“-ir? Sir, it’s a half candlemark past six. You asked me to wake you for that time?”

  My sleepy brain takes a moment to come online and even when I open my eyes, for a long moment I have no idea where I am. The light quality is unexpected – far brighter than what I’m used to. I stare above me and my eyes light upon a white ceiling covered with decorative shapes. What are those called again – cornices? Bevels? I have a vague memory of someone explaining them to me during a tour in a National Trust house, but unfortunately, even over sixty points in Intelligence isn’t enough to resurrect memories from long before I gained a Class.

  I shake the irrelevant musing out of my head as my most recent memories come back to me. I’m in Nicholas’ house, in a new world. For the first time in over a year by Earth standards, I actually slept in a bedroom. Though not in an actual bed.

  “Sir,” Loran, my newest Bound and my slave according to this world’s messed-up legal system, starts with confusion as I push myself to my feet from where I had been lying on my hand-made mattress. “Was the bed not comfortable?” he asks, a note of worry entering his voice and spiking along our Bond. Perhaps he’s concerned that he might get in trouble for whatever I found wrong about it.

  He’d started to relax last night, but he feels more guarded again today. I get the feeling he didn’t sleep too well – perhaps he spent that time worrying. Maybe I should see about him coming to sleep here with the rest of us instead of in the servants’ quarters – if he wants that, of course.

  “The bed was fine,” I reassure him while leaning over the bed and prodding those on it awake. Bastet grumbles at me with annoyance and Trouble opens one eye and then turns over, ignoring me pointedly. I give up. “It was very comfortable,” I answer Loran. “Too much so,” I admit, heading towards the bathroom. Loran hurries after me.

  “Too comfortable, sir?”

  I shrug, pausing on the threshold of the bathroom door.

  “I’ve grown used to far more modest comforts,” I tell him, gesturing towards the mattress on which I slept. “I made that for myself in the other world and it was so much better than sleeping on the floor or a pile of clothes, but it was nowhere near as plush as that bed.”

  For obvious reasons, the fact that I’m from another world came up last night, as did the fact that everyone else here is from a third world. Loran took the news with equanimity, but I suspect that was only because he wasn’t thinking too deeply on it. “For some reason, I couldn’t relax in such comfort. I decided to leave the bed to those who would enjoy it more.” I send a wry grin in the direction of the still-sleeping beasts who are covering practically every inch of the king-size bed. “Anyway, I’m going to get myself cleaned up. Can you arrange for breakfast to be brought for all of our companions?”

  “Of course, sir,” Loran responds quickly and I sense the conflicted feelings that my ‘our’ has provoked.

  Heading into the bathroom, I avail myself of the marvelous facilities. I had an absolutely luxurious bath last night and look forward to having another one later today when I have time. It doesn’t have the high Energy levels of my den bath, but the tub is smooth and bigger than I’m used to. Plus, there seems to be the equivalent of bubble bath, something that I never felt comfortable asking either River or Tarra to try to imitate – they had better things to do.

  Though I don’t like the way that Loran came into my company, I can’t deny that he’ll come in useful, which is probably what Nicholas was thinking when he…gave Loran to me. He’s a mine of information about the local culture and I spent most of supper last night practically interrogating him to work out the differences between what I’m used to and here.

  Which seem to be rather vast. That the gods are far more obvious here than what I’m used to was only the start.

  For obvious reasons, he’s only able to give me some basics about how nobles operate – the sort of common knowledge that everyone has. He’s apparently never worked in a noble household before his sales contract was purchased by Nicholas and he’s only been here for a few days. But he can tell me lots about how the common folk of Moriax live, and the way he talks about things gives me a huge amount of information about attitudes here.

  Acting on some of that information, I decide not to wear my armour this morning. In Moriax, wearing armour is either the sign of a lower class fighter – who can’t afford to wear anything but his armour – or the indication of someone being a ‘barbarian’, or feeling threatened. I have to wonder what Nicholas thought of me yesterday. He’s treated me with more courtesy than Loran’s words about the average Moriaxar would lead me to expect – either an indication of Nicholas trying to work past his own prejudices, or more evidence for just how much he needs me.

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  Hopefully I’ll get more of a sense of Nicholas’ character this morning – that’s one reason I wanted to make sure I would be on time for breakfast. It will be interesting to see if there’s any difference in how he treats me now that I’ve made some clothing for myself which better matches his expectations of what an intelligent or ‘civilised’ person should be wearing.

  Of course, it’s hand-made. Though I considered wearing some of the clothing from Earth which survived the year mostly intact, I decided against it. None of it is fancy enough to give a good impression and the items’ foreign lines would just set me apart even more as a stranger in this place.

