The boy walked through the gates, and the view in front of him was breathtaking. There were statues, fountains, trees, and flowers all over. Everything was just too perfect.
He lowered his gaze for a moment, holding his breath. 'It's dead silent here...'
The guards stopped at the entrance to the castle, where an old lady stood, dressed modestly.
"I see you are finally here. Let me introduce myself. My name is Eleanor Kallisto, the lady in charge of the servitude. I have been given orders to welcome you." Her voice sounded like a sharp wind, but her eyes were calm—almost soft.
"Ah..." He pursed his lips, lowering his head with hesitation. If he was so dirty and unkempt, why was he being treated like that? Did he miss the purpose of his role, after all?
"Now, please, follow me." Without saying anything more, the head maid walked into the castle. After stepping through the large entrance, the boy found himself in a wide atrium. The walls were decorated with tapestries and flickering torches, and a broad staircase led to the upper floor.
'Man...this place is filled with gold.' He thought, frowning as he tried to walk closer to Eleanor.
"Don't be scared in front of His Grace, alright? This meeting is happening with the sole purpose of introducing yourselves." The old lady reassured as she climbed the luxurious staircase, probably because she noticed his teary eyes.
'Wait, do I have to meet the Archduke of Tirania? Why?! In the book, many powerful individuals couldn't even meet his eyes...don't tell me I'll have to face him!'
While the boy was busy worrying about the absurd situation he ended up in, a few maids, who were tidying up the large curtains, clicked their tongues only at the sight of the little kid, but he didn't notice.
The lady stopped walking, now in front a large door, knocking two times. "Your Grace, he is here."
"Let him in." A low voice ordered. It sent chills down his spine, even if it came from the other side of the door.
"From now on, you are on your own inside that office. Remember what I told you, alright?" She whispered and then opened the door for the child, letting only him inside, alone with that scary beast.
He didn't have the courage to look up. He felt great pressure inside the room, and the little body he was trapped in couldn't hold up well.
'What do I do? Do I speak? Do I bow?'
He couldn't make a decision. But after a few seconds, he bowed deeply. Perhaps a greeting is what should be said first. "Greetings, Your Grace?"
The Archduke did not speak. The silence was suffocating, and after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke, without looking up from his papers.
"Do you know why you're here, boy?"
'How the fuck would I know?' He wasn't sure about what to answer, so he decided to answer the question generically. "To work...?"
The assistant looked at him in surprise, while the Archduke looked up from his documents with a raised eyebrow. "What makes you think that?"
"I mean, why would someone as unkempt as me come to such a luxurious place?" That came off a bit harsh.
The man leaned back on his seat. "That's not the reason. Try to guess again with the same logic."
"Your Grace, he's just a child from the...!"
"So?" The man shot back, shutting the other up. His interest was unexpectedly caught by this little kid. After all, he was raised in the slums, but still managed to think cleverly even in this situation. They did share some amount of blood, but he didn't expect him to be—only if, to some extent—immune to his presence.
The child frowned. Now that he thought about it, he remembered reading in the newspaper about the son of a prostitute being adopted by the empire's only Archduke. The guards had called him a bastard, and the book he'd been reading had a side character with the same backstory. Still, he couldn't quite recall the name.
'Man...I'm doomed. Should I say I'm here to be adopted? But what if I've got it wrong, and the original owner of this body isn't that character? Will he decide to kill me? Still, how could I not be him!? There's no way I'd need to meet the second most important man in the empire just to work as a servant in the castle.'
He hesitated, torn by doubt, but chose to say what felt right. "I, I've heard many rumors about this distant relative being adopted by His Grace." He avoided the word bastard, unwilling to call himself that. "I might be that child—because if I weren't, why would I dare stand here before you?" His voice trembled slightly.
The man calmly started to write down on his documents again. "I see you finally got there. What's your name, kid?"
The boy sighed, feeling pity. "I don't have one, Your Grace." He stated, almost as a whisper.
There was a slight pause. "I understand, then I will be the one to name you. I'll request your presence when the time comes."
His heart skipped a beat. "Sure." He replied almost immediately, starting to get more and more anxious.
"Your room is still being prepared, so you'll be sleeping in the guest room for a few days. It's a bit small, but you won't be there for long. Now go."
"Alright, goodbye." The boy clumsily said, trying to bow, and then left the office in a hurry, not caring about his manners. The old lady from earlier stood right in front of him.
"Congratulations, Young Master." Eleanor said as she led the boy to the bathroom.
Young Master.
The boy didn't reply, only followed her.
