The Meeting of the Thralls

The meeting of the thralls was called to order by the highest ranking knowledge of the Nassau household, thrall Dav. Tall and a little too skinny, Dav squinted out at the dark room with the same sour look Lem always saw him wear. Normally Dav's nearsightedness was an advantage in his everyday life, since he spent most of his time bent over books and ledgers. In this meeting, though, he seemed like he was struggling to identify the people in the room.

Taking advantage of the man's obvious struggle to see, Lem scooted even farther back into the corner. Maybe if he didn't call any attention to himself he would end up getting through this with an afterthought sort of assignment. He was still a weapon (that was something decided by the magic that coursed through the thrall mark on his forehead), so combat of some sort would be unavoidable. But if he was lucky, maybe they'd assign him to be a manor guard on one of the day shifts, when no one of The Blood would dare be caught out and about. He might actually get the chance to see the sun without having to stay up late and sneak out!

"As many of you are already aware," Dav said, still glowering at the gathered thralls in the parlor, "Lord Nassau was murdered this night. His personal guards have been…dealt with."

Lem grimaced at that, feeling sorry about Lord Nassau's passing for the first time that night. If he'd been murdered, it meant that the weapon thralls assigned to protect him had failed, somehow. There was only one punishment fitting for such a terrible failure. Lem frowned, and faintly wished their souls as peaceful a rest as he'd hoped Lord Nassau's was miserable.

"Given the upheaval of tonight," continued Dav, "some urgent staff changes are being made to address crucial absences."

Sometimes Lem really wished that Dav could understood the fact that not every thrall in the manor understood the big words used by knowledge thralls like him. Lem was a simple weapon, he only barely learned to read because his mother had insisted on teaching him. He wasn't sure Bast had any idea what the phrase 'address crucial absences' really meant, given the way he was nodding thoughtfully - a clear sign that he had no idea what Dav was talking about. Not that anyone dared point out such a thing. Weapon Bast was ignorant, but he was also easily enraged. No one wanted to make him angry over something like complex vocabulary. It was easier to just fill him in later using some other pretext. Personally, Lem liked the "I think what they meant was X, what do you think?" and then just let Bast agree or disagree according to his whim. Then, even if Bast was wrong, at least you could justify your behavior by claiming that you were just following orders.

"First and foremost," Dav was still speaking, "weapons, come forward."

Lem grimaced, and deeply considered staying in his corner. But Bast had come in with him, and was shooting him a dangerous look. So, with a sigh, he followed Bast to the front of the room, stepping into line alongside Theo, Cath, and Anna.

Dav grimaced his lemon-face at them all, squinting. "Only five of you?" he asked, as if he hadn't just 'dealt with' the other eight weapons of Nassau manor.

"Yes, knowledge," Bast growled. "The other eight were assigned to accompany Lord Nassau."

"Oh yes," Dav said absently. "Terrible, that. Such a waste."

Lem fought to maintain his composure. Beside him, Cath lost hers, burying her face in her hands, her shoulders hitching with the effort of holding in sobs. Weapon Cal, one of those who had been 'dealt with', was her father. Lem thought it was quite poor taste to be handing the girl her dead father's job mere minutes after informing her of such a terrible loss.

"There, there," Dav said absently and wholly ineffectually. "It will be all right. Tonight, I need at least one weapon to keep watch over Lady Nassau, the new master of the manor."

'The new master of us all,' Lem thought uncomfortably. He scowled at Dav, and glanced down the line of weapons to eye Bast, then Theo and Anna. Cath still had her face in her hands. Clearly, she was out for the count.

Anna was shaking her head minutely. She was the newest to the household. She wasn't a generational thrall, but had been sold to the manor by an enterprising merchant who probably fudged his enthralling numbers in order to bind as many humans as possible. Being so new, she not only didn't have a good understanding of how the household worked, she was also deathly afraid of Blood nobility. (Though in fairness, it was probably a good thing to be afraid of them.)

It was down to Theo or Lem - Bast was the head of the weapons, and he was more valuable as a trainer and coordinator than in the limited position of a simple bodyguard. It was why he hadn't been one of Lord Nassau's guards, why he was still here, when Cath's father was not.

Theo's face was pale, though in fairness, they were all quite pale here. Lem's own skin was paper-white with the sort of pale sickly quality humans who lived mostly nocturnal lives often acquired. But where Lem's hair was a coarse, unruly mop of dark brown, Theo's hair was soft and golden. Where Lem's eyes were dark and cradled in dark circles, Theo's green eyes sparkled with light and interest. He still had hope, even in a place as dark and dreary as Nassau manor. Still, Lem could tell that the thought of being placed between the sole remaining Nassau heir and a murderer who had already killed one member of the household clearly had Theo shaken. As much as Lem liked to think he was every bit as hard as Theo was soft, the truth was he didn't want to put Theo in a position that was obviously terrifying to him.

Sighing heavily, Lem lifted his hand. So much for getting his promised sleep. "I'll take the guard position," he volunteered. He saw the way Anna and Theo's posture relaxed minutely at his words, and felt... not better, exactly, but at least he felt like he'd done something that his fellow weapons appreciated. Even Bast was looking at him with quiet approval.

Dav, ever critical, eyed Lem with a pointed sneer. "Very well," he said, dragging his judgemental gaze up and down Lem's battered form. "You will need a change of clothes."

Lem barely fought back a sarcastic remark at that. Clearly, if Dav hadn't the foresight to mention it, he would have reported to the new lady of the house in his sleep clothes, with the bloody scrapes on his knuckles unhealed. Rolling his eyes, Lem said, "Where do I find those clothes, exactly? And I'll need some healing, too." He waggled his fingers pointedly, knuckles facing Dav so the man could see why he was making such a demand.

"I'll arrange it in a moment," Dav said impatiently. "Step aside, and I'll finish with the staff placements before taking you to the upper weapons room."

Lem had to admit, he was curious about the upper weapons' room. Most of the weapons in the lower levels never made it to the upper floors of the manor, where the good clothes and other supplies were. Apparently sometimes there were even enchanted clothes, or potions for healing scrapes and cuts. Though it was also a lot more dangerous than the lower levels. A weapon in the lower levels was out of sight, out of mind. Sharing a space with those of The Blood meant you could be forced into combat at any moment, just to provide a moment of entertainment.

Of course, Lem reflected, being on the lower levels didn't completely eliminate the risk of being called on as entertainment - that's what he'd done earlier that day, after all. But if he really was going to have a permanent placement on the upper floors, he needed to prepare himself for a lot more combat than he was used to.

Clenching his fists, Lem stepped back into his corner, watching Dav continue to assign various thralls to positions that had been vacated by the night's incident. He felt the scab over one knuckle crack, a small trickle of blood slipping between his fingers.

Yeah, he really needed to get some healing before he met the new Lady of the manor.