Darien regarded her, red eyes uncertain.
This is but a humble beef-burger… was it truly so wondrous that she near wept?
He nudged forward a platter laden with beef rolls, crispy hot fried chicken, and a heap of french fries. "Come on—you're far too thin. Eat your fill; it won't harm you."
Reaching aside, he lifted a red goblet. "And here—Coke. A marvel of drink. Sweet and sharp, bubbles and all."
Darien tipped it back to show her. Celeste, after swallowing her bite, copied him with care.
At once her eyes went wide, cheeks puffing as the fizz burst in her mouth. Startled, she sealed her lips shut, unwilling to spill the sweetness.
"Ha~"
"Hiccup~"
Her ears burned red at the unseemly noise. No lady should make such a sound. She wished she might sink into the floor.
Darien stifled a laugh. It was precisely how he had reacted upon his first taste of soda.
To spare her further shame, he lifted his own Coke and drank deep.
"Ha~"
"Hiccup~"
—matching her exactly.
Celeste's eyes lifted in surprise. In Darien's gaze she found no mockery, but an amused gentleness that softened her shame.
Her face warmed, though no longer from disgrace. "Thank you," she whispered.
Whether he heard or not, she lowered her head once more, a faint smile lingering upon her lips as she returned to her meal.
Darien observed her in silence. He could not deny it—her golden hair, sapphire eyes, and gentle bearing made her, beyond all doubt, the very image of beauty.
"L-Lord Darien, will you not eat?"
Celeste slowed when she noticed his gaze, as though he were lost in thought.
"Hrmm—pay me no mind. Eat your fill; there is plenty more. And… when it is just the two of us, do not call me 'Lord.' It feels strange. Simply 'Darien' will suffice."
"…Very well," she murmured, her voice softer than he had ever heard.
The meal passed in quiet ease. For Celeste, it was but the second time in years she had eaten so well—the first that very morn, by his grace.
Darien drew forth two small confections and set one before her. "Here."
She breathed in the sweet scent. "What is this?"
"Crème brûlée," quoth he. "A custard of cream, most fair to the taste." He broke its crust with a wooden spoon and ate.
Celeste followed, her eyes brightening. "Mmm—sweet and wondrous!"
---
After a gentle rest in his chamber, Darien rose refreshed. With the maids' aid, he bathed and was clad in a long white robe, a red mantle set squarely upon his shoulders. Though coarse and antiquated to his eye, he chose to wear it.
Celeste tarried by the door, awaiting him.
"L-Darien… is it time to see the slaves?"
For the first time, she spoke his name.
"Aye," quoth he. "Let us on."
They passed together down the hall, yet he turned midway, glancing at her.
"This attire—you prepared it, did you not? I like it very much. Thank you."
Celeste's cheeks warmed, a quiet smile upon her lips.
When they came unto the castle yard, the change was plain to see. No longer bore the slaves the visage of the beaten and unclean. They had washed, clad in simple yet fair garments, and fed with more than scraps and leavings.
Where once their eyes were hollow, void of spirit, now there flickered a spark—life, hope.
These were not the same folk as yestermorn.
Slaves were many times reckoned but chattel, cast aside when spent, or driven to war as fodder.
Yet here was another path.
The new lord of Brindlemark—Baron Darien—proved not as the rest.
Before he set them to labor, he gave bread, garments, and rest.
Such a deed was unheard of.
At first, many doubted. Yet the warmth of the bath, the scent of the soap, the taste of hot bread, and the gentle way Darien spake unto them… all stirred their hearts.
And now he stood before them, his gaze clear and steadfast.
Then spake he words that struck like a clarion:
"Your life is worth more than you realize!"
---
🔍 Did you know?
- Herbs were often added to wine in medieval times to mask spoilage, as refrigeration did not exist and drinks could sour quickly.
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