t horrible.”
“Normally I’d agree, but I’m not fond of this decision of his,” Fisk muttered as they pulled up to the auction house. He helped the girl down and led the way towards the door, keeping her in sight out of some fear she might bolt.
She grasped his hand. “I don’t like this place, Mr. Fisk.”
“I wouldn’t make you go in if it wasn’t for a good reason. I’m right here, and I won’t let anyone touch you, alright? I may not own you, but I’m not a slave that has to kowtow either.”
She nodded, the faith in her eyes making something protective flare in his breast. So he squeezed her hand and kept at a fairly slow pace, even though the smell that hit him as they entered made him want to back out immediately.
The slaves on auction were in a better place than they were before for the sake of the owners meandering through, but their unwashed bodies still smelled. Several of them sobbed quietly while others simply stared into space, and one or two yanked at their chains and yelled abuse at the viewers. These were quickly punished by the guards until they settled, blood streaming from their wounds.
Mara whimpered at Fisk’s side, but he had to at least get through a walk to see the northerners. His heart sank a little as they passed them, one by one, and the girl made no indication of recognizing them. In fact, after a while she pressed her face against his coat and pressed as much of herself as she could to his side, and Fisk wished he could take her back to the inn right away and tell Darrin never to send her back.
In a thin voice she said, “If his lordship wants a tailor, I’ll have to see their tags.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Fisk told her shortly. “He had a few other options in mind. You just keep breathing and try to get through this.”
She nodded, seeming relieved. He rubbed at her shoulder, trying to reassure her as he took the pre-assigned paddle for bidding and guided her up to their spot. It was a little better here as there was some space from the unfortunate souls on offer today, but Fisk wouldn’t relax until this place was well behind them.
Fortunately, it wasn’t a long wait before the actual event started. Fisk bid halfheartedly on one, and then another option that he knew were valuable enough that he’d be quickly overbid for. Mara had dared to open her eyes, and she gasped when she saw the next option to come up.
“He can’t be older than four!” She murmured. Then she muffled a cry when the first bid went out. “That man serves my first master. Don’t let him take that baby!”
Fisk nodded and fully engaged in the bid war for the first time, and found that for this one it wasn’t too bad. The child was too young for work yet, and it would be difficult for one to tell his potential. When many of the other options available were teenagers or magic users, who would waste time on this brat?
“We’ll have to wait until the end to go down and pay and claim him,” Fisk told her when they moved on to the next option. “No slipping out early.”
She nodded, but seemed to feel somewhat better now that that had been done. She settled against his side, and Fisk watched the enthusiastic bidding for the next few until an older woman was led up to the block. For the first time, full silence fell regardless of what the auctioneer said. That is, until he made his last plea…
“Come on, my lords and ladies - it’s the post for her otherwise, and no one works quite so hard as someone who knows their life is on the line,” the man jeered, and Fisk’s stomach clenched.
The paddle was up almost before he realized it. No one tried to outbid him for that one, and he heard one or two scoffs about exactly how pleased his master would be about it. The worst part is that Fisk wasn’t sure that they were wrong. Darrin seemed far kinder than the other lords, but part of that seemed to be because he could find a way to use everyone he’d met so far. What could even he find to use this scrawny old woman for?
Mara squeezed his hand in what he thought was appreciation or approval, and that helped ground him. It didn’t matter what Darrin thought - this was what was right.
He didn’t plan to bid again, but when the last offering was brought up he found himself looking down on a pair of angry blue eyes in the most scarred face he’d ever seen. The girl they belonged to must’ve been very pretty once - he could see it in the shape of her face and the thin nose now marred by the worst of her scars. That one began at her forehead, tugged at her eyebrow, and dented her nose before running through the corner of her lips. Other white marks and burns were visible in her face and on her arms, and one of her ears was missing altogether.
A couple of others bid on the redhead, but they were unenthusiastic and Fisk was able to outbid them with coin to spare. This one at least was physically fit for work, cleaning or in the kitchens, so hopefully Darrin would choose not to criticize that choice.
