Races: Online - Chapter 333

“You should sleep with the young master and get into his good graces.”

“What nonsense are you saying, Tabitha! That’s very scandalous.”

“He doesn’t even need to love you, if you manage to just do it once and do it with a fertility charm—”

A couple of laughs emerged within the servant’s quarters of the Lord Crowel’s Manor. There weren’t a lot of visitors that came around the Lord’s place due to his seclusion and thus most, if not all, of the servants were willing to have a few missed spots here and there in lieu of a break.

This may have been isolation to the Lord Crowel himself, but it was a paradise for people working there.

Not a lot of people to look after for, and with a lot of the rooms unoccupied and even gathering dust and cobwebs… the appearance of the Crowel House was still prestigious and even proper when facing outsiders, but akin to a shiny piece of coin—there was still some dirt within it.

One of the youngest, if not loveliest of the servant girls looked quite aggrieved at the suggestion of her older colleagues. The arrival of the long-lost son of Lord Crowel, the young lord and master Timothy may as well have been the most exciting thing that happened.

“You know that he also happens to be quite a kind boy—he tried to clean up his plates and dishes, I practically had to shoo him away before he washed them himself.” One of the older women said as she leaned closer to her audience.

The eldest child and daughter of the Crowel House was prim and proper… if not overly attached to her pet bird, but other than that… she may as well have been the standard and expected lady of the Crowel House.

Timothy on the other hand was the subject of intrigue and also entertainment of one of the most far-flung Nobility Houses. While Timothy thought that peak isolation was at Rockfall Village that was practically located at the edge of a cliff and falling there directly led you to the oceans…

The ‘home’ he found himself to be seemed to keep everyone preoccupied enough that he only saw his older half-sister and father during meal times… sometimes barely so.

Timothy rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

The books and scrolls on varying discourses of proper court etiquette, diplomacy and other historical accounts was enough to make even him who once enjoyed reading books now a bore.

It was more of a chore.

Assignments and tests from a tutor and where he was expected to pass. Everyone once and then, he’d catch the tutor speaking and even sometimes comparing him to his oh-so-talented sister.

“It wasn’t like I was raised to read books from the start,” Timothy grumbled and stood up from his study room.

The Crowel Manor found itself abundant and spacious with rooms that Timothy wouldn’t be surprised if he could wander about for a day and miss seeing his family for the entire duration.

Now it wasn’t all as boring and dull as today was.

There had been that time when he had to get up and prepare—and sit his butt uncomfortably in a chair for a couple of hours as a painter tried to capture him in a portrait.

Whether it was a lack of Skills that sped up the painting process and the painter only focused on making it the best painting as it ever was to ‘recreate’ him… it was still a terrible, but social time.

Timothy stepped out of the study room and visited the servant’s quarters. He had a freaking magical bell to call them—but he could use the exercise. Once he arrived by the slightly adjourned door, he heard the voices.

“—he’s quite unlike other Nobles. I don’t think he’ll ever actually be able to act like one.”

“Well, he’s supposed to be born a Noble and yet… Did he gain the Class?”

Timothy interrupted it with a knock on the door and loudly cleared his voice. “Ma’am Wilda, could I ask for some tea and biscuits? Can you bring them to my room?”

“Oh, I’ll have Ava bring it to the parlor, Lord Timothy.”

Timothy pressed his lips into a line, thought about saying something, but then decided against it and marched out of the servant’s wing of the manor. Shouldn’t they have stood up and greeted him by the door?

Shouldn’t they at least actually listen to his request to get it to his room—bedroom and not some stupid parlor to have tea parties in?

Normally, Timothy would have said something. He could have snapped and told them off… and yet, they were kind of right. Timothy didn’t see himself as a Lord at all and it showed with how he carried himself around the hallways of the manor and stepped into his own personal parlor.

“They’re supposed to call it a drawing room or a reception area—parlors are for girls.” Timothy grumbled in an afterthought as he plopped down into one of the available couches.

