A Father's Last Gift

Deep in the Marshes of Argonia, a wind stired, rising above the trees and across the sky. It is said that the beat of wings of a butterfly can take speed, traveling across the world to cause a storm in distant lands. The wind was a beginning, though to what, though to what, none could say. Across Argonia the wind swept, rustling the branches of the ancient and mysterious Hist, surrounded in rumor and misunderstanding. North the wind swept, crossing into Cyrodiil, then West, passing over the Imperial City, banners of the White Gold Tower rippling in its wake. The residents of the Imperial City looked to the banners with hope, the threat of Aldmeri oppresors ever present. Some prayed to the divines that the wind would bring rain, others prayed for change, and the wind swept past, bringing hope.

Onward the wind swept, sweeping into Hammerfell, and stirring the desert sands. Across a group of Alik'r it ran, sending sand into their eyes, and they cursed the weather, wishing for a calm day and cool rains. Over the city of Skaven the wind continued, the Sword Singers chanting in early morning song below. Their voice carried to the wind, and peasants in the street stopped to listen to the song as the wind carried it throughout the city.

North and West the wind traveled, over Wayrest, one of the most glorious cities in Tamriel. Pushing away the early morning fog, the wind freed the city for the dawn, and the city sparkled in illustrious beauty. Around the majestic domes and sparkling towers the wind whipped about, sending banners soaring proudly in the air, declaring the city one of the greatest in High Rock, a city to rival Daggerfall itself, and home to many noble families. Down the road it blew, into the small town Tuless, where it shook the villagers early morning laundry that had hung out to dry.

As the sun rose gently in the east, unblocked by the mountains behind him, Aran shivered lightly as the wind pricked against his bare skin. The steel blade in his hand sliced through it as he worked the forms, having risen hours earlier to eat breakfast and begin his routine. The blade shimmered through the air, shining in the light of dawn, as it flowed about him as smooth as water. The blade was as an extension of his arm and he of it.

"Aran, quit practicing your blade and get ready, we're leaving soon. I promised your new owner we'd be there this morning."

He sheathed the blade in a swift motion, turning to face his an'Kin and bowing respectfully to the man standing in the door of the Wandering Woman. He had traveled with the man from Daelmah d'Waenrae to be sold. Three stops they had made so far, three Servants sold, and he would be the fourth and last, before the an'Kin traveled back home with his own Servants.

"Of course an'Kin. As you wish."

From experience, he knew the man would take longer to get ready then him, but Aran was not one for staying idle. Heading inside after the man, he began washing in his room, cleaning the sweat from his practice off before beginning to don his armor.

On the road, his supplies gathered, his horse beneath him, and his apparel donned, Aran glanced down at the armor he'd adorned some thirty minutes prior. The armor seemed to radiate sunlight, shining brightly. Before the sun had rose, he had oiled the armor while he took breakfast, smoked salmon with a chicken egg, and it glowed as if brand new, the images he had carved out a year ago emboldened by the sun. His long red cloak draped behind him, the gold lace trim shining in the sun in it's own right. He did not show it outwardly, but inside he was proud, and thought he looked as regal as a lord.

To his side, the an'Kin was detailing everything he would need to know, hoping that Aran would not blunder.

"Now remember, you must refer to your new owner as your master at all times, until they choose a new name for you to call them. I don't know precisely who you are going to, but this Breton is much like a prince, if that helps you understand. I know of a wife and child he has, so you might go to one of them, or maybe a present to someone he wishes to gain favor with. It doesn't matter really, whoever you go to will be your master. You must remember though, while it is not imperative, you must travel back soon to complete the binding. A simple oath is not enough. You will remember to restate this fact often, yes?"

Aran simply nodded his head, the man had repeated it many times already over their trip towards the Labelle Estate. "Yes an'Kin, I will not forgot."

The teacher sighed, almost sadly, and scratched his beard, the dark hairs rustling above his wealthy merchants clothes. The man had known Aran for most of his life, and had taught him everything he knew about trade. Aran would be a bit sad to see him go - he had always been kind in his teachings, and went Aran cooked him dinner as a child, the an'Kin would often slip him sweets discretely for being so a good student.

