Note: This chapter's kinda slow...but I do like the first half. It's a bit out of place and distracting, but the idea seemed too good to give up at the time. I've always admired the translators' sense of humor with some of the names in the game. Feedback much appreciated.

Redrum Manor came into view in the distance at around three o'clock in the afternoon. Vast fertile farmland, its crops ready for the autumn harvest, stretched for miles around the actual manor and was tended to by embedded serfs. Borus had insisted on not going home any sooner than was necessary, so the two squires instead started down an eastward road towards the village of Broma, a twenty-minute ride away.

Along the way, Percival and Borus passed by several serfs working the fields. They all stopped and greeted the boys very respectfully, referring to them by such grandiose titles as "my lord" and "master". Borus, of course, was used to it, but the treatment made Percival very uncomfortable. Although his peasant family had not been under the bondages of serfdom, rich noblemen sometimes visited Iksay Village to survey the land. He remembered how he used to view them: as stuck-up, condescending sons of bitches riding high and mighty atop their fancy horses and treating the villagers like dogs in their own homes. Percival was under no illusions about how these serfs really felt about him and Borus behind their flattering smiles and reverent compliments, and it certainly felt unpleasant to be on the receiving end of it.

The two soon reached Broma, a small farming community much like Percival's own hometown. They brought their horses to an inn stable and paid some money to keep the animals there while they explored the village on foot. Borus led Percival to the marketplace, the busiest section of town. There, they meandered leisurely through the street stands, buying some fruit to eat along the way and taking a closer look at craftwork that caught their eye.

Eventually, the squires reached the town square, an open ground paved with stone that spread out before the court hall. "Whoa! Look at that!" Borus suddenly pointed past Percival's shoulder towards the sprouting fountain that stood at the center of the square.

Percival turned his head towards where Borus was pointing and saw what had to be one of the strangest sights he'd ever set eyes on. There, playing beside the fountain, was a little tan-skinned, creamy-haired Karayan boy, around seven or eight years old. He seemed to be waiting for someone. With him was a bizarre creature, the likes of which Percival had never seen before. It was as big as an ox, and it had the head and fore claws of an eagle, the body and hind legs of a lion, and the tail of a horse.

"Oi! What the bloody hell is that thing?" Percival muttered.

"No idea," Borus replied. "Sure looks fucked up beyond all recognition, though. Like a panther screwed a duck."

"Heh heh. Fucked up beyond all recognition... You're right, man."

All of a sudden, the Karayan boy turned and saw the two squires looking in his direction. He excitedly ran towards them, his pet trailing behind. As the strange beast neared them, both Percival and Borus took a nervous step back. Borus's hand reached for the hilt of his sword.

"Hi!" the little boy said as he came up to Percival and Borus. "Were you guys looking at him?" He stroked the beast on the head, which nuzzled him and let out a soft cry resembling that of a hawk. "It's okay. He won't bite you." He seemed quite eager to show off his exotic pet.

The two relaxed a bit. Percival leaned his head towards the beast, admiring the up-close creature with awe. "Um... What is your buddy, exactly?"

"He's a griffin!"

"A griffin?" Borus inquired curiously. "Never heard of it. Is it some kind of new Grassland riding beast?"

"Uh-huh," the boy answered proudly. "But they're really, really rare. My mom got him for me yesterday. She can 'cause she's the chief of our village!"

"Oh yeah? What's his name?" Percival asked.

The boy lowered his head. "I haven't thought up a good one yet."

At those words, Percival suddenly cast a very mischievous glance at his friend. Borus frowned, wondering what he might be up to. "Say, kid. I think I might have a good name for him."

"What is it?" the boy asked, looking up.

"How about Fubar?" Percival suggested with a grin. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Borus suddenly shake as he struggled to keep from cracking up.

"Fubar?" The boy cocked his head. "What does it mean?"

"It's an old Zexen term for strange things like your pal here and whatnot," Percival stated matter-of-factly.

"Really?" The boy smiled. "Fubar... Hey, that does sound cool. Yeah!" He looked at his griffin. "Your new name is Fubar!" At this point, a chortle escaped from Borus's throat, which he disguised as a cough. The boy beamed up at Percival. "Thanks, mister!"

"No problem, kid."

"I gotta go tell my mom!" The boy started to run off towards the court hall. "C'mon, Fubar!" He called out to his griffin, which turned to follow him. "Bye!" he yelled back to the squires.

As soon as the Karayan boy was out of earshot, Percival and Borus both let out their previously stifled laughs until their sides hurt. As he brought himself back under control, Borus shook his head at Percival, smirking. "Poor kid. You know, you are one mean son of a bitch, Percival."

It was soon time to head back to the manor, as the sun was just beginning to set. Percival and Borus fetched their horses from the stable and quickly rode them towards their final destination.

They speedily returned to the manor and rode through the fields and the Redrum's own private hunting forest towards the iron front gate of the house itself. As they got closer to the manor, Percival was truly able to appreciate its size. The house was massive, at least as large as the enormous Guild Hall building itself in Vinay del Zexay, and that was just what he could see from the mansion's frontal façade. Percival could hardly imagine anyone actually needing to live in a place as big as this. His own home in Iksay consisted of a tiny two-roomed apartment above his father's shop.

The boys rode up to the ornate front gate, which stood between high stone walls that encircled the manor and a large area around it. Behind the gate was a curving brick road, which ran up to the front door of the manor itself. On the other side of the walls, Percival heard the barking of what sounded like a whole pack of dogs.

