The sun creeped in through my window, invading my peaceful and lovely sleep, threatening to wake me up for another day of studying and watching my parents take care of finances and other things. It wasn’t that I didn’t like doing that, it was just the fact I’d stayed up so late last night and wanted some more sleep before doing it again. But they’d get upset if I didn’t get up, although that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the warmth of my blanket for a few more minutes. It was so nice and toasty inside my blanket cocoon, my magic pulling it over top my head and blocking the sun.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I know I jolted awake as a finger jabbed me in the side. I rolled away in my cocoon before yanking down the part that was covering my face to give a mock glare to one of the servants of the house who was looking down at me. “Mistress Dawn it’s past time to wake up.”
I rolled my eyes at Samson, mother’s personal human servant. Dressed like he was a pony going to a formal dance, sans the tie he walked away from my bed and to my windows, yanking open the curtains and blinding me completely, making me groan. “How about I have five more minutes?”
I rolled back over, turning my back to him and looking at the wall, thankfully with no windows. I half-expected him to come over and yank me out of my blanket of cocoons but he continued to stay on the other side of the room, doing things. “I suppose if you want to miss your own birthday Mistress Dawn.”
Wait what? My head snapped up at that and looked back towards Samson who had his back to me, straightening out my room. My birthday? No I wouldn’t forget it, that’d be the day my parents finally let me pick out my own servant so I could get twice the work done. But I had been so busy reading up on dragons the past month that the whole month sailed by. “You’re not making a joke are you?”
He laughed at me, “No Mistress when have I joked about something like that?” He dusted off his hands and looked at my room, chock-full of papers and books all over the floor, shelves and desk. He shook his head and walked towards the door. “I shall be waiting downstairs with your mother, your father went to town to grab a few things.”
With that he exited my room, leaving me to my own devices in my bed. Kicking the sheets off of myself I sat up in my bed, excited for today now and wide awake, horn alight and and tucking the blanket in. As I slid off the bed I made it, trotting over to my desk, papers crinkling under my hooves and wooden floor creaking. On my desk were my notes on dragons, something I wanted to make sure I had put somewhere where I wouldn’t forget and freak out trying to find it later.
Picking the papers up I looked them over to confirm they were what I wanted, dragon diet, types, their limited culture and etc. These were things I had toiled and worked for through dozens of books, as such I didn’t want to lose them, so I tucked them under my pillows. As long as nopony came in and messed with my stuff it was fine. Looking over my room and the things strewn everywhere I think I was pretty safe in that department.
I half-turned to the door to the bathroom but thought better of it, it was my birthday so who cares if I don’t look my best So instead I headed left, past my desk, past the shelves and over my floor made of papers and wood and to one of only three clean spots in my room all of which were in front of doors. This particular door was the one to hall and that lead downstairs, a nice ark of wood visible underneath from where the door opened up and pushed away my papers, even scrunching some of them up. Wonder what those ones are?
Making a mental note to look at them later I opened the door and skipped down the hall, my tail swishing in excitement. Humming to myself with my hooves clopping against the wooden floors as I went down the hall, passing by the dozen or so rooms to my left and right before happening upon the stairs. Trotting down them I glanced at the portraits of my ancestors lining the walls up and down, neck craning to keep looking until I looked back forward and to where I was stepping. The highly decorative wooden railing streamed past as I walked, the intricate designs of butterflies and birds seeming to move in the corner of my eye.
On the ceiling ahead, just beneath where the hallway was, was a crystal chandelier glistening in the morning light and throwing rainbows onto the walls all around it. The rainbows blinded me for a second but I passed under it quickly enough and neared the end of the stairs, a good forty hooves below where I was. Why we needed such a tall house I don’t know, all I know is that every time I went into town I’d get respect that wasn’t due, just because of my family. The Dawn family name, great if I wanted to get something from somepony or needed to show off, bad if I wanted to just talk normally or make a friend.