"I know you will do fine Aran. You are one of the best, though we are always sad to see a Servant go. But, it is our calling, as it is yours. I trust you will do what is necessary, bond or no. Do not forget what we are, you may not need the bond, but it is part of us nonetheless. You will do well though, and I speak for all of the an'Kin when I say you will make us proud."

Aran's face was hard as stone, but inside he was beaming with pride. He had waited a long time for this moment. Perhaps he would find himself as a simple servant at the estate, but he did not think so. Servants were usually picked for their exemplary skills, and from the moment he learned, Aran had strived to be a bodyguard more then a normal servant to sit in a home with no job but sweeping. Of course, that was not intended for any Servant, but the compliments from the an'Kin were nearly enough reassurance to say he would do well no matter his duties. Perhaps he may not accompy the next mortal to rise to godhood, but he would strive to be a Servant for the legends if he could.

"Thank you an'Kin, you are kind to say so." Aran held his tone flat, and his face calm, and the an'Kin gave a small sigh. His lack of emotion was what had kept him from being bought so long, and as the buildings of the Labelle Estate appeared before him, he found himself nervous for the first time in years. . . .

Strider whinnied as they entered the estate, almost seeming to announce their arrival, though the horse may have felt Aran's nervousness. Nearly all of his life that he could remember had been leading to these moments, and Strider had always had a way seeming to mimic his rider's feelings no matter how hard Aran kept himself. As they came to a stop, the steed pawed it's right hoof at the ground, swishing it's tail back and forth. A few pats from his owner settled the horse, and he shook his head to left in response to Aran's reassuring touch. Aran permitted himself a smile beneath his helmet for the horse, wondering how long it might be before he would ride the stallion again.

The an'Kin at his side was all excitement though, looking expectantly at the house as servants came forward and who Aran could only guess was his new owner stepping forward. Malintus greeted the mans welcome with his own jovial laughter, stepping down from the horse and handing the reigns to one of the servants. After motioning Aran to do the same, the manservant followed suit, giving the horse a parting pat until they could be reunited.

"Master Florian! It is always a pleasure." He followed the noble into the house waving lightly behind him for Aran to follow. Smoothly, he removed his helmet, tucking it under his arm, his golden hair falling down to match the golden trim encircling his crimson cloak. placing his free hand idly on his sword hilt, he followed the two men inside as the an'Kin began going on about his business.

"As you know, I'm not much one for dealing in alcohol, but it's hard to let a good opportunity pass you up, eh? I've got some of the best captains in Hammerfell piloting Stros M'Kai Rum over, then coming back with a shipload of pearls. If the deals were any better it'd be plain robbery!" The man laughed, obviously pleased by Florian's interest. "Of course, my estates near Rihad are still the most profitable. There are few things that draw so much as jewelry my friend, and my iron mines are making a better turn then ever with the wars."

"But what about you? I hear your mines are producing more Orichalcum then the Orsinium itself, if tales can be believed. I've seen more Orsimer mercenaries on the way here then I've seen in 10 years. You must be reeling in the gold with such a high demand right now eh?"

Aran payed close attention to the men's conversation, as well as the layout of the building. If he did end up staying here, it would be important to memorize every hallway, every room, and every exit. Wasting time learning routes around a household was something a Servant was not expected to do, as if they should simply know a place by it existing. From what he could hear of the merchant's conversation however, it did not seem like he would be finding all the much excitement.

Aran sighed internally, keeping himself composed outwardly. This merchant Florian did not seem all that adventurous, and if he was intended for the man, any hopes of glory and adventure would be washed away. It was unlikely the man did any traveling except for business, and even less likely he would be attacked with the number of guards he would no doubt hire. Anyone who could afford a Servant was fairly wealthy, after all. One bound to the man, Aran would find himself stuck with the aging man, destined to die young while Florian passed away peacefully. It was not the life he had wanted, but it was his duty, and where others might balk he would see it through.

