POV Switch: A merchant's estate

Closing the door to the children’s bedroom behind him, Mercutio di Medici sighed. As much as he loved them, taking care of his children after a long day of managing his trade companies could get a little too much… Especially considering that he wasn’t done yet, even though it was already past sundown.

He dragged his steps as he walked over to his study, through the living room, and next to his own bedroom where his wife Esmeralda had already retired. Dipping a feather into an inkwell, he began to take care of today’s accounting. The business wasn’t going especially well as of late, lots of caravans and travellers in general were disappearing… Which made it harder to resupply and thereby drove up the price of goods. And it didn’t bode well that he still hadn’t received word from his most recent caravan, transporting 25 slavegirls…

Mercutio sighed again. Normally, it would be a wife’s duty to take care of the children, he thought angrily as he peered over his books. Not to mention the accounts! Amongst less successful merchants who couldn’t afford to employ an accountant, it was common practice that the wife took care of it. Or at least, she normally took care of *something*, be it managing the estate, general organizing, or whatever.

But not so Esmeralda. Ohhhh no. The fine lady couldn’t be bothered with that ‘commoners work’. When he married her, Mercutio had been well aware that it was a marriage of convenience. Not that he could back out of the arranged marriage either way. His family of aspiring merchants were much too keen on Esmeralda’s noble rank, and her impoverished family desperately needed money to keep up their standard of living. It had been a good plan, and it worked for the most part, even if it wasn’t as perfect as had been hoped.

The problem he had was with Esmeralda herself.

Finishing up his work, the merchant rose from the chair in front of his desk and blew out the candle. In their shared bedchamber, his wife lying in bed, reading some book in the candlelight. Mercutio frowned. Not only was she relaxing instead of doing her share of the work, but also wasting their (his!) money on books and candles…

He could have excused such behaviour and unnecessary spending if she at least was hot and pretty. When they got engaged, she was at least of average beauty and had a slim figure. But at the time of their marriage, she already began to fade. Being seven years older than him and of the quickly aging type, her already small breasts began to sag, her face showed bones and wrinkles and her body generally lost more and more of what little soft, nubile flesh it had.

Nevertheless, seeing her laying there in nothing but a negligee…

“Hey beautiful” he addressed her in a romantic voice, putting on his best smile.

“…hey…” answered Esmeralda without much interest, although she did put down her book.

Mercutio climbed on the bed, reaching out to touch her arm lightly.

“How is the book? Do you enjoy it?” he asked.

“Meh, it’s alright, I guess.” She said with a dismissive gesture.

Mercutio sighed internally. All that money and time she wasted, and she didn’t even particularly enjoy it. But he couldn’t let his frustration show, not now.

“Then… perhaps you’d enjoy something else more?” he suggested, letting his hand wander up her arm toward her shoulder. “A backrub, perhaps?”

Esmeralda frowned and turned her back to him, putting her book down on the nightstand.

“I am tired. And I have a headache.” She said simply.

Mercutio sighed. Always the same with her. Not a problem, they both had fulfilled their duties and sired an heir, so there was no real reason why they should still mingle. Except, she had mentioned multiple times that he had to ‘keep his hands off the maids’ and she would generally not tolerate infidelity.

Of course, he had thought many times to do it behind her back. Not an affair even, just go to a brothel or something. But unfortunately, her family was the one with rank. If he was ever caught in a compromising situation, they would use that to **** him and his family out of the business, taking it all. Sometimes he thought this may have been all along…

The merchant got up, took a candle, and opened the door to the balcony.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Esmeralda asked, surprised.

“I have a headache as well. Maybe some fresh air will help” he answered.

And with that, he was outside and closed the door.

The night was clear, and Mercutio could see the stars dotting the sky. A nice breeze was blowing and he tried his best to pry his thoughts off that damn wife he was cursed with. Naturally, the first thing that came to his mind, were the vanishing travellers and caravans as of late…

They just disappeared. Nobody was even sure where they disappeared, the incidents were spread out over an enormous area. And never there was any trace of them left! No traces of fights, the cargo, the carts and animals, or even corpses! Sometimes, a caravan headed straight to the next village left and never arrived, but even the traces on the streets just… stopped at one point.

Never before had anything like this occurred.