Hitting the ground floor I trotted on towards the kitchen, briefly saying, “Hi.”, to Darlene the maid who was dusting off father’s old sword hanging by the entrance to his ‘den’ as he called it. He mainly just read in there, sometimes playing with his sword or other weapon to relax after a long day of calculating the day’s yield of crystal berries or other fruits from the long gone Crystal Empire. Strangely, or not, enough nopony was allowed in there, despite the fact it was an open doorway. It was just an unspoken rule of the house.
I went on past, still humming, passing by the library, door to the basement and by my parent’s bedroom. It was more elaborate than other pony’s bedrooms, I was pretty sure of that since I’d seen only a few other bedrooms and none of them had the oversized nimbus bed- a enchanted cloud so unicorns or Mother could sleep on it- walls that could change color on command and not to mention the lavish furniture inside made from some of the more expensive materials known to Ponykind.
Three more doors and another hallway perpendicular to the one I was in and I ended up in the front foyer, crystalline glass door throwing more rainbows onto the ground. I turned right towards the kitchen to see Mother pouring herself some tea while Samson stood near the table waiting to push her chair in. She was a beautiful earth pony mare I suppose, I didn’t try to judge much nor did I see many ponies outside those in the little town, with her pink flowing mane that felt as smooth as silk, a white coat in contrast with her mane but just the same in terms of smoothness and softness. Not to mention her hazel eyes and voice that sounded just as wonderful as the birds singing in the morning, when she decided to talk that is. Which kind of went against her cutie mark, a microphone with a blue background. I never understood how she got it.
Compared to the rest of their house their kitchen was less stylized, a row of floor to ceiling windows to show the sparkling landscape covered in snow, not counting their crops and humans at work, the sprawling mountains dotting the horizon and the long windy road to town, a whole day's walk away.
In the middle of the kitchen was a granite island, where the burners were at and pots, pans and knives hanging above. To the right of it, up against the wall and enclosed by granite counters was the refrigerator, easily able to fit James, their largest human by far towering over even the Princesses, inside it. Up and down the right side of the kitchen were granite counters with various culinary instruments scattered around on top of it along with a few flowers, a stove being the only thing interrupting the flow. The left side of the kitchen was their pantry, far bigger than needed and full of things they didn’t need. But for the hundred by hundred room it was incredibly sparse, the last object in the room being the table and chairs by the window.
Mother finally finished pouring her tea and trotted over to her seat, tea secured in mouth, hopping in and letting Samson push her in. I smiled and walked to the table. “Morning Mother.” I sang to her in a happy voice. Her tea cup stopped at her lips and she looked towards me, smiling and putting it back down.
Sliding off her chair she walked up to me and nuzzled me, her pink mane obscuring my vision as she did. I nuzzled back and we both pulled back, walking back to the table together. She didn’t talk too much unless it was important, instead adhering to the idea that actions were louder than words. So she nodded to Samson as he looked to her for confirmation of something and walked back to the stove behind us, as Mother dragged a chair next to hers.
She hopped back into hers and I clambered into mine, Samson finally coming back with something that smelled chocolatey. He set down my plate in front of me and went back waiting near the windows only a few hooves away while I licked my lips at the chocolate chip pancakes set in front of me, dripping in both syrup and chocolate. I gave a nod to Mother in appreciation.
Then I began the delicate operation of savoring the delightful breakfast. Said operation consisting of me grabbing the fork, spearing all the pancakes through and wolfing it down as fast I could. Mother giggled at me and I rolled my eyes, gathering the syrup that had landed on my pale white coat and putting it back on the plate. She sighed pleasantly and sipped her tea, eyes slowly traveling between me and the landscape outside the windows.
She paused for a moment to brush at my sunset orange mane and I waved my hoofs in protest to push her hoof away, but her persistence paid off as she moved my hoofs aside and ran her hoof through my mane. I hated it when she did stuff like this, it was one thing for her to use a comb and help me out when I need it, entirely different when it’s my birthday and I was eating. But I resigned to my fate anyways and resumed eating my chocolatey wonderful pancakes, letting her rub to her heart’s content.