While the merchants talked, he absently shifted his helmet, and pushed his cloak back over his sword. To most people, Aran in small spaces looked like a wolf caged and ready to pounce, and he did his best to seem relaxed, which for him wasn't that different from being tensed for a fight. His only hope was that he did not fail to be sold yet again. Though the an'Kin had originally meant him for what he assumed was this family, the merchant had tried selling him at nearly every city on the way, stating he could sell one of the other Servants when they reached the Labelle Estate. To both Aran's dismay an joy, the merchant had still not managed to sell him.

The butterflies in his stomach refused to go away, and as they entered the parlor, he bowed politely and gracefully to the two women inside. The older of the two he assume to be the wife that Malintus had spoken of, and the younger the families daughter. While Alicia looked pretty for her age, it seemed her daughter was a magnification of whatever beauty the woman might've had. Both had smooth skin, and a noticeable lack of visible scars, which Aran took to mean neither traveled much or had any sort of danger. They both looked like proper lady's so far as Aran could tell, and he expected neither of them had been very far from the estate.

As unlikely as it was, while he stood at attention, Aran could not help that hope he was intended for the beautiful young lady standing by the entryway, if for no reason other then that he would be able to grow old, and perhaps even outlive her natural years. Such a thing was rare however, and Servants were rarely bonded to lords or lady's that never left their home. In it's entirety, the entire family seemed very proper and respectable. Resigned, Aran began storing away any thoughts he'd had on adventures and fame, knowing he would take whatever place was given to him. He would accept it without hesitation, even if it did mean an early grave. Things at the estate would not seem so bad though, he thought. There appeared to be plenty of other servants, so his tasks might be short, mostly limited to being a bodyguard. It was not the life he wanted, but it was a life he would accept, and it would be a life he would enjoy, even if it killed him.

Aran stood stoically while the merchants talked and passed around the introductions. As a Servant, he was accustomed to not being introduced, as no one cared who a servant was. So long as they poured the wine and kept out of the way, most nobles were intent to ignore them completely. It was not that he had not been trained to act as a noble if ever he needed to. His training in politics and etiquette netted Aran all the knowledge he would ever need to pose as whatever he needed in case his master ever required deception. Of course, he was forbidden to lie to his master about such things, but with the bond that was hardly possible anyway. As for introductions, with an an'Kin present, Servants were trained not to speak until spoken to, and so he held his tongue, wondering if he was meant for someone in the room, or if this Florian would be giving him as a gift to someone else.

"Yes, brought him all the way from the Rihad just for you, and let me tell you it wasn't easy. I had use a few favors to convince his trainers to let me sell him to you, not to mention people trying to purchase him all the way up here. But since I teach for them, they owed. And since I feel I still owe you for that wonderful deal on iron ore you gave me - you wouldn't believe the profit I turned on that - I've brought you the best."

The an'Kin was rambling, and Aran realized the man was trying to improve his new masters opinion of him. Malintus had taught Aran everything he knew about bartering, and already the man was trying to talk up the price of selling the Servant before it was even certain that Florian would be buying him. Of course, it was unlikely he had traveled all the way to High Rock just to turn around and go back, so no matter what lies the an'Kin told, or what price the man set, Aran had a feeling he would be staying at the estate while his teacher rode away.

"He's the deadliest lad I've seen with a blade. Watched him take on three men and his old teacher at once, and disarmed them all without taking a single blow. He's a true blademaster, had one in specially just to confirm him, and he can move that sword of his faster then my eye can follow. Of course, don't let him fool you, the lad's quite intelligent. Why, if I had need, I might've purchased him myself. You can trust him to keep all your books and sums if you need, and he's crafty when it comes to striking a deal. I taught him everything I know, except for a few trade secrets of course."

That part at least was true, even if the rest of it was not, and Aran could not help but feel accomplished that he had surpassed so many of those he trained with. That they had been purchased before him was irrelevant, just because people didn't want to pay for him did not mean he was not as good as the an'Kin said.

"Now Florian, I can promise you - and you know I'm a man of my word - Aran here is the best servant you'll ever buy. You name it, he'll do it. There's not a soul in the world more trustworthy. Isn't that right Aran."

