The Particulars

[Elloria]

Genji lay sprawled on his stomach in the center of his large, canopied four-poster bed. His arms were flung out. The left curled up beside his head, as if to shield it. The right stretched out to create a 45-degree angle with his body, the palm lying up. His left leg was curled also, setting him in a slightly fetal position with the right leg off-setting this by remaining straight. Despite this seemingly normal position, it was thrown off by the fact that Genji was not lying in the bed like a normal individual. His head faced the balcony while his right foot was hanging off the bed. It twitched occasionally as he dreamed. As usual, the covers had been scattered during the night and the curtains cast aside. One blanket had managed to make its way over to the balcony. A pillow rested upon the top of one armoire.

The room's sole occupant was utterly unconcerned about this state of affairs. In fact, he was still soundly sleeping. His mouth hung slightly open and his breath escaped into the chill air with a soft huff. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon, but its rays had not yet reached his eyes. What did reach him, however, was a barely heard swoosh of fabric as someone entered his bedchamber. He shifted slightly in the odd half-sleep he entered when a new presence invaded his sanctum. His right hand stole its way over the bed towards where Hinote lay on the nightstand. It brushed against the hilt before he finally recognized who had entered. His hand flopped down. He shifted his body so that it now mirrored its former position - right side curled, left side straightened out. “If you don’t want a wakizashi in your gut...or any number of other weapons, for that matter...I suggest you knock next time you wish to enter my chambers, Devon.” The tenor of his voice - usually crisp and clear - was fuzzed by sleep and only half as threatening. A part of him wished to teach the boy a lesson. The rest of him was content to let the indiscretion slide this time in favor of drifting between sleep and wakefulness.

[counterklock]

It was scarcely after sunrise when Devon found himself at the door of his new master’s bedchambers, bearing a tray laden with the Count of Teirm’s breakfast. He had awoken roughly an hour and a half or so before, as he had become accustomed to over the years, to dress and prepare a morning meal for his master as was expected of an attendant. He donned the clean, white, long-sleeved tunic and dark leggings he had found waiting for him at the foot of his bed, and had made his way to the kitchens. Unsurprisingly, the Citadel of Teirm was already buzzing with life, servants scurrying about the complex, readying themselves for another day of work.

He had never worked in a household as large as the Citadel before, but it hadn’t taken him long to fall into the rhythm of how things worked. Though there were a significantly greater number of servants present than any manor house he had ever been in, he had no outlying worries. Devon had always been able to adapt to new or changing surroundings, and this was no different.

After gathering up the food and arranging it carefully on a serving tray, Devon had stopped only to enquire directions to the west wing, where he had been informed that the count’s quarters were located. After a moment of scrutiny, the guards posted at the entrance to the wing nodded and waved him through, and he made his way swiftly and silently down the long stone hallway. He had not seen Genji’s personal bodyguards, but he knew that they were present. One of the four was most likely watching him now. This did not bother him.

Balancing the serving tray precariously in one hand, Devon carefully opened the door with the other, slipping into his master’s sleeping quarters as quietly as he could, so his presence would not be noticed. In the past, his masters had preferred him to keep quiet and out of sight when not specifically told to appear. He assumed, as a count, that Genji would also not wish to see him, especially this early in the morning.

The sight of the blanket by the balcony and the pillow on the armoire made him pause in surprise, slightly alarmed, before the sight of his master, sprawled haphazardly in his bed set him at ease. A glance out of the window revealed that the stormy clouds that had hung over Teirm like an ugly dark cloak had blown away overnight, leaving soft blue skies in their wake. Carefully, Devon set the tray down on a fine oak table.

When Genji spoke unexpectedly, he stiffened.

”My apologies, my lord,” Devon replied quietly, feeling quite stupid, but took care not to show it. ”It will not happen again.”

And it would not. He would make sure of it, for he knew very well that Genji, though half-asleep, meant what he said. Devon did not particularly fancy getting a sword to the gut, or in any other part of his body, for that matter. ”I have brought you a morning meal. Is there anything else you wish from me, my lord?”

[Elloria]

(kimchi bokkeumbap = kimchi fried rice)

An irritable huff was all the reply Genji gave initially. He shifted very slightly on the bed, debating on just getting up. The smells wafting from the breakfast Devon had brought, however, were tempting him. His stomach rumbled quietly. It would probably be best to rise now and dine. He moved so that his arms were beneath him and pushed himself up, pulling his knees beneath him so that he was kneeling on the bed. He pulled the single sheet that had managed to remain on the bed over his waist. He wasn't some Alagaesian that just flaunted his naked physique to anyone. Holding the sheet in place, he got out of bed and tied the sheet in place. Satisfied, he slowly stretched. It was, perhaps, a bit hypocritical to showcase the rest of his toned body in such a manner, but he saw it simply as casting the last vestiges of sleep from his body. Modesty could only go so far. “You can find me either a robe, a kimono, or some pants. After you find something sensible, you can toss my bedding back onto the bed,” he said, gently scratching at the vibrant red dragon tattoo that curled up the left side of his chest. Itch now scratched, he ran a hand through his mussed up hair to pull out the few tangles it had collected during the night. As his hand pulled free, the hair fell into its characteristic shaggy layers. It was about time to get a haircut once more. His hair was now a little past his shoulders - far too long for his tastes.

He glanced out the balcony to see that the clouds had cleared and it was naught but clear skies. A slight breeze was blowing through the open doors, leading him to conclude the storm had headed inland. So the Itasan fleet had undoubtedly either missed it or already sailed through it before the storm had reached Teirm. He made a mental note to send one of his four guards down to the docks to check for the fleet. He moved over to the table where Devon had set his breakfast and sat down. It was his usual fare: a bowl of kimchi bokkeumbap, cucumber and mussel soup, and grilled salmon served with a pot of fresh green tea. A rare, pleased smile briefly lit his face before he bowed his head in prayer to Yawata no Kami for allowing him to see another day's dawning. Once finished with his prayer, he carefully lifted the pot of green tea and poured himself a cupful. He then set it down, picked up his chopsticks, and started in on his fare. Though much of his attention was on sating his hunger, his eyes followed Devon around the room. The lithe, graceful movements of the youth strongly reminded him of the Itasans. A grace that was both inherent and ingrained. He finished a bite of kimchi before asking, “So you are not an elf. What, then, are you?”

