"Never take ye for th' type who enjoys nature, Master." The frosty wind bit Albert's cheeks, turning them rosy.

"Yes, I just love it."

Luc's sarcasm was lost to Albert's ears. "I'm nae complaining. This is truly th' best. Th' birds are singing. Folks are traveling... Soon, th' dreadful winter will be behind us. I cannae mind th' last time we did this. Just doin' things without pressure. We should do it more. Set th' day right." He slapped Luc's shoulder hard before scratching his beard. "I wonder what the lassie is doing."

"What can she do besides mope around?" Luc whipped his head to Albert and bit each word. "She is inconvenient. This cursed season...Bloody wet everywhere." He mumbled while shaking his foot to get some mud off.

"Someone is not in a good mood," Albert mumbled.

"I'm in an alright mood," Luc scoffed and swiped the rainwater off his sleeve. "Calm. Composed. All things considered. It was just a long morning. After a long night."

"I can only imagine, Master. But ye handled it well. I'm serious. I wouldn't be able to tak' care o' all that any better. Always ken ye have that in ye..."

Luc nodded before squinting his eyes. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ye care, even when ye say that ye dn't, 'n' that's a good thing."

"Hm, I disagree but please elaborate."

"Well, it's always good to be honest wi' oneself. It steals away th' pressure to lie and pretend...I ken it's a bawherr rich comin' from either of us, but we really dinnae need more pressure in our lives. We have enough as is. 'n' what's so wrong about caring? Ye act lik' howfur God intended."

"I disagree with you on that sentiment, my dear Albert. No one really knows what His intentions were. Or are... And for something to become pressure, to me, it needs certain qualities." Luc made a gesture in the air. "Importance. Urgency. Something at stake. 'Pretense' to me is just a part of life. A big one, if you notice, and caring simply isn't."

Luc padded Albert's shoulder before walking ahead of him.

"If ye say so," Albert rolled his eyes and caught up with his employer. "All I'm saying is if ye open yer heart 'n' have a bawherr bit o' faith-"

"Heart and faith do little for me."

"-you will see howfur muckle more fulfilling life can be." Albert stopped and rubbed his stomach. "On that note, can we get some food? Real food, I mean. My tummy has been killing me since th' mornin'. Och, I should've kent better than to drink on an empty tummy. Lucy will murder me if she knows...You're nae hungry, Master?"

Luc shook his head.

"But ye didnae have breakfast, 'n' it's half past two!" Albert opened his eyes widely. "Did you eat last night after I left?"

"I did..." Luc rubbed his chin.

"Unbelievable!" Albert threw his hands in the air. "Howfur can ye can function lik' that? Ye need to tak' better care o' yersel', Master, or fin' someone who does."

"We talked about this before. I have you..."

"Nae me! I mean, a proper lassie. Howfur bad can that be? Or an improper one, if that's what ye fancy. Ye wilnae be young forever."

"Hah, I might surprise you, Albert," Luc laughed.

Albert scoffed and pinched a leaf without making any more comments. This morning, he had arrived at seven thirty on the dot as usual. His master had stopped frequenting Bessie's establishment for some time now, so that saved Albert the trip from the suburbs to the inner city at the crack of dawn. However, that didn't mean he could sleep in.

Albert wasn't the lazy type. He preferred to take care of Master Luc's precious purebreds himself. The new stable boys didn't know half a thing about these wildly expensive and majestic animals. Besides, the laborious work gave him some needed peace and clarity before the daily grind began.

Albert loved the dirt, the stench, the soreness in his muscles. He was born into all this. Something was so pure about connecting with an animal, looking deep into its gentle eyes, listening to its fluttering exhales, and feeling the strong pulses under its hide. Maybe it was Albert's true calling on this earth. No kicking doors and smashing skulls because some bastards deserved it or because Master Luc ordered him to.

But no matter how much he loved the time at the stable, eventually, Albert would remember what was more important. People who relied on him in the city.

He would prepare the coach, take a bath, groom, and put on his work attire. By the time he arrived at Circus Row, the shops would open for him to pick up things for Master Luc's house and Lucy.

