The House of Control

A New Lesson

The day began like any other—hard, backbreaking labor under the watchful eyes of the masters and overseers. Ron was at work clearing the last of the rubble from the courtyard, his muscles aching with every lift, every step. The relentless work weighed on him, but he pushed on, each stone he moved a small act of defiance. He was determined to survive this place, no matter how impossible it felt.

As he worked, a hush fell over the courtyard, and Ron glanced up, curious. Mistress Jackie had entered, her sharp gaze scanning the work site. She was accompanied by Master Jacob, who was explaining the project with a deferential tone.

"Lady Jackie," Jacob said, bowing deeply. "This will be The House's new meditation building, a sanctuary for the masters. The space is being crafted with precision, as befits its purpose."

Jackie's face softened with a pleased smile, her eyes flickering over the outline of the building's foundation. "Good. It's about time The House had a place for calm. I could use somewhere to clear my mind."

Jacob nodded. "It will be ready soon, Mistress. Your guidance has ensured it."

Just then, Harry entered the courtyard, his apprentice master's robes pristine and formal, his expression composed as he joined them. He approached Jacob, and to Ron's amazement, Jacob bowed even to him, a subtle show of respect that reminded Ron how much had changed between them all. Harry was in charge here; his decisions carried weight.

"Jacob," Harry began, his voice calm, measured. "Who is the hardest working and most loyal laborer among these?"

Jacob paused, his gaze moving over the line of laborers before landing on a small, wiry man standing nearby. "That would be Ty, sir," Jacob replied. "He's proven himself time and again. Tireless and loyal."

Jackie's interest was piqued, and she turned toward Jacob. "Could you call Ty over here?"

Jacob gave a sharp nod and called out, "Ty! Over here, now."

Ty hurried over, his expression a mix of pride and nervousness. As he reached them, he bowed deeply to Jackie, then to Harry, his voice low with respect. "Yes, Mistress Jackie, Master Harry."

Jackie regarded him with a smile, reaching into the bag she carried and withdrawing a fresh uniform—a fine set of dark clothes with a small House insignia stitched into the fabric. "Ty, your hard work has been noticed, and it's time you take on a new role here." She held out the uniform. "From today on, you'll be an overseer."

Ty's face lit up, and he dropped to his knees, bowing deeply to Jackie, to Harry, and even to Jacob. "Thank you, Mistress Jackie. Thank you, Master Harry, Master Jacob. I will not let The House down. I'll work harder than ever—I promise."

Ron stood in his place, feeling a twist of envy coil in his chest as he watched Ty accept the uniform. Ty was beaming with pride, his loyalty rewarded, his effort honored. As Ty rose and left to change into his new uniform, Ron's jaw clenched. He looked back down at the stones, the dirt on his own worn clothes, and felt the sharp sting of anger, of resentment.

Later That Night

Back in the quarters, Ron lay on his thin cot, his mind replaying the events of the day, unable to shake the memory of Ty's face as he accepted the uniform. The House had beaten them both down to the same level, but now Ty was above him, his loyalty rewarded with status. And Ron? He was still at the bottom, trapped in his cramped cell each night, unrecognized, unnoticed.

He couldn't sleep, each thought sparking a deeper frustration, a resentment that burned low in his chest. Finally, he sat up, looking around to ensure everyone was asleep. The room was dim, the faintest light from the moon casting shadows over the rows of cots.

Ron took a deep breath, then made a decision. He reached for a thin strip of metal he'd hidden beneath his mattress weeks ago, one he'd been saving for a chance to escape or act out, something that would remind him he still had some control. Tonight, it would serve a different purpose.

With a few careful twists, he picked the lock on his cell door. He waited, listening, but the hallway was empty, silent. He slipped out, moving down the line of cells until he found Ty's. He eased open the door, slipping inside with quiet, practiced steps.

There it was, hung carefully over the edge of Ty's cot—the new overseer uniform. Ron felt a surge of anger as he reached for it, his hands trembling as he tore at the fabric, ripping the seams, fraying the threads. The cloth gave way easily, and he didn't stop until it lay in tatters, the insignia pulled free and the fabric shredded beyond repair.

Satisfied, he slipped back out, closing Ty's cell door and making his way silently back to his own. The anger simmered, but as he lay down, a small, defiant smile crossed his face. He wasn't going to let this place make him invisible.