Chapter 32

After his talk with young lady Juno, Flitz went to elder Boe’s mansion to get further directions.

The sturdy gray-haired old man in the sumptuous armchair said with a sigh:

«Martin is dead. Choked to death on a bun.»

Flitz trembled inside when he heard the news. He would have fallen on the carpet but, fortunately, there was a chair nearby. Hunched, clasping his head in his hands, he groaned in despair:

«On a bun? What fucking bun are you talking about? Gods can be funny but it’s too much, damn it!»

Elder Boe grimaced.

«Mind your language! I won’t tolerate profanity. I’m not the patriarch.»

Flitz closed his eyes, trying to pull himself together. Who knew that his former student, and now a sympathetic ear for ghost stories, would drop dead because of a bun? It’s not even funny.

Boe gave the formacist a moment to come to his senses and cut right to the chase.

«After Martin’s death, two hundred formations in our family have dissipated. They can’t be identified without a token, which greatly complicates their and our lives. Oh, by the way… Three hundred slaves have also lost their formations. The beasts mistake them for strangers and attack at the first opportunity. We have already lost a few dozen slaves, and the rest refuse to work because they are afraid of being eaten. I can understand them, though… Anyway, the Stones need you. As of tomorrow, take up the formations. It’s urgent.»

Flitz snickered:

«Why the fu… the hell do we need so many beasts around if they eat our people?»

Boe rubbed his throbbing temples:

«They are not wild, they are shackled… But that’s not the point. When the beasts recognize the family formation, they get docile as pet kittens. Who knew the moron would die from a crumb?!» – The elder spat angrily. The timing for all this farce couldn’t be more wrong. However, he apologized when he noticed Flitz’s darkened face:

«I am sorry… I know he was your student. Last week was very difficult for all of us. I’m the only elder in the whole estate at the moment.»

«It’s alright.» – Flitz answered coldly. – «I’ll get to work tomorrow.»

«…»

When a formacist dies, the formations they applied smolder like embers and lose their functions. The beasts roaming the estate were not tamed. They were under a subjugating formation called “harness.” Anyone in the Stone family could control the beasts. The harnessed animals protected the family and followed their orders. The beasts didn’t obey the slaves, but the formation ensured their safety.

Elder Boe rubbed his temples again. All these problems were giving him a splitting headache. Flitz was not young. Boe didn’t even want to think about the chaos that would begin in the estate after his death.

After talking to the elder, Flitz went to his office. He had to prepare everything for tomorrow’s working day. The office was on the second floor, not far from the place where the newly arrived slaves were brought in.

He got distracted by a noise: someone was cursing loudly outside.

With a grim look on his face, Flitz threw a stack of documents into the drawer and went to the window. His office was opposite the shed where the new slaves usually arrived. Today a new batch was expected.

He saw a familiar scene: the warden was yelling at some poor slave in the spacious courtyard. Year after year, it was always the same. Flitz was about to get back to his things when he noticed an almost imperceptible gesture a boy slave had made. A bar of soap flew out of his hands, bounced off the wall and fell right under the warden’s feet. Mission complete – the warden plopped to the ground and smashed his face.

Flitz snickered to himself: {Not bad, not bad at all…}

The next moment, the window that served him as a screen to watch the show shattered. The furious warden had quickly found the reason for his debacle and threw the soap right in the window!

«Fucking shit!» – Flitz cursed gloomily. He fished the ill-fated hygiene product from under the table and threw it back with tripled strength. The warden had it coming!

{Serves you right!} – Flitz snorted vengefully. He looked pleased with himself when Hein fiercely rubbed his bruised eye. The next moment, the warden rushed like a buffalo at the “marksman.” He had to take it out on someone, after all. – {Sorry, kid, but it’s not my problem.} – Flitz thought to himself and was about to turn away from the window as he noticed the deliverer rapidly approach the crowd. The next moment, Hein got a smack upside the head. Not his lucky day. – {Hmm, is Ren trying to help the boy out? Curiouser and curiouser!}

Flitz’s mood slightly improved. The funny boy distracted him, even if only for a short time, from his thoughts about his student’s death. He arranged his things, checked the condition of the tools, shook his head disapprovingly at the tiny spider who had settled in the corner between the shelves and the ceiling. He was ready to go about his business. However, his plans were thwarted in the bud. Flitz could hear loud clattering outside and then the door creaked and opened.

Ren burst in with a group of slaves. The formacist laid his eyes on the disheveled head of the cheeky fellow in the rear of the crowd. The boy had made an enemy of the warden on his very first day of arrival.