His face did not change, but Aran nodded his head in reverance, a bit suprised the an'Kin had asked him for his own opinion. The answer was obvious, and the merchant was right, but the man had once taught him that simply stating such things meant there had been some uncertainty or question of it already. For Aran, there was no question. "It is as you say an'Kin. I live to serve." He spoke in smooth tones, reminiscent of a bard, and he had always been told he had a wonderful voice. It was something he got from his father, the smooth voice, a voice said some said could calm an army. The voice of the emperor, to hear some talk about the sound of an Imperials voice, though Aran himself did not put much stock in such nonsense. He felt like laughing at such silliness, though his face was as hard as stone, and his lips did not quiver. He was a package, as Florian had called him, and packages did not have emotions.

Malintus rubbed his hands eagerly at Florian's questions, happy to oblige. "On the contrary, he is well versed in poems and songs, a bit of a personal hobby of his." Had Aran not been the master of his own emotions, he might've blushed. It was known that he took a liking to stories back at the House of Servants, but he wasn't sure such things were considered appropriate of a bodyguard. Most men who knew in such employment were gruff and hard, with no eye for the finer arts. "He can also juggle and play the lute, and is quite skilled with a flute. Why, he could probably earn his living as a bard if forced, though I believe it would be a waste of his other talents. I assure you Master Florian, his behavior is not a facade. He will be the model of subservience and temperance. Of course, if you so require, he has been trained in courting and romance, if you need to say, build stronger relationships with other houses or merchants of such persuasions."

As soft as iron or not, those classes were not things Aran had enjoyed. The whole ordeal had been very embarrassing, even if it was just training. He hoped Florian would not require any such things of him, as they were not things he could say he looked forward to, or wanted to experience again.

"What do you think of him, Chloe? Does he look as though Malintus' words ring true?"

Aran himself knew some of them did and others didn't, but he couldn't help but wonder why Florian was asking his daughters opinion. He expected the man to ask the opinion of his wife, as often merchants would play such games to take time to find flaws in whatever deal they had been presented. He knew for the most part Malintus was indeed an honorable merchant, teaching him that deception was an easy way to lose customers, and that the better you treated a buyer, the better they'd treat you in later deals. Of course, his honesty only ran so far as it benefited him, a luxury of which Aran was prohibited.

"I. . . Believe that this man appears to look the part of a brilliant bodyguard. Obedient. . . He fits his armour well. . . I would say I trust in yours and Master Malintus's judgement for the time being father, until I would see him in action of course."

Aran held his gaze to hers, not dominantly so, but as to let her look for whatever she wanted to find. His chilling, deep blue eyes would betray none of the nervousness he felt within, though he found he could sense her potential as he looked back. Her grey-blue eyes shone, with what he could not say. Determination perhaps, or a willfulness all her own. Reading other people had never been his strong suit, something he had never needed most of the time. Most teachers were transparent, and the emotions of other Servants were all too similar to be much of a challenge. Whatever her thoughts, he could not easily read her, and recognized the feeling of her magical skill. She was very strong, from what he could feel, perhaps even stronger then the men who had taught him what magic he knew. Though he had been told he had great magical aptitude, he had not practiced it very often, and he knew the ability in him had waned to suit his needs. He did not expect to find one so strong in potential here, and he looked back at her thoughtfully, wondering if she even knew of the strength she possessed.

She continued to look into his eyes, and his nervousness grew, the ridiculous thought that she might be able to see through his guise fluttered across his mind. Even more ridiculous, wondering if she could see to his very soul. He focused on where her eyes turned from grey to blue, making out the individual lines of color that sparkled in the light, not daring to look away in the chance of drawing her displeasure.

"I don't believe you have given your name?"

Aran nodded slightly in respect before speaking, doing as he was trained to show inferiority to those who questioned him. "I have the pleasure of being called Aran Di'thang by those who have trained me." It had started as an insult, and turned into a name of respect, though he did not know if any present spoke the Aldmeri language and would understand it's meaning. Certainly none would know of his past, or even care. However, he had been trained carefully to answer such questions, and to show he would be fully under the control of whoever it was that was meant to hold his eternal bond. He spoke as though to all present, while Malintus nodded approvingly at him repeating his training to the letter. It could not be said he had ever failed at following orders. "If this name does not suit your desires, I will happily serve under whatever you deem fit to call me." He would like to keep his name, it had grown on him, and he could not even remember his birth name, but such things were not for him to decide.

