STABLE BOY ; Trash of the Count's Family

01. STABLE BOY

Everyone here called him South.

Apparently, when he was a toddler, an innkeeper found him being nursed by a horse in his stable. Since the horse was named North, they decided to name the child South.

It's a stupid story, but whenever South tells everyone that as an icebreaker, they laugh so hard they instantly stop judging his medical history and the tattoos on his skin. It's been very useful in this life.

"Hey, South!"

One of his coworkers called him over.

"Hillsman is treating us to drinks, so we're all going into town for lunch. Do you want to come with us?"

South yawned, leaning against the crates of apples, rake resting on his shoulder. They just finished doing the hay, so they have a breaktime. Seems like all the stablehands were going out— which was fair. There were no trips scheduled today, and the butlers said they'd handle any guests during lunch hour.

"No thanks," he said. "I'm going to nap."

"Again?"

"Haha! Leave him," someone else patted the first one on the shoulder, "he loves sleeping more than drinking."

They left soon after that, and South tried to relax. He didn't have any sleep attacks today, which was why he knew that he'd probably collapse during the second half of today if he didn't rest now.

He couldn't remember if he ate his medicine today, but it's fine, it's not that big a deal.

He lay down on the hay and managed to fall asleep quickly, under the warm sun, hugging the rake to his chest like it was a pillow.

-

"Hey— hey! Horse boy!"

Someone kicked him awake.

Drowsy and cranky, South lifted his head, ready to slash some ankles— ah, it's a butler's uniform. It's one of the trainee butlers, he knows, because he doesn't recognize this guy.

His nametag does say 'Gian' though. Definitely some nobody. 

"Get up already, you lazy ass!" there's a harsh grip on his coat that's stretching out the seams, "fuck's sake, you're just a stable boy! How can you sleep on the job? Get up!"

South's worked here for maybe two years. The only people that would look down on the stablehands are newbies and morons.

"Finally!"

South balanced on his own feet, groaning at the ache as he felt one of his feet cramp up with post-sleep muscle atrophy. He rested his hand on the crates and levelled the butler with an unimpressed glare.

"Fuck's sake. I can't believe a stable boy's going to be the reason I get scolded on my first fucking week. Thanks."

Well, isn't this guy such a cupcake?

"What did you want?" South groused, his voice more nasally than he wanted it to, but he couldn't help it, okay, he was half-awake, and that means his head hurts, he's sluggish and sweaty, and he's trying his best not to strangle this guy.

"What do I want?" he had the gall to hoot, "what else would a butler like me be coming to this stinky stable? Are you stupid or something?"

One punch would be fine, right? There are no witnesses. It's fine, right?

"Hey!"

They're both interrupted by a new voice.

"I requested the carriage ten minutes ago, why did I have to come all the way here to find out it's not ready?"

"S-Sorry, young master Cale! This insolent stablehand was slacking on the job!"

South's blood ran cold.

Cale Henituse was right behind him, looking at them disapprovingly, and to think he'd actually made it all the way here because he was tired of waiting at the front gates? Usually they'd already have bottles in the air and an all-nighter of picking up glass shards on the agenda.

"N-Now then, I'll be taking my leave, young master!"

Wha— South had to be utterly flabbergasted while Gian ran right off. You're supposed to escort him up the carriage and ask him when he'll be back, asshole! And see him off at the gates! Why is Hans not teaching you anything?!

"Uhm?"

South spun back around to face Cale Henituse.

Usually, when the members of the family want to leave the house when it's lunch hour for the stablemen, and they didn't inform ahead— they usually take a horse. Or walk. Or have the butler themself drive them out— Gian should have told Cale the situation, then gone to call Ron or Hans, who are trained to drive the carriages. Not wake up the only stablehand that didn't eat lunch!

(Seriously, South wanted to punch that trainee butler so bad.)

"Right," he's still grouchy, but more awake now. Cale seemed surprised when South spoke first and South had to clear his throat, embarrassed by his just-awake voice and messy hair, casually trying to fix his disheveled clothing while he was at it, "I'm sorry, Young Master. The coachmen went out today. Are you headed to town?"

Cale nodded, after a moment of consideration.

"Well, aren't you here?"

South had to take a moment. "I could take you, Young Master, but... I'm not qualified to drive the carriage with the Henituse seal on it."

Cale huffed. "You take care of the horses better than anyone, and you've been here years enough to have at least trained on it. I don't see the issue."

South wanted to cry.

This was already the longest conversation he'd ever had with young master Cale and he wanted it to end. How does he respectfully tell his young master I want to go back to sleep? 

Cale wasn't drunk, and wasn't getting immediately mad— which meant this was already Kim Rok Soo. That was a good thing... except, South really wasn't qualified to drive the carriage. He's narcoleptic, that's like, a safety hazard.

But oh well.

"If it's just to town, then alright," South relented, knowing that a stablehand like him didn't have the authority to keep arguing with a noble anyway, and that stupid butler had already wasted enough of the Young Master's time. "I'll prepare the carriage immediately. Please wait a moment."

Cale is the main character, so he has plot armour, right? Then it'll be fine, probably.