Lucy. His fiery Caelthyrian lass.

The thought of her at any moment of the day was enough to put Albert on cloud nine. She had taken full control of his heart and balls in the mere months they were acquainted. Twenty-five years of age and still unbetrothed, Lucy was a rare wild spirit that brought her parents nothing but headaches. To Albert, however, she was a gift from Heaven. A lass like Lucy shouldn't spare him a second look, but she did, and here they were, tangled in a sweaty, breathless cocoon every morning before her household woke up.

Her da might murder Albert one day, but he fully intended to ask the old man for his daughter's hand. Albert just didn't know when or how, but he knew soon. As soon as he felt that his sins were absolved. Lucy deserved only the best.

Everything seemed brighter and more promising. Everyone seemed a little lovelier and shared his joy, including Master Luc. Up to this morning.

As Albert parked and aligned the coach with the pavement in front of the house, he saw Master Luc through the storefront window on the ground floor. Albert thought his eyes played tricks on him at first, but they didn't. His master wore a dreadful expression and occasionally sighed like a pubertal, melodramatic soul. His eyes were vacated, and his hair looked like a soaked stork nest.

Master Luc had never sat by that window or any window with the curtains drawn. He hated people's nosiness. Granted that it was still early, and hardly a soul was out on the street, but Master Luc had been very particular about this. When Albert called his employer a few times and received no responses, he had assumed the worst. He had rushed upstairs to the first room on the left corridor and almost kicked the door down. As he stood there out of breath and a little out of his mind, the room's owner was asleep. Not very soundly, but she was curling up all cozy under the blankets in the middle of the bed.

The sight itself was extraordinary because all Albert had ever seen was her hiding under the bed. The girl's breathing slowly calmed his heart, but Albert couldn't be completely at ease. He tiptoed as close as possible to the bed and took a good look.

Her face and hands were clean with a healthy tone. Her sleeping gown was pristine. No stain or odor. Her beautiful red hair splayed on the pillow like the sun filtering through the church's stained-glass window. If Albert didn't know better-he didn't-he would say the girl looked well taken care of.

Albert let out a shaky exhale and put the small paper bag he had mindlessly crumpled up on the nightstand. The plum duff is broken beyond recognition, but it should still be good enough to consume. Albert hoped. She had seemed so happy the last time he brought these.

Soft rustles followed by a yawn as the girl stirred awake. She blinked a few times at the sight of Albert.

"Oh, good morning." He took a few steps back and greeted her with a wide smile.

She didn't smile back as usual but pushed herself up in a rigid manner and cleared her throat. Her cheeks were rosy. Once again, concerns flooded Albert's chest.

"Alright, lassie, take it easy...What happened to you?"

He reached out with his hand before pulling it back when he saw her body stiffened up. The girl looked as if she was about to cry.

Poor lass. What happened?

Albert felt the weight in his chest every time he saw her. The girl revoked something deep in his hardened soul that Albert didn't know existed. She was a clipped-wing sparrow, who deserved warmth and tenderness, but was crushed under the cruel hooves of society instead. She should've been with her family, yet here she was.

A prisoner of no crime.

Albert hated the system that the so-called civilized people around him had put in place and endorsed with a passion. The demand for free labor despite all costs-even one's eternal soul-seeped into every fragment of life, corrupting everything. Albert had lost count of how many wars were started for this sole purpose: Exploitation to serve someone's bottomless greed and desire for power. He sometimes wondered if an uneducated criminal like himself could see the wrong, why couldn't the people in high places-the king, the lords, the plantation and factory owners, even many scholars-see it too?

Again, greed. With a hefty spoon of arrogance.

Albert scanned from the top of the girl's head to where she rested her hands. He wasn't a doctor and knew that without a thorough examination, there wasn't much to see at all.

Of course, Master Luc wouldn't hurt her, right?

His employer had been merciful, generous, and patient, but Albert had followed the man too long to be optimistic. Master Luc had a dark side. One could say that he was possessed. That darkness had been somewhat controlled in the past few years, but before that, Albert could remember.

