Of Lovers, Loners & Those Born To Die

II. Cleaning Duties

II. CLEANING DUTIES

The servant waited exactly five minutes after the noises had died down inside the room to knock on the door. 

"Come in," and he did, upon command.

"Good evening, milord. I hope you've enjoyed your meal," greeted the servant, heading straight to silver tray on the study desk.

"Hello, Len. It was lovely," the Lord replied absentmindedly as his fingers traced the pretty features of the severed head in his hand. "A bit mouthy. But lovely nonetheless. Especially the eyes," he said as a long claw grew from his pinky to pluck straight into one eyeball, pulling it out from its socket with a wet plop, "Pretty and blue." he popped it in his mouth like an olive.

"I will keep that in mind," said the servant, pouring the sweet red liquid from a bottle into a chilled glass and approached the bedside, "Wine, sir?"

"Thank you, Len," taking the glass, the Lord's eyes did not leave the drop of blood trickling down the milky white cheek from the now empty eye socket. The servant's eyes followed a similar motion, only his was traveling down the bed, moving from his master's naked body to the four limbs positioned around the corpse's pulpy mangled torso, eying the size of the mess he was to clean up. His assessing gaze stopped abruptly between the spread out legs.

"Sir?" Curiosity and amusement laced in his question.

"Yes, Len?"

"Please do forgive my boldness and inquisitive nature but did you...?" He let his question trail off. Lord Solomon looked up with an arched eyebrow before following the servants line of vision, which then cause a smile to broke out on his face.

"Your Lady sent me a letter."

"Ah, I see," Len allowed himself a knowing smile. Dropping the head and swinging himself off the bed, The Lord strolled in all his blood-drenched naked glory to once again stand by the the large window, eyes sweeping the moonlit landscape. After taking one last look at the corpse's solidified genitalia, the servant proceeded to his cleaning duties. 

"Any news from Chaffer?"

"His messenger had just arrived, sir. He said Lord Chaffer is on his way to Fangdor with highly important information. He should be here tomorrow morning."

Lord Solomon sniggered in disbelief.

"The man sent a messenger a day ahead of him?"

"Yes, sir. It is a common practice for the Lords of Galbury, or so I've heard." Stripping the duvet, Len frowned as he found a few drops of blood had made its way to the carpeted floor.

"Did the messenger bring food orders with him?" Mocked Lord Solomon with a snigger. 

"He did, in fact, milord. Roasted pork or boar's head marinated in red wine, meat pies of your choosing, therewith teals baked and woodcocks, pheasants and curlews. And surprise him with dessert." Len was too busy trying to contain the blood and guts within the folded duvets to notice his master's incredulous eyes boring holes through his skull.

"This information of his better be important or his head's going to be the side dish to those woodcocks."

"I believe it is, sir. As far as I'm aware, Lord Chaffer rarely leave his quarters, not even for social events, preferring to hold his own. It does come at great surprise to me that he had decided to come all the way here to Fangdor. The business must be of great importance."

Lord Solomon turned his attention back to the window.

"I can still hardly imagine his fat pompous arse to do anything but boast and stuff his face. It is, indeed, quite strange. On the other hand, this silence is disturbing me greatly. If Chaffer does know something, it might put light on this frustrating fog of unknowingness." 

The Lord mused thoughtfully and Len's frowned deepened as he discovered the blood had seeped through down to the mattress. 

"Speaking of social events, how is that ball coming along?"

Tying up the duvet, the servant carefully place it in a bag he had carried in with him, designed to contain the stubborn red liquid and preventing it from its cursed habit of staining everything upon touch. 

"As planned, milord. Letters of confirmations have returned from almost every recipients, all anxiously looking forward to it."

"Every one of them?" inquired the Lord.

"All except Lady Salome, who is out of town for at least half a fortnight more, and Lord Pinkham, whose illness prevents him from attending."

"That's alright, he's not important. I do wish him a quick and painless death. The man had spent his entire life resisting the urge to be anything remotely remarkable. It's only fitting he would pass this life the same way he spent it." 

With the carcass and bloodstained duvet now safely in the tied bag, Len made quick work of replacing the bed clothes, leaving a mental note to himself to deal with the soiled mattress later.

"Is there anything else you need, milord?" He asked, straightening his clothes. 

"Not at the moment," said the Lord, sipping the almost forgotten glass of wine in his hand, "I'll just go for a walk and then I'll be in my study if you need me."

"Yes, milord." And with that, and his bag, the servant bowed out, leaving Lord Solomon alone with his window and his thoughts.