After I finished the last bit she finally stopped, looking back at the mountains and leaving me alone. Samson came up to take the plate and I handed it off to him, sliding into Mother’s side and resting my head on her shoulder. She leaned back into me slightly and kept sipping her tea.
This was my birthday so far and I didn’t mind it in the least, it was nice to have something nice and simple for once. I told Father that a week ago, quite tired of the elaborate parties that had been a staple of any occasion in my life. He’d been trying to make up for what he considered not getting enough time with his daughter, by making everything huge. So when I told him that I didn’t want a party like that he’d been a little bit disappointed, but nonetheless said okay.
I sat with my head on Mother for a few minutes before somepony knocked on the front door. Mother and I looked towards the door while Samson actually walked around the corner and opened it, slivers of a discussion edging around the corner. The two talked for a minute before Samson finally came back around the corner and addressed Mother. “Mistress Dawn it appears that some of the workers on the fields have located an unconscious human, with some type of art drawn all over his skin. They’re wondering what they should do with him.”
Mother stood up and jerked her head forward, telling him to show her the way, while I trailed close behind her. Around the corner and at the door stood James, the same hulking darker-skinned man that could fit in our fridge, always looking irritated by something with his face set in a scowl or frown. He bowed to Mother and I before asking, “I take it ya want me to show ya the brat?”
Mother nodded and walked out the door past him, his gigantic stride easily outpacing her and me. “Samson?” He turned towards me and I nodded towards James and Mother already a good distance ahead as they sped walked to the unknown human. “You mind?” I asked gesturing with my hooves at him. He quickly realized my meaning and picked me up, placing me upon his shoulders as he jogged to catch up to Mother and James, my hooves crossed on top of his head.
The four of us remained silent walking through the field, me waving to our various humans working the fields. Unlike other plantation owners Father didn’t think much about different skin tones of humans and as such he bought whoever he felt would work best. So when I waved to those working on the fields black, white, and mixed hands waved back, if they were paying attention to us.
Several though were too focused on gathering my family’s signature crystal fruits, ripping out the weeds that were growing in the snowy ground and or warming up their hands, their coats and gloves being their warmth outside of their shacks. At least when they were done working they had some fireplaces to start up and thaw themselves out with, more than what other humans had.
After a few minutes of walking or in my case sitting on Samson’s shoulders while he walked us to the shacks, a set of wooden buildings on the outskirts of our plantation, set out of sight of ponies visiting. The shacks weren’t the prettiest of things to exist, nor did they blend in with the landscape, being made of dark brown wood, a stone chimney jutting out from the top, not looking as if it had been considered when they were built. But that wasn’t on my mind as we neared one of the several shacks, voices fluttering out of the open door.
“You must have hit your head son, my hand has five fingers on it, not four.” Said the equivalent of our human’s elder, Patrick. An old white man nearing the end of his prime, Father kept him around for keeping everybody nice and calm. Not to mention Patrick was good with helping humans that injured themselves while working the fields, which would explain why he was inside.
Another voice answered back as the four of us neared the door. “No, the thumb isn’t a finger. Look at your fingers on your hand and compare it to your thumb, the only way they’re alike is because of the fact it’s on your hand. More like a toe on your hand if anything.” Apparently the mystery human was smart.
James jutted his thumb inside and nodded at Mother before turning around to return to the fields, giving me and Samson nods too when he passed by. “Samson put me down?” I asked him, him kneeling down so I could get off, hooves hitting the cold hard ground underneath. To imagine this was supposed to be snow up here, ground crunching underneath, and cold to the touch. Still I was used to it, this being where I was born and grew up.
“So you can see my thumb just fine, along with my fingers then?” Asked Patrick as I came up behind Mother at the door, Samson trailing behind me.