Leaving was a bit of a pain, with everyone else trying to get out at the same time. Still, they waited patiently for their turn and Mara gladly picked up the little boy as soon as he was turned over.
“Come along, mother,” Fisk murmured, patiently waiting for the old woman to hobble her way along the passage. He didn’t know what to do with the other girl - her eyes seemed to dare him to say something, but she followed along as she was supposed to.
“So,” the redhead asked caustically after they were all loaded up. “Who is our glorious master now?”
“Nicest lord I ever worked for,” Mara said loyally.
“Darrin Giltenmuir.” Fisk told them shortly.
“Never heard of him,” the girl said, and though she still sounded angry, he thought he detected an undercurrent of nerves.
“Why do you say he’s nice, little one?” The grandmother asked.
“He never yells. He let me pick my own job,” Mara said.
“I’ve never yet heard him say anyone is useless,” Fisk told her reassuringly. “He’ll find something to value in you. He always seems to.” At least, Fisk hoped that was true.
“Your fancy pants lord is gonna have plenty to say about me. You’ll be sleeping in the alley tonight for bringing me here,” the redhead said, crossing her arms and scowling deeply.
Fisk snorted. “I find it more likely I’ll have to share my room with a small child that may well wake up screaming in the middle of the night.”
The little boy in question had fallen asleep in Mara’s arms. She snuggled him like she’d already adopted him as a brother, looking satisfied with their outing.
“Alright, we’re here. His home isn’t finished yet, so we’re still in this inn for a couple of weeks yet. Come along.” He hurried to help the old woman down, and then back to take the boy from Mara. The child stirred, but didn’t quite wake.
Darrin was with August when they arrived, and his expression quickly turned from pleasant to bemused as he took in the motley lot his gold had bought. His mismatched eyes scanned them, meeting the eyes of the redhead but unable to do the same to the sleeping child or the old woman who avoided such a danger.
The young lord beckoned Fisk closer, then said in a low voice, “would you care to explain yourself?”
Fisk considered it, then lowered the child in his arms onto Darrin’s lap. The young lord put an arm around the boy to keep him from falling off the chair and made a sputtering noise that Fisk had never heard from him.
“They need you,” he said simply.
“That’s not how this works!” Darrin hissed, but Fisk didn’t miss how the young man pulled the boy closer when the child shifted.
He shrugged. “Well, they’re yours now.”
Fisk sought out August’s eyes, certain the valet would have an amusing expression on his face. He was not disappointed.
“Fine.” Darrin’s voice drew Fisk’s attention back to the task at hand as the young lord cleared his features and gestured for the two women to come closer. “What kind of work have you been trained for?”
“My lord, I have primarily been a nanny for many households,” the old woman said. “But I can cook and scrub. I’ll do anything. I’ll work hard, Sir.”
The redhead shrugged. “I’ll do whatever you want. My training doesn’t matter much with this.” She gestured to her disfigured face.
For just a moment Darrin’s eyes flashed. “I do not allow others to damage my property. If anyone tries to harm you further, you tell me. As for you,” he turned to the older woman and gestured at the child in his arms. “It would seem that I have need of a nanny.”
He sounded as though he was hiding his resignation behind false crankiness, and Fisk shifted behind him so the young lord couldn’t see the smile tugging at his lips. Darrin’s adaptability might well be one of his best traits, Fisk thought as he watched the interaction.
“And you, Red - what do you like to do? There are plenty of openings and time for training at the moment.”
The girl looked away, finally dropping her defiant manner. “I like horses. They’re nicer than people.”
“True enough. Do you know much about them, or simply like them?”
She shuffled her feet and seemed very interested in her shoes. “I used to hide in the stables. The grooms put me to work.”
He nodded. “I’ll send you through a real training program. We have the time, and I don’t have any horses of my own yet. The stables aren’t even built, so if you have any requests or suggestions on that, I’ll hear what you have to say.”
“Why would anyone train me? They all think I’m worth nothing now. You aren’t gonna find anybody who will do it.”
Darrin leaned back, assessing her. “Why would they think that? And why would that make a free man refuse my coin to train you?”
