Chapter 1

Enslaved

Paul opened its eyes, coughing, laying against something that could be his mattress. The air he breathed fell dirty, almost rotten, and even doing it hurt. He was dimly aware of the cloud of dust all around him, through the pain and the haze of his thoughts, and smelled something burning. He wondered if he was burning, if is mother had finally left the stove on through the night and now they all were burning. Then, he heard it. Voices, excited gabble. He was so out of it that it sounded foreign, but it was good, it fact it was just peachy-keen; whatever was happening, he wasn´t going to die.

The cloud of dust slowly cleared, its throat and its lungs slowly cleaned. When it was finally gone, it revealed a clear blue sky and the sun, cut against the sky like a cheap caricature. Seeing it mean outdoors, that he was outdoors, not at home but outdoors. He should been panicking right now, but he didn´t even have the strength for that. 'Groaning, he dragged himself to his feet. He managed to get on his knees, and then he nearly fell. One more push and he stood up. He swayed a little, but he managed to hold in place, and looked around.

Paul gulped.

First, he saw an oddly dressed adult carrying a wooden staff and that was bad enough, more than enough, but then he noticed the little girl with the pink dyed hair am his side and her dangerously short skirt and all the other people around, teenagers wearing elegant matching uniforms with animals he had never see before on their side, more wild beasts that mascots. They were some normal animals, but it didn't matter, because a few harmless and normal things didn´t mean that a good number of all these animals couldn´t rip him apart with a single bite. He took a step back, then another and tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground on his ass. Laughter bubbled through the crowd while he scrambled back, terrified.

The man looked at him with am estrange expression, like he just noticed he was there. He said something, and it was neither English nor Spanish but French. That was bad enough, leaving aside that it mean he was not even close to home, but he had flunked French class badly, so badly he couldn´t even manage to beg now. The little girl said something else, towards the man, and the two drifted into a conversation like he wasn´t there.

He breathed in and out, once and twice and god knows of many times, trying to keep himself under control. The situation was ridiculous, what he was thinking was ridiculous. He had gone to sleep contemn that it was the weekend and he could finally do what he wanted do, and now he was here on field in the middle of nowhere with beasts coexisting with French children and bald odd man. He had to be dreaming. And now that it was done, that he pulled back the curtain and called the dream a dream it would fade, all these people could fade, and in an hour or even half he couldn´t remember then anymore. He just had to wait and…

He felt soft, warm hands sliding on his face, pulling it upwards and then he saw a girl, that little girl, with her face so close to him that he could smell the breath that came up between her parted lips, kneeling on the grass beside him. Then she kissed him, right on the lips.

Paul froze on the spot, not knowing what to do or what was happening, and for a silly moment he wondered if he was doing too little, if he should return the kiss and push her against him. Then his hand was light on fire, and there was only haze and the pain, rising above everything else like a tide. He tried to hold it back, but couldn´t and screamed at the top of his lungs. He fell back holding his right hand with his left, still screaming, and rolled on the grass only barely aware of the why, only knowing that it was somehow important and that was all right with him. His eyes rolled back to his head and…

"..rinse." He croaked out, vaguely nauseous, not really aware of what he was saying or why, felling something soft against him. For a moment he allowed himself to think he was just lying in bed, ignoring the jagged edges of his fading nightmare, and then opened its eyes.

It was definitively not his room. The shock was big enough that he only just noticed the girl, on the edge of his vision. He saw the smooth nape of her, her shirt hanging down her shoulders and that there were no straps and that mean she was braless and if she was then he only needed to move a little bit to the side to see everything. By the time he remembered enough to realize that looking that long was a bad idea, she turned her head back-it was that child am the field- and saw him looking am her nearly topless form. She turned around, hands and her hips, the buttons of her shirt still undone, pointing am him with a finger. It was terrifying. She was naught but a child, eleven year old at the most, am had such a slender little body, but it was terrifying. Who knew what she could do to him? What she could make her people do?

"I am sorry." He squeaked, and turned his head away, but the tirade continued. He didn´t need to understand French to know she wasn´t saying anything good for him. "I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry."