He felt the soft fabric of the carpet under his dirty, oversized shoes, and that made him feel even more out of this world.
"Young Master, please feel at ease. If you need anything, you must come to me immediately." She said with a smile as she opened the door, which showed a very large bathroom with a tub full of water, foam, and rose petals.
This sight meant nothing to him.
"Okay..." He nodded mindlessly as several maids came in front of him and bowed.
"Greetings, Young Master," the maids said with polite bows. But before he could even catch his breath, they began to carefully undress him. The moment they pulled off his dirty, shabby shirt, their eyes suddenly widened in shock and fear.
'Why are they staring like that...?' The boy looked down at his body and flinched, his eyes widening, snapping him back from his daze. 'Oh. My. Lord.'
"Call Dr. Baskerville immediately!" Eleanor ordered, and the maids obeyed right away, as they ran out of the room.
The old lady carefully picked him up and sat him down on a comfortable chair, going to her knees to check the severity of his wounds. "Young Master, you should have warned me immediately. We could have made His Grace wait to treat your wounds!"
'I wish I had known...I hadn't even noticed!' He thought, while he was breathing in an unusually fast pace. 'This is truly the worst.'
He almost started to cry again. The child covered his face to feel it once again.
"Young Master..." Eleanor tried to comfort him, thinking he was crying because of the wounds.
However, she was interrupted by a knock on the door, which was then opened by an old gentleman, who walked in with a calm and collected face. "Greetings, Young Master. If you allow me." He walked towards him, stretching his hand out, and suddenly, the boy felt a weird feeling sinking in.
He squeezed his eyes shut. 'Don't come any closer...' He felt his breath catch. His fists clenched without him meaning to. 'Wait, why am I scared? I don't even know this man.' But this body remembered something he didn't.
He forced his eyes to open, but seeing that hand almost touching his body was too much. "Don't, don't touch me!" He almost shouted, slapping the man's hand away. He felt even more surprised. His body was trembling so much, and he didn't even notice it, as if it was a normal occurrence.
While he was busy noticing his own reactions, everyone was staring at the child, unsure about what to do.
Eleanor looked at the doctor. "Dr. Baskerville, I hope you understand that the Young Master comes from a common background. He still has to get used to this environment."
He nodded, then he walked closer to her, whispering. "It's alright. However, I never had to deal with such children, I don't know how to calm him down."
The kid snapped out of it, somehow catching what the doctor had said. 'Right, I'm not a child.'
He lifted his head, stretching his arms and legs. "Apologies, Doc. I'm alright now. You can treat my wounds." It was a slip of the tongue, one he didn't even notice.
The old man looked at him with a slightly raised eyebrow, but nonetheless, he bent down to treat his wounds.
'??? Did I say something wrong?' Unfortunately, he did not even realise his way of talking was unusual to the people around him. 'Shit...this hurts like hell!'
He was indeed full of wounds from head to toe, especially his legs and back. He even had some scars.
"The second son of His Grace is marked with scars. What will be of their reputation?"
"Hush!"
The head maid shot a stern look at them, slightly pressing her lips. They immediately shut up.
The air was tense, and no one dared to breathe just a little harder.
The doctor finally wrapped up after what felt like ages. "I'll be back to visit the Young Master a few more times over the next few days," he said with a quiet sigh. "His wounds were deeply infected, so for the time being, he shouldn't move around too quickly. Lady Kallisto, please make sure the maids don't apply any fancy body creams on him."
"I understand, Dr. Baskerville, we'll do as you say." Eleanor says as she bows.
He nods. "Alright, then I shall take my leave now, I'll see you next time, Young Master." The man says as he bows and then walks out of the room.
"Young Master, now it's best if we get you a nice, refreshing shower, offer you a good meal, and then head straight to bed. How does that sound?" It was phrased like a question, but in the end, the kid didn't really have a say in the matter.
Nonetheless, he nodded, even if barely.
The maids took him into the tub and began to wash him with extreme caution, as if he was made of glass, then he was dried and dressed in a night gown.
"Your hair is a little long, Young Master, I was planning to give it a trim this week, is that alright?" Eleanor asks as she takes the boy into the small guest bedroom.
'What the?' His breath hitched. 'Is this supposed to be the small guest room!? It's bigger than my house.'
"Does the Young Master need any lullabies?" The old woman asked kindly as she lays him down on that huge bed, tucking him under the warm blankets.
"No..."
She smiled kindly, but she couldn't hide the pity behind her eyes. "Then I shall take my leave, I wish you a good night, Young Master."
The old lady went out, and now he is there, alone in that huge room.