He looked back down at Anore.
"How tragic.." he murmured, though his tone wasn't condescending. It was gentle, filled with something Anore couldn't place.
"That's a pretty name.." Eiden said again, this time with a small smile that didn't feel rehearsed. "It suits you, Anore."
Anore's fingers twitched.
Pretty? The word used to strip him of worth, to make him an object, a decoration to these noble men.
But Eiden's voice didn't weigh the word down with chains. It left it light, like the wind it spoke of.
Anore didn't know how to react. His defenses didn't know where to aim.
He was used to barbed words.
This softness? It was far more dangerous.
Eiden clapped his hands lightly, addressing the children. "Alright, you little tyrants. Off you go. We'll be inside shortly."
There were playful groans and protests, but the children eventually scattered, running off with one last wave to Anore.
Eiden turned to him.
"Come. Let's get you those shoes."
The doors to the estate opened before them, and a few of the older servants lined up neatly along the entrance hall.
They bowed as Eiden entered, their expressions warm yet respectful. There was no stiff fear, no trembling like in the grand mansions Anore had known. It felt… natural.
"Welcome back, Lord Eiden."
"You've returned earlier than expected, my lord."
Among them, a man stepped forward, a figure of calm authority, draped in a robe of deep grey. His hair was a soft white, combed back neatly, with only a few unruly strands betraying his scholarly nature.
His thin spectacles rested delicately on his nose, giving him an air of wisdom and patience.
"Mister Evan.." Eiden greeted with a nod, his tone fond. "Still keeping everything running better than I ever could."
Evan chuckled, a sound that was more breath than voice. "One must try, my lord. Or the children will be running this place by next week."
Eiden stepped aside, gesturing to Anore who stood slightly behind him, still bare-footed, still wary.
"This is Anore."
Anore tensed, his chin lifting slightly, prepared for whatever label would follow next—slave, servant, property.
But Eiden didn't say anything more.
Evan turned his gaze to Anore. His eyes were sharp, like a man who noticed far more than he let on, yet they held no mockery. He offered a small, unassuming smile that didn't ask for anything in return.
"My, my.." Evan said, his eyes briefly flickering to Anore's bare feet. "Your feet must be cold." He turned to Eiden without waiting for a response. "Master, shall we head to the clothing room? The shoemaker has brought in quite a batch this time. I believe we'll find something that suits."
Anore blinked. He didn't ask questions or prying. No pity, even.
He just focused on getting him… shoes.
Eiden hummed, pleased. "That's a good idea. Let's get him fitted. Then we'll see the physician after."
Evan's smile widened faintly. "Very well, my lord. Follow me."
As they walked down the corridor, Anore couldn't stop his eyes from darting around.
The estate was filled with life not the suffocating, watchful eyes of guards, but servants who moved with ease, speaking in low, casual conversations.
There were bookshelves built into the walls, potted plants that basked in patches of sunlight spilling through large windows.
It was nothing like the cold, sterile cages he had known.
Still, his shoulders refused to relax.
Eiden, walking beside him, didn't comment on his silence. Instead, he began scribbling into his small notebook again, flipping to a fresh page.
Observation Notes — Anore.
Physical Condition: Thin build, estimated 172cm. Signs of malnutrition and trauma.
Initial Reactions: Reserved. Avoids direct eye contact with others, yet responds to direct address. Displays hyper-vigilance.
Noteworthy Behavior: Did not flinch when greeted. Unresponsive to typical kindness. Possible desensitization or distrust.
Personal Hypothesis: Has yet to discern current environment from prior trauma. No defensive outburst thus far, indicates high level of self-restraint or emotional shutdown.
Additional Note: Find suitable footwear immediately.
Anore noticed the quill moving swiftly from the corner of his eye. He couldn't make out the words, but it unsettled him more than insults or threats ever did.
"What are you writing?" The question left his mouth before he could stop it.
Eiden didn't pause his writing. "A study."
Anore's brow furrowed. "A study?"
"On you.." Eiden said, as if stating the weather. "On how the human spirit bends, fractures, or perhaps… mends. You're a fascinating subject, Anore." He glanced at him then, eyes devoid of mockery. "Though I suppose 'subject' would offend you."
Anore stared, lips parting, but no insult came out. He didn't know what to say.
"I'll find a better word.." Eiden murmured, returning to his quill.
Evan, walking ahead, threw a glance over his shoulder, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Pay no mind to Master Eiden's peculiarities, young one. He means well, even if his tongue lacks grace."
Anore wasn't so sure.
But when they stepped into the clothing room, lined with shelves of folded fabrics and racks of finely crafted garments, Evan's gentle, "Let's find you something warm.." left him strangely… speechless.
No one was reaching to strip him.
No one was demanding he stand still to be judged like cattle.
Eiden's fingers trailed along the row of garments, eyes sharp yet thoughtful as though he were choosing books from a library shelf rather than clothes for a newly acquired slave.
Anore stood near the doorway, arms folded, watching the Duke in quiet disbelief. He had been brought into a grand clothing room, walls lined with bolts of fabric, shelves of folded garments, and rows upon rows of shoes none of which seemed to be meant for him.
Evan crouched beside the shoe rack, humming thoughtfully as he examined the line of men's boots. "Hm, none of these will do. His feet are too delicate for standard sizes."
Anore stood stiffly near the doorway, arms crossed as if that could make him disappear. The cold stone floor bit into his bare soles, but right now, the thought of being paraded around without shoes was worse.