[counterklock]

When he watched Genji slowly rise and stretch, Devon was reminded of a large mountain-cat, lithe, strong, moving with a refined feline finesse. For a moment, he was fascinated, drawn first by the man’s lean but fit body, and then by the vibrant crimson tattoo on Genji’s left side, of what could only be a dragon, though it was unlike any dragon he had ever seen pictures of. He wondered, momentarily, what kind of dragon it was, and what it meant. The fact that his master was dressed in only a sheet did not really faze him; he had spent the past two years helping an elderly old man dress, undress and bathe, so he certainly was not squeamish about partial nudity. Even the sound of his voice, softened by sleep, was somehow pleasing to the ear.

And then Devon blinked, and that moment was gone.

”As you wish, my lord.”

He set off across the room towards the rather impressive wardrobe, whilst feeling slightly perplexed over what had just occurred. What had just happened? Why had he been so mesmerized by the sight of his new master? Devon had no answers for himself, and forced the confusion away. He had spent the past two years in what could only be described as luxury for a slave; he would have to re-adjust himself quickly, for it was unlikely that he would find any luxury here.

The wardrobe had a rather wide selection of clothes, some plain and sensible, and some garish and fanciful, like something one would wear to a dinner party. Some of the styles he saw he recognized as Alagaesian, while others, more loose and flowing, he assumed originated from his master’s culture. Devon contemplated one of the deep blue robes for a moment, before carefully taking the garment in his hands, and returned to drape it over one of the empty chairs at the table.

He caught sight of Genji’s smile directed at the food he had brought, and felt slightly gratified that he had managed to please the man. He was glad his attempt at making the meal was successful.

Devon then tasked himself with fetching the various rogue bed things that had been haphazardly tossed around the room during the night. He re-made the bed, neatly putting the sheets and coverings back into their rightful places. He supposed the blankets would probably be scattered about the room once more later that night, but did not comment on this, though the thought amused him slightly. As he was placing the pillows back at the foot of the bed, he was quietly distracted from his work by the curious inquiry posed by his master.

What was he?

He answered evenly, glancing up for a moment. ”My mother was Sylvan, my lord. I have deduced that the Sylvans possess the same physical characteristics as the Elves, though I am unsure of what other traits they share.” This was the truth. He truly did not know much about his mother’s people for his mother had never deigned to tell him any information pertaining to them. ”My father, however, was human. I was not born in Alagaesia, as you may have inferred, for Sylvans are an unknown race in these lands. I was merely brought here.”

Devon remembered the arms that had grabbed him, hauling him roughly backwards as the village swarmed with vicious, savage-looking men. He remembered the dark hold of the ship that had sailed to Alagaesia, chained together in a line with the others who had been captured. He remembered the shivering, being so cold that it felt as if he would never be warm once more, and being afraid he would never see his brother again. It was not a pleasant memory.

He tilted his head ever so slightly to shake himself out of the momentary lapse, and banished the reminder from his thoughts.

[Elloria]

A...Sylvan? Well, that certainly wasn't anything from Itasus. Genji set down his chopsticks, picked up a spoon and started on the soup. Perhaps they were from one of the other continents his people traded with. He’d never heard, one way or another. He noted the troubled look that briefly flashed over Devon‘s face. It must have been something quite traumatic. He had learned in a very short time that Devon was not the sort to show any emotions. “So you are what Alagaesians call a half-breed. That cannot have been an easy existence, whether in your native land or here. I know it was not for me.” He ate in silence for several moments, his eyes staring intently through the balcony to his left. Today would be excellent for kyujutsu. The breeze would offer just enough of a challenge to make things interesting. And perhaps he would be able to find someone worth sparring with. He would need to either bring in more Itasans for the sole purpose of that or start training these fools better.

He gave a small sigh and turned to look at what Devon had picked out for him. It was a deep blue robe, made of fine silk. He recognized it immediately. It was part of a gift from his father upon his return to Alagaesia. He'd been given an entire wardrobe of native Alagaesian attire - robes, shirts, trousers, cloaks, even underwear. He'd disposed of most of it over the course of his first ten years there. This was one of the few he had kept. He set his spoon down, rose, and plucked the robe from the chair. He slipped the robe onto his shoulders before untying the sheet around his waist. It slipped down with a soft rustle. Unconcerned, he pulled the robe closed and tied it shut before sitting back down. The robe was somewhat large - his father had anticipated him being much larger - so as he shifted in his seat, it slipped slightly off one shoulder. Occasionally, he would shove the sleeves up out of the way. He would have to take this in and have a tailor size it for him. His eyes flicked over his room, pleased that Devon had made his bed properly. He hadn't meant for the youth to go quite that far - just to toss the bedding on the bed so that another servant could deal with it. He gestured towards one of the chairs at the table. “Sit. How long have you been in Alagaesia?”

[counterklock]

Half-breed.

In his home land, it had been both an insult and a title coined in curiosity. The Sylvan race was widely known as a people of great prestige, intelligence and accomplishment, but very few humans were fond of them after the Sylvans refused to reveal the secrets to their success, such as how they perfected their agricultural processes or how they managed to eradicate poverty and the poorest class in their society. To be half-Sylvan was to be a child of a great, powerful, yet uninvolved race, or to be spawn of some traitorous wretch that reproduced with another of a different race. When he was young, it had not bothered him, for he did not know what the term even meant, but after his father died and his brother and himself were thrown headlong into a life of hunger and uncertainty, he fast became aware of it. Many a time he had been the target for gangs of thugs, being the Sylvan half-breed weakling who could not fight back, but those thugs rarely laid a hand on him due to the protection of his elder brother. They had learned to run, and whilst Jaden had learned to brawl, he had learned to hide, and to not come out until Jaden came and found him, bleeding and bruised, but the sole victor of the skirmish. He had learned how to clean and bandage the wounds quickly, in order to help his beloved brother.

In Alaegasia, it was a different story entirely. While he had been free to walk the streets in the towns back in the lands he hailed from, Devon was forced to wear a cloak to hide his face while out in public, lest he be mistaken for an elf and mobbed. He had never known such loathing in his life, loathing that was aimed at him but not deserved, and, in the beginning, when he was a small, skinny little boy, he had been absolutely terrified of it and therefore afraid to ever leave the master’s house, but now he has come to accept it as the way things had to be done. So long as he was a slave in this land, he would forever have to hide beneath a dark hood. Though he accepted this, it still brought the tiniest pangs of resentment to him. He had done nothing to deserve such hatred, but it was if his very existence infuriated the world around him.

”No,” He agreed, quietly, ”It has not been easy at all.”

Devon was grateful for the fact that, despite the occasional contemptuous gaze, most servants he encountered seemed to see him for what he was – a servant, just like them. He did not have to fear walking the halls of the Citadel. As long as he did his job efficiently and to standard, and as long as he stayed out of trouble, he did not have to worry about a harsh voice or a whip’s lash. When one was among equals, one did not have much to be anxious about. Only the thought of earning your next few gold coins, or, in his case, his next meal, concerned many of them.

