CHAPTER FIVE
937 Words
General Lestor's pavilion had never looked so clean. He stood in the doorway, and slowly looked all over.
Everything was tidy and in its place, or at least in a place that made sense. It smelled fresh, as though things had been washed thoroughly, and a new armor stand stood to the side, rather than the broken one he had never got around to ordering fixed.
He let his eyes wander until he had taken it all in, then looked at the perpetrator. Lucia watched him from under creased brows, remaining bowed from the waist. At least Lestor had managed to get her to stop going to her knees.
Anxious blue eyes were waiting for his reaction.
Then a moment later he nodded.
Tension bled out of the small form, and happiness glowed from the girl’s face.
At her master’s gesture, she straightened from the bow.
“I did not touch your papers, Master. Only other things, and I tried to keep them where you could find them…”
“It is good.” Lestor tried not to notice the pleasure that shone from Lucia's eyes at even this tiny praise. Good gods, but the girl was starving for approval.
He stalked to his desk, uncomfortable with the young woman's reaction. Then Lucia said no more, and simply sank down at her pallet near the right corner pole of the huge pavilion.
With better food, she had gradually gained a little weight. Her hair had even achieved a little luster, and Lestor had noticed that in the sun it glistened almost like it's pure silver.
The General shook his head, wondering why he had noticed such a detail. Not that the girl got outside much. She had full permission to leave the pavilion, as long as she stayed in the vicinity under guard, but she rarely ventured outside, and really, who could blame her? She was stared at, whispered about. Nothing that would encourage her to brave the world outside.
Lestor frowned at the thought. Lucia had been with her for almost three months now, and he could not remember seeing the girl outside more than a time or two.
That could not be healthy.
They would be leaving this camp behind tomorrow and be on the move to secure the northern borders of their conquered territory. He wanted to know that the girl was sound enough for the trip without having to put her in a cart.
He turned and strode back to the entrance of the pavilion, gesturing Lucia to follow him.
“Come. I would have you walk with me.”
Lucia leaped to her feet, nervously following in her master’s wake, the sunlight striking her eyes so that for a moment she was half blind, almost running into Lestor's back before she could see him.
The older man looked at him for a moment, and Lucia flushed, taking a quick step back, and lowering her head.
“Sorry, master,” she whispered.
Lestor only grunted, then led the way through the camp.
Lucia stayed close to Lestor's heels, as if she were afraid of all those around her, and only released her pent up breath as they stepped past the outer sentries and into blessed peace.
Ahead lay a meadow, reasonably flat, with a mix of flowers and grass waving in the breeze, beckoning Lucia to come and play.
Lucia looked at it, then at Lestor, awaiting his will in silence.
Lestor stood motionless for a moment, then took a deep breath. When his gaze fell upon Lucia, the girl tensed. “We need to know that your leg is sound enough to travel tomorrow. I would see for myself how well it does.” With no further words, he set off at a slow run, glancing back at his little servant as he did so.
The small, younger girl eagerly joined him, and Lestor could not help noticing how light her movements were, how graceful she was. Lestor quickened his pace, and his servant kept up easily.
Then he feels his own worry slowly fading as he saw the beginnings of an actual smile on Lucia's face. The feel of the wind and the gentle caress of the grasses upon his skin… and he knew without a doubt that Lucia can feel these things too. It felt clearly as freedom as he had not known in far too long.
With a grin of his own, he began to race the wind, and Lucia proved a worthy companion.
Lestor laughed out loud, for few could keep up with him, and he even jump high just for the sake of it.
For a while there was only freedom, no ties to bind, no duty, no difference in their station…
When at last they came to a halt, they're already sweating. Lestor saw that Lucia was wobbly on her legs. She clearly hadn’t have the stamina of a seasoned trained warrior.
Still, there was a light in her eyes Lestor had never seen, and her head was held higher. For a moment she looked almost…regal.
Then the moment faded.
Lucia remembered who she was and who she was with, and she lowered her eyes submissively.
Lestor felt a loss he could not fathom, and tugged his hair in high annoyance.
With a growl he turned back for the camp, stomping, a deep, dark frown upon his brow, his little white haired servant trailing silently at his heels. Confused at the sudden change in his mood. Though, Lestor himself couldn't fathom what was wrong with him. Why he's so frustrated? What had gotten into him?!
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- Writer