And started hacking his lungs out.

He never entertained people by himself—if there were visitors, his sister was the one who took care of it… so it slipped their minds. Timothy sat up and looked around the room, found himself to what appeared to be a rag and then muttered a spell underneath his breath.

The air around the already dry room lost some more moisture as it fell on his rag and soaked it. He didn’t think it through much, considering the couch being made from fabric that would easily get damp, Timothy ended up wiping the tables and empty top of shelves.

Books were a sign of wealth.

Timothy knew that much—but if they couldn’t afford proper housekeeping and had neglectful servants… Well, he wondered when things would shape up. Everything related to outside matters of the Crowel House were all orderly and organized.

Carriages, dresses and outfits to meet people and even their hired scouting-oriented group of fighters.

Everything else was in different stages of acquisition of dust bunnies.

A sudden knock caught Timothy in surprise. He flinched and nearly knocked back a vase on a shelf and barely caught it in time.

The young maid servant’s eyes opened wide. “Master Timothy!”

Timothy could never get used to that honorific.

He returned the vase back on the shelf and then picked up the now dirty rag. “Hey, Ava… thanks for bringing my tea.”

“You don’t have to clean up at all, Master Timothy.” Ava quickly set down the tray on a table and approached him fast. Curtsying once, she reached out for the rag and then coughed slightly.

The amount of dust surprised and got caught in her throat too.

But a determined expression settled on her face. “I’ll clean this all up, Master Timothy. Do you want me to bring your afternoon tea and treats to your own bedroom? The Lord and Lady of the House usually do not dine in their own personal chambers, so we apologize if the order slipped through Ma’am Wilda’s attention span.”

“It’s fine… but er, our place didn’t really have much space so we kind of ate everywhere.” Timothy scratched his head and then groaned internally. Was he starting to overshare information just because he wanted to have someone to talk to?

He wasn’t going to be a Han at all—well, forget that.

It was already happening whether he liked it or not.

Ava tilted her head at him before slowly blinking. “Ah your previous place, Master Timothy?”

“Yeah…” Timothy realized that it may not have been a good idea to bring that up. Already he dealt with a book that conveyed the idea that keeping and withholding vital information—well, that was vital.

One needed to protect one’s own self interest and that within his company.

It was such a strange and oddly specific book that he wondered if Sir Leon de Harrington got ahold of it and was keeping the rules followed by heart. Compared to others who got fooled by a smile, Timothy didn’t find it believable at all.

The conversation revolved around him—and not him at all.

“Your old home must have been a quaint place, Master Timothy.” Ava spoke up.

Timothy managed a small and tired smile. “Well yes, it was lovely and whenever… I was hungry so I tend to visit my mother’s friend and have lunch there.” Timothy was thinking about Grandma Moe’s tavern right now, but he cleared his throat. “But anyway, tea in my room—I can bring it myself. You don’t have to do it at all.”

He moved to the table—and the maid blocked him.

“Master Timothy, I can’t let you do that at all. You mustn’t bring or carry your stuff when a servant can do it.”

“Come on… how can a gentleman make a lady do all the work for him?” he said. He found it awkward to say aloud, and yet the maidservant kind of stopped in her tracks.

Ava shook her head. “No—no, that’s not right. I’m still a servant, you can’t confuse me, Master Timothy.”

“What are you trying to say…” Timothy quickly moved past her and grabbed the tray. “I’m just doing whatever I want. I thought you could at least actually listen to me compared to the others.”

“We don’t want to get punished, Master Timothy.”

“Huh?”

—-—-

Author’s Note: It was a little bit long overdue. This is probably Han’s story… Han Jing’s story? But I’ve been meaning to write about Timothy and how he’s doing, maybe even Iolanthe too. Honestly, I want to expand a little in all of these people and then weave them back slowly into Han’s story (and then connect it back to Han Jing’s)

July 2021 didn’t do well as I expected and people in discord suggest I upload alternately, but we’ll see what I’ll manage. Thank you for the support!