Page 23 of Kingdom of Rot & Ruin
The image of the few stone quarter Nobles I knew filled my mind: all of them were pompous, thin-skinned idiots who tried to outdo each other by wearing as many jewels as they could get away with. Since the mines were now closed the only jewels came from private mines under their homes, and therefore a precious commodity. I doubted any had known a hard day’s work in their entire lives.
“No, I can’t see them getting their hands dirty,” I agreed.
Elo’s expression sagged with relief. “You understand, then! It is likely that these people,” he pointed to the parchment and its tally marks, “were brought in to work the mines. Now that the mines are closed, their descendants languish in the mud quarter without purpose or direction.”
He finished with a smile in my direction as if it all made sense now and he had presented it as a perfectly wrapped present, complete with a bow.
“Slaves,” I breathed out, finally understanding. “They were slaves. That’s why they’re marked down on this parchment like … property. Because they were. They are.Oh, my gods.”
Elo’s face twisted with understanding, but then he nodded, finding the sense in it. My feelings were a bit more complicated.
“I need to go,” I muttered, standing up and abandoning my work table.
Elo didn’t think my sudden change in behavior odd. He didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him. And he was already tidying my books, arranging my notes and papers in a neat pile for when I came back.
I left without making a remark on it.
I was too shocked by what I’d learned that I wasn’t paying good enough attention to my surroundings. I rounded a corner too fast, not listening for footsteps.
WHUMPF.
“Ow!”
The feminine cry reassured me I hadn’t run into a Fireguard, who would ask awkward questions about why I wasn’t in the dormitories. As a scribe, I was allowed to come and go as I pleased, but proving it to some freshly appointed guard was a pain in the ass, and to be avoided at all costs, if possible.
But the figure sprawled on the floor with her skirts askew wasn’t a Fireguard.
I eyed the bare expanse of one creamy, exposed thigh, and my cock stirred. I knew I was near the age for such things to give me interest, and I’d heard enough living with other boys to know the basics. Books filled in the rest.
“My apologies,” I offered smoothly, extending my hand.
Bright blue eyes widened in fear, but relaxed when she saw I wasn’t a Fireguard. An odd sense of kinship flared inside of me as I realized we’d both been afraid of the other for the same reason.
“No, I’m sorry. I was just trying to get back to the kitchens?—”
“At this hour?” I questioned sharpy, watching as she nervously smoothed down her skirts, balling her fists in the fabric. She shifted her weight from side to side, clearly ill at ease around me.
“Yes?” she whispered tremulously. “I live there. A few of us sleep on the floor near the fire where it’s warm, and that way we can keep the fire going for the porridge in the morning?—”
I waved my hand at her, not needing every minute detail of her dreadful existence. More intriguing was how she pressed herself back up against the wall, as if I were someone to be feared. My chest puffed a little at this; I wasn’t used to anyone being intimidated by me.
I liked it and would reward her.
“Do you need an escort back to the kitchens?” I asked, since it seemed like something a Noble boy would ask a Noble woman. And I doubted anyone had ever offered to do so before.
I didn’t think her eyes could get any bigger, but they did. Her pink lips parted in shock, a deep blush coloring her cheeks so dark I could see it even in the dimly lit hallway.
“I … that would be nice,” she stammered out, her fear shifting into something more coy as she peeked out at me from under her eyelashes, her fingers trailing down the partially visible cleavage on her slightly heaving chest.
She was afraid of me, yet still trying to lure me in with herwiles.
Interesting.
I wouldn’t complain if she was offering.
“What’s your name?” I asked, leaning against the corridor’s stone wall and crossing my arms over my chest. She followed me, her body leaning close to mine as she bent over, giving me a generous eyeful of her cleavage.
“Clover,” she breathed out.
