Chapter 1

It was the same every day, Julian would wake up to one of his family's many servants opening a curtain. When the unwelcomed light filtered onto his face Julian groaned, another day, how horrible. Zelda…or Lila, Julian never could remember the maids name, shook him. As any rich boy would, Julian ignored it, but the brave help continued to shake the drowsy sloth until his temper was peeked,

"Why don't you go and annoy someone else for a change you mangy mongrel!" In the morning Julian's voice was more deafening then a lion's robust roar. His furious face was almost unrecognizable compared to his quite angelic features that shone while he slept. Maybe the only reason she was brave enough to temper a raging storm each morning was that vulnerable visage of innocence worn wile dreaming.

"B-but Master Julian your mother commands it." Zelda or Lila said in a timid crackle. Although her hand dared to stay on his shoulder, it was apparent she was close to breaking. Julian was no angel now.

With the reflexes that only a well-trained gypsy could poses Julian grabbed the unfortunate morning maid's writs. His fingers wrapped around the joint none to gently as he raged,

"That blasted woman is too clingy! I nearly suffocate every time she is in the same room with me. What's worse is that she is my mother. Couldn't she find other ways to amuse her time? I'm a merchant's heir you shrew! I don't need to heed to her every whim because she is simply bored!" His volume had not lowered, and his tone had not softened. The poor girl could feel perfectly trimmed nails scraping into her soft flesh. A bead of sticky crimson poked its head beneath one of his fingertips.

"stop...p-please," the maid whispered. Julian could not hear.

"What? Speak up!" Julian commanded, bringing the poor girl closer to him.

" m-master your nail-" She couldn't finish.

"I said speak up you silly silent servant!" he shook her wrist and the pain became unbearable. Squirming she tried to rid herself of the master's unmerciful fingers. They would not yield.

"Let go of me!" She yelled. Then with more courage any maid before her she lashed out and slapped Julian hard across the cheek. For a moment the yelling stopped and all that could be heard was the clap of skin on skin. A stinging sensation spread across Julian's face as a bright red mark began to form. The shock of her slap made him release her victimized wrist and raise his now unoccupied hand to the hurt. She wrenched her wrist away and rubbed the sore spot revealing a large bruise that ended with a small bloody backwards crescent moon.

How could his hands have so easily marked her without him even trying? Mesmerized Julian stared at the crescent, but for only a moment. With one flick of his eyes her scar was hidden. They didn't dare flick back. The rich boy became worried. Was he beginning to feel sorry for the little whelp? Julian was not a man to feel sorrow. It quickly turned to something less honorable. Angrily he thought to himself why he should feel sorry for such an insolent girl? She dared to strike her master.

"You'll pay for this you wretch!" His arm lashed out, but the young one had learned. With a small step she fell out of his reach. "You really think that will stop me?"

She didn't have time to blink before he stood abandoning his morning's heavenly harbor. Cream satin sheets fell and there he was cornering the wounded woman. At least she had achieved her original goal, waking the young master. Now the young lady wondered if it was worth it.

Julian's arm reached out in front of him, his fingers curled. They twitched slightly forming into one a shackle that would fit perfectly across her neck.

"You'll learn to never strike your master again!" The shackle came closer to the pale pink flesh of her throat.

Any other woman might have run, or sat cowering, but this young lass would do nether. One day I hope to write more of this plucky young girl who was braver then a solder in war. She would fight back, even if defeat was certain. Unfortunately this isn't her story.

First she grabbed the strangle ready hand. Her nails dug into his wrist dealing revenge for the crescent on her own. Then with a swift jerk of the knee Julian fell gasping. That maid had remarkable aim.

"You little-" Julian gasped through his embarrassing pain.

"My name is Lila master Julian." She said wile steadying herself and straitening her apron.

"Why should I care lowly servant?" He tried to get up, but the pain from his hurt forbade him to do so.

