Chapter 7

Roux Estate was expansive. It was larger than the apartment building that Ettie and Fredricx resided and was far more ornate. Sure, the estate had the wrought iron, beautifully and masterfully twisted into scenes. Sure, its size rivaled most of Yharham's market center. Sure, the garden had the most green space that Fredricx had seen since fighting as a soldier in lush forests. Sure, the estate had its own bathhouse.

Fredricx swallowed the lump in his throat that had suddenly appeared. This job would be better than working as a shiphand. It would pay literally twice as much. Fredricx would also be off one day a week, a luxury that was afforded to a very few.

His back wouldn't hurt. His fingers wouldn't be blistered and calloused. He wouldn't come home exhausted, but could spend time with Ettie instead of immediately retiring to bed. This job would change Fredricx's life.

They could move into a bigger apartment and eat chicken and beef. Fredricx could see a doctor and buy new glasses. Ettie could buy herself new dresses and maybe jewelry. Best of all, there would be no more scrambled eggs.

Taking in a deep breath, this did little to settle Fredricx's heart. He was afraid. Looking down at his clothes, he attempted to straighten them. Ettie would be ashamed of the wrinkles his shirt had collected. Aside from the wrinkles, he hoped that his sweat could only be felt and not seen.

"Just settle the horses, Fredricx," he spoke to himself in a low tone. He hadn't even entered the gate of the Roux estate. Mustering up confidence, he went a little further. As he went to let himself through the gate, he was stopped by a sharply dressed man.

"Stop," this man commanded calmly. His voice didn't quite match his look. "State your business."

Fredricx pulled the folded flyer from his pocket, showing it him. "I saw this posting outside of the clinic. I would like to inquire about it."

The man raised an eyebrow, "What? You?"

"Yes, sir," Fredricx answered, swallowing nervousness.

"What makes you qualified to be employed here?"

Fredricx attempted to stand a little straighter, "I was a soldier of the Boer Wars. I even led a small group of men."

"Can you read?"

Fredricx nodded, "Yes, sir."

"Oh, really?" the man asked. He took the flyer from Fredricx's hand and held it close to his chest. "Read this."

Fredricx leaned forward slightly. The words were a little hazy around the edges. "Soldier types needed for night time security work. 1 shilling per night. Off on Sunday. Inquire at Roux Estate."

The man tilted his head, "You said 'Roux' incorrectly. Are you sure you can read?"

Fredricx nodded again, feeling a rock rise in his body. This rock was anger. "With respect, sir, I do not speak or read French. I can assure you, however, I can read."

"Sure," the man trailed his voice off in a manner that suggested to Fredricx that he wasn't quite in belief. "Come this way, sir. What do you call yourself?"

Fredricx extended his hand, "My name is Fredricxon Vinge."

"Alright, Mr. Vinge, right this way." The man ignored Fredricx's gesture and opened the gate for them both. They entered through and into the garden that had far more colors than Fredricx was use to. In fact, it sort of made his eyes ache.

Within a few paces, they entered the estate. The inside was nothing short of immaculate. Chairs matched another and the surrounding furniture.

"Wow," Fredricx muttered to himself.

"Don't tread too brashly. Master Roux requires everything to be pristine," said this sharply dressed man as others darted around.

They walked up a set of stairs and into a room that was no less elaborate than the garden and the entry way with its gold chandelier. Both had golden chandeliers. However, just one would have secured Fredricx's job as a shiphand for at least 5 years. How wealthy must one be to have wealth secure the room's lighting?

A man was sitting at a strong desk, hunched over. However, the man didn't seem particularly strong. Physically, the man was pallor with dark hair. His suit was far more impressive than his sharp cheekbones and long nose. Despite the nose, he seemed unmistakably confident.

"Master Roux," the sharply dressed man called. His tone was suddenly polite, full of respect. Where was that respect not so long ago?

"Yes? Who is this, Donvan?" Mr. Roux looked up from his papers and glasses, but his posture did not change. Also, he did not bother to stand.

"Master Roux, he calls himself Fredricxon Vinge. He is here to inquire about the night time security work."

Mr. Roux's eyebrows raised. The pen in his hand twitched. Small ink droplets sprayed his document. "Donvan, I requested you to screen candidates before you brought them to me."

"I did, sir," Donvan said as he gave a sideward glance toward Fredricx. It was just that, sideward.

"Oh, did you?" he sarcastically quipped to Donvan. Roux turned to Fredricx, "Why are you here, Mr. Vinge?" Roux finally stood and rounded his desk.

Fredricx inhaled, feeling nervousness well up again, and spoke, "I am here to inquire about your night time security position."

"Sure," Roux folded his arms in front of his chest. "What makes you think that you could be a candidate?"