It came as a surprise when Genji gestured to one of the empty chairs at the table that he was momentarily shocked. In the last two years, his former master had invited him to sit and converse as if he were an equal, and so he was no stranger to the concept. What momentarily surprised him was the fact that the Count of Teirm had just welcomed him to sit with him. Devon had not expected this. He got over the surprise quickly, and quietly took a seat at the table. His feet barely touched the ground.

”I was brought to Alagaesia nearly eight years ago now, my lord,” Devon answered, gazing down at his hands, which he had folded neatly in his lap. ”It has been... an educating experience.”

It had been. He had learned much of another culture, whilst being enslaved to its noblemen. In hindsight, Devon realized this probably sounded like a rather colossal understatement.

[Elloria]

Genji didn’t miss Devon’s hesitation. Was he unaccustomed to sitting with his master? Well, most nobles didn’t wish to associate closely with their staff. It was frowned upon. Genji normally would not invite one of his slaves or servants or whatever to dine with him. They were there to do a job, not socialize with him. Devon, however, was here to attend to whatever whims struck Genji at any given moment. The youth was a personal attendant to both amuse him and ease the burden on his guards. Rikuto, Mami, Raiden, and Hiroshi were not here to wait on him hand and foot. They were there to advise him on matters of court and state and to keep him in touch with his mother’s culture. “I was brought to Alagaesia nearly eight years ago now, my lord.” Genji raised one eyebrow in curiosity. Not long after he had arrived on this accursed continent. He wondered how Devon felt about Alagaesia. Did he hate it as much as Genji? Or was he simply indifferent? And he was a bit irritated that the youth wouldn’t look him in the eye at all. Most of his slaves and servants would at least glance at him from time to time. But Devon averted his eyes entirely. “It has been... an educating experience.”

Genji gave a small snort before setting down the spoon and picking up the bowl of soup. “I am certain that is a grave understatement. I would not be surprised if you experienced something akin to culture shock upon arriving here.” He set the bowl to his lips and tilted his bed back to drain the rest of the broth. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed the soup. When it’s all gone, he lowers his head and sets the bowl back on the tray. He licked his lips in satisfaction as well as to catch a few stray drops of soup. He picked up his chopsticks once more “These Alagaesians are some of the most uncultured brutes it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. They live in squalor, they have little self-control, and all they desire is to gawk at one another or start genocides.” Holding a piece of the salmon in the chopsticks, he used his free hand to help rip the piece off and placed it in his mouth. He allowed himself to fully savor the simple flavor of the fish. His eyes drifted half-closed. Salmon was one of the main fishes his people caught and served. He licked his lips again as he swallowed. His eyes snapped fully open and he looked directly at Devon. “You need not bow your head when it is just me or my guards. I did not buy you so that you could behave like a typical slave. I have countless ones such as that and they are all nearly useless as personal attendants. I need someone intelligent, sensible, and who is control of themselves. You fit this description perfectly from what I have seen.” He looked back down and ripped another piece off the salmon. “Frankly, I despise this continent and these people. They are predominantly ignorant and godless, even amongst the supposedly cultured upper-class. So different from my mother’s people.”

[counterklock]

Genji was right. It had been quite the cultural shock, and by the sound of things, he would probably be right to infer that his master had also gone through a similar shock. Arguably, the culture of the lands he came from and the culture of Alagaesia were not so dissimilar, but there were many things – such as the open loathing of those who were different – that had given him more than a little pause for thought. Mainly, the fact that the slave trade was so prolific here, where in his home land it had been nonexistent, had been more than enough to jolt him thoroughly.

He wondered if Genji had gotten as lonely as he had. Had he stayed up until the early hours of the morning, unable to sleep, feeling overwhelmingly homesick? Devon had longed for home at first, and it had lasted for months. He had yearned for this all to have been just a bad dream. He hoped that he would awaken to find himself curled alongside Jaden, sheltered underneath their ragged blankets by a dying fire. As he had grown older, the yearning had faded, but it had never quite gone away entirely.

It was somewhat comforting to know there was someone else in this land of strangers that perhaps knew what he had gone through.

He waited, patiently, as Genji finished up his meal. The food itself had been quite interesting, and preparing it had been a unique experience. Devon had always been fascinated by the various types of fare that was present in the port-city of Teirm, and had always particularly enjoyed the process of preparing food. Itasan cuisine was quite different from the rather drab Alagaesian food, and he found the various appearances and scents of each part of the meal rather pleasing. With a little aid from one of the cooks in the kitchen, he had put together the spread. Even the utensils with which the Count ate were completely foreign to him, and he was more than a little intrigued by them. He could not help but look up to steal half-glances and see how these utensils were used, and noticed that even when Genji ate, he still had an air of elegance and nobility that was far superior to those of the noblemen of Alagaesia.

When Genji spoke, he dipped his head in apology. ”... Forgive me, my lord,” He murmured, raising his eyes obediently as he was bid to do. It seemed he had grossly misjudged his new master. ”I will adhere to your wishes from now on.” Preferences such as these were always different amongst the noblemen, with most preferring their servants to gaze at the floor. It seemed Genji was similar to his former master in this sense.

He also felt proud that the Count considered him reasonable and intelligent, as if he were not just a simple servant. From what he had seen, this was rather high praise. It would not be taken lightly. Devon had been commended on his diligence and work-ethic before, but this... something deep inside him was flattered. ”I will do my best to serve you, my lord. It is my wish to perform to the utmost of my abilities."

[Elloria]

“See that you do,” Genji replied calmly. “I would hate to have to punish you for incompetence. I suspect you would not survive it.” He met Devon's eyes, his own cold and unforgiving. “I treat my subordinates well and give credit where it is due. But above all else, I do not tolerate fools or their ignorant behavior. I demand perfection of those I command, as I demand it of myself.” He finished off the rest of the salmon and set his chopsticks down. He drained the last half of his cup of tea and poured himself another one. He sipped this one more slowly, watching Devon intently. The youth was so self-controlled, but there were brief snatches of what was probably flitting through his mind. The odd cuisine Genji preferred, the utensils he used, and some small pride in being commended for the work. He thought back on the boy's entrance into his bedchambers. He had been almost completely silent - probably believed he had been silent. The boy was completely unassuming and subservient to his master's will. Yet there was no fear. Or if there was, it was buried deep. He wondered at that. What training had brought this boy to such a state? It was not uncommon in Itasus, but only because they were taught meditative skills from a very young age. It was not that emotions were messy, per say. They simply obscured the more important things.

