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Preface: Hello all, I making another attempt at writing a thing, all C&C welcome. Beware, if the story continues some messing may start cropping up, and other, stranger things.

 

 

Chapter 1

On the Morning of October the 28th, along the barren, cold cliffside of the De Laarg Barony, Yolanda walked her way to her new job, along a rugged track that very few people had the pleasure of traversing. Most of the Barony’s coast was reserved for De Laarg Manor, with very few permissions given for others to travel near, or even see the Barony’s northern coast. Waves lapped against the base of the cliff, many meters down, accompanying Yolanda’s footsteps on the hard stone path. Yolanda had been accepted to work as a servant in De Laarg’s manor. Each footstep she made along the path was with apprehension, as she had heard some very strange rumours about what happens within, but rumours just follow secrets wherever they go, compounded, no doubt by the fact that the De Laarg family was one of the most powerful, and influential families on the continent. Part of the reason Yolanda went for the job was she HAD to know just what went on in there.

Yolanda saw the manor come into view, the thing was massive, four or five floors with peaked roofs, battlements and banners all over the place, the manor, with its grounds and secondary buildings included was probably the size of your average fiefdom and probably employed as many people. Only the De Laargs could afford something as obscene, and so far away from any other settlement. Several hundred meters back along the cliffside from the manor was the manor’s security fence, guard towers dotted along it, and guards intermittently patrolling it with dogs, and other stranger creatures Yolanda had never seen before, they were like dogs, but with more legs, more snout, and more nostrils. Probably something that the family picked up on one of their expeditions to the new world.

Two guards stood by the entry gate, each one covered in the heraldry of the De Laarg family, an intricate white compass on red, on the top left and bottom right, and on alternate corners, the sigil of the Ulven Mystics. As Yolanda closed in on the gate, the two men standing guard crossed their halberds, preventing entry. “Do you have a reason to enter the Manor Grounds?” one said.

Getting right to the point, Yolanda thought, ruffling through her bag, for the appropriate letters. “here,” she said, handing them to the guard with the fancier plumage on his helmet, assuming he was the one in charge.

He forcibly grabbed the letters, tore them open, said, “sure,” and unlocked the rather foreboding gate, that Yolanda now noticed had the Mystics symbol wrought into it, and passed back the now damaged letters. As she walked through the well-kept garden of local plants and new world plants, separated by lovely, intricate stone-paved walkways interspersed with gazebos, fountains, and statues of famous family members, Yolanda thought that this place looked radiant, and couldn’t help but let out a small smile. She caught a whiff of a bunch of strange new smells, some, of course, were the plants, but she’d never come across a plant that smells like death before, even in all her time in the Trader’s Guild, so she wondered if it was those foul creatures some of the guards had on patrol.

The main doors of the manor had another two well equipped guards standing by them, and like the gate, each side of the mighty wooden double door had the Compass symbol from the family livery burned into it. Much like at the gate, a pair of halberds blocked her path, “Are we expecting you?”

“Well,” Yolanda stammered out, “I’m the new servant. So you could be” she handed the guards the damaged letters.

The one on the left took the damaged parchments, and chuckled, “I see Brontis is on the gate today.” He gave Yolanda back the letters and hit the door twice.

As the sound of a dozen different locks unlocking came from the door, Yolanda’s excitement rose, she was about to enter an exclusive group of people to see inside De Laarg Manor.

Standing in the way of the view indoor was a tall, old, strange man wearing a tatty, ratty version of an Explorer’s outfit, complete with morion helm, and amulets to Shahar around his neck, this man lacked a leg, and several fingers, but he made up for that lack in copious amounts of head hair, facial hair, and chest hair, and Yolanda assumed other types of hair as well. “Ah, Yolanda, welcome, Allow me to introduce myself, I am Ruis Raoul Trinidad Sao Marcos de Filipe. But you can call me Ruis, or Boss. I am the master of the help, and an old friend of the De Laarg family.” With a smile and a half bow, Ruis let her step through the doors. The main entryway was gigantic, with several mezzanine floors wrapping around the walls, the floors covered in complex rugs bought far away, and the walls were adorned with display cases filled with weapons and ornaments from this continent, the new world, and other far off strange places, from the truly ancient, like bronze tipped spears, to the horrifically modern, like arquebuses and rapiers, and some sort of multi-barrel pistol with moving parts. Gigantic renditions of the De Laarg heraldry and religious iconography hung freely from the ceiling were slightly caught by the wind from the doors opening. “Follow me.” he said and set off with a ‘tak, clomp, tak clomp,’ to compliment Yolanda’s normal footsteps. “Nothing special here, just famous implements from great members of the De Laarg family, and other such. I won’t give you the history, as you’ll have plenty of time cleaning the hall later to read all the plaques. First I’ll take you to your quarters to deposit your stuff, and collect your uniform.”

Tak, clump, tak clump, tak clump.

“That’s a good place to start, uniforms. There’s three.”

Yolanda took out her mental notebook and began to focus, hard.

“Two you choose between, so long as you maintain your status as a servant”

“Maintain my status?”

Tak clump, tak clump.

