The Butler's Doubts
The ground beyond the castle walls was practically a sheer cliff. Tichite gripped the railing, closed her eyes against a wave of vertigo, then opened them again. Of course, a fall from here would land her in the castle’s rear courtyard rather than the distant river below. Yet the end would be much the same—no bones left to gather—so she kept walking, praying the steward would not shove her from behind.
Fortunately, Umberbell preferred to hurry people along with his tongue rather than his hands.
“Keep walking this way and you’ll reach a split in the stairs. The lower path leads to the kitchens, the upper to the servants’ quarters. We’ll be taking the upper route.”
Tichite moved in the direction he indicated. Wind whipped across the stone steps as she climbed, and she thought to herself that the ascent must be bitterly cold in winter.
“What was your name again?”
“Tichite Ranlam, sir.”
The steward spoke from behind her. Realizing he would likely have many occasions to call her name in the future, she quickly offered the simpler version.
“You may call me Tichite.”
“Very well. Tichite.”
The man tested the unfamiliar name on his tongue, then voiced the question that truly troubled him.
“To be honest, I cannot fathom how the Young Master came to bring you here. As you may or may not know, he feels a great… distance toward women of your sort.”
The voice, thick with suspicion, faltered. He searched for the most delicate word before continuing.
“He keeps them at a very great distance indeed.”
The implication—that her presence here was impossible—pricked the back of Tichite’s neck like a needle.
She could not answer at once. She hesitated, unsure where to begin.
Nyx had left out a great deal of her story. Whether the omission had been deliberate or merely troublesome to explain, one thing was certain: Desidero wanted her existence and role concealed as thoroughly as possible.
Had Desidero been here, he would have defined her position clearly. Like Nyx, Tichite found herself regretting the younger brother’s absence.
After some thought she decided to reveal only part of her circumstances. The tale might contain gaps, but it held no falsehoods.
“He learned that I was being sold to settle a debt and took pity on me. That is why he helped.”
“He helped you because of a debt?”
The steward sounded genuinely incredulous. Sensing the depth of his doubt, Tichite’s heart beat faster.
“It is shameful, but true. My brother incurred gambling debts and sold me to clear them. Against my will, I was sent to the place that most sullies a woman’s honor…”
She emphasized the enormity of Nyx’s kindness and how deeply moved she had been. She blurred the more entangled details, as though no further complications existed.
She could not bring herself to utter the words prostitution or brothel, but her careful euphemisms seemed sufficient. The steward understood perfectly.
When they had climbed what felt like two or three stories, another rough-hewn door appeared.
“The Knight Commander pulled me from that filth. He has never been able to ignore the sight of a woman enduring cruel treatment. How righteous he is.”
Tichite stopped before the door and turned to face Umberbell. A faint, ambiguous smile played at the corners of his mouth. He pushed the closed door open and motioned for her to follow. This time he took the lead, allowing her to twist her expression out of his sight.
He brought a prostitute?
Umberbell’s mood was complicated.
He knew Nyx Farrow better than anyone. Having served and raised him since infancy, it was only natural.
Our Young Master is not that sort of man.
Of all the men Umberbell had ever known, the Young Master was the only one who never visited brothels. Whether he feared harlots or despised them, the fact that he had publicly displayed his aversion for years was beyond dispute.
He rescued a woman he had never met from a den of vice? How did he even come to visit such a place?
Possible culprits were plentiful. Nyx’s entourage was forever crowded with knights eager to introduce their commander to female companionship. They hoped that once the Young Master acquired a taste for such things, they themselves could frequent the pleasure quarters without his disapproving gaze.
After all, the only time I could tend to the Young Master’s lower body was until he was perhaps twelve years old.
Umberbell knew the exact age at which his master had experienced his first nocturnal emission. He remembered the boy’s expression that morning as he refused to leave his bed. He had even been the one to wash the soiled sheets. In truth, it was no exaggeration to say he had acted as the Young Master’s parent.
Yet precisely because of that closeness, whole realms of knowledge remained closed to him. What child wishes to discuss matters of the opposite sex with a parental figure?
Umberbell knew almost nothing of the adult Nyx’s desires.
The Young Master had ventured beyond the castle walls for the first time in a long while. The steward could only guess what worldly experiences he might have encountered there.
Some mischievous knight must have shoved a prostitute into the Young Master’s room again.
Umberbell could easily picture Tichite’s tearful, pitiable face. Her fragile appearance and tragic fate seemed to have stirred sympathy rather than lust.
The good-hearted Young Master might well have resolved to help a woman who clung to his trouser leg and begged for aid. The story was plausible enough.
Still, to bring a woman of unknown origin and background inside the castle…
From that point, Umberbell’s uneasy imagination ran free. Such a thing had never happened before; he could not help but place her on a special plane in his thoughts.
The easy familiarity of their touch, the look of profound gratitude in her eyes—there was clearly more between them than the Young Master had disclosed. Yet Umberbell could not question what his master chose not to reveal.
What if he has lost his heart to this pitiful woman?
Even that would not be strange. Young men that age often fell into sudden, blazing love.
Besides, their innocent Young Master possessed no immunity to women whatsoever. He might have been moved by one who sought his protection, or developed an affection rooted in pity.
A Tilamin woman, though. Not the ideal choice for a mistress.
Yet none of this made Umberbell displeased by Tichite’s arrival. On the contrary, he welcomed it.
Some men scattered their seed without thought of fidelity, tormenting their wives and children. Nyx Farrow, however, worried his household for the exact opposite reason.
The important thing is that the Young Master has found the desire to interact with a woman.
This was unmistakably a positive sign. Perhaps her presence would serve as the catalyst that finally helped him overcome his aversion. While men who knew no women existed, men who knew only one were rare. Once the first button was fastened, the second and third often followed. Even the dignified steward shared this particular opinion with the frivolous knights.
He probably wished to keep her close, even if it meant installing her as a maid. Umberbell decided to hold his tongue and allow the misunderstanding to stand.
The man led her to a secluded area. The room was small and dim, its single window narrow. It resembled a storeroom, filled with unused objects stacked haphazardly.
“I intend to assign you work. If you possess any special skills or particular tasks you wish to perform, speak now.”
“I can do anything you assign me. Cleaning, laundry, sewing… anything an ordinary woman might know how to do.”
When Tichite answered with earnest enthusiasm, Umberbell clicked his tongue.
“Best not to use that particular phrase in front of the other servants.”
The “things ordinary women know how to do” she had listed were, in this castle, performed entirely by young men of Tichite’s own age.
“You may have noticed already. In truth, it has been far too long since any maids have existed in our castle.”
Umberbell murmured as though recalling a distant past, then began rummaging through the piled items in the storeroom.