Chapter 9
Azrael took his new master Glint for a tour of his new mansion at the next opportune moment. Despite him having been there for but a day, Azrael gave off the feeling of having lived in the place his entire life, showing off his knowledge of important elements such as the wood types that were used in different pieces of furniture in the study, as well as the exact number of candle holders in the grand chandelier, which was above the staircase in the first level of the house. That staircase started off straight and then branched off to the right and left where it met the wall, leading to the west and east wings of the second floor of the house. He explained to Glint, who was at the time busy with the surprise of being given a tour of his own house, that the design of the house (he refused to call it a mansion) was in fact one that was quite common in this area of the world, amongst village heads, town mayors, and such.
“Once one enters though the main entrance,” he announced in a deeply accentuated aristocratic voice, seeming to relish his new role, “one shall find oneself but a few short steps away from the main staircase, my lord,” he said to Glint, who resisted the urge to tell him that he could see that. “Choosing not to take those, one could proceed to the saloon to the right, the beginning of the east wing of the house, and-“
“Wait!” Glint interrupted him, causing Azrael to turn towards him, “What do wings have to do with it?”
Azrael winced at the interruption, and turned towards Glint, who was dressed in simple but quite fine clothing, the type that he had rarely had the opportunity to enjoy in the past. The man sighed. In his normal voice, he explained, “The sides of a house are called wings. This house faces north, so the right wing is called the east wing, and the left wing is called the west wing. Get it?”
Glint grinned. “Go on!” he encouraged.
That remark was ignored as Azrael excitedly returned to his grandiose butler voice with a vengeance, even trilling his r’s, “The left wing, young master, is for the entertainment of guests, including all manner of minor nobility. It encompasses the saloon, dining hall, and of course, the kitchens are in the back of this wing to ease movement for servants. The right, or east wing, however, houses your grand study, and is generally only entered by those living in the house, unless it is for a special meeting of sorts. It also contains the library and trophy rooms. Naturally, that isn’t fixed, and is actually void in our case,” he remarked with a curt laugh, “you own no books nor trophies. I am sure those rooms shall fill up nicely with time.”
At that point Glint could keep it in no longer, he hopped forward, pulled on Azrael’s sleeve, and stopped his continuing rant. When the man looked downwards at him, he swallowed, then decided that he had to say it. “You’re talking as if people would come here for a visit, Azrael.” His words were uttered nervously.
Azrael stood silent for a second or two, then chuckled and continued with his explanation of the mansion’s features. “This desk was made in the year nine thousand seven hundred and fifty-three of our...”
Over the next month, Azrael proceeded to drill Glint on everything that he could get away with, if Glint was any judge. It seemed as if there was no piece of knowledge that Azrael didn’t wish to cram into Glint’s head, drilled deep so it can never be forgotten again. Glint took the educational abuse with as much grace as was possible for him, which was admittedly not much grace at all: at every opportunity he could find, Glint would ask the big question, one he could not hold back, “Why are you teaching me this instead of teaching me how to fight, Azrael?” and each time, the butler would answer simply with, “You’ll find out soon enough, my young master.”
So the days passed, one by one, as Glint learnt more of the things expected of him as the master of the estate, which technically amounted to a question of, “Is a person of authority meant to do work?” Glint was simply called upon to enjoy his life and, “observe.” and, “manage.” the work that Azrael did, which would have created a huge hole in his life, one that he had never really known before then. “Boredom” wasn’t a monster that Glint was comfortable facing.
When asked about it, the butler said, “Not all people view nobility in the same way. For some, the life of a noble, or any aristocrat, is the same as the life of a self important drunk appointed by Odin himself. Others are as violent as a bandit, and some others exactly as crude. But consider this, young Glint. Where goes knowledge in this world? Who keeps it from disappearing?”
“That’s... umm...” Glint spluttered. How was he supposed to know? Then with a smile, he got it. “The guilds,” he said, satisfied with his answer, and started to step around the butler. A white gloved hand jerked him back.
“No, young master,” the man said with apparent calm , but Glint noticed one of his slender fingered hands shaking a bit as he put them in front of his chest in a peaceful gesture. “The guilds are busy with their training, missions, and power struggles. They have no time for wisdom, at least not for more than the keeping and teaching general history and energetical arts. They do not generally care for any more than that.
“Furthermore, the average person is likely in a hopeless state financially, and is too busy for knowledge. Do you yourself read?”
Glint responded that, indeed, he did not.
“See?” Azrael said, “You never had a chance to, until...” now Glint began to understand and started to panic. He hoped that he was wrong about what the man was hinting at.
“Ah, my lord, you get it. How smart of you,” Azrael joked, apparently hoping to lighten the mood.
The Final Life Page 3