With reassurances that Aran would be more then happy to wait downstairs, Malintus had followed Florian upstairs, eager to bartering for the manservant. Striking a good deal was always something that Malintus enjoyed, even more then a good drink and a hot meal. He listened carefully while Florian detailed his concerns, and felt a little bit of relief that they had left Aran downstairs. There were some things that were just rude to say in front of a Servant, and Aran was not a normal one at that.

"It is even more important when that daughter is your only heir. Now I've tried to convince her to stay but she's young and adventurous, the reason I want you to say to me that you have no doubt in your mind that Aran will protect her."

The plump merchant rubbed his beard thoughtfully, choosing his words carefully so as not to inadvertently alarm the man. "You know, I trained that boy when he was young, teaching him his sums, how to judge the prices of the market. He was young, but every compliment I gave him, you could see how hard he tried to hide his pride. He wasn't very good at it," he laughed a little, almost sadly, then continued. "The older he grew, the less he seemed to feel the world around him. About four years ago, from what I could tell - Aran lost any emotion he had left in him. I haven't seen him laugh or smile once since then. I'm not sure there's anything left in that man but his Duty. The second I give him the word, he'll follow your daughter through Oblivion itself and fight a thousand Dremora if it means keeping her safe. He'll do whatever it takes to protect your daughter Florian, and I don't think he'd bat an eyelash at anything he has to do to keep her alive. He may not be friendly, and she may not like his company all that much, but I'd bet my fortune you won't find a better man for the job in all of Tamriel."

Malintus left out the part about the binding of course, there were some things better left unsaid. If anyone ever called him out on his wager, he could just say that bound servants didn't count since they were already linked to someone else. Plus, if Aran wasn't meant for Florian himself, the man had no business knowing about the most private affairs of the House of Servants. With reassurances out of the way, Malintus and Florian got down to bargaining, and he rubbed his hands in excitement. He had intended to sell Aran for no less then ten thousand Septims, and was ecstatic when Florian opened up with the price. After much haggling, they reached the price of fifteen thousand, and Malintus was quite pleased with the outcome. Some thought Aran was worth more, and others not even half, but his equipment was valuable in the least, and the House of Servants was ready to have him sold before he got to old. Once past a certain age, it grew much harder to sell a Servant, and the oldest usually wound up purchased by one of the an'Kin that trained them. Malintus already had two such men waiting for him back at the Inn, and had no need for a third.

"So Malintus, do we have a deal?"

"Indeed we do Florian, indeed we do." Malintus shook the mans hand and then went about getting all the papers in order signing everything over, and making sure to list Chloe as the servants master. He would take these papers back to the House of Servants, and eventually they would be required to ensure Aran was being bonded to the proper individual. It all brought things to mind, and Malintus thought better then to leave Aran to explain things to Chloe all on his own. He'd already sold three servants on the trip to High Rock, and was well versed in explaining the intricacies of a Servant gently. "If I may, Master Florian, could I perhaps speak a moment with Chloe before my departure? After you announce your intentions, of course. I just simply wish to ensure she will know everything she needs to about giving orders to Aran. There is a popular wives tale in the Rihad, about a women who unthinkingly told her Servant she wished him dead. She was upset of course, an didn not mean it, but the man fell on his own blade to fufill her wishes. I am sure we would all sleep more soundly if such an accident could be prevented before it happened, yes?"

---

Aran was a bit uncomfortable that his new master had already left to go somewhere without him, leaving him with the mans daughter and wife, but he supposed he could not be around the man constantly anyway. Sitting, he was curious as to how often he would be needed, but Alicia's reassurances that he would be treated well were unnecessary, and he nodded respectfully to show he had no such worries. Even if they did not intend to feed him, he knew enough to forage his own food, and the poison he had drank as a child kept physical pain from bothering him very much anyway.

