Find somewhere to settle down

A diamond and a maiden’s hair Tristan thought as he rode Bucephalus back to the village. Neither would be easy to find. Mary did not give him a deadline but if the Succubus knew where he was and could hurt him, he wanted to complete the task soon.

He returned to the village with the wanted poster for the Succubus and tore it off so that no one else would find themselves in the same predicament as himself. The remaining posters were for positions such as cook, stable-hand, and chamberlain. He had avoided seeking domestic work before, but now he was more ****. If he was lucky, his employer would have a diamond he could disappear with in the middle of the night. If he was very lucky, a virginal daughter.

The employer for all these jobs was one Edmond Warwick. Tristan recalled hearing the name while working for Sir Reginald, but had never met the man. The Warwick estates were a few hours north of the village, away from Sir Reginald’s home and the Succubus’s tower. He hopped back on Bucephalus and rode off. His stomach groaned; it had been a day since he had eaten.

The Warwick estates were gated but unmanned. A large stone house stood in the centre of hundreds of acres of farm-fields, where serfs tended to the land their parents did and where their children would be doomed to do the same. Tristan made it to the front door without encountering anyone and knocked. No answer. He knocked again.

A thin man with salt and pepper hair opened the door. He stared at Tristan, sizing him up.

“Hello,” said Tristan, introducing himself. “My name is Jack Shareburg. I am seeking employment with Sir Mr Warwick.”

“As what?” said the man. Tristan didn’t know if this was the master himself, or an employee.

“A secretary, preferable. I can read, write, do arithmetic, and can be an exceptional servant.”

“I don’t need a secretary,” said the man, revealing himself to be Warwick. “Though you do look like you could be a decent stable-hand.” Warwick eyed Bucephalus behind him.

Fuck, thought Tristan. His stomach roared. He needed employment.

“I would be honoured to work for you as a stable-hand,” said Tristan.

“Excellent, when can you start?”

“Immediately.”

Tristan brought Bucephalus to the stable and began cleaning up after Warwick’s other horses. There were four in total, less than what Sir Reginald had thus less worked for him. He still hated every second of labour.

He finished cleaning the stables and returned to the main building, eager for a meal. Warwick’s other servants were eating dinner in the basement, and Tristan was directed there. None of his new coworkers exchanged any pleasantries with him and Tristan was fine with that. He might be robbing the estate in the next few days and had no desire to start cultivating relationships.

There was a knock on the basement door. A young woman entered, wearing a plain beige dress and with knotted auburn hair.

“Greetings Miss Margaret,” said one of the servants.

“I heard there was a new servant here,” replied the woman.

“That would be me,” said Tristan.

“A pleasure to meet you, I am Margaret, Edmond’s daughter.” Warwick’s daughter.

“Thank you miss,” said Tristan.

“I saw your horse,” said Margaret. The nobleman’s daughter looked starry-eyed as she said the word ‘horse.’ He looked so big and strong.

“Thank you, miss.”

Margaret smiled innocently. She asked the other servants some questions before leaving.

“That girl is a beauty,” said one of the servants to Tristan. “Though, if you lay a hand on her, Warwick will have your balls chopped off.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” replied Tristan. Margaret could have been no older than 20. He smiled. Hopefully, he could use her to pay off half of his debt to the Succubus.