Mother stopped at the door and listened in on the conversation, me and Samson stopping behind her.“Well I obviously just pointed out you don’t know your own appendages buddy. You mind telling me where the hell I am, it’s colder than the North Pole here.”
Mother took the opportunity to walk in that second, me and Samson following closely behind her, the three of us interrupting Patrick’s discussion with the mystery human. I had to peer my head around Mother to see the human in question and whatever I was expecting of him it wasn’t that.
He was a younger human, I’d say early teens, clad in denim pants with holes throughout them. Definitely not comfortable in this climate, not to mention his ripped shirt, that barely did anything to help with the cold. His hair was ragged and rough, a light version of black compared to his pale skin. His most striking feature were the prominent runes running up and down his skin, blue and intricate markings scarred deep into his skin. It showed through the rips in his pants and shirt, and even down his arms, ending right at his wrists, even more went up his chest and to the back of his head.
I’d never seen such an intricate design of runes even in books designed for the subject, nonetheless on a living being, said practice having been looked down upon due to some side-effects that could happen. All the while I had stared at him, he looked back at Mother and I, his eyebrow raising. He slowly raised a hand and gave a slow wave. “Um hi?”
Patrick immediately reached over and smacked him in the back of his head, his frail old and trembling body still making the teenage boy recoil a hoof. He glared at the old man sitting beside him on the bunk. “The hell was that for, I already have mental issues!”
“Treat your superiors with respect boy!” Patrick raised his hand again and the teenager scrambled away to the other side of the cabin, tripping over something and landing on his rear, showing the opposite side of his head. Which was important because of the decently sized bandage placed on the side of his head, red from the wound it was covering. Unlike the other side of his head which was visible there were several runes going up the side of his face, four of which ended underneath the bandage.
He grabbed his head and wobbled on the floor. “Frigging blood. Anyways how am I supposed to know who’s in charge if I can’t remember my own name? You plebeian.” He didn’t know who he was?
I squeed and dashed around my Mother and right up to him, him recoiling as I slid to a stop right in front of him. I looked at his bandage and craned my neck to look at it while he raised his eyebrows at me. “Ooooh you have amnesia? Retro something I think it was? What can you remember, I’ve always wondered how somepony could forget things and still function normally!”
His only response was to slide backwards on his butt a little bit, until Patrick put his foot in the way and stopped him. He glared at Patrick and looked back at me, a nervous grin building on his face as his eyes darted back and forth between me and Mother. “Err I remember that I don’t know any of you. I believe so anyways.”
I tapped my hoof against my chin as I thought over what he just said against how he talked and his attitude, whilst backing up a few steps to give myself space to think. He could be lying of course, entirely possible and easy to do for anypony. Could just as easily be telling the truth and have amnesia of sorts, either way he was confident, smart judging by his wording and maybe educated. “So you don’t know your name?”
He scowled slightly and opened his mouth to speak when he looked back at Patrick and thought better of what he was going to say, puckering his lips to think. “I’m afraid I don’t recall my name, nor my occupation nor where I am. Would it be prudent and appropriate to ask what your name is?”
Okay he definitely belonged to some noble house of sorts before he ended up here. “My name is Ember Dawn, daughter of Symph Dawn,” I pointed to Mother. “And member of the House of Dawn.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So judging by how you just said all that you’re a noble. Lovely. I would offer my name up to you, but alas….” He shrugged and let himself trail off.
“Why don’t we give you one then?” I suggested. It’d be better then just constantly referring to him as he, or the mystery human.
He was silent for a few seconds before grabbing the bunk and shakily lifted himself off the ground. He dusted off the scraps of his clothing and said, “I do believe that would be a good step to take.” Patrick raised his hand again to smack him, but he sidestepped and glared at Patrick once more.
I looked at Mother to see if she had anything to say, but like usual she said nothing and instead urged me on with a gesture of her head. So I looked back to our guest. “Well how about Rune?”