The women chittered, and Aran listened respectfully, nodding at the right moments and inclining his head submissively. He found it slightly surprising that Chloe would be traveling, as she certainly seemed much to lady like for any type of adventure. He thought it likely she might be leaving for a mages college somewhere, perhaps in Winterhold or the Imperial City. He could still feel the magical aptitude in her, almost seeming to resonate across the room, like a slight itch. He focused himself and it was gone, only for him to be reminded of how nervous he was. The other Servants he had seen did seem well cared for, though and he supposed he went get to know them soon enough. Perhaps he would meet this Mere-Sha and see if she could cook him anything he could not already make himself. Argonians sometimes made strange dishes, but Aran had not yet found a food he did not like.

"Yes, she's wonderful. But Aran here seems like he'd make a great addition to our household, doesn't he? So Aran, you have come a far? Malintus mentioned Rihad, is that where you hail from? I hope your trip was safe."

"It is kind that you ask, lady Alicia. I hail from the city of Chaseguard, though I have not been there for many years. Master Malintus and I traveled from Norvos, a town north of Rihad on the river Brena, where I received my training. We traveled with a caravan most of the way, so there was no threat or bandits or raiding parties. With the war, it is not safe to travel alone, but we found no attack, to our relief." He found himself wondering where Chloe would be traveling, and if her father might be going with her for a way. It was some little bit of adventure, and not what he had hoped for for many long years, but he might find some little excitement on the road with them, for a time at least.

Aran looked up, holding back the expectancy from his face. If Malintus had come back down, that meant that his sale had been finalized, and he was no longer under Malintus' control. Of course, that didn't really mean much, a Servant was still expected to obey an an'Kin unless it was not in their masters interest. Still, it was a strange feeling, knowing that he would not be leaving with Malintus. It was likely he'd see the teacher again when it was time for his bonding, but it could be a full year before that. As Florian and Chloe went off to another room, he listened absently as Malintus started making conversation with Alicia where he had left off.

Aran was surprised to find himself feeling. . . sad. Deeply sad. It was not simply just because his hopes of glory had been dashed, he had expected as much to be a possibility all along. But knowing he was truly signed over to Florian, meant that after the bonding, he would never return to see his foster mother, or the an'Kin who had taught him. Perhaps he might see Malintus again, but only if the merchant came to do business with Florian. Every person he had ever known was just taken from his reach, and he would live out his life idle on the estates of Florian, never to travel the world, find adventure, or gain any amount of fame for the House of Servants.

". . . I assure you lady Alicia, Norvos is quite beautiful, even with all the Servants about in training. The guest rooms in the palace there are quite remarkable, if I do say so myself. Perhaps sometime you and your husband could travel to my estate in Stros M'Kai, and I could show Norvos. Who knows, you might find a Servant there that would suit your liking."

Aran glanced to the side as Florian returned from talking with Chloe, and while Aran had been expecting his first order, he was surprised to hear Florian address Malintus.

"Malintus, you wished a talk with Chloe and Aran?"

"Ah yes, yes. Come along lad, we've things to discuss."

Aran looked at Malintus, straining not to appear questioning, but got up obediently, following Malintus into the other room after bowing politely to Alicia and Florian. Was it possible he had not been sold after all? Malintus was supposed to formally pronounce that he was Florian's servant from here on out, as soon as the transaction was complete. Entering the room, he bowed to Chloe as well, looking back to Malintus and trying to fathom just what exactly was going.

Malintus quietly pushed the door closed behind him, rubbing his hands eagerly, before he began speaking. "Now Lady Chloe, I assume your father has filled you in?" He didn't even wait for an answer before continuing on, the merchant completely business. "For as payment has been agreed upon and met in full, in recognition of documents completed, under sight of the Divines, and with master and slave present, I do hereby relinquish this Servant, called Aran Di'thang, to his master Chloe Labelle."

It took every last ounce of self restraint for his jaw not to hit the floor as his heart nearly lurched out of his chest, and he appropriately dropped to one knee and bowed his head as had been drilled into his head so many times as the action to take as the announcement was made. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but he managed to maintain his placement without wavering as Malintus carried one with his explanation, detailing what he would not have mentioned to her father.

