Chương 25: Chapter 1.25: Bound in Service

Favius studied the spread of food on the table in front of him distractedly. The olives, cheeses, and meats had remained the same ever since he arrived in this world. The spiritual foods served once a week at grand family dinners were varied but always delicious. Magical food certainly hadn't lost its novelty. He glanced at the hard-baked flatbread. No fewer than three dishes were based on fermented porridge.

The soft bread that had been part of every meal since his arrival was apparently only eaten during winter and early spring. After all, it had been completely replaced by the current set of baked goods. He studied the smoked fish and the bowls of other seafood that had become much more common as summer approached. He shook his head. I shouldn't be thinking about food. This—this is important. He went over the planned conversation again until the door swung open and Tiro entered the room.

The middle-aged slave inclined his head.

"The young master wished to speak with me? Is the dinner not to his satisfaction?" Favius cleared his throat, met the man's eyes, and gestured to the chair opposite him.

"Sit. Eat." The slave stiffened.

"It would not be proper, young master." Favius let out a slow breath and repeated his instructions.

"I ordered you to sit, Tiro. As far as I understand, it is proper for you to follow my orders, no?" A tightness gripped his chest, but the servant inclined his head and settled down. Favius grabbed several items of food, but noticed that Tiro was sitting stiff as a board. He reached out over the table, took a spoon, and put a portion of food on the man's plate.

"Try the fermented mussels. They are surprisingly excellent." Favius gave the man a genuine smile. And I do mean that. If someone told me one year ago that fermented mussels would be among my favorite foods… Tiro shook his head slightly.

"Young master, I do not believe that I should…" Favius held himself back. I shouldn't force him. For this to work, he needs to be comfortable.

"You should what, Tiro?"

"We household servants are given… the leftovers. It is simply unseemly to eat together with our betters." Favius smiled.

"Tiro, you're taking care of my personal affairs, and it is my desire to share food with you. If you are making this complicated or awkward, you're not doing your duty." Annoyance flashed over the man's face, yet he let out a long breath and inclined his head.

"As the young master commands." Finally, he began eating. They sat there in silence, enjoying the food for a while. Favius took a healthy bite of cheese before he cleared his throat and looked at Tiro.

"Tell me about yourself. Do you have a family, Tiro?" The slave looked up before lowering his eyes again.

"The household is my family, to which I am duty-bound to serve."

"Yes, yes," Favius made a dismissive gesture, "but do you have a wife or children?" Finally, a light smile crept over the slave's face.

"The gods blessed me with three sons. They are all working in the outer estates nowadays," he said before he schooled his face into a neutral expression again. Favius hummed.

"And your wife?" A sad smile played over the man's face.

"She departed for the ancestral flame three winters ago, my lord." Favius nodded and kept questioning the man a while longer before he shook his head. There are those flashes of emotion, but he controls himself before we can get into a real conversation. No matter. Favius ate half a fish before he broke the silence again.

"Tiro, would you like to be a freedman? I could buy out your contract." The older man recoiled and rose halfway out of his chair. What on Earth? That certainly got a reaction out of him. The servant stared at him wide-eyed before he cleared his throat.

"Young master, why—" He hesitated.

"Why would I want to become a freedman?" A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation. Favius narrowed his eyes.

"Why… you would be free, Tiro. You would no longer have every aspect of your day controlled. You could pursue your dreams." For the first time, real anger showed on the man's face.

"And do what as a freedman? Become a dirt farmer or a day laborer in the city? Young master, I am a slave in a highly prestigious household. Even if I was a citizen—" He swallowed and calmed himself down, his eyes widening as if he was realizing only now how loud his voice was.

"No, I would… if you were to free me, I would sell myself to the good Lady Ovinia Loran again without hesitation." Favius shook his head.

"But you are a slave, Tiro." A brief silence followed, then the servant spoke up.

"Young master, there is honor in service, and serving someone prestigious is an enviable lot. After all, the standing of the master reflects on the standing of the servant." Favius chewed on one of the pieces of bread filled with chunks of olives as he considered. Status. Was I wrong to assume that slaves are the lowest in society? But Brutus explained their system to me. Slaves, freedmen, citizens, and then the various ranks of nobility. But I guess he is living a better life than a free farmer. Holy hell.

Favius hesitated before choosing a different approach.

"If it's the honor and prestige of the master that makes a servant, how do you justify serving Hesnia?" Tiro's face settled into a mask of stoic professionalism, and Favius suppressed a frown. Should have formulated it more diplomatically.

