"Hold on, hold on! This makes no sense. Where's this story going?" Marielle asked.
"You're interrupting," Duke Saivelle grumbled.
"I just need to understand a few things! Why was Lord Roan's mother favoring a slave? What were the two of them doing during supper? How do you even know any of this?"
"Hmm... those are good questions. Unfortunately, for the first two, I have no answer. Lady Canterbury was always... the unstable type. It was a political marriage—one that favored her husband. She was known to be incredibly withdrawn, but rumors said she was actually the commanding power behind the Canterburys."
"So? Was she?"
"I don't actually know. Duke Canterbury was a close friend—in the sense that we enjoyed many of the same hobbies. We never spoke about serious topics all that much. I do know that, for as successful as their house was, he was... not very intelligent. But that could be explained with capable advisors, so I'm hesitant to believe in such unfounded rumors. From my experience, his wife never seemed too interesting."
"Okay. But, what about the story? How do you know so much?"
"...Since the Canterburys had no branch families, and they were technically a legal vassal of Corvailles, I received everything that survived the fire. Miraculously, the young lord had a diary that was recovered from his room. That, with the little bits of information that Duke Canterbury shared with me about his life, I was able to piece together a story. There will be some holes, though, like the relationship between Liora and Lady Canterbury, though."
"Can't we interrogate her?"
"Just wait for the end of the story, Marielle."
"Fine!"
******
Five months later, the relationship between Lord Roan and his slave had changed once again. Now, she was deemed sufficiently 'trained' by his oblivious father, and her gag was removed for good.
Duke Canterbury was often preoccupied with things such as sports—which he watched, for he was far too fat to participate in them—and other things. So, he wasn't aware of the strange things happening within his own home.
The slave, now named Alia—yes, she did in fact receive a name from the Canterburys—was treated much like a second child. Truly, it seemed like Duke Canterbury was vaguely aware of his wife's affection for the girl, but whether he was scared of his wife or just willing to go along with her whims is unsure.
Even the other slaves and estate staff treated her much better than a slave should be treated, certainly due to orders of Lady Canterbury.
Roan was the only one questioning the strange events. Yet, Alia was still his slave, and accompanied him almost everywhere. She still did everything he asked of her—she was even friendly with him.
Often, he would forget that there was anything wrong at all. He would often write in his diary positive things about Alia.
He would actually show, strangely, signs of extreme infatuation—writing pages on her 'silky white hair,' her 'beautiful' eyes, her 'warm, tan skin.' He loved the sound of her voice, and her playful nature. In fact, he might've loved her.
As deeply as a child could love another child, of course.
"Roan, look at this! Look at these butterflies! They're so pretty!"
"Hmph, those? I guess they're alright. The butterflies at the royal garden are even prettier, though," Roan said smugly, rubbing his nose.
"Royal garden? There's something like that, out there?"
"Of course. It's in the capital, and it's more like a big park than a garden. I'll take you there, one day, when I go the capital next."
"Really?" she wrapped her arms around Roan, squeezing him with a tight hug. "Thanks!"
"...Yeah," he said, suppressing a giggle.
Alia was dressed in a noble girl's attire. It looked extremely strange, to Roan, being on a southerner. He had never witnessed such a sight. Usually, they dressed in rags. At best, in servant attire. He didn't hate it, though.
What he didn't like was her frame. When she hugged him, there was almost no warmth. It felt as if he was being hugged by a pair of sticks. If her skin wasn't warm and her eyes weren't bright, he'd think she was a corpse.
It, quite frankly, turned him off. He found it disgusting. Even though he wanted so badly to feed her, his mother ordered him against it. Only she would be in charge of feeding the girl.
Recently, his mother had been taking her away more and more. He hated it, but there was nothing he could do. He even tried telling his father—but he brushed it off, telling him to let his mother do what she wanted. And when she heard about his tattling, she severly punished him.
In recent times, he was growing increasingly scared of his mother. Before, she was only cold. Now, though, when she saw him, she was almost... hateful.
The breaking point was reached one night, when Roan requested Alia to, like he often did, accompany him to the bath.
Now, before you fall into any misunderstandings, it truly was just a bath. Roan had never done anything to Alia in that way. Alas, the girl still did not want to accompany the boy to the bath.
She grew tired of it, getting undressed and helping the grown boy scrub his own back. She seemed to have come to a realization that, if she didn't want to do it, she didn't have to.
"Alia, won't you accompany me to the bath?"
"...Not tonight."
"Hm? What?"
"I said not tonight. I don't want to do it."
He looked at her, confused.
"Sorry? You have no choice. You're my—"
"If you keep asking, I'll tell mother."
'Mother? So she calls her mother, now?'
He froze, unsure of what to do. A chill ran down his spine, and though he wanted to press further, he knew it would be best to simply go to the bath by himself.
"Fine. Just wait here."
For the first time, maybe ever, a noble had been commanded by his slave, instead of the other way around. It felt terribly wrong, and Lord Roan was incredibly angry. He bathed, frustrated and upset.
When he left the bath, she was not waiting in his room like he'd ordered her.