Rolling his eyes he shook his head at the proposed name. “If you’re wanting to go that route why not Hieroglyph or something? Not so literal.”
“Hiero for short then?” I suggested, not wanting to have him have such a long name. He nodded in response. Turning around to Samson I said to him, “Can you stay behind and help Hiero remember who he is and show him around until we can find who he belongs to?”
“Of course Mistress Dawn.” Samson bowed and walked up to Hiero, while I turned around to leave with Mother following close. It didn’t take long for Mother to catch up to me and to give me a questioning look.
I looked back at her, her mouth twitching ever so slightly as if she was going to say something for once. Likely questioning my motive as to why I had Samson stay behind to talk to him. So I answered the obvious question even though she had yet to ask. “Well I was thinking by the way he talked, acted and the runes decorating his body that he’s most likely either somepony’s personal servant or pet. So I thought that having Samson talk to him and try to figure anything out would help us locate his owner.”
Mother smiled and nodded, taking up position beside me. I coughed to clear my throat and get Mother’s attention again. “I was also thinking that if we can’t figure out who he belonged to, that he might be my first servant?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” It took me a moment to realize that was Mother talking, surprising me slightly. But this was a random human we were talking about.
I protested, waving one of my hoofs in the air. “But he’s smart and seems to be educated, perfect for what I need around the house!”
“And we don’t know anything about him honey. For all we know he could be one of those resistance fighters or some psychopathic human. We can talk more about this when your father gets home.” I sighed at that, but I did have to agree with her line of thought. It was all like something straight from a mystery book, an unknown pony, or human in this case, showed up at my doorstep, just what I wanted as a servant and no easy end in sight. This would be fun.
“Can we read a book by the fire until Father comes home and we can all talk?” She nodded and I smiled. It was still my birthday after all.
Samson watched the two Mistresses walk away, hands rubbing the insides of his pockets to try and warm them up, breath crystallizing as the door was left open. He waited a respectable ten seconds before shutting the door after them, so as to keep what little warmth there was to be in the cabin. As soon as he closed it he turned around to the elder sitting on one of the beds who was busy glaring at Heiro. “Patrick why’d you leave the door open? It feels like one of the coldest days of the year out there.”
The old man inclined his head to their guest. “Some fresh air does wonders for one’s soul and from our new brother’s seemingly miracle recovery, it helped. The size of his head wound, along with how he looked when they found him in the fields I would have expected at least a week before he woke up if at all.” Patrick shook his head in disbelief and stood up, grabbing the bed post as support, walking over to him while their guest sat on the bed, his walking consisting of stumbling one step with his right leg and then managing two steps with his left and repeating the same pattern each time he he stepped. Their guest paid no mind and instead counting something off with his fingers and tracing unseen symbols.
“So how’s his condition?” He asked as Patrick came up next to him and past him, out through the door to rest on the outside wall, out of earshot of their guest. He followed after Patrick and looked out at the fields where everyone was working.
Patrick dusted his hands off, eliciting a slight clapping noise. “Not much of a worker hands are too soft, has a good set of teeth and not much dirt on him so he’s either somepony’s pet or a noble’s servant. A lot of scarring from somepony cutting into him a lot of times, hundreds of the scars being some kind of symbols. Even has some fat on him, albeit it’s only a little.”
“But it’s still some fat, which on an average person wouldn’t be there.”
Patrick nodded and ran a shaky, frail hand through his sparse hair. “He’s not going to be good work for the fields, at least not for a while. I’m saying that not just because of his lack of muscle, but his head injury is going to keep him from doing anything hard for a while, lest the wound start bleeding again and the fact that he seems dead tired.” Patrick rubbed his hands together, enjoying the feeling of his wrinkly skin, something that most people didn’t get to experience. “Has a smart mouth on him too, annoying little bugger, seems to be smart too so he might have been a butler that knew when to shut up, which he seems to have forgotten to on account of his head injury.”