"The Lady Ovinia Loran is a just and caring master." Favius snorted.

"Do you consider her taking my younger siblings hostage just or caring?" Tiro shook his head.

"The young master fails to see the qualities of the lady of the house. Furthermore, this humble servant wonders if he understands that she is merely disciplining him for his defiance." Favius ground his teeth. Is he mocking me? He let out a long breath and tried a different angle.

"She insulted me and my sister as mongrels for our shifter blood. Hating children for who their parents are isn't what a kind person would do." But again, Tiro shook his head with a resigned professionalism.

"It is not in the purview of this servant to comment on matters of blood and relations. I serve the young master at the behest of the lady of the house." Favius sighed and focused on mechanically chewing olive after olive. His thoughts retraced what he had already discussed with Brutus and his siblings. I could get rid of him, but Hesnia would simply replace him with some other loyalist. A tightness formed in his stomach as his options collapsed. So Brutus was probably correct.

And now that Serran has agreed— Favius stopped eating and studied the man in front of him. Can I really do this? He suppressed a shudder and swallowed hard. Yes, for my siblings.

"All right, Tiro. Here is what is going to happen." Favius forced himself to stare the slave straight into the eyes.

"You will report to me about Hesnia's activities. Especially what you are telling her about me." The servant stood up from the table.

"I do not see why I should do that, young master." Favius forced a vicious smile onto his face and spoke quickly to overcome the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Because if you don't do as I tell you, Brutus is going to buy you from Serran to sell you to a salt mine. Do you understand?" The middle-aged servant's eyes widened in shock, and he gasped.

"The majordomo would never—" Favius swallowed, then sneered, true anger replacing his performance.

"Clerical errors happen all the time, slave. But it is within my power to prevent them from happening too regularly, if you are willing to cooperate with me." Favius studied the man's shaking shoulders, his grinding teeth, his barely controlled expression. His hand moved toward his dinner knife without conscious thought. This is so sick, but I can't allow Hesnia a free hand, so— Before his thoughts could run down a darker path, Tiro nodded sharply and spoke up with a sigh.

"I will keep you informed as long as you do not ask me to betray the lady directly. Though I will have to tell her about what you do. Those are her orders." Favius nodded.

"You are free to tell her whatever you must, as long as I am informed of it." Tiro's eyes met his.

"Even… even about this meeting?" For the first time, Favius didn't have to force a smile onto his face.

"Especially about this meeting." The slave turned around and walked toward the door. But as he gripped the handle, he froze and turned around. His voice was shaky.

"If—if I may take my leave, young master."

"You may," Favius replied. The door closed, and the boy stared at it for a long while before he got up and left the room. He found Brutus in the gardens.

"We're going running," he told him in a tight voice, and the man nodded. His protector led him on a track around the hills surrounding the estate. As the sun fell toward the horizon, they somehow found themselves running up the hill where they had had their first serious conversation. Soon, they sat overlooking the gorge and observed the sunset.

"So," Brutus ventured after the silence had dragged on for far too long, "did everything work out as planned?" Favius sighed.

"You were right. He didn't budge until I threatened him." Brutus nodded, and they discussed the situation as the disc of the sun sank behind the horizon. Favius just sighed.

"It's just… it doesn't feel right doing those things. And I know that I probably have to do much worse than threaten a slave to succeed in whatever game this entity is forcing me into, but—" He sighed. Brutus stroked his beard.

"Mercy is a virtue, Favius, but the central virtue is moderation. And like any virtue untempered by moderation—" Favius let out a breath and continued the saying.

"It will become a weakness that must be excised, yes." He sighed and settled into a breathing routine as he studied the deep red clouds of the sunset. After a while, he drowned his thoughts about the day's events in exercises, in cultivating the insight of endurance, as he had done so often over the last week. After almost two hours in the darkness, they walked down the goat path, back to the estate. As they entered Favius's room, Tiro stepped forward and bowed.

"Young master." Favius stiffened, then addressed the man.

"Speak."

"I told the Lady Ovinia Loran of our—" he hesitated "—conversation. She suggested that you and your sisters meet with her and the younger siblings tomorrow in the gardens." A smile spread over Favius's face, but it couldn't replace the emptiness in his stomach. He didn't need to look to the side to know that Brutus was smiling. So the plan worked. He nodded and undressed himself for bed.