He hmphed at the thought and sipped from his cup again. Setting the cup down, Genji rose and moved to his wardrobe. The blue silk robe was fine for eating his morning meal, but he would need something more appropriate for his audiences later in the day. Perhaps he should wear a more formal kimono today? He didn't particularly like the style, but the reactions it inevitably drew were always deeply amusing. But...Devon did not know how to put one on him. He didn't want to bother teaching the boy just now how to do it. Besides which, that would require summoning one of his four guards. “The door to my washroom is to the right as you exit this room. Check to make sure someone drew my bath and that it is still warm. Cold baths are only desirable during the summer months.” He flicked through his wardrobe, debating on which outfit to wear.

[counterklock]

When he was thirteen, he had knocked one of his current mistress’s favourite vases off one of the tables in the hallway. Wide eyed with horror, he had stared at the shattered pieces of fine china for several disbelieving moments, before he forced himself to gather the pieces up. He went to his mistress and explained what he had done, taking full responsibility for the incident. His mistress, strict but fair, decreed he would go without dinner for a week for his blunder, and his chores would be doubled. He thought these terms were acceptable, for they were justified. His mistress’s brother, however, had not.

Due to his size, the whipping he had endured had nearly killed him.

He had been tied to a metal ring on one of the walls by the stables, bound with his arms and wrists above his head, shirtless and frightened. Devon could still remember the ripping agony of each and every strike as the leather whip lashed across his back. He could still remember the crack that preceded each hit by a fraction of a second, making him tense and flinch, making it that much worse. He could remember being numb and in pain at the same time, and feeling so helpless and alone that he hadn’t been able to prevent the tears of misery from escaping. The damage to his back had been so severe that the healer summoned to the house had believed he would not last the night, and he almost didn’t. He spent days on the floor of the maids’ quarters, on his belly, being tended to, unable to summon the energy to even lift his head. It had been the first and last time he had been whipped, and he had no desire to go through it again.

Devon found himself looking straight into the eyes of his master, and in those piercing blue-green eyes he saw nothing but truth. He had no doubt that the Count of Teirm would not hesitate to punish him if he did not fulfill his duties. He did not want to disappoint the man in front of him, and for somehow he knew it wasn’t just the threat of punishment that spurred him on, as it did other servants. The consequences for incompetence here in the Citadel were very high. Fortunately, his determination to perform to the best of his abilities, combined with his powerful desire to please Genji made the chances of failure on his part slim.

When his master stood, he rose as well, snatching the abandoned sheet as he went. As Genji crossed over to the wardrobe, Devon slipped over to the bed to return the sheet to its rightful place. Once the sheet was back underneath the rest of the blankets, he turned on his heal to face his master, hands tucked neatly behind his back, awaiting his next requests.

He did not have to wait long as he was directed to the adjacent bathing room.”I will attend to it at once, sir,” Devon dipped his head respectfully, and made his way out into the hallway.

He entered the first room to his right and found the washroom. A capacious stone basin was the centerpiece of the room, probably capable of holding at least six or seven full grown men in it. The bath was already filled to an acceptable level, and Devon dipped his hand into the water to test the temperature. It was at a comfortable temperature, not too cold but not too hot, and would be especially welcome on a cool spring morning like today. He pulled his hand away, flicking the droplets of water back into the pool, and returned to the Count’s bedroom.

”My lord, your bath is ready. It is still at a comfortable temperature,”He reported dutifully.

[Elloria]

As Devon left the room, Genji continued to eye his wardrobe. The predominant colors were greens and blues, with scattered reds and purples throughout. He didn't want something like that today. He was tired of colorful clothing. He dug deeper into the wardrobe, actually climbing into it in search of something different. It was large enough - and he small enough - for him to move about comfortably, even with all the clothes. Eventually, he came across the blacks and whites in his selection. He decided that today was a day for white. He plucked a plain white shirt and equally plain pair of capris from where they hung and climbed back out of the wardrobe. He had just straightened up when Devon reentered the room. “My lord, your bath is ready. It is still at a comfortable temperature.”

Genji nodded. He rounded the bed, carefully laid his clothes on it, grabbed Hinote off the night stand and moved back around the bed. As he walked past Devon, he paused. “Take the breakfast things back to the kitchen, then return with a fresh pot of tea and six cups. Bring it to the washroom.” He exited the bedroom to find Hiroshi, Mami, Rikuto and Raiden all standing in the hallway in robes as usual. Silently, the five Itasans turned as one and entered the washroom. As Raiden and Genji set their weapons down beside the tub, the three women moved to one corner of the room and pulled a large divider across the space they occupied. Genji and Raiden did the same to the right of them. Behind the divider, each group scrubbed its members vigorously with pumice stones and soap to rid themselves of dirt before going to soak in the tub. Once rinsed, the women entered the tub first and averted their eyes as the men joined them. Genji and Raiden settled beside their weapons while the women ranged out on either side of them. Genji let his head fall back as he just relaxed. There was nothing like a good soak to start the day off or to end it right. Now all that was needed was for Devon to return with their tea. And perhaps that night he and his guards would enjoy a bit of their Itasan wine.

[counterklock]

”Yes, my lord,” Devon replied, dipping his head minutely in acknowledgement.

As he watched the retreating form of his master move towards the door, a strange feeling erupted in his chest. It felt like the tiniest of candles, flickering in an empty hall, fluttering delicately in the slightest breeze. His throat suddenly felt tight, his mouth dry, and found that he could not bring himself to breath. He felt light-headed. His heart beat suddenly became erratic. For a moment, as he gazed at the count of Teirm, lithe and strong, he felt something so powerful and so foreign to him that he found he had no words to describe it.

And then Genji was gone, and Devon was left feeling dazed and slightly befuddled with what he had just experienced.

He set about fulfilling the task that was required of him. He gathered up the now-empty plates, cups and Itasan eating utensils, placing them back on the serving tray. As he worked, he thought about what he had just experienced. What had just happened? Only a short time ago, he had been unable to look away, entranced by his master’s appearance. Had both of these strange occurrences been caused by the same trigger? More importantly, what was causing them? What was this emotion he felt, so strange and yet so... exquisite? He had no answers for himself, and it was most disconcerting.

His journey back to the kitchens was swift and uneventful as he pondered what had just occurred. The kitchen servants took the serving tray of dirty dishes from him at once, and he was shooed off to the side where he would not get underfoot. Once he enquired as to where they were located, Devon went about collecting a new pot and cups as the water for the tea boiled in a kettle above the fire. Once the water was sufficiently heated, he poured it into the empty pot and added the Itasan tea leaves, and set off once more in the direction of his master’s quarters.