Samson chuckled at his joke. “No bad vibes from him then?” He asked in a lower voice, so that their guest wouldn’t hear.
“Not bad exactly, just slightly off-kilter. Can’t make heads or tails of it.” Patrick replied, biting his thumb in concentration. To strangers and those who didn’t know, asking a human of all things about vibes sounded stupid, after all they couldn’t sense magic or anything of the like. But when Patrick said that the Master was in a bad mood, even though he hadn’t seen him all day or heard anything from him, he was always right. If Patrick said that an ice storm was coming and they needed more wood to burn for the fires, they grabbed the wood and stayed warm in their huts. So when Patrick said that he couldn’t get a vibe off of their guest, that was something different.
“What do you mean by off-kilter?” He asked left eyebrow cocking as he wondered about what that could mean.
Patrick shook his head with a sad frown. “Just feels I don’t know… artificial?” He half-asked, trying to find the right words to express what he felt coming off their guest. “Don’t know what to call it but something is off about that boy.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him then.” He re-assured the elder, who simply smiled at him and turned around to stumble back inside. Trailing after him he shut the door behind them once more and stood beside it, knowing that he was about to leave again with Heiro. Heiro was busy wrapping a blanket around himself, cloak style with a knot at the neck, two new leather boots secured to his feet already.
Patrick waved at Samson before sitting down on one of the beds and looking at him. “I know you will son, just make sure this boy doesn’t insult the Mistresses or Master when he gets back home. Now you,” He turned around to Heiro who just quietly stared back. “I don’t want to hear about you insulting your betters, or I’ll beat you, hear me?”
Heiro nodded at the old man, eyes rolling ever so slightly as he fully wrapped the blanket around himself. “No need to worry but me, I’m in no particular rush to have myself drawn and quartered. Shall we be getting this over with then my good man?” He asked Samson with a nod to the door.
Samson nodded back and waved him on as he leaned back off the wall and re-opened the door, letting the injured teenager go before him. Closing it behind him, with a final smile to Patrick, he looked at his new charge and with a playful tone he asked, “Before we go anywhere do I need to worry about you collapsing on me?”
He laughed, air crystallizing on his breath. “If this takes too long I might be a popsicle, freezing out here.” One hand coming out from his blanket cloak to rub at his rapidly reddening cheeks, rubbing at it to restore some warmth.
“Well I hope you get used to it, because unless we figure out who you are, you’re going to be up here for a long time. No need to worry about working for a while, we have a no gashes in the head policy.” He joked, before continuing on in the snow, it crunching lightly under each step.
“Hardy har har.” Heiro mumbled under his breath before following him, shivering slightly in the northern’s fall air. They only walked a few yards before Samson pointed at something, that something being one of the several shacks.
“See the shack with just a pink curtain on it?” Heiro looked over to where he was pointing to see a slightly more spruced up shack that was the second largest one, made entirely out of wood minus the stone chimney that jutted out of the top of the roof, added as if it was last minute. It had one window that was currently covered by one of the only two pieces of color of all the shacks, the curtain being pink like Samson pointed out. The other colored shack was one with blue, slightly larger but not was well done. “The pink curtain was a gift from the Master a few years ago along with the blue one on the other shack, which I’m sure you can figure out for yourself.”
“The men’s I’d guess, so what’s up with all the other shacks if you only have two for people to live in? Like what was the one I was in?” Heiro asked with a shrug of his shoulders, hopping from leg to leg instead of standing still like Samson.
“That was the infirmary you were in, and over there is the tool shack, one beside it is our food storehouse and so on and so forth.” He said whilst pointing at various shacks, the two most intact ones being the ‘houses’. “Now come on, not much to see around our branch of the estate.”