At random times, his master would change. As if something took over and erased his logic, he would not listen to any advice or plead. He would not talk or conduct business. He would not focus on a single thing until his thirst was quenched. It was a senseless and dangerous thirst. One that threatened his very existence.

Master Luc would disappear for days on end and come back looking like a creature from Albert's worst nightmare. Albert remembered like yesterday the last time he followed his employer deep into the woodland of Hilrane, hundreds of miles from Bayport, three years ago. Master Luc's last hunt.

Albert would never forget the sight. Master Luc was elbow-deep in some poor man's guts, kneading and pulling his innards out while mumbling like a lost child in a language he couldn't understand. Master Luc spoke many languages fluently, but that particular one haunted Albert.

To this day, he still sometimes woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat when the scene found its way into the mix of his battlefield dreams.

Master Luc had killed many. That was the bitter truth. Albert didn't want to compare his master's record to the number of souls he himself had taken fighting for the empire or through the years "working", but it came pretty damn close. Rich men searched for entertainment from every depraved nook and corner, at any cost, but Albert didn't think it was entertainment for Master Luc. He didn't want to.

Master Luc had a softer, kinder, more vulnerable side-one the man would fervently deny every chance he got, but Albert had witnessed it more often than not. Sure, his employer was cruel to their opponents, but he was even crueler to himself. A man like that wouldn't take lives when it served no purpose. It must have been an illness or a curse, one Master Luc couldn't control. Of course, none of that would excuse his actions, but only the Lord could judge.

Their line of work was brutal, dirty, and not at all for the faint of heart. If it could corrupt the purest souls, what chance did Master Luc have? What chance did Albert have?

The girl cleared her throat and shifted, bringing Albert's attention back to her. He noticed a piece of unfamiliar gingham fabric peeking from under the blanket.

"What is that?" He asked.

"Charcoal-filled pouch. Supposedly good for internal pain. The neighbor's housekeeper lent me that."

The voice startled Albert. He turned around to see his master lean against the doorframe, peeling some paint off it. His eyes moved to the girl occasionally, who was mimicking his action on her blanket. Master Luc shook his head and left for the hallway.

"Wait, Master!" Albert chased after him. "What happened?"

"As you can see," Luc cleared his throat. "She has some.... feminine troubles. I took care of it as best as I could. The neighbor's housekeeper-"

"Aye, Mrs. Kervene. Wifie wi' a mole on her left cheek. Ye told me."

"-helped me with some essentials. Doctor Harold came and left just before you arrived. Old man gave me a long lecture as usual...He prescribed some pain relief. I left it on her nightstand. You can help her with that later. She didn't eat anything, though."

"I git her plum 'duff'...Did th' Griffiths keep ye there for long?"

"They left for their countryside manor a few days ago," Luc sighed. "With their daughters, fortunately. So, no marriage proposal disguised as lunch, tea, or dinner invitations this time. I wouldn't knock on the front door anyway. I learned my lesson. Wouldn't want to waste any time... I went through the back. The gate was locked, so I climbed the fence."

"Ye...climbed th' fence?"

"Yes, scared the housekeeper halfway to her grave, but the maids seemed thrilled."

"O' course, they were... Everyone would be thrilled to see Master Luc on their fence foremaist thing in th' mornin'." Albert eyed his employer from head to toe.

"I wouldn't say everyone." Luc glanced in the direction of the room.

"Right... 'n' then howfur did ye fetch Doctor Harold? "

"I walked to his house," Luc shrugged.

"Ye walked. Across town in this weather. Alright, that's how ye'r wet... You're drookit, Master!" Albert gasped at the state of Luc. "Good Lord! Yer slippers are drookit, too! Did ye walk th' street in them? Ye will ruin them! Ye should go tak' a bath 'n' change before ye catch a cold!"

"That I should..." Luc wiped his hands on his dampened smoking robe.

***

The first day they met was a wet and windy day just like today. Albert still found it hard to connect the young man who walked by his side right now with the Master Luc everyone in the city either worshipped or feared.