He tried to reason with himself. Surely what was happening was the result of an illness he quite possibly could have caught during brief time in the Teirm slave yards, or perhaps in his short time here, however unlikely it was. Could it be a stomach bug? A type of flu? Devon considered going to find the Citadel physician after his duties were completed, fearful of perhaps passing this unknown ailment on, but then thought better of it – his symptoms were shoddy and came at random at best. No, he suspected that what he suffered was not an illness.

Once again balancing the tray in once hand, Devon carefully opened the door to the washroom. ”My lord, I have returned with your tea. Where would you prefer me to place it?”

He caught a glimpse of Genji with his four bodyguards, and averted his eyes in respect of modesty. He did not wish to offend his master or his guards. Patiently, he remained by the door, waiting for his orders.

[Elloria]

“He’s such a tiny thing, Kazan-sama. More effeminate than Raiden-oppa,” Rikuto murmured as Devon stepped in and averted his eyes. Mami splashed Rikuto in response. “If Raiden-oppa is effeminate, then Rikuto-unnie is the most masculine woman I’ve ever seen.” Raiden rolled his eyes as Hiroshi laughed loudly. Genji ignored the easy banter and looked at Devon. The boy's eyes were directed at his feet. They were in a bath. It was okay to see things not normally seen outside of the bedroom. But bathing was an intimate thing in its own way. He gestured to the table by the door. “Set it there and pour us some tea. Then pour yourself a cup and sit. We shall be here a while and will need refills, naturally.” He turned back to his guards. They were all engaged in something of a wrestling match and were starting to splash water everywhere. He sighed in irritation. “You’re getting water everywhere,” he snapped at them. The wrestling instantly stopped and Hiroshi, who had been submerged, was allowed to surface. “I didn’t come in here to be doused in water. I came to relax before officially starting my day.” He settled into his previous position, head thrown back. “Moreover, I will have to kill you if you get Hinote too wet. It is one of a kind and I do not want it rusting. Word would get back to Shiroyanagi and how do you suppose I would explain it to him?” The four guards shifted uneasily. No one wanted to displease the aged master blacksmith, let alone Genji. They had always managed to escape his wrath because they were more useful than any he had encountered in Itasus. He could trust them without fail.

Genji sighed again into the silence as Devon placed a cup by each Itasan. He tilted his head forward, picked up the cup and sipped from it. “Do you think the fleet will be in today, Hiroshi?” The shortest woman ran a hand through her short brown hair as she considered the question. She knew the winds best. Although the Kazans produced exceptional sailors, no Kazan left port without a Kiyokaze by their side. “It’s possible, yes. It will not hit the six month marker until next week, if they set sail at their usual time. But the weather seemed to be harsher this winter here, so I feel it might have been milder there. If so, they will have left earlier than usual. I will send a runner to check once we are finished.” Genji nodded. The sooner the fleet arrived, the better. He would assuredly need its support if he were to go ahead with what he had planned. The shade Kyril's timely arrival was making it seem more worthwhile. And if the fleet was here, they would help finance the deed. He flicked his gaze to each in turn before posing his next question. “What of the shade’s offer?” Silence descended. Genji sipped from his cup again as he eyed them. He knew they despised the shade - even if they had not discussed the topic so many weeks and months prior, he could see it in the way the four held themselves. He wondered if the observant Devon could pick up on the slightest hints of tension in his guards - the barely narrowed eyes, the minutely hunched shoulders, the way Raiden's hand stayed near his dagger. Genji smiled dangerously at his guards. “What do you think, Devon? Of the shade Kyril’s offer? I am certain you heard us discussing it yesterday.”

[counterklock]

When he had been a child, his mother often had spoken in the Sylvan tongue whilst she was in his presence. He did not know if she had been trying to teach him, in hopes that he would pick the language up, or if she had simply preferred her native tongue over that of his father’s. In his desperation to please his mother, to show her that he could be every bit the Sylvan child he knew she wished him to be, he had attempted to learn the complicated Sylvan syntax. Though he had picked up some words, his attempt had been mostly unsuccessful; when his mother spoke to him in the tongue of her people, he did not understand the majority of what she said.

He was unsure if it had been disappointment in him or the desire to make him feel ashamed of his inability to learn, but over time T’Pri spoke faster and faster. He found it harder and harder to catch the few words he knew. She would speak in fast, sharp tones with him, looking down at him in thinly veiled displeasure, and he felt inadequate and stupid, and want all the more to make her happy. Of course, she would not admit to feeling displeasure, of course, for that would have been ‘illogical’ - as she had insisted in the rare instances that she actually bothered to speak in her husband’s language – and that emotions were a handicap, a taboo, and that no Sylvan felt emotion due to this.

He knew that she lied. He knew that, when she spoke with her handmaidens that had accompanied her from the Sylvan city of Novan’Dai, in those quick, sharp tones, her words were always of him. He did not need to speak her language to know that she felt no pride in him, only shame, and of how much a disappointment he was to her, and to her House. Listening to his mother speak in the tongue of her people and not understanding a single word, but knowing how much shame he brought her... it had driven him to work all the more diligently.

When his master and his bodyguards spoke in Itasan, it was not quite the same. They spoke rapidly, fluently, in their pleasant native tongue. Devon decided he liked the Itasan language – it flowed smoothly, with far fewer glottal stops and harsh-sounding words than the tongue of his mother. Though he did not understand a word that was being said, he found the mostly-playful tones to be refreshing. Genji’s guards were at ease with each other, like close-fitting pieces to a puzzle.

”Yes, My lord,” He murmured compliantly, setting the tray down upon the table and obediently fulfilled his master’s wish, serving the tea quickly without spilling a drop.

After he was finished, he quietly settled himself down nearby, close enough to refill any emptied cups but far enough away to keep from intruding. Devon contented himself to listen, keeping his gaze politely away from the occupants of the bath. There was splashing. Were they wrestling? He heard Genji snap something, and the splashing quickly ceased. Their conversation turned serious soon after, judging by the collective tone of voice. In his short time here, he had come to understand that Genji was waiting for a fleet of Itasan ships to arrive from across the sea. He could only guess, but by the austere air, he would probably be correct in assuming their conversation had to do with the expected fleet’s arrival. He sipped at the cup of tea in his hands thoughtfully. He decided he liked the tea very much.

Taken slightly surprise by his master’s question, Devon looked up for a brief moment. What did he think of the Shade’s offer? He could remember the malignant aura practically dripping off the man, an arrogant sneer upon his lips and the cold, malevolent eyes. There was no doubt that he disliked the Shade, and by the looks of things, so did Genji’s bodyguards. ”I believe,” He said slowly, considering his words, ”-that above all else, the Shade is not to be trusted. However, his offer could most certainly result in a satisfactory outcome.”