"Sir, I am a veteran of the British Royal Army from the Boer Wars. I did well in training and on the field. My superiors made me in charge other men on the front lines."

Roux nodded. "What color of men did you lead?"

"All colors, sir," Fredricx replied. His response would surely appeal to Roux. Hopefully, it would communicate that Fredricx was a man that was worthy of respect.

A slight hum exited his lips. Roux readjusted his glasses, looking at Fredricx for the first time since he entered. There was a long pause, and then, Roux spoke, "What have you been doing since the Boer Wars?"

"I was in London for a time, working for the army. Then, I moved back to Yharham. I took work as a shiphand, down at the docks."

"Shiphand?" Roux confirmed, not sounding particularly impressed. "What happened with that?"

Fredricx internally cringed, "I was displaced because the docks have taken an economic downturn with the Scourge. They couldn't afford to pay my wages."

"Were many other of the shiphands displaced?"

"No, sir."

Roux gave another nod. "Mr. Fredricx, I would like you to come with me. There are a few tests that I would like to administer to see if you could be a candidate."

XXXX

The three men started to exit out of the office and into a hallway. Roux swiftly turned. "Donvan, you will not be accompanying us," his tone was sharp.

From there, Roux and Fredricx made their way down the stairs once again, through the entryway, out the front door, rounded the building, and stopped at the backside of the house in the garden.

"Fredricxon Vinge, as per my policy, I ask all potential candidates these questions and administer these tests. It isn't anything particular about your inquiry." Roux was matter of fact. They locked eyes for a moment, "Are you ready to begin?"

Fredricx nodded.

"Would you be willing to be completely clean shaven for the duration of your employment? I want my security detail to look presentable at all times because even if you are not working, you are still working by representing me. A clean shaven face is the mark of a gentleman."

Without thought, Fredricx answered, "That wouldn't be a problem." Being hired would mean no more scrambled eggs, and shaving was nothing compared to eating scrambled eggs twice a day.

Roux nodded, "First test passed."

From there, they went back inside, up a different flight of stairs, and into a sitting room that held several large armchairs, a table with cards, and many paintings.

"Mr. Vinge, I would like you to move that armchair across the room there," Roux pointed first to a large red chair and then dragged his pointing across the room into a corner.

"Alright," Fredricx offered calmly. With relative ease, he picked up the chair by its back, hoisted it across the room, and set it down in specified corner.

"Move it back."

Without a word, Fredricx did. The nervousness that he was feeling became annoyance. He was no butler, but this wasn't the time to express displeasure.

"Second and third test passed. I don't want a member of my detail to question my requests," Roux's mouth looked slightly less like a frown, "I also require someone who is strong."

Fredricx didn't say anything, but straightened his clothes.

Roux walked out of the room, back into a hallway, and into another room. It was a library. Books lined walls from floor to ceiling. Plucking a book from one of the shelves, seemingly at random, Roux opened it and handed it to Fredricx, "Can you read?"

Fredricx, glancing down at the book, nodded, "Yes, sir. I can."

"Show me."

He started at the top of the left hand page, "In the early 1500s, the bubonic plague ravished Yharham, the surrounded countryside, and the forests. Most likely, the plague was a curse from a higher being to punish Yharham's foolhardiness. However, the plague could have been a result of foreign ships, whose people were as equally foolhardy. These ships would have docked at the growing city. From January to July, thousands of people had been infected. Special doctors, wearing white, animalistic masks, would attempt to treat patients with many sorts of blood treatment. Some doctors theorized that letting blood would cure illness by balancing the three liquids of the body. Other doctors theorized adding blood would overpower the sickness. To an extent, the second group was correct or lucky. However, some of the patients turned into otherworldly creatures, according to legend. This legend states that-..."

Roux interrupted, "Thank you, Fredricx. You have passed the fourth test, and the last one is simple. I want you to walk me back to the garden."

Luckily, Fredricx was anxious and therefore blinded with a sudden inability to recall directions. Inhaling slowly and deeply, Fredricx strained to remember their path so far. They had essentially used the grand staircases every time they transitioned.

"Right this way, sir," Fredricx offered, exiting the library-like room, which was the door they came in. That had been an easy decision because there were two doors. One of which was closed.

From inside a long hallway, it would make the most sense that the staircase would be on either one side or the other. Taking a few steps to the right, Fredricx swiveled as that was not the correct direction. Instead, he led Roux left through the hallway and down the grand staircase that Fredricx was happy to see. From there, they went out a side door from a lounging area, rounded a corner of the manor, and ended up in the place they had stood initially in the back garden.

"I'm impressed, Mr. Vinge," Roux nodded, arms loosely at his sides, "You have passed all of the tests."

Author Note: Thank you to the 3 people who have left reviews for my story! It is encouraging to know that someone is enjoying it other than me!