That man existed in stories and rumors, but he was very real. Master Luc dressed in the fanciest attire to visit the cheapest pubs and brothels. Master Luc, who could recite thousands of poems and converse in the most exotic, beautiful languages but preferred to exchange vulgar jokes over a tankard of ale. His feet had visited the King's chamber many times, and his silver tongue had ruined many powerful people's lives. His hands were drenched in the blood of his enemies and many random souls, literally and figuratively, but he donated and built more schools, bridges, hospitals, and orphanages than the king. He opposed wars and forced labor. He erased debts and raised wages whenever he felt like it.

Master Luc, who had never prayed or visited churches and believed charity was a sham. All versions were true.

He had not changed much, if at all in the decade they had acquainted. Meanwhile, it felt like a lifetime for Albert. He wasn't the same fool who got discarded on the harbor with thousands of other nameless, faceless fools after the war.

Bayport was famous for its harbor and unsavory characters. Many people passed through the city gate, hoping for a change of scenery or luck. Albert was not sure what category he fell into. Maybe a bit of both.

Freshly back from some faraway massacre in the name of the empire with nothing to his name but a wounded body and a broken mind, finding a job had been a real challenge. Somewhere down that line, Albert had been swindled out of the little pension he got. Then he drank the rest. When he was about to be thrown out of the last pub, he met Master Luc.

At the time, Master Luc had been searching for a crew to transport his goods and announced that he would pay double the market price for a short trip. It was an unbelievable deal, but everyone with half a cent worth of brain would stay away from it.

Barviel and Co., the weapon company that belonged to the mayor's in-laws, had been the victim of an outrageous heist just in the previous month. The gun order for the 4th and 5th Regiment had disappeared, resulting in the mayor not only being chewed out by the governor but also ridiculed by General Talsworth, his political foe. Weeks passed with no leads on who had done it, the mayor became the butt of a joke for every private club, lounge, tea house, and pub in the city. Sensitive time was an understatement. The police department raided every gun shop and terrorized every dealer they could find, but the biggest of them all was Master Luc. He was untouched.

Master Luc was busy at the time hosting Lord Harrington on His Excellency's cross-country campaign. How could a distinguished citizen and a pillar of the community such as him commit a dishonorable and unpatriotic deed?

Now, none of that was Albert's problem. His only concern would be not to starve. No one gave him grace anymore, so he decided to take the job. Two other unfortunate fools joined him on the mission, and the rest was history...

"What does 'I don't hate you' mean? What does that even mean?" Luc's question broke Albert's stream of memory.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

Luc sighed and held on to his hat as a new gush of wind blew at them. "She mumbled it last night."

"Could've been a dream."

"She wasn't sleeping."

"Alright...Master." Albert stopped and put his large hands on Luc's shoulders. "It means that she dinnae hate ye. She doesn't. She's just scared."

"Of what? She is safe. I've never said or done anything that would give her a reason to be scared."

"Really?" Albert chuckled. "Please dinnae tak' any o' this personally, but ye can be...intimidating, Master. Ye'r who ye'r, 'n' she is... Well, young. She was ripped from her home, beaten 'n' God ken what. Now, she is a slave. Yers. Ye do ken what that means, right?"

"She is not my slave."

"Officially, on paper 'n' in everybody's eyes, she is. 'n' she kens it. She either submits to her master, who happens to be ye, or is punished. Maybe worse. That's what she believes. What do ye think she would feel or act toward ye?" Albert shook his head. "Now, listen, Master, I've been workin' for ye for a long time. I want ye to be happy. I do. If ye lik' her-"

"I don't. Not the way you imply."

"Please, be patient wi' her. That's all I'm saying. Try to put yersel' in her shoe. Give her a bawherr space. If nae, ye can put her to work. As a maid. Th' house is getting out o' hand anyway. Or something at one of the factories... Ye can also sell her. Git yer money back."

Albert watched his master's expression change subtly with every word he said while remembering each time the man's actions had betrayed him in the past months.

"I'll put some thought into it..." Luc chewed the inside of his mouth. "It's getting rather late now. Let's head to the Town Hall."