“Why am I in a dress?”

“What’s wrong, Zephie? You look good in it.”

“You don’t just give a guy a pile of clothes, tell him to change, and then not explain anything.”

For the first time in the conversation, Arai gives him her full attention. It might have been better if she hadn’t. There is a fire in her eyes like he had never seen before, and for possibly the first time he truly understands how she is able to thrive in this male dominated profession. “You might have been a prince back home, but I’m the one in charge here. It’s not the best idea to question your superiors.”

Zeph takes a step back. When he finds his voice, it is meek and wary. “I’m sorry, Arai. I meant no disrespect, and was only trying to understand the purpose behind me wearing clothes meant for a female.” Surprisingly, his words seem to visibly pacify her.

“Oh, well then, that’s because we’re starting disguise training today.”

“But why a dress?”

“I’m getting one for Sarah as a gift, and I can’t decide on which one?”

“Really?”

“No…” Arai suddenly can’t seem to look him in the eye.

“Then why?” She mumbles something, still unable to look at him out of what seems to be an uncharacteristic moment of extreme embarrassment. “What?”

She finally looks at him with a deep blush gracing her face. “I said, it suits you.” After saying that, she seems to slowly regain her composure. “Plus, most people let their guard down around women. If you can master convincing others that you’re only a harmless lady, you can decrease how much you’ll have to fight by almost half. Any more questions?”

“No, Lady Arai. I am ready to learn.”

“Good, then let’s get started with hair.”

****

Later that night, in a manor house many miles from the bandits’ hideout, a lonely voice can be heard crying. Many servants of the family hear, but they fear the master’s wrath too much to comfort the miserable soul. Even the kitchen’s gossiping staff has turned their attention to the noise.

“What was it this time?”

“Poor child, the master blames Adrian for messing up a meeting. Gave him a lashing for saying that the Baron was cheating him.”

“But from what I’ve heard, that’s true.”

“Master doesn’t want the truth, he wants to always be right.” With that, the conversation slowly turns to lighter topics. Before long, preparations for supper are done. Adrian is to be confined to his room, so the newest kitchen hand, Hannah, takes his modest meal up to the young master.

Hannah treks up the cold, damp stairs wishing fate had placed her almost anywhere but where her life is now. At least I won’t get lost this time she thinks sarcastically as she follows the sounds of misery echoing down the halls. After what feels like forever, Hannah finally arrives at her destination. She doesn’t know what to expect on the other side of the large oak doors. By this time the crying has died down, but that makes her more nervous. She hesitantly knocks on the door, and when a voice from inside gives her permission, she enters. The scene she finds is surprisingly normal, as if the cries of despair that the kitchen staff had been gossiping about had been a figment of everyone’s imagination. A boy with coal-black hair of fifteen or sixteen is calmly reading by the lit fireplace. He looks up only long enough to gesture to her to leave the food on the table beside him before returning to his book.

As she sets it down, he speaks softly but does not raise his head. “They all wonder how a boy of my age could still cry so openly, don’t they? It’s none of their business.”

“Sir?”

“You are dismissed.” The darkness of his voice makes Hannah wonder instead who would have the courage to stand against this boy. She hurries out as quickly as is respectfully possible. As she leaves, she hears him mumble something that sounds like “what can I do, he’s my father.”