And yet, he swore that there was some kind of pattern. He couldn’t proof it, not even to himself, but it seemed to involve children, and women. No travellers with a child had ever been attacked. And almost every traveling party that vanished had at least one female with them. But then again, there were many groups without children with them had arrived safely, and some groups without women had disappeared as well…

Still, even if it was just the fact that there was never any trace left, there just had to be more to it. Why else would there not even be a corpse or other remains left? Something powerful had to be the cause of this. Something intelligent.

He just had to know. And, seeing his overall bleak situation, he did something risky.

He had a caravan with no children and only very light guards crisscross the area where presumably travellers vanished. The only cargo were 25 slavegirls, and a letter, secured in the middle of one wagon, beyond the reach of the chained-up girls. It contained his address as well as a description of how to find him and an invitation to become his ally, written in all known languages. If he could this mysterious power his ally, that might just be the solution to all his problems…

Mercutio was lost in his thoughts, gazing up at the starry sky. He could hear his wife snoring through the closed door. What if the caravan returned without incidents? Or worse, what if it never arrived, but nothing else happened? Would he risk another one? Or should he give up on his theories?

The candle had burned down by now. The darkness of the city below was contrasted only by the dim starlight above. Everyone, even the drunkards and ladies of the night in their brothels were asleep. Nothing moved in the night.

Nothing moved, but something formed in the darkness.

“I have received your invitation, Mercutio di Medici.”

The merchant jumped and almost fell over the railing of the balcony at the unknown voice that came seemingly out of nowhere. Scanning his surroundings, he looked for the person that had addressed him.

“Where… where are you? Show yourself!” Mercutio demanded.

“I am right here.” the voice answered. “Do not light a candle, for it would not help you see me. Indeed, it would make me vanish, for this form is but a shadow. It cannot persist in bright light.”

The merchant was desperately looking about. Squinting his eyes, he finally made out something. It had a vaguely humanoid shape, although it was shifting, morphing and reforming all the time. It didn’t look like it had any mass to it, just a spectre of pure blackness, ever so slightly contrasted against the darkness of the night.

“…are you the one that makes caravans disappear?” he asked finally. The apparition had spoken of an invitation, maybe it was talking about his letter?

“I am. And I found the ‘gift’ that accompanied your letter quite…palatable…” The shadow said and Mercutio winced. “Before you ask, I will not be returning them. What the night has claimed is gone forever.

“Oh nonono, I would never ask that of you…” the man answered, stumbling over his words.

An uncomfortable silence spread between the two. Finally, Mercutio spoke.

“Is that what you are? A shadow that makes things disappear?” he asked.

The shadow appeared to ponder this sentiment for a moment.

“One could certainly think of me that way. I live amongst the shadows, and what I claim vanishes into the shadows, never to appear again. Though I should tell you, this-“ the spectre formed an illusory appendage that roughly resembled an arm and gestured broadly “-is not my true form. I merely appropriated it so that I may commune with you.”

“Commune… with me?” Mercutio asked, still struggling to comprehend all this.

“Did you not ask to meet me, so that we form an alliance? The shadow inquired.

“Yes- Yes I did, but…” he stuttered.

“I will not hear any objections. The time to turn back has long since passed.” The shadow appeared to come closer, cornering him. “But worry not. This relationship of ours shall be a very beneficial one for you as well…”

“For as long as you serve me, I will guarantee your safety and that of all of your interests, not only from myself. If you do well, I might even agree to certain… favours… although, you will have to send out decoy caravans once in a while, lest your rivals grow suspicious. Do you understand?”

“…yes. Yes, yes!” Mercutio exclaimed. The unspoken threat of what would happen if he no longer served this being was of lesser concern for now.

“Very well. Then lastly, I have a parting gift for you.” The shadow said, revealing a vial containing a thick, slightly glowing fluid. “It appears, your wife is rather… unpleasant company, in both mind and body. This will remedy that.”

Gingerly, the merchant accepted the vial. Would he dare try it out on Esmeralda? What if it was poison? Or worse, what if it turned her into some kind of abomination?

And yet, somehow he knew that if this creature had wanted any of that, it would have done so long ago.

Only as the shadow already began to fade, Mercutio remembered something. “Wait! How… How do I contact you?”

“Don’t try to contact me. I will contact you.”