"For the past five years I've worked in this house and never once have I been as insulted as I was today. You're a lazy no good demon. Never again will I be fooled by that mask of innocence you carry while you sleep. You're an irredeemable man!" she yelled as she ran out of the room. Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks. As Lila ran through the hall down the stairs and out the door she hoped never to see that man again.

…

Just get out quick.

Every morning the same mantra filtered through his mind as he walked down the much too large halls. Yes the boy inherited his mother's almost otherworldly beauty, but his thoughts were very much like his fathers. A more empathetic child might have felt sorry for his unloved, shut up mother but he always treated her with resent.

"Good morning child. I see that the maid, what's her name, left crying again. She was one of my best Julian, please show a little mercy when we wake you up in the morning. At this rate there will be no more servants in the county who will be willing to put up with your sour distaste in the morning." Valda said. Though her voice came out nonchalantly as if she was discussing the weather, but her eyes held his in a cold empty stare. This was one for which she was famous, even the dainty milkmaids of the merchants home country never had eyes her shade of deep blue. They created the perfect illusion of ice daggers being thrown into the viewer.

That sparked Julian's anger, "Its Lila mom. Her name was Lila!"

Never had that boy remembered a servant's name. The statement would have made his father jump, and the governess wonder, but Valda simply smiled. It seemed like she knew something, a secret she was not willing to tell.

"Names are useless Julian unless they have money or connections behind them. Servants are to be seen, never heard, and easily forgotten." She spoke as if his father handed her a script. Though her lips formed and spouted those words they were not hers.

Had a life of emptiness left his mother with no emotions to speak of? No if only that was true. In Julian's mind every word was as harsh and cold as the winter winds. He, however was not the type, definably not, who would listen to sage advice if it came and smacked him in the head. All he had to do was leave before she would plead with him again to go shopping, or make some silly jewelry for her.

From a young age Julian showed much promise as a crafter. He could build or fix almost anything. When he was only five he fashioned a necklace of stunning workmanship for his mother. The chain was brilliantly lopped in an intricate design the eyes could not hope to follow, and attached to the gleaming mettle was a heart shaped locket with his mother's name carved on it. Valda always wore it, even when they fought, which was becoming much too frequent.

Not even staying for a quick bite to eat Julian stood up and ran for door, "Mother I must go to town today. I will be back…eventually."

Without giving Valda time to speak he was gone, and she again was left alone. A summer's day could not be more enchanting. The sun shone brightly, and all of nature seemed to sing. The gardens had grown since Valda had become mistress of the merchants abode. No matter the day or its beauty Julian always found fault. He had a knack for making even the most perfect flower seem nothing more than an unwanted weed, like his mother.

The young babe had grown into a judgmental, arrogant young man. At sixteen the world was laid at his feet. Although Julian would never admit this to anyone, he detested all the people who buzzed around him because of his wealth and looks. Maybe that contributed to his swift and entirely judgmental disposition. Young women would flock to him, but not many stayed. Even the ones more dimwitted then Valda could see that ice flowed through his veins. He had no kindness to speak of.

The woe he inflicted on any women that crossed his path was heart shattering. Julian never thought another thing of it, just little advice for the not entirely beautiful. The critical cutting remarks of that selfish brat would leave them in utter agony. One with a simple gap between her teeth had been tormented science she was old enough to smile…now she doesn't grin at all. Another who was considered a beauty that was never one to shy away from a group locked herself in her room, refusing to go to the park whenever he would come. She apparently had an unpleasant laugh. A thousand books could be filled of all the lives he had hurt, but then again it's not their story to be told, it's his.

A young boy of sixteen with an incalculable sum of money and connections at his disposal, what would he do? Of course unlike normal rich boys who were content being the life of a ball or shutting themselves inside a house in rapturous study never did quite fit the young man we have before us. He was known to set the stage at every major event of the year, and his intellect was astounding, but is it not easy to be a genius when remembering everything after reading or hearing it once? For Julian the only way to spice up life was to go where the world seemed dull and hard. The slums aren't the best place for a rich boy.