Samson walked on down the same path as the Mistress’ did, waving hi and saying good morning to people as they passed by. Heiro flashed each person a smile as they walked by, but otherwise keeping his lips sealed, instead eyes focusing on the trembling hands of the workers that weren’t wearing gloves, who wore heavier coats than those who did were gloves, seeming as if they traded one bit of warmth for the other. Lips slightly blue on the three young children who ran back and forth between those gathering fruits and giving them some type of items he didn’t recognize. Crystalline fruits weren’t something he was used to but he wasn’t going to question it, didn’t remember his own name after all. Once they passed by the majority of the workers and started approaching the house that presumably belonged to the ponies he decided to make a comment. “You all look like you’ve been here for a long time.”
“We’ve been here since before the the Dawn family knew the Royal Diarchs.” Samson said with pride in his voice, head tilting upwards a little to the sky as if he could see them now.
Heiro rolled his eys behind Samson’s back. “Just for the record I want to remind you that I have no memories, but I digress that sounds like a while so why do the houses look so bad?”
Samson paused and laughed, rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. “How could I forget that you don’t remember anything, but you’d be correct in assuming that’s a long time. The reason why the homes don’t look too good is because a dozen or so years ago two of our brothers decided it was a good idea to rebel against the Master and Mistress. One of our more loyal brother’s decided to protect them, and it resulted in most of the shacks burning down.” He finished with a frown.
Heiro frowned too, not because of the story but because that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. Which would be along the lines of the ponies not caring or the like. Rubbing his hands together underneath the cloak, the finger losing sensation in the cold. “Shame to hear that then, so what’s up next for the tour?”
As if eager to switch subject Samson immediately picked up his pace and resumed his walk to the mansion like house. “Well off over there,” He pointed in a seemingly random direction. “Is the nearest town, more or less a whole day’s walk away. The Master is away negotiating something with the train conductor. I think.”
Heiro grunted an affirmative. Samson then pointed to the mansion, ahead only a couple of minutes. “The final place that is of much importance would be the Master and Mistress’ house.” His companion grunted another affirmative, but remained silent otherwise, so he decided to see what he could figure out about him in the little time he had before they arrived at the Mansion. “Since you don’t remember much I’m going to assume you don’t have an opinion on the rebellions going on?”
“What you mean against the ponies?” Samson nodded and Hiero actually slowed down to think about it. “Well I guess whoever’s in charge is in charge for a reason, be it strength or knowledge they’re up top until somebody else gets up.”
“Not against the idea of it though?” Samson asked, eyes narrowing slightly while Hiero wasn’t looking.
“Depends on what they’re doing I suppose, so I can’t say. Why you ask?” He asked looking back at Samson with a slight smirk. “Afraid I’m crazy or something buddy?”
“I can’t be a servant to the Dawn Household if they’re dead.” Quick to the point Samson was with his answer, the disdain in his voice openly present.
“Good for you then, know how to do your job.” Smiling Hiero looked at the mansion, sun sparkling off the windows and snow on the roof, blinding most of the house’s actual features. “Take it that they’re a good family to you guys, since somebody apparently stopped a revolt and your attitude to me?”
“We have a day each week to ourselves, we’re fed well, not punished very often, get good tools and the like. Heck we could fix the shacks up to look better if we wanted but we left them like they are to remind ourselves of what happens when you try to be stupid.” Samson said without breaking his stride, venom inking into his voice.
“Should have said that about the shacks, was thinking bad about them earlier. Regardless good for you all for the good relations. So what’re we doing walking to the mini castle?” His hands exited the cloak again to rub against his face, not used to the cold air at all, his lack of clothes not helping at all.
“Well the young Mistress wanted me to show you around our small estate and since we’re done with that I figured it’d be a good idea to ask her if she had any plans for you.” Reaching the bottom of the steps he reached over to the snow that dusted the railing and ran his hand against it to clean it off, the slight burning sensation not bothering him in the least.
Hiero bobbed his head back and forth, picking at the frozenish bandage and blood that had come out. “I suppose, truth be told I probably would have kicked myself out if I were in their shoes. Hooves… whatever it is.”
“I would have too.”