“They’s scared of me. Think I’ve got a spirit or somethin.”
“You don’t have magic.” It was a statement, but somehow it felt like it invited explanation.
“No, Sir. Maybe then I would have been good for something other than hurting. They just look at me and think there must be a reason I look like this.”
His eyes flashed again. “Is that what they say, or what you think?”
Her shoes had become very interesting once more. “Master used to tell me so. Then he died and his lady didn’t like ta look at me.”
“People don’t much like to look at me either. There is nothing wrong with me, and there is nothing wrong with you. There’s always someone willing to work for gold - you’ll get your training, and then you’re going to become the best stable master in Sarthe, understand?”
She looked up into his eyes for a moment. Then her chin came up and she straightened. “You’ll never have nothing to be ashamed of in those stables, my lord.”
“Good girl.” He nodded sharply, then looked back down at the very brown child in his lap. The kid must’ve come from Baris, and made a sharp contrast to Darrin’s paleness. Still, the innocent being must’ve stirred some paternal instinct that made the young lord shift carefully.
“You can take him, madam. He’ll share a room with Fisk, and the two of you will be with Mara.”
“Yes, my lord,” the old woman said, carefully gathering the little one from her new master.
“Begging your lordship’s pardon,” the woman said after a moment, not sounding at all cowed, “it might be best for the babe to sleep with me for at least a bit.”
Darrin shifted and frowned. “He’s old enough to sleep alone, isn’t he?”
“Of course, my lord, but he’s had a rough go of it, lots of changes, just pulled from his mama’s arms.” She looked tenderly at the sleepy child propped on her hip. “He’ll likely have nightmares for a time. Your man likely would rather sleep since he has other duties.”
“I’ll be fine either way,” Fisk put in. “I had younger siblings.” The man couldn’t quite keep the pain out of his voice, but it was soft enough to tell Darrin that Fisk was already taking on an older sibling role with this child despite that past.
“You forget that Mara and our new stablemaster have work as well. If we need to shift him around, we will, but for now I would hope Fisk can handle it.”
The woman bowed, a fluid motion considering her age and the extra weight on her hip. “As you wish, my lord.”
“What shall I call you all?” Darin asked.
“You can call me Ash. It’s close enough to my name, and people have trouble pronouncing the whole thing.” The redhead stated resentfully.
Darrin took that in with a nod. “I don’t suppose either of you know the child’s name?”
“His mother called him Abelas.” The old woman sounded sad. “You may call me whatever you wish, but my name is Myriam.”
“What happened to his mother?” Darrin asked sharply, glancing at Fisk.
“Oh, that’s sad enough. She was ill before she was captured,” the nanny said. “She spent her last hours holding her son and singing lullabies even after her voice broke. I think she would be pleased to know he came here.”
“That’s why you wanted him with you?”
“Aye, my lord.”
He exhaled. “Very well. Decide between yourselves where he goes - I don’t care as long as he’s taken care of.”
Within moments, the room had cleared of most of the new acquisitions as Mara led the women to their room. Fisk took the child from Myriam to let her have a chance to settle in before they decided where to keep the kid.
“I have to wonder who you think it is that’s in charge of this household, Fisk.” Darrin’s words may have been rebuking, but his tone couldn’t quite manage it.
“I’d have to think about that one,” Fisk replied flippantly.
“Do you intend to bring back the scraps no one else wants every time I send you there? I may have to change the amount I give you if so.”
“Increasing or decreasing?”
Darrin rolled back a little to get a better view of the other man’s face. “You’re in a good mood today,” he observed.
Fisk shrugged. “We did something good instead of sitting on our rears.”
“I know you’ve been frustrated, but I haven’t been idle!” Darrin protested.
“I know,” Fisk responded. “But there’s a difference between knowing and seeing. Today we saved a woman from the post, a child from a harsh master, and most likely a girl from more abuse. That sounds like a good day’s work to me.”
Darrin huffed a breath, but could find no argument. Eventually he just nodded and turned back to his paperwork, leaving Fisk feeling more satisfied than he had felt in months.