Two armed guards stood beside the gates. When they saw Borus approaching, they waved and greeted him with great enthusiasm. "Master Borus!" one guard called out. "You're finally here! Your mother's been waiting for you! You're practically the last one to arrive out of all your relatives, you know." The guard opened the gate and motioned for the other guard to head for the manor and fetch some servants to help the boys carry their packs.

"Am I now?" Borus mumbled without any of the enthusiasm of the guard.

"What took you so long, my lord?"

"We, uh, overslept..."

"Well, I suppose it can't be helped. I can only imagine your weariness, what with your grueling knight training and all." He looked over at Percival. "And who is this young lord?"

"This is, um, Lord Percival." He and Percival exchanged a silent grin. "He's a fellow squire. A guest of mine. I expect him to be treated as such."

"Yes, of course. Welcome, Lord Percival."

"Thank you very much, sir," Percival said politely with a nod, at which point Borus pulled him aside.

"Okay, Percival. Rule number one," he whispered quietly. "You don't call any of the servants 'sir' or 'ma'am' or anything like that. You call them by their first names. And if you don't know it, you don't address them at all. Just say, 'Maid, fetch my blanket!' or whatever. It's a matter of presenting your superior standing."

What superior standing? Percival gave Borus a disgruntled look. "You know, Redrum. Where I come from, we treat people who show us hospitality with respect."

"Well, you're in a different place now. Status is everything here." Borus sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to be a jerk or anything. You know I'm not usually like this. I just want to teach you how to fit in for the next few days."

Percival nodded and looked away, feeling very awkward. "I understand. Sorry."

Soon, four servants arrived at the gate along with the second guard. After greeting Borus and Percival, two of them took the three horses and headed off towards the stables. The other two reached the squires' packs to take them for the boys.

"It's all right. Really," Percival said as a servant asked for his pack. "It's not heavy. I can carry it." But Borus stopped his resistance by shaking his head at Percival as he handed over his own packs. "Um, okay," Percival muttered as he followed suit.

The two servants headed for the front doors, while the two guards remained and closed the gate behind them. The boys followed at a distance.

"You might as well enjoy the pampering while you're here," Borus said quietly. "It might be a good experience for the likes of you." Percival raised an eyebrow at him.

As he walked, Percival turned his head towards the sound of the barking and saw a large fenced-in area in the distance filled with about two dozen magnificent hounds baying at them as they passed. "Nice dogs," he commented.

"They're the prize hounds we use for morning hunts," Borus explained. "Those are the foxhounds. The deerhounds are kept out back."

Percival let out a soft whistle, impressed with not just the sheer number of dogs the Redrums kept, but also with how cold and impersonal it all seemed. Sure, the hounds were beautiful and well fed, but how often were they played with or treated as anything other than expensive property with a specific purpose? "I had a dog when I was a kid," he said to Borus. "His name was Scruffy. Big dirty mangy mongrel with pointy ears. I mean, granted, he wasn't a purebred trophy dog like those, but I liked him anyway. He'd follow me everywhere. He was kinda stupid, though."

"Yeah, dogs tend to be. What happened to it?"

"Got beaten to death by some shepherd who thought he was a wolf going after his sheep," he said with a nostalgic laugh. "Damn, I miss that mutt."

As the mansion drew closer, Percival grew quite edgy. He had seen countless aristocratic manors from the outside before, but had never been in one. He was nervous about meeting Borus's family, as he became increasingly certain that he could never convincingly act like one of their kind.

"Hey, man," he said suddenly. "Let's get something straight. Am I supposed to be pretending to be some rich kid while I'm here?"

"No! Of course not! Just be yourself."

"Be myself?"

Borus glanced at his grinning friend. "Scratch that. At least try to act presentable."

Percival chuckled. "Right. Anyway, what happened to Rule Number One?"

Borus shook his head. "Look, you really don't have to pretend to be anyone you're not. What I said before about the servants, it was really more of a suggestion. I shouldn't have said it like that. I'm sorry. You don't have to behave that way if you don't want to. I know you're not used to it, and I don't want you to be uncomfortable. You're my guest. My family won't throw you out just 'cause you're not nobility."

"Well, all right. But what about you?"

"What about me?"

"I mean, if you say status is everything, will you be...uncomfortable around your family with my status?"

Borus suddenly stopped dead in his tracks and gave Percival a serious glare. "After all this time we've known each other, Percival, do you really still think that's the kind of person I am?"

Percival saw the total earnestness in the blond squire's eyes. It made him uncomfortable, and he turned away. "Er..."

"Listen, if I were ashamed of the fact that you're a commoner, would I have brought you here?"

"No, I guess not," Percival replied as they continued walking. He grinned sideways at Borus and said in mock sincerity, "Well, aren't you the progressive, egalitarian one, Lord Redrum. Truly a lord among lords."

"Go to hell," Borus growled.

The boys reached the wide marble front steps of the manor. Two majestic stone lions stood along both sides of the steps, their expressions grave and vigilant as if they were actually guarding the house. Percival and Borus stepped up the to the imposing front doors, made of polished wood and towering above them. The servants opened the doors and held them for the squires, bowing their heads slightly. Percival took a deep breath, as if readying himself to enter the unknown. Alongside Borus, he stepped past the doors and into the manor.