"None. The Princess is quite merciful. And she has not demanded any punishment. However," Volkanon continued, "I would be amiss as your instructor if I let this grievous error go."

Vishnal could barely stand the flurry of emotions – elation that Frey wasn't so angry as to have him punished, concern over whether she might be angry despite that, and the rock in his stomach as he realized he wasn't off the hook yet.

"I'm sorry to do this, my boy, but you must understand and remember there are consequences for careless actions," Volkanon was no longer yelling, but his tone was deathly serious.

Vishnal swallowed hard—surely Volkanon wouldn't throw him out of the castle if Frey hadn't? Then he noticed the heavy leather strap that Volkanon had picked up, and his eyes went wide.

"… twenty strokes, much milder than most masters would demand. In fact my teacher would've…" Volkanon continued talking about how much harsher his teacher would've been, as Vishnal was finally processing his words.

Vishnal silently thanked the Divine Dragons that he wasn't going to be cast out of the castle. But he was still apprehensive about the upcoming punishment. It's okay. I can handle this. He mentally tried to talk himself through his nerves. I'm just lucky I'm not being sent away, or flogged in the castle square. I'll still get to serve Frey and be a butler when this is all over with. By the Dragons! Did he just say 20 strokes? I've seen the man cut down a tree with a half dozen blows! I don't think…. NO! I can handle this! If this is what it takes to stay near Frey and be a butler, I'll endure anything! He carefully removed his jacket and shirt, as Volkanon told him to, and knelt with his back to the older man. It's going to be fine, I can handle this. I'll be strong and won't even cry out… he clenched his jaw and bowed his head.

CRACK! The first stroke fell across his bare shoulders, and he shuddered. By the third stroke, silent tears filled his eyes and he doubled his resolve to take his punishment silently. By the fifth, his resolve shattered and a sharp gasp of pain escaped him.

…

It was all over in a few minutes, although Vishnal felt it was an eternity. He had managed to hold on to a scrap of his dignity and not beg or wail. He slowly eased his shirt and jacket back on.

"I'm sorry, Vishnal. But it had to be done," Volkanon told him, "Go to your quarters for a few hours and compose yourself. Then you're to repair Princess Frey's shipping box before you finish mopping the kitchen."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused. I'll be sure to finish my work," Vishnal assured the head butler as he turned and slowly made his was to his room.

As soon as he'd escaped to his room and shut his door behind him, he gingerly shrugged off his coat and shirt again. His back felt like fire, and the cloth rubbing against the welts was agony. Turning stiffly he tried to get a look at himself in the mirror. His cerulean hair was disheveled, his face pale. He craned his neck to try to see his back in the mirror – 20 angry red welts criss-crossed from shoulders to waist, already turning purple around the edges. Sighing, he eased himself down onto his bed, lying on his stomach with his face buried in the pillows. If only he wasn't so careless! He mentally berated himself. Divine Dragons this hurts. And I completely deserve it. Why do I make so many careless mistakes? Princess may not have ordered the punishment but she's bound to be furious with me. I'm such a disgrace as a butler… I'll never be an elite butler at this rate, and I'll never deserve Princess Frey's affections. I'm such a fool…

The quiet click of the door opening startled him out of his grim musings.