The Perfect Kingdom

Chapter 3

A different maid entered from the back of the stage and escorted her to another room. She couldn't stem the flow of tears as she was clothed in a similar knee-length tunic as the lord's other slave and a pair of simple sandals. She wished she was dead with her family instead; death was much more palatable than the position she had ended up in.

The maid brought her out of the castle and led her through what she thought must be the district for the higher-class of citizens. Every house was large, had multiple levels, and featured colourful and lush gardens of herbs and flowers that appeared to be carefully maintained. It was the complete opposite to her family's comparatively rundown house. She followed the maid to what looked like the edge of the city as the stone city walls were right in front of them. Beyond them, the surrounding plains of Whiterun seemed to beckon to her, teasing her of freedom that the walls denied. The maid stopped outside a rectangular, two-storey house with an empty garden. It was the last house on the street, being next to the wall itself.

"Why am I here?" she questioned.

"Lord Jackson doesn't want you to be interacting with other noblemen until he has trained you. This is his house," the maid flatly replied. She could only guess what training meant and knew it was much worse than anything she had already endured.

"What's he like?" she asked, unable to quell her curiosity.

"Know your place. You are in no position to ask about your master," the maid curtly answered.

She bowed her head in response and kept her lips sealed. The maid clicked her tongue impatiently but seemed unable to resist gossiping.

"I hear Lord Jackson likes to partake in all sorts of nightly activities. He's rarely seen in his house. You're in for a tiring job."

Her heart sank as she heard the reply. It sounded like she was sold to a horrible human being. She waited until she saw an imposing figure in a black suit with a second person behind him appear. She knew it was her new owner and immediately felt apprehensive.

The lord was tall and muscular, standing a head above her with an air of authority and strength. His hair was short along the sides, but long enough at the top to meet at the centre to form a peak that ran down the length of his head – her father used to say that men who had the discipline to keep their hair short were usually fighters, owing to the need to wear a helmet. He looked stoic and quiet, as if his downturned lips never separated often to speak. His eyes, green like sunlight on leaves, pierced into her and seemed to stare into her soul. She decided that she didn't want to cross him.

His slave had blonde hair that matched his: it was shaved short at the sides, but long enough at the top to form a slanted fringe that draped across her face. She neatly tucked it behind her ear. She looked friendlier, with dazzling blue eyes that reminded her of a sapphire she had once seen on a farmer's daughter's ring when she was betrothed to a successful blacksmith, a sharp nose, and thin lips that seemed to have curved into a smile. Oddly enough, she didn't look like a slave: her body was toned and lithe, unlike some of the emaciated, bony frames she had seen earlier.

"Lord Jackson," the maid greeted, bowing towards him.

She didn't know how react, and the maid hit her on her back.

"Bow!" the maid hissed.

"Lord Jackson," she echoed, the words sounding unfamiliar and foreign to her.

"Thank you. Leave us, please," Lord Jackson said to the maid, who bowed once more and scuttled away, leaving her to fend for herself.

The lord reached into his pocket for a key. He unlocked the door to his house and strode in. His other slave gestured for her to enter and then closed the door behind them. Inside, the house was dusty and smelled as though it was unused for a long time. She was surprised to find the living area austerely furnished in contrast to its grand exterior, with just the bare minimum number of tables and chairs for four people, a cold firepit in the living area, and a kitchen area without any coals – clearly unused and without the intention to be used. The lord stood in the centre of the house and seemed to be in deep thought for a long time. She waited until the question burned too painfully inside her.