After minutes that may as well have been eternity, her voice softened somewhat. He raised his head, hesitantly, knowing that he was going to regret it and that he had to do it all the same. As he feared, her shirt was still unbuttoned, but his attention was quickly draw to the stick she held him her hand. A moment later, she started signing or at least seemed to, waving the stick around like a baton for a few seconds and then pointed it and him. A cloud of dust kicked up, making him cough and reflexively closed his eyes. When he felt clean air again or thought he did, he opened its eyes.

"What the…" He hacks out a cough. "What the fuck was that?"

"Language, commoner! That's no way to speak in the presence of a noble… wait, you speak Halkagenian? S-so you were only feigning not understanding me, you stupid dog! I…"

"Halkagenian? A-are you not speaking English right now?"

"I don't even know what that is, idiot. And if you are telling the truth, explain why I can understand… oh, oh."

"What?"

"Nothing. Shut up, commoner. "She said, and crossed her arms am her nonexistent chest. "And don't take that tone with me. Call me master."

"Ok, master." He said, swallowing the response she really deserved. "But shouldn´t I at least know your name, why I am here and things like that?"

She gave him a cross look, but nodded.

"That is reasonable, yes. Listen well, commoner: My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc De La Vallière, and you are my familiar. Normally a familiar is a mage´s protector…" He wanted to say what, but didn´t, just remained silent while she looked and him up and down. "But you are only a commoner; even a crow is too much for you. So you stay with me, work for me, do what can you can do and no more. Do you understand?"

Paul nodded, slowly, but he only understood that she was crazy and everyone else here was surely crazy too.

"Good. Come here." He sat up and closed the distance between then, incredulous that she hadn´t buttoned up her shirt yet. "Undress me."

He flinched.

"Come again?" She frowned.

"You heard me; undress me. Nobles don't undress themselves with a servant available. My nightgown is the bottom drawer of the closet. When you finish, take it and dress me with it. Understand?"

"Y-yes, I understand." Paul looked down. He could see her nipples, and while that was so even am a distance, this was something else entirely, something shockingly intimate, dirtily welcome. He could touch them, he realized, give them a good squeeze just by reaching a little, and she only looked at him like he was a lamppost or a sign or something like that. Like it all was natural. The thought almost made him sick, but he sucked it up and slid the shirt off of her shoulder and down to the floor.

"What's with your look?"

"Sorry, m-master. I am not accustomed to this."

"I suppose I can forgive you, this time. " Louise said. "Get on with it."

He nodded, knelled and pulled down the zipper of her skirt, making it slide down to the floor. He very carefully didn´t think that she was wearing only panties and stockings, went to the closet, and rummaged around the bottom drawer until he found a nightgown and took it.

"Is this one okay?"

"All of my nightgowns are of the same design, familiar. It hardly matters. Come on."

He nodded, went back, and helped her slid into the nightgown, trying not to think of the felling of her skin on his hand nor that this was the most intimate he had be with a girl since his ex. When they were finished, she pulled the hem of the nightgown down.

"Good work." She said, and to his surprise it didn´t sound forced at all. "By the way, familiar, what is your name? Not that I care, but as your master I should know."

"My name is Paul Davis, master." She nodded, turned away and climbed into the bed, covering herself with the mattress to her neck.

"You can sleep on the pile of hay." Paul hands clenched at his sides, but whatever thoughts crossed trough his mind it was only a moment. "I expect you to wake up a little after dawn, and send the uniform too wash. The servant staff can and will give you directions, so ask them if you get lost. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, master." He said, as she closed her eyes. Then he went to this little corner, skirting around the uniform on the floor, and sat down on the hay. It was soft, but uncomfortable and surely unhealthy. Still, he had no choice. That Louise could make the tide sallow him if she wanted, so he would do what he had to do. He laid himself on the hay, accommodated as best as he could and closed its eyes.

He couldn´t sleep. It was quiet, but he couldn´t sleep, for the sound was him his head. He remember his mother, her warm smile even while she was irritated with him for one reason or another, his home that was not a palace but it was home, and its father that did everything he could do-both did, really. He remembered too much, and went misty eyed, so he turned towards the wall and tried too not make a noise. He couldn´t do anything about the crying, but a least his self-proclaimed master couldn´t see him like that.