As an afterthought, Devon added, ”However, there is always a chance that dealing with him may reap... unfavourable consequences. He is unpredictable. He may decide his end of the deal no longer suites him, and seek to change it. If I were to take him up on his offer, my lord...” He considered his words carefully. ”-I would take many precautions, to ensure success. There are many risks, however. It would be wise to be cautious.”

[Elloria]

Genji turned his gaze to Devon as the youth spoke. The boy's words fell in line with his own thinking, which surprised him slightly. After only one meeting with the shade, the boy had surmised so much? The hard smile that had darkened his face softened very slightly. “Intelligent and observant...” he murmured. He turned back to his guards. “Now why is it that my new attendant - one who does not know me well at all - has answered my question more quickly and with greater clarity than my advisors, whom I trust above all others?” The guards' eyes narrowed slightly as they glanced at Devon. They were not used to Genji directing his jabs at them and resented it - he could feel it radiating off them. Well, he would be mindful of softening his slights in the future. It would not do to turn them against him over something so trifling. “What he said is merely in line with our own thinking, Kazan-sama,” Raiden muttered. “The shade is not to be trusted, though you have done so previously. It would be beneficial to hire it, but the price-”

“I have taken the price into consideration, Raiden.” Genji finished his cup of tea and held it up, indicating that Devon should refill it. “Proper acceptance of the offer is dependent upon the fleet. If it does not arrive today or tomorrow at the latest, the venture will not move forward. I do not wish to go into this without Itasus at my back, nor without the funds to accomplish it. The fleet will undoubtedly have it.”

[counterklock]

That flickering sensation in his chest had returned once more, as Devon observed the stone-like smile on Genji’s face become less glacial. All at once, his heartbeat became erratic, his breath caught, and his mouth felt dry. He gazed back at the older man, captivated by the sharp, piercing eyes that seemed to see right through him. Devon had always had the drive to please his masters, mainly to avoid being punished and to fulfill his duties, but now... With Genji, it went beyond his desire to avoid trouble and to do what was expected of him. He wanted to make his master happy. He wanted to impress him. Genji’s words of praise made his racing heart soar, and something in himself purred at impressing him so, feeling proud that his master considered him intelligent and perceptive.

He forced the feeling away. Now was certainly not the time for this feeling to overtake him. He would not allow hubris to rule over him.

Devon took a rather big sip from his tea cup. The liquid burned his tongue and his mouth, a heat that was only just bearable, and felt it scorch his throat all the way down. It was a welcome distraction, and it helped him clear his head of his conflicts and troubles. It was uncomfortable, yes, but the burn disappeared soon after, leaving his mouth feeling quite numb for a brief time, and it tasted quite pleasant. He sat, cross-legged, and listened as his master conversed with his guards, reverting back to taking tiny sips of the hot drink in his cup.

The narrowed eyes and the glances from Genji’s trusted bodyguards and advisors did not go unnoticed. Devon suddenly felt rather insignificant. Had he overstepped his boundaries? Had he committed a faux pas, or possibly even offended them? It had not been his intention. It did not surprise him in the least that all of the Itasans had the ability to make him feel so miniscule under their collective gaze. He could tell that they did not agree with Genji’s decision to deal with the Shade, by the tension that suddenly permeated the air. He found himself wholly agreeing with them; it was indeed quite dangerous, but the risks were not something to ignore. He knew, however, that whatever Genji chose, he would have taken all of their opinions into consideration.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement, and he rose smoothly to his feet in response, the pot of tea in his hand. Carefully, he refilled Genji’s cup, feeling acutely aware of their collective gaze as he silently did his duty, and then returned to where he had been previously seated.

[Elloria]

(OOC: Yes, Genji is nekkid the entire time he's talking. And yes, I was hoping Devon would head to the throne room before Genji did. XD )

Genji sipped from his refilled cup, eying his guards. He respected their hesitancy and admired their sound judgment, but sometimes...sometimes one had to be a bit brash. That was how it had been on the battlefields. That was how he had defeated Kishi. His guards all lifted their cups to signal that Devon should refill them. As the youth demurely walked around the bath, Genji's mind turned to today's schedule. He would be holding audience with various people of Teirm all morning - a task he did not particularly relish. He understood he was the count, but couldn't these fools relate their woes and moronic ideas to some magistrate? He had several in his employ. He was fairly certain that was why he employed them. He sighed and sipped his tea. He had a meeting with Colin after lunch. The boy was somewhat essential to his plans, particularly if this deal with the shade fell through. After that? Perhaps he would meditate before training. Or after. Or both. Nothing else of particular importance, apparently. As his mind drifted along, time seemed to pass slowly and quickly. His guards chatted amongst themselves and occasionally, one or another of the group would lift their cup to indicate that Devon should refill it. Perhaps an hour passed like this - Genji silently musing in the relaxed atmosphere.

But eventually the teapot ran empty and Genji knew it was time to get started. If he waited too much longer, some self-important idiot he'd hired to keep him on track would come to the bath to inform him he had a job to do. He set his empty cup down at last. The water was cold by now, anyway. With a sigh, he pulled himself to his feet and stepped out of the bath without a trace of shame or modesty. Leaving Hinote where it was for the moment, he sauntered around the edge of the tub - passing in front of Devon - and returned to the corner where his towel and dirty clothes were. His four guards followed his example, the women drifting to their own corner while Raiden followed Genji. Raiden occasionally flicked glances back at Devon as he followed his ward, curious. Though Genji seemed unaware - and quite possibly was; the man could be utterly ignorant when it came to the attraction he sometimes posed to others - Raiden liked to think he was slightly more astute. If the youth was attracted to Genji...well, that created all sorts of interesting possibilities for the guard. Namely something to help Genji mellow out a bit, especially with this whole betrothal hanging over him. He smirked as he turned his attention back to Genji and they helped to towel each other dry.

Fortunately - or unfortunately - the main object of the guard's thoughts was quite unaware and unconcerned about whatever schemes were flitting through Raiden's head. When the last of the water had been wiped away, Genji tossed the towel onto his shoulder and walked back around the tub to pick up Hinote. He squatted, grabbed the wakizashi, and rose. Turning, he looked at Devon. “When you take the teapot and cups back to the kitchen, I want you to bring Michael, Petri, and Katerina back here to clean. They will all be in green outfits with a white symbol embroidered over their left breast and are undoubtedly loitering in the kitchen waiting for us to summon them. After that, head to the throne room and squirrel yourself away in a corner so that I may call upon you when I need you. This morning is going to be tedious enough without having to wonder where in the Citadel you are.” He left the bathroom and returned to his quarters, as did his four guards, leaving Devon alone.