"Aran is a Khalessev Wanre of Daelmah d'Waenrae, of an ancient sect of servants that date back to the First Era. His service is not to be taken lightly, Lady Chloe. He will do whatever you require of him, no matter the consequence to himself. If you should order him to kill another, he will do so. If you order him to kill himself, he shall fall on his blade without hesitation. If you order him to do the impossible, he will attempt it until the blood in his veins runs dry and life leaves his body. He shall never lie to you, he shall never harm you, and he shall never let you fall to harm while he still draws breath."

The merchant stopped for a moment, thinking better of something he was going to say, then looked at Chloe uncertainly. "However. . . the sale is not complete. He is the perfect servant, I assure you. That said. . . he cannot be whole just yet, and all I've said are simply words until you know them for yourself. In Norvos, at Daelmah d'Waenrae, there is a ceremony. If you accept his service, I would ask you travel there soon to complete it. After it, there will be no doubt as to his loyalty. It is the true reason a Khalessev Wanre is so expensive, lady Chloe, and your father's money would be wasted otherwise, though I am forbidden to mention such to anyone but a Master. It is a private ceremony, and one of Daelmah d'Waenrae's oldest secrets, as so I hope you shall keep our confidence and not mention it to anyone."

"If you accept his service, simply order him to rise, and tell him what to call you, and he will follow you into the grave should you require it." The speech was somber and grim, but the tone of his voice spoke it in volumes, daring her to question his word.

Aran still had his head bowed, waiting patiently despite the cramp growing in his leg. His heart was beating faster then he could remember, and the thoughts of what might come were swirling in his head. I was meant for her the entire time! She's leaving and her father was worried about her! Excitement nearly overflowed through his face of stone, and he could barely keep himself steady. She's leaving, and I don't care where she goes. A college, a business trip. It might not be an adventure, but it's enough. Oh, by the nine divines, it's enough! Aran looked up at her from his position as Malintus finished speaking, the sparkle of hope shining in his usually chilling blue eyes.

"Rise, Aran Di'thang. You. . .May call me Chloe. I will accept your service."

Aran rose slowly, inclining his head, but noting her hesitation. He was ecstatic, even happy, but felt as though she had been about to tell him something else to call her. 'My lady,' perhaps, or 'mistress.' He would mix it up a little bit, try and gauge her reactions and see what she preferred. He thought of the name the House of Servants had taught him, though he got the feeling she wouldn't appreciate being called the master of his soul. In that way, he supposed she wasn't truly anyway, not yet.

Another thing, Malintus seemed to have left out the part about the ritual actually requiring they be bonded. It was definitely something he was going to need to explain before they reached Norvos. There were a few stories amongst the an'Kin about Masters who had panicked and fled when presented with the ceremony, as though there was something wrong with it. From Aran's standpoint, it seemed perfectly reasonable. What better way to ensure someones safety then to know their location at all times, and be able to feel when they were hurt? The thoughts brought up bad memories, and he glanced over his shoulder as Malintus left, facing Chloe and waiting for her first commands.

She seemed to watching him, and Aran was wondering if she was sizing him up, perhaps judging his ability. A look into her eyes brought back that small itch of a powerful caster, and he averted his gaze subtly as though he had not looked at all. Outside he could hear Malintus bidding his farewells, and he was surprised the merchant did not linger longer. It had seemed to him that Florian and Malintus were friends in the least, though perhaps it was simply a business friendship. He had been taught the difference between those and real ones. He was surprised to find himself pleased when she began speaking, laughing at himself for being no more then an eager puppy. He was harder then that, and he'd need to watch himself. He was still a Servant, and emotion was a weakness.

"I'm going to be traveling, Aran. I told you that, didn't I? I don't know where I was planning to go. . . But I guess Hammerfell is our first destination. To get this ritual over and done with. Norvos was it? Well we'll figure out the best route later. Come on, you should meet Mere-Sha. Don't be afraid to talk to her, by all means. She's a lovely Argonian. You've met Argonians before?"