Continuing as if he hadn’t heard her, “First is the same pseudo-militaristic blue and grey tailcoat and leggings with spats and sash optional. Generally used  for service at fancy dinners and the like but you can choose to wear it on normal duties, second is a black and white short dress with hosiery and high heels. That one was chosen by Lady Amaryllis.”

“Now,” Yolanda cut in, “what’s this about changing status?”

Tak clump, tak clump.

“Ah, yes. Amaryllis is big on rules and big on punishment. If, as a servant, you break a rule, your punishment is being downgraded to slave for an appropriate time, and the slave uniform is just cotton leggings and tunic. As a slave, you cannot move, breath, sleep or eat without the explicit permission of Amaryllis, or someone who acts in Amaryllis' stead. Normally we just find a stern servant to do the job, but you will be expected to continue your duties, of course breaking these rules as a slave extends your time as one, oh, and, your steadings will be in the stable, and all free time will be suspended until you get back to servant again.”

Yolanda’s noggin was joggin’ listening to this. She was beginning to worry about what sort of kooky world she was entering by taking this job. To the point where she was only half-listening to Ruis’ explanations of other basics about the job.

By this point, the two had climbed several staircases, gone down others, and looped and winded through several corridors, most of which were as well adorned as the great entry hall. Yolanda was worried she’d never find her way out again.

“Ah,” Ruis said, “I think we’re about to see an example of a slave, poor Strumpet, never stays a servant for long.” 

The implications dripping from Ruis’ sentence, and the way he said it there made Yolanda’s anxiety act up. This may not be the relax-and-regroup job she thought it would be.

The two happened upon a woman in the black and white dress uniform of a servant leaning on a wall, disinterested in the situation, and a woman in the all grey slave uniform, working on cleaning a display case containing a gilded dagger some claim to be Elven in origin, scholars on the topic, however, remain divided, as Elves are presumed to be mere myth, this, however, does not stop archaeologists and explorers from finding strange inhuman artefacts.

 Ruis smiled, “Perfect introduction to the system.” Ruis and Yolanda stopped to face the pair, “Hail, Strumpet, Ignacia.”

“Hello Bossman,” Ignatia said, “Is this our new servant?”

“This Yolanda of Everhill” Ruis began, She is the new general maid.”

Ignatia smiled. “This will be a perfect demonstration for her. Bartholomea here got three weeks as a slave for attempting to sneak into the sublevels. This is her last day.”

Ruis stated, “only carefully selected for, and vetted help are allowed down there, and only on a job, and with me, or a family member present.”

Yolanda nervously laughed, “sounds serious.” her curiosity and her anxiety both acted up.

At this point, Yolanda noticed an odd stiffness in the way Strumpet was standing. She wasn’t doing a particularly fantastic job cleaning the case either. She seemed preoccupied.

Ignacia sighed. “Bartholomea, you’re never going to get the case clean if you clean it like that.”

“Sorry ma’am, but I badly need to use a chamber pot,” Bartolomea responded.

“Remember what I said about that?” Ignatia said.

Strumpet, apparently really called Bartholomea, responded. “ that while I am your slave, my pants are my chamber pot, ma’am.” as her hand shot to her crotch, and she started wiggling and bouncing.

“You’re the only one who turns this into a drama Barthie, most slaves I have just accept it and pee themselves whenever they need to, you’re the only one who even attempts to hold it.” Ignacia said.

Yolanda shot a terrified glare to Ruis, he met it with a calm smile and said, “if you don’t want to be put in this situation, all you have to do is follow the rules.”

Yolanda didn’t know what to say, what to think, or how to think it anymore. She became very aware of her heart beating in her chest, she started shaking. An entire extended family of butterflies made a home in her stomach. She couldn’t imagine being forced to ruin her pants in front of someone else. (though, she has peed herself in front of people before, but that incident was her own stupid fault.) This was one of her worst fears, besides, of course, spectres, the undead, the standard stuff.

“Ignacia, as you can tell from her nun-like name is one of our more cruel servants when given a slave,” Ruis said.

“So this isn’t normal?” Yolanda asked, terrified.

Ignacia laughed. “The worse the punishment, the less likely we’ll get repeat offences. Not everyone embraces that idea. Humiliation is a great punishment.” Ignacia saw Yolanda’s terrified expression. “But don’t worry too much, if you don’t break the rules, I won't make you wet yourself.” She then hastily added, “and no, there aren’t many of us who go this far with our slaves.”

Bartholomea let out a whimper, “please ma’am, not in front of the new girl.” and stood bolt upright. The crotch of her grey leggings darkened as a hiss pierced the ears of all nearby. The wetness expanded across and down her legs, her hand still jammed in her crotch, squeezed her thighs hard, and an expression of effort was strewn across her face. Yolanda looked at Ignatia and Ruis’ faces, both seemed unsurprised, accepting, even happy with present events, and the surprisingly large, surprisingly yellow puddle forming around the slave’s feet.

Yolanda was impressed by how much that poor woman had been holding. She wanted to go and hug Bartholomea and tell her it was all ok, and that she had moments like that in the past, but she didn’t know if that was an acceptable interaction with a slave.

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