[counterklock]

The next hour or so passed with little incidence. Devon, for the most part, sat in comfortable silence, watching as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky outside the bath room window, occasionally rising to perform his duties and refill the tea cups of his master and his bodyguards. It was a pleasant way to start the day, he supposed. The youth quietly listened as the group conversed amongst themselves in their native tongue, noting the companionship they all seemed to share.

What was it like to have such friends? He could not help but wonder. What was it like to have a group of individuals you trusted so implicitly, who you could rely on no matter the circumstances? He had never really experienced the companionship he had observed during his short time in the Citadel. As a child, Devon had never had many, if any, friends. He had always been small, too small to join in the rough games young boys often thought up to pass the time, and this had made him a target of cruel and demeaning tricks and harsh words. As a result, he avoided his peers, and his only playmate, his older brother, had doubled as his guardian later on in his childhood. As a slave, he has had (predictably) very few friends. Whilst most other servants did not quite share the same hatred for his elfish appearance that most of the free population of Alagaesia seemed to possess, they still tended to exclude and ignore him, therefore isolating him. Of his many masters, only one could Devon really count as ‘friend’, and he had died.

It was no surprise that the Itasans shared a close bond within their circle. Coming from ‘exotic lands’, he knew very well how hard it was to live in a society that very rarely accepted strangers into their midst so easily. There was bound to be prejudice during the process, and it, no doubt, would have been easier to adjust to Alagaesia whilst accompanied with such companions. For a moment, as Devon sipped his tea, he found himself wishing for acquaintances as such, to share his secrets and fears with, and know that such private thoughts would not be betrayed.

He was surprised at how quickly he had been accepted into the Citadel. The staff had made sure to provide him with clean clothes, and a maid had shown him around late last night. He had a small but comfortable room, bare but clean. He was not subject to scathing and hateful remarks, nor was he victim to undeserved abuse, and he had settled in to his new life just that much quicker because of it. Indeed, even Genji had treated him with a level of respect and equality that he had not expected. It was not unwelcome. In fact, just the thought of how... kindly he had been treated here made him realize just how lucky he was.

He was shaken from his musings as Genji rose and stepped up out of the tub, without a hint of modesty whatsoever. Devon caught himself just in time, preventing himself from staring, and looked at the floor respectfully. He had helped bathe and clothe his elderly master for several years, so nudity did not embarrass him. No, what discomforted him was the fact that he actually had to force himself to look away. A tiny part of him even wanted to take a peak, as if he were a giggling young maid spying upon a handsome man through a curtain or a flower bush. The thought absolutely mortified him, because he certainly was in no way a giggling young maid seeking to spy upon his master, and prided himself in keeping his emotions from controlling his actions. The tips of his pointed ears coloured despite his best efforts, and he brushed his hair over them to hide his reaction.

It hit him hard, like a brick wall. He knew what these feelings that had been plaguing him were. There could only be one cause of his ‘symptoms’ – the fluttering in his chest, the dryness of his mouth, the inability to speak, his erratic heartbeat, the sheer captivation he had with his master – and he knew at once it was no sickness. Devon felt incredibly stupid. He had seen such characteristics in others many times before, so why had he taken so long to identify them in himself?

He was infatuated with Genji Lantieri, the Count of Teirm.

Genji did not seem to notice the slight change in him, but there was a lot that Genji observed without betraying the fact that he had indeed noticed. Devon did not miss the look Raiden gave him as the larger man passed. Did the guard suspect him? Or worse, had he already seen the signs? Would he inform Genji of what he had seen?

Perhaps he was a flustered young maid; it certainly explained his behaviour. Then again, he did not really know how to act. Devon had never been infatuated before. Indeed, he had never even been ‘in love’, nor had he had any past romantic encounters, though he had observed many other servants and even masters become enchanted with some significant other. He had seen many of them make fools of themselves, professing their love and undying devotion in hopes of winning the heart of the one they sought. He had no intentions of doing so, for he had no wish to make a fool of himself as such, so he took what he assumed was the most logical course of action; he suppressed the emotion, forcing the feeling away with a silent and mental shove.

Devon let no emotion show on his face as Genji passed once more, instructing him to return to the kitchen with the tea and make his way to the throne room. The tone his master employed suggested that, whatever was planned, it would be a long and irksome. He had no idea what activity Genji would partake in next, but he had no doubt his master held no enthusiasm for it. ”Yes, my lord,” He murmured, nodding his head respectfully in acknowledgement.

He made short work of gathering the cups and tea pot once Genji and his guards had left, wanting to hurry back to the kitchens with the empty tea things as soon as possible. His journey back down to the kitchens was predictably uneventful, and when he arrived, a scullery maid took the tray from him and shooed him away in the direction of the three servants he was meant to send up to the bath room to clean up. They exchanged brief greetings before all three hurried away, eager to do the task assigned to them.

Devon was unsure of how he managed to make it to the throne room with such speed, but he suspected his wandering mind had something to do with it. This infatuation he had seemed to be more difficult to push away than he had initially thought. Distracted, he very nearly missed the corridor that lead to his destination. Mentally, he chastised himself, and hurried along at a quick pace, passing various other servants as he went. The Citadel soldiers standing guard outside of their large double doors of the room barely gave him a glance as he slipped silently into the room. He spent only a moment looking for a suitable corner to ‘squirrel himself away’ in, before he tucked himself quickly into the shadows to wait.

[Elloria]

(OOC: hyeolgeoin = caveman or troglodyte)

Genji threw his towel to the side after entering his room and stood for a moment, just eying the room. As often happened, he was suddenly filled with a loathing so complete it nauseated him. He wanted to tear apart the room, dismantle the furniture, shred his clothes - in short, create utter havoc out of the order here. All that stopped him was the fact that this was his order. His sanctuary that would be defiled. His hand clenched tightly around Hinote’s sheath. Oh, how he wished to destroy this decrepit kingdom and slaughter these psychotic sycophants that called themselves the nobility of Broddring. He took a deep breath and held it. He needed to calm down if he was going to keep up appearances. He was now, for better or worse, engaged to a member of the royal family. Though the nobles were not pleased with this state of affairs, it was proving advantageous. No one was willing to outright oppose or attack him. Things were progressing. The old order of Teirm’s nobles were almost completely gone and soon the first phase would be complete. Not even another year would pass before he had total control of the city, especially if things worked with the shade. Yes, things were going well. And perhaps he would be able to return to Itasus, if he could establish the presence of his people strongly enough on this blasted continent.