"I have, lady Chloe. An Argonian taught me of Black Marsh and it's workings, and another on their history." He was a bit unsure if she wanted to know any of that. It wasn't really important, and he was a little worried he'd overstepped his bounds, but as she didn't scold him, he supposed the little extra was okay. Following her through the house, looking fondly at the stables as they passed a view of them. He would not be separated from Strider, at least not yet, and he was overjoyed that he'd be back in the saddle soon. As they entered the kitchen, he looked over the Argonian, a little surprised that she spoke before being spoken to. Perhaps he Lady Alicia had meant more by 'good treatment,' then he had first thought. Mere-Sha seemed more like a nurse figure to him then just a cook.

As Chloe left the kitchen to finish packing her things, Aran almost protested to say he should carry her things, but kept his mouth closed. If his master wanted to carry her own things, it was her right, but he made a note to quietly drop the suggestion later. It was possible she did not know he intended to do any tasks that were unnecessary for her to complete herself, but she would no doubt find out very quickly. He watched the Argonian as she went about packing the food in a satchel he could fix with the one already on his saddle bag. From the amount of food she packed, he judged that it would be pointless to hunt for some time, especially if they stayed at inns most of the way. He would rise early one morning to prepare some of the meat before it could spoil, as to provide Chloe with food at the ready if she grew hungry while riding and did not want to stop. He wasn't entirely sure the two sacks of food would last anyway, but he said nothing, unsure of how much higher Mere-Sha stood above him as a servant. It was unwise to test bounds before you knew them, he had been taught, for others in service to a master. Her body language was subtle, as present in most Argonians, but he thought by the flick of her tail, she must be agitated by him, or untrusting. He could not be sure, but he had been drilled for days without rest on seeing the body language of Argonians and Khajit.

"Are you prepared for traveling Aran? You'll be going a long way I expect, more than this food will provide for you and Chloe. I take it you know how to hunt? Cook?"

"Indeed. I will ensure lady Chloe does not want for anything." It was a shot in the dark, but he was going to take it. "I sense you do not trust me, or at least this arrangement. You may trust that I will see her protected and provided for. My possessions are now the property of lady Chloe, and on the horse I brought there is a large quantity of rations, as well as bedrolls and tent supply, though I expect to stay at inns for lady Chloe's comfort. The food you have prepared will be more then enough to sate her appetite, I am sure."

The Argonian seemed pleased with his response, from what he could tell, and she left him the food before heading over to scrub the oven. He fitted the satchel of wrapped food on the clasp holding his cloak on the right side, and wrapped the cord around his sheath, so he would not need to hold on to the food until he could pack it safely on his horse.

"You look after my little Smoothskin. She's a good girl. She's a good Mage too."

"I swear to you on my life, I will see her safely home when she chooses to return. If I might ask, is there anything I should know concerning her preferences? Food she likes and dislikes, her preferred hour of waking, perhaps a favorite song or drink?"

Aran listened carefully, nearly wincing when she mentioned rabbit, but began tucking away the information for later. It was a servants duty to know everything his master wanted before their master wanted it. An impossible task, but it was better to get started now then find Chloe displeased with him later, something that had been ingrained in his very soul as something to avoid at all costs.

He stood at attention, hands behind his back as Chloe reentered the room and spoke with Mere-Sha, and he nearly raised an eyebrow at what looked to be a slight shift in her color. He couldn't make it out, but was positive there was something there. Whatever it was, he had no time to ponder over it as Chloe motioned him outside, and he eagerly followed. At the stables, he waited patiently while Chloe placed some packages into her saddlebags, preemptively unfastening the satchel of food to store on his own horse.

"You brought your own horse didn't you? The black one?"

Aran nodded, and spoke meekly, wondering how much her father had actually told her about those papers bearing her name. "Yes, lady Chloe. His name is Strider, although he belongs to you now, as do the rest of the possessions I arrived with. If it pleases you, I shall fetch him and we can depart, though I expect you will want to say goodbye to your mother and father first?"

He waited patiently, though internally he wanted to mount the horse in a leap and ride out of the estate, galloping forward with Chloe in the lead. Such things were not appropriate for a servant however, so he held his ground and waited for permission, hoping he had not overstepped himself again. It was hard, not knowing the mannerisms of your master, but he expected he would know enough to avoid her displeasure by the time they reached Norvos. I hope so at least. . . bloody rabbit feet. . . .