Nico stood quietly as the young woman helped him into fresh clothes. The coarse linen was plain, but clean, and tight enough to not hang awkwardly. He tugged at the seams, feeling every muscle ache. After a moment, he was led out of the cell, the chains quietly unlocked and removed.
He followed his escort through damp corridors and up stone stairs. The light grew stronger, flickering torches casting long shadows on the walls. At the end, heavy double doors opened, and a carriage waited.
The carriage was painted deep midnight blue, with silver filigree and a crest he didn't recognize, some kind of shield entwined with roses or vines. He felt the chill of the night air on his skin, now exposed in a way he wished he weren't.
At the carriage, the woman who had bought him stood with her back turned. She wore silks of dark red embroidered in gold; a cape swirled at her heels. She didn't glance at him. She nodded to the escort. "Thank the merchant," she said coolly. She took from him another pouch—smaller than the one for the purchase, and dropped it into his hands as a tip. The escort bowed and stepped aside.
Nico's heart thudded. He climbed the few raised steps into the carriage's interior, careful not to stumble. He lowered himself onto a cushioned seat. He kept his eyes cast downward—not daring to meet hers. The space was narrow and lit by a hanging lantern, its glow soft but revealing. He heard the wheels rumble; the carriage began to move. He hadn't noticed it start.
Opposite him sat a second woman, in a maid's uniform: modest, dark, her posture perfect. He assumed she was the noble lady's maid. Her auburn hair caught the lamplight. She made no move to speak. She seemed to regard him as though he were not there. That intimidated him more than scorn.
Then the noble lady spoke, her voice calm, firm, and elegant. "Do not be so tense," she said. "Be at ease." She turned her head, and for the first time her face was fully visible to him. Her hair was black, cut to shoulder length, and gleaming faintly. She gave a small, polite smile.
Yet her eyes held something else, something distant, cold. The smile did not reach them. And though she meant reassurance, Nico felt a strange shiver run through him, as though her kindness carried hidden currents. He wondered: maybe she rarely smiled.
She was breathtaking, her hourglass figure shining through even though she was seated her. The curve of her ass and hips so enticing it would make men drool like fools. Her chest was so well proportion that her breasts threatened to spill out of her top, they were D cup at least, maybe even on the lower E cup end.
Nico fought his own desires, trying as hard as possible to not stare, lest he offend her, though he was inwardly admiring her figure and assets.
'Damn she's hot!'
Outwardly, though, he nodded. "Yes, Ma'am," he said softly. His voice sounded weak in the confined space, but he forced it steady. He tried to calm the fear that trembled in his bones.
He glanced at the maid again. She remained still and quiet. Beautiful, yes, slender, delicate features, gentle auburn hair, but silent. He thought perhaps she was not supposed to speak in the lady's presence.
The carriage rolled on through darkness and torchlit streets. They had left the market district behind; now he heard the hush of grand avenues, distant echo of guards, stone walls rising on both sides. The air smelled of night jasmine and cold stone.
He swallowed. Questions piled in his mind.
Where were they going? What would this noblewoman want with him now? Was he, her property? Or would he serve some purpose beyond being a slave?
He forced his thoughts downward, reminding himself: he must stay calm, at least until he understood more.
The noblewoman cleared her throat. "You must be tired," she said. Her tone held no malice. "You will rest soon." She paused, as if choosing words. "When you wake, we will speak more, the lady with explain your duties to you then."
He nodded again. Though he wondered what duties were to be given to him. He was still in the dark, unaware, and had been just riding the wave up to now. It would seem it would not be long before he got the answers he was yearning for.
The lamp light flickered. Outside, wheels rolled, horses' hooves clipped. The carriage continued deeper into the city's heart, into streets unfamiliar, carrying him toward some unknown fate.
...
The carriage slowed, wheels crunching on gravel. Through the dark windows, Nico glimpsed vast gates, towering walls, and flickering torches. He could not see much, only shadows and grandeur hinted at.
They disembarked, the night air cool and still. The noblewoman and her maid led him through a wide courtyard, stones laid in careful patterns, statues and lanterns flanking a path. Beyond the courtyard, a garden opened: low hedges, blossoms that smelled faintly sweet, and distant trickles of water from a fountain.
They passed beneath archways into the mansion itself. The foyer swallowed them in hush and shadow. Walls rose high, corridors branching off, light from sconces danced on polished floors. The noblewoman spoke to the maid: "Show him to his quarters."
The maid dipped a graceful nod. "Yes, my lady." She guided Nico onward, her presence quiet but purposeful.
Nico's steps were slow. Hunger and exhaustion weighed on him; his limbs ached. He hardly took in the rich tapestries, ornate columns, or gilded moldings. All of it blurred around him.
They threaded through corridors, higher ceilings, rooms to the left and right whose doorways yawned but remained closed. Finally, the maid stopped before a plain door carved with subtle decorations. She touched the handle, silent.
"This is yours," she said. "You will live here for the foreseeable future. I will bring food shortly. In the meantime, you may bathe." She pointed to a door within the room: that was the bath.
She paused, then left, her footsteps fading.
Nico stood before the door, heart thumping. He turned the knob and entered.
The room was vast, more spacious than any hotel suite he had known. His breath caught. Rich carpets, soft furnishings, heavy drapery, tastefully placed ornaments, and paintings. Light spilled in from tall windows (curtains drawn partly), lanterns glowing softly. Everything in the room spoke of wealth and care.
He froze where he stood, stunned by the luxury. His body still felt weak; his mind fogged.
A small cough from beyond snapped him out of it. He cleared his throat and stepped forward fully.
"You may rest here," the maid said from the doorway. She offered a small, warm smile. "I'll bring your food soon."
He nodded, voice small: "Thank you." He turned toward the bath door, mindful of bruises, soreness, and fatigue.
He peeled off his clothes carefully, each movement cautious so as not to jar painful spots. He went into the bathing chamber. The tub stood in polished stone or marble, taps of gleaming metal. He turned the tap, watched steam rise as hot water filled the tub. He noticed the tap handles bore glowing engravings, thin lines that seemed faintly heated, as though magic or hidden mechanisms warmed the water. His curiosity flickered, but pain and weariness came first.
He slipped into the warm water. The bath soothed stiffness and grime. He let it run over his skin, washing away the traces of dirt and fear. Time slowed; he let himself sink deep into the relief of warmth.
Afterward, he toweled himself dry and wrapped a fresh linen towel around his waist. He emerged into the main chamber. On a low table, a meal awaited.
It was glorious. A thick slab of steak, steaming broth, fresh bread, succulent fruits, and a flagon of ale. The aroma made his stomach clench with hunger. He sat and ate, each bite rich; each swallow easing the ache within. He could not finish it all, but he ate until his body softly protested.
When he was done, he set aside the plate. His limbs felt heavier in the pleasant way of a full stomach. He changed into clean linen sheets prepared for him, slid beneath their folds, and drifted into sleep almost immediately.