As quickly as it struck him, the loathing vanished. His grip on Hinote relaxed and moved over to his bed. Gently setting the wakizashi down, he picked up the white shirt and pulled it on. He repeated the process with the capris before finding his sword belt and threading it through the waist-loops. He then found Seisui underneath his bed, picked it up and threaded it onto his belt. Tying the belt securely around his waist, he rose and started hunting for Hinote's backstrap. He eventually found it by the bedside table the wakizashi had rested on during the night. He tied Hinote to it, strapped it around his torso and shoulder and made slight adjustments so that both weapons rode comfortably in their respective positions. Finally satisfied, he went to the dresser beside the armoir, grabbed a pair of tabi socks and pulled them on one by one. He then fished his zori sandals out form under the dresser and slipped them on. He ran his hands through his damp hair one last time and made sure his shirt was half-open so that his tattoo was clearly visible above his sword strap.

There was a light tapping at his door and Genji sighed. He could waste no more time. He turned on his heel and strode to the door. He jerked it open to find Katerina standing demurely just outside. Behind her were his four guards waiting patiently. He walked past the young woman without even glancing at her. “Nothing had better be out of place when I return, Katerina. I’m certain we do not want a repeat of last time,” he called casually over his shoulder. Though he did not see the guilty jump his words elicited, he heard the quiet thud of her feet hitting the floor after the fact. He smirked before arranging his features into their usual disdainful air. He left the west wing and made its way down to the first floor. Winding through the corridors, he soon reached the throne room. There was already quite a crowd waiting in the large hallway and more seemed to be pouring in from the entrance that led from the Citadel's main entry. He was somewhat surprised no fighting had broken out while the hyeolgeoin, as he liked to call them, waited for him. There was something of a dull roar of sound when he first entered the corridor as every hyeolgeoin gathered there babbled about whatever inanities they considered of supreme importance. A hush slowly fell over the crowd as he was sighted and approached. He swept past them to the door to the throne room, opened it and entered. He closed it behind him and the sound immediately returned, albeit more muted than outside. Genji’s eyes flicked over the throne room, noting that Devon was standing in the back corner to the left of the throne. As usual, his guards had arrived before him and were hidden in the shadows of the alcove behind the throne, though Hiroshi was missing. She was undoubtedly checking for the fleet, per his instructions. Two slaves were posted just inside the doors. One held a scroll on which were the names of the people Genji would hear today.

He strode over to his throne and folded himself into it. Looking at him, one might wonder how he managed to curl up on it with a short sword on his back and a much longer one at his waist. His answer was always the same - very carefully. It wasn’t the most practical, but he liked how it made people gawk even more than usual. His legs were drawn in close to his body, pulling his knees to his chest. “Summon the first one.” He rested his forearms on his knees and dropped his head so that he was staring at the floor as a burly man walked in to complain about something down at the docks. He mentally sighed. Noon would not arrive fast enough.

[counterklock]

It did not take his master long to arrive, flanked by three of his four guards. While the other Itasans disappeared right into the shadows of the room, Genji crossed the room with an air of indifference. His outfit was simple, consisting of a plain white shirt half-open, exposing his chest (and, most noticeably, his impressive red dragon tattoo) and a pair of pants that cut off just below the knee. Both of his swords were strapped to his person, the one on his back and the other at his hip, making him look fearsome, elegant and deadly. He truly looked exotic. He looked handsome and-

Devon’s ears flushed again, and he shrunk back slightly into his corner, brushing his hair so it covered the tips of his ears. These feelings of infatuation were quite frankly getting quite old and came at the most inconvenient. These feelings were inappropriate. For the most part, he felt dismayed; it would only be a matter of time before Genji would catch on to his captivation, and he would no doubt be most displeased.

He could only hope Genji never figured it out.

He once again forced the feelings away. Now more than ever he understood the beliefs of his mother’s people – that emotions were powerful, and therefore they needed to be controlled and repressed. This emotion that he was feeling, an emotion that he had never felt quite like this before, was strong. It could even possibly control him, and that concerned him. He could not let these feelings get out of hand. He would not allow them to control him. He resolved to work harder to repress them. He surmised that, if he worked hard enough, perhaps they would go away.

Genji crossed the room with grace, sparing only a glance in his direction, a flash of sharp cerulean blue, confirming that his servant did indeed arrive and was ‘squirreled away’ in a corner, before settling himself down in his throne. Once again, Devon was reminded of a very large and very formidable cat as he watched his master tuck his knees to his chest, somehow managing to avoid sitting on the two swords. As if his heart had a mind of its own, it began to beat faster, and his mouth went dry.

Repressing this infatuation of his truly was not working. A tiny part of him was sort of fascinated. His methods had always succeeded before. Why were they failing now? The rest of him was silently and thoroughly mortified.

He was broken out of his musings as the first of many people that Genji would hear today was lead into the hall. The man was large and stocky, with muscled arms and a thick neck. His grievance, in retrospect, was rather insignificant. Why did this man believe that the Count of Teirm had time to deal with petty things such as complaints of incompetence amongst the dock workers, or issues revolving around the difficulty sailing a ship into a crowed port during the busiest hours of the day? These matters were far below Genji. It would have been more appropriate if the man had gone to one of the dock managers with his problems.

He could see Genji was outright unimpressed with the man. His expression indicated it all.

An endless flow of people from the city came into the hall after that, seeking audience with the Count. Most of them had trivial problems, such as petty arguments that they could not seem to solve without the aid of the most powerful man of Teirm, or disagreements over the most ridiculous of things. Just by the look on Genji’s face, Devon could see that he was absolutely disgusted with the issues they thought he should hear. He certainly made his irritation known, replying back disdainfully. Even though the occasional item brought up was worth his attentions, it was obvious his master was becoming more and more irritated. Hours passed in this manner, as person after person brought their problems to the Count.

Devon found himself sitting cross-legged in his corner, without ever remembering sitting down. He concluded that this open-court was truly a waste of time. Surely there were other magistrates that were meant to deal with these trivial issues? If this event was truly necessary, could there not be certain criteria put into place to filter the more ridiculous dilemmas out, separating out the important problems that Genji actually needed to hear.

Finally, the last of the people left the court (An old, possibly senile woman who believed her neighbor’s dog had cheated her in a game of dice) and he rose to his feet. His legs prickled with pins and needles for a few moments, but he did his best to mask his discomfort as the blood began to circulate again. The last several hours had been... unproductive. There had been so few issues that had been worthy of mention amongst the inane problems. Devon could see now just why his master thought the population of this land uncultured and uncivilized.