An hour passed before Mikolaj was sure Lord Wiech would not be coming back to drag him to entertain his family. A servant brought him clothes and a pitcher of water, a smaller bottle of imported Ardunese wine that was capped and tied with a little ribbon, and a set of keys for the inner chambers of his new apartment.
The wine came with a cute little card, the corner punched with a heart-shaped hole where the ribbon looped through. He saw Lord Wiech's name written in large letters on the front and didn't bother turning it over to read the apology that likely came with it. Mikolaj did shove his legs into some trousers, gurgled water before nudging open the latches on the windows and spitting it out to the manor grounds below, and decided to explore the elegant cage the Wiechs built for him.
Mikolaj was in no mood for alcohol. He didn't suspect he would be for a long time. He still carried the bottle as he spun the key ring around his finger. It was pretty, the glass was crystalized, and it sparkled and caught the light in an array of colors. A small thing, but it served as a distraction from the impending shame of his own stupidity now that the fog from the night before had cleared and his memories bubbled over him like waves.
He told Olaf he was Ulra.
All doors in the room were exactly like the one to the hallway. They blended in perfectly with the wall panels. Faded artwork still showing evidence of brush strokes, panels lined with polished wood. The doors only noticeable when he looked closely and saw the tiny knobs sticky out of the wall almost shyly. As if they didn't want to disturb the general aesthetic. The keyholes were impossibly small and easy to miss if they didn't gleam with bronze.
Mikolaj nudged the first door open with his knee, peeking in at a round dressing room. A metallic tub sat on a raised platform, a plush sheet hung over the side, one whole wall was lined with mirrors and he snorted as he saw himself, looking bedraggled, staring back.
He told Olaf he was Ulra.
There was a draft in the dressing room. When he pressed his hand to the wall he shuddered as he felt a whisper of the wind. The outside only laid beyond a thin layer of construction. It seemed so like the Wiechs. Lord Wiech wanted to drown him in gifts, riches, niceties and luxuries. Lady Wiech put as much as firm hand as she could manage on her husband's spending habits. So even Mikolaj's apartments in her lavish house would be located in the worst spot in the home.
The next room was empty but Mikolaj guessed it was from his wardrobe. The walls were lined with wide shelves and racks. Empty shoeboxes, oblong mirrors, a glittery vanity.
Mikolaj made his way back into the bedroom and greeted his naked portrait by slightly raising the bottle of wine in his direction.
There weren't enough windows. The air was going to stifle him when it got stale. He liked having a balcony, liked hearing the sounds of Jelberok leak in through the walls. The Wiechs were so far away from anything. What was about being rich that made people want to seclude themselves to the outer edges of society? It just seemed lonely.
Perhaps it was a Highlander thing. Everything in the Highlands was so far away from each other. Miles of snow, rock, and trees. Always traveling in small, dedicated groups with controlled supplies of food and water, paths that didn't exist on maps, maps that were too outdated to be of any use. People in the Highlands fought to be packed together, even if it was just for warmth. Lowlanders loved their space.
He sat back down on the bed, falling to the mattress with a huff.
He told Olaf he was Ulra.
Mikolaj closed his eyes.
Wolves. Mountain people. Savages.
A woman with a missing finger who braided her hair mindlessly whenever deep in thought. She had scarred, muscular arms. He barely saw them beneath all the layers and furs, but he used to hang from her biceps as a child. She'd flex and he'd swung as she playfully tried to shake him off. She taught him the dances, the language fire speaks, how to avoid getting lost in the mountains, what to do when it inevitably happened, about the gods and the wolves, about the Saints and how to believably pass as a Santivian.
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The Night Court
FantasyMikolaj von Stopa is a courtesan, a beloved companion, and a liar. **** The Night Court is one of many brothels in Jelberok that caters to the rich and eli...
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