…

Kyon was the last to come in. He cast a quick look around the room. It was rather spacious, furnished old style (by the standards of this world). There was a bulky oak table and a huge wardrobe of the same wood; shelves loaded with all kinds of staff and a frame with a black and white photo of a thin, gray-haired woman. {Hmm did they invent the camera or its analog?} Behind the table, there was a half wall window — or rather, a broken half wall window – covered shyly with heavy and probably very dusty curtains.

The old man was sitting at the table with his fingertips closed in front of him. He was tall and thin. The years had whitened his hair and a long beard. Despite his gray old age, the expression on his face didn’t give the impression of a nice person. Quite the opposite, it revealed his nasty character and rude manners.

Ren recognized Flitz and hurried to bow, making a sign to the slaves to do the same. When he raised his head, his voice sounded nervous and respectful:

«Mr. Flitz, I have delivered a new batch of slaves. My apologies for the delay, but it’s still your office hours. That’s why I thought…»

Flitz interrupted him with a gesture and said, stroking his gray beard:

«Ren, did you know that we just lost Martin?»

«I didn’t, sir. I’m so sorry… I’m sorry for your loss…»

Flitz took his pipe out of the drawer and looked for a match. After the second strike, the office filled with smoke. He inhaled with satisfaction and continued:

«Your batch of slaves is the five hundredth in line, so you can roll home like a hedgehog.»

«Yes, sir.» – Ren bowed slightly and hurried towards the exit, when all of a sudden, the brooding old man stopped him:

«Why did you defend the boy?»

Ren looked down uncomfortably.

«I just slapped my colleague for being unprofessional, sir…»

«Are you trying to fool me, brat?» – Fllitz snorted, his eyes squinted menacingly.

The deliverer hastily bowed his head:

«I am sorry. I did defend the boy for a good reason… I am sorry I lied…»

«Spit it out. You bore me stiff.» – Flitz said lazily, relishing the good tobacco. Now he looked arrogant like a king.

Ren swallowed and answered hesitantly:

«The boy… He is capable of more than you know. We kind of made friends on the way from the mine. Besides, he proved himself diligent and hardworking. So, I decided to defend a nice fellow.»

Flitz puffed out a couple of smoke rings with a regal pensive look and shook the ashes out of the pipe. He appraised the boy from head to toe. A good-looking, sporty type. He was alright. The boy looked strong enough to endure life’s challenges. Flitz took a decision.

«You are free to go. The boy stays here.»

Ren bowed, threw a meaningful glance at Kyon and took the group with him.

Flitz beckoned the boy to come up to him and took a closer look at the formation on his forehead:

«Have you done any martial arts, Kyon?»

Kyon had little understanding of what was going on, but he could feel the high-ranking prig’s dangerous aura. Formacists were people of status. The old man was clearly one of those, his manners said a lot.

«I have a little experience. Let me show you some moves…»

«It’s a mug’s game.» – Flitz chuckled. – «Take off your shirt.»

Kyon obediently stripped to the waist.

Flitz took a look at his body and nodded, visibly pleased. The boy had sculpted, medium size pecs, minimal body fat, confident posture, straight strong back. He would endure a hundred or even a thousand blows from the young lady. He was the right one. Flitz felt a bit sorry for such a nice specimen, but Juno’s wish was his command. Anyway, he had promised Juno’s grandfather to take care of her. Flitz wished his hands were not full in the mine… He wished he had more time for the young lady. Damned formations.

And yet, the boy was good! Even too good. He looked so handsome, so sweet, and a bit shaggy. It’s a sin such slaves existed at all. They were usually thin, haggard, joyless zombies but this one… Too bad he wouldn’t stay alive long at the job Flitz had for him.

«Not bad, not bad at all.» – Flitz said once again with a dreamy sigh. He would gladly have the boy’s looks. He wished there was a kind of magic to transfer souls to another body.

«Thank you for the compliment, sir.» – Kyon smiled slightly and added with hope: «Can I be your student?»

«Ha-ha-he! I have the 2nd rank in the family, boy. Why would you deserve this honor? A pile of muscles and good looks, it’s no big deal… I have a job for you and not an easy one.» – Flitz leaned back in his chair with his fingers clasped in front of him, waiting for the boy’s cheerful reaction.

Kyon frowned: it won’t do. What job is he talking about?

«I am worth a lot, sir! You can check me out if you like.»

Flitz gave Kyon a look that made him cringe. It was like he was staring into his soul.

«Hmm… You know, you must be barking up the wrong tree. But so be it. Anyway, I’m sick and tired of this damned office. I need some air. Come on, let’s see your glorified skills. And gods forbid you will disappoint me. I’ll wring your neck.»

Kyon swallowed when he heard the warning. However, he was confident in himself and took it easy: {Fine! He will definitely be my master…} He had already planned an epic bright future for himself. Fresh from the mine and a step away from the mentorship of a high-ranking formacist. What could be better than this?