I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Chapter 12: Not quite the honeymoon

The mansion was in an uproar. Servants rushed back and forth, their faces a mix of excitement and trepidation. Zafron found himself caught in the middle of it all, feeling lost and out of place.

'What am I supposed to do?' he wondered, his eyes darting from one frantic face to another. 'Everyone's acting like a lion's been let loose in the mansion. It was never like this with the mistress.'

He watched as Mara, usually so composed, practically flew past him, joining a group of maids who seemed both thrilled and terrified.

'Even Mara's caught up in this madness. What's so different about Lord Blackthorn?'

The air was thick with tension, a palpable energy that seemed to electrify every corner of the house. Zafron could feel his heart racing, caught up in the collective anxiety despite his confusion.

'I need to find Mistress Matilda,' he thought, suddenly decisive. 'She'll know what to do. She always does.'

With newfound purpose, Zafron began to navigate the chaos, his eyes searching for the familiar figure of his mistress. Every step felt like a challenge, dodging bustling servants and narrowly avoiding collisions with arms full of linens or trays of polished silver.

'This is my chance,' he realized, the thought both exhilarating and terrifying. 'My first real opportunity to prove myself. I can't mess this up.'

The weight of potential failure pressed down on him, making each breath feel shallow and insufficient. But alongside the fear was a spark of excitement, a burning desire to rise to the occasion.

'Lord Blackthorn himself... I could make an impression. Show them all I belong here.'

As he turned a corner, narrowly avoiding a maid carrying a precarious stack of freshly pressed shirts, Zafron caught sight of himself in a gilded mirror. He paused for a moment, struck by his own reflection. The young man staring back at him looked both determined and utterly lost.

'Who am I in all of this?' he wondered, the question echoing in his mind. 'A servant? An assistant? Or something more?'

The sound of rapid footsteps approaching snapped him out of his reverie. He turned, hoping to see Mistress Matilda, but instead found himself face to face with another servant he didn't recognize, their eyes wild with urgency.

"You there!" the servant called out. "Are you just standing around? There's work to be done!"

Zafron opened his mouth to respond, but the servant was already gone, disappearing down the hallway in a flurry of motion.

'I have to find Mistress Matilda,' he thought again, the imperative stronger than ever. 'Before I drown in all of this.'

As Zafron rounded another corner, he nearly collided with Cordelia. Her eyes lit up upon seeing him.

"Zafron! Just the person I was looking for," she exclaimed, a smile spreading across her face.

Stunned, Zafron turned around, pointing at himself questioningly.

Cordelia giggled, "Yes, you, silly boy. But there's no time for this. Quick, you must follow me. There's something we need to get for your mistress."

'For Mistress Matilda?' Zafron thought, confusion etched on his face. He glanced around, hoping to spot someone who could make sense of the situation.

But Cordelia was persuasive, her words accompanied by action as she grabbed his hand and yanked him along. Zafron noticed her haste, her normally composed demeanor replaced by urgency.

"What's the rush, Madam Cordelia?" he managed to ask as they hurried down the corridor.

"It's very urgent, Zafron. We must go at once," she replied, her grip on his hand tightening.

'But what errand could be more important than the lord's arrival?' Zafron wondered, his mind racing. 'I haven't even had a chance to meet him yet, let alone impress him. And did Mistress Matilda really approve this?'

Something about the situation didn't sit right with him. Summoning his courage, Zafron planted his feet firmly, bringing their rushed journey to an abrupt halt.

"I... I'm sorry, Madam Cordelia," he stuttered, mind scrambling for an excuse. "I need to use the bathroom quickly before we go. If you don't mind?"

Cordelia's expression flickered with impatience, but she nodded. "Very well, but be quick about it."

'I have to find Mistress Matilda,' Zafron thought as he turned away. 'I need to tell her about this errand, just in case she's looking for me.'

His heart pounded as he walked away from Cordelia. 'I have to be careful. I work for Mistress Matilda, not Madam Cordelia. Taking orders from the wrong person could land me in hot water.'

Zafron's mind raced with possibilities. 'If Mistress Matilda truly sent me with Madam Cordelia, then of course I'll do whatever she needs. But I have to be sure.'

As he made his way through the bustling hallways, ostensibly in search of a bathroom, Zafron's resolve strengthened. 'I won't let anyone take advantage of my position here. I'll find Mistress Matilda and get to the bottom of this. It's the only way to protect myself in this world of high nobles and their games.'

With a deep breath, he quickened his pace, eyes scanning for any sign of Matilda amidst the chaos of preparations.

Zafron rounded the corner towards the hallway that led to Mistress Matilda's room. This part of the house was different from the rest in many ways. The air seemed thicker here, heavy with perfume and a different type of aura altogether. The carpets were plush, muffling footsteps, and the walls adorned with exquisite paintings that seemed to watch your every move. Even the lighting was different, softer and more intimate.

But it wasn't any of these differences that made Zafron strangely slow his pace. Usually, the quiet hallway leading to her room was empty. Today, a single man stood by the door.

'This is a first,' Zafron thought, his brow furrowing. 'I thought I was the only male in this mansion. Who is this?'

The man was tall and dangerous-looking, his stance radiating authority. Zafron approached him cautiously, offering a polite greeting before asking to see the mistress.

The man regarded Zafron with a condescending look. "The mistress and the lord are currently busy," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

'Busy?' Zafron thought, confusion and concern warring within him. He wanted to linger, to ensure this man wasn't a threat to his mistress. But the look the man flashed him spoke volumes - if Zafron didn't leave immediately, there'd be consequences.

Reluctantly, Zafron turned to leave. As he walked away, however, he caught the sound of raised voices coming from behind the closed doors of the Mistress's room. One was unmistakably Matilda's, the other a man's voice he didn't recognize.

'That must be Lord Blackthorn,' Zafron realized. 'But why does it sound like they're quarreling? Surely after a long journey, they should be doing anything but fighting?'

He hesitated, torn between concern for his mistress and the knowledge that this was far beyond his station. 'Who am I to eavesdrop on their private matters? I'm just a servant here. My job is to serve, not to pry into their affairs.'

Suddenly, the memory of Cordelia waiting for him suddenly flashed in his mind. 'I should go fulfill whatever errand she has and return quickly. Mistress Matilda might need me soon.'

With a last, worried glance at the closed door, Zafron hurried back the way he came. His mind raced with questions and concerns, but he pushed them aside. He had a job to do, and he was determined to do it well, regardless of the strange undercurrents he sensed in the household.