  Instead, I used Loran’s guidance to create a set of clothing which, at first glance, is similar enough to what people here wear, even if it’s made of more exotic material. If humans here are anything like those I’m used to, that will hopefully prove itself intriguing rather than serve to set me apart.

  The tunic and trousers are accompanied by an overrobe and all are made of spider silk – while I could do it with hide, it was clear from Loran’s reactions that the silk was a far better choice. Apparently, rank here is often indicated both by the fineness of the material and by the amount of intricate embroidery to be found on it.

  Though embroidery isn’t exactly one of my pastimes, magic is a good substitute and I now have mimicries of my Bound chasing each other all over my overrobe and along the hems of my tunic and trousers.

  Thanks to Joy’s experimentation with decorative tapestries, I’ve been able to identify a number of dyes made from animal products which are easy to manipulate through Flesh-Shaping. As a result, my tunic and trousers are a rich blue, and my overrobe is a deep red. Yellow dye and some filaments of gold woven with Metal-Shaping into the embroidery patterns make the work there obvious and decorative.

  Almost gaudy by my standards, but Loran seemed impressed. Apparently gold is still valuable enough here to be used in higher-denomination coins – that and the rough value of the different denominations was more useful information from Loran. I decided to wear my normal boots, though. After I tame my hair and beard a bit, I look at myself in the mirror with some pleasure – it’s been a while since I looked this good, if I do say so myself.

  I nod at myself and then turn to exit the bathroom. Loran’s eyes glance over my form almost automatically, and I feel the grudging sense of admiration that he lets slip over our Bond. Good.

  “Alright, I think I’m almost ready to go,” I tell him, not referencing the moment.

  We head out, taking a brief detour via each of my companions to say good morning to them all and dole out a few strokes when demanded. Several of them want to come with me, but I have to reject most of them – visions of statues being knocked over and tapestries accidentally being ripped by claws fill my head. Bastet, however, will not be denied and she waits for me at the door. Her body language tells me very clearly that I’d have to use the Bond to force her to stay behind. I sigh.

  “Do you think Nicholas would mind?” I ask Loran, turning my head.

  “I…am afraid I couldn’t say, sir,” Loran answers, eyeing me cautiously. I sense him touching the Bond and feel him relax a little as he realises I’m not angry. “I haven’t been here long enough to be able to judge Lord Nicholas’ reactions well,” he admits.

  Fair enough. I consider the matter. Nicholas is a Tamer too. Though I haven’t seen any of his Bound yet, he must have them. Which means he’ll surely understand me being accompanied by at least one of my own Bound at all times, right? Then I remind myself that he needs me at least as much as I need him. More, even. Maybe I don’t need to worry.

  “Alright, you can come with me,” I say to Bastet, then look around the rest of the room. “But only her.” I see several of my companions indicate their displeasure with that decision. Aingeal even dances over Happy’s head, reforming into a series of annoyed images to express his disapproval. “Look, if I need help, I’ll call. OK?” I tell them all placatingly. “But coming to every meeting with everyone just starts to look desperate, even apart from the logistics of it. I’ll do my best to find something for you all to do so you’re not getting too bored.”

  Can we do some sparring? Catch asks. I consider it for a moment, but then decide that it surely couldn’t hurt too much.

  “As long as you do it outside, yes, and try not to use too much magic if anyone is watching. Or magic that’s likely to damage things. In fact, maybe it’s best to steer away from overt magic at all. Physical weapons only in the actual fights. And make sure that River is on hand to give you a potion if you accidentally hurt each other. Thanks for the idea, Catch,” I tell him gratefully – the sparring should keep them occupied until I return. They’re not used to being at loose ends like this – trapped and bored is a bad combination for the furnishings.

  Finally managing to leave the room, Loran leads Bastet and me through a maze of corridors to a double door that’s a little bit taller than I am. Loran opens it and then holds it open for me to enter. Inside is a dining room. The table is made of a dark sort of wood and is quite big with fourteen chairs arranged around it.

  Only two places are set through – one at the head of the table which Nicholas is currently occupying, and one to its right side. There’s an assortment of various dishes in front of the two places, none of which I recognise. But that’s what I was expecting – it was the same at supper apart from the slabs of meat brought for my Bound. Most of the dishes were delicious last night, though, so I am tentatively hopeful that I’ll find some things I like here too.

  A woman of approximately middle-age stands silently and still against the dark panelling of the wall behind Nicholas – a servant, I guess, based on the similarity of her clothes to Linde’s and Loran’s, but not a slave if the lack of collar is any indication. She has a faint mark on her neck, though – is that a scar from where she bore one before? Or am I jumping to conclusions here? Loran goes to take a similar position behind my chair.

  “Markus,” Nicholas greets with slightly raised brows as his eyes flicker over my attire. He gestures towards the chair which I’ve identified as intended for me. “Please take a seat.”

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