Luther's Pride Part 3

The carriage slowed as it approached the manor house. The lamps along the path were dim but brightened just ahead of the horses. Such artifices were not unheard of but were considered incredibly expensive. His father continued to surprise Luther, who could hardly believe the man he knew thought it worth the investment to illuminate anything beyond the library. The town must have had someone with a decent enchantment arcana willing to produce the lamps cheaply.  

On seeing the lanterns through the window, Luther looked out from the carriage to spy ahead. He could make out the high-storied stone building beyond the lawn and gardens that preceded it. 

"Holy--" Luther said in surprise. If his father intended the lamps to be a pleasant surprise, he must have expected the house to stop Luther’s heart. His father had never been one for grandeur. The man's motto was necessity over luxury, and the tower Luther grew up in was historic to the region. There wasn't much in the way of frills there. The manor house was the opposite. It was a veritable palace, built in the human style with fey trimmings and embossments in the masonry. 

Humans tended to place themselves into their architecture. Statues and busts formed in the likeness of their ancestors were in every palace, castle, hall, and wealthy human house Luther had seen. This building was different. It had no faces or statues but plenty of floral engravings and embellishments to look like stone ivy climbing the bricks. 

"He must have spent a fortune." Luther sounded aghast, but he wasn't offended by his father's decision so much as confused by it. The man he knew would never have commissioned something so large or ornate. It looked like a proper lord's mansion and different from what Luther expected to see when Criella mentioned his father had built a house in addition to the old tower. He’d imagined a hut or a cottage at most. 

"He did." Criella assured him. "But he could afford to, and he…" She hesitated.

"Go on." Luther prompted after a minute of well-deserved gawking at the house. 

"He wanted to prepare for you if you returned with a family." Criella explained. "He figured even if you only took on one partner, any offspring or fosterlings would be too many people for the old tower." 

Luther nodded. "He was right about that, but this?" He scoffed again. "This is too big. He must have expected me to return with an army."

The carriage parked in front of it, and Luther stepped out of the carriage even as the footman rushed toward the door to open it for him. 

The mansion loomed before him, with the East and West wing framing the courtyard with its small pond and garden. The front of the house seemed squared off. Luther stood before the center of a vast, rectangular building framed on the right and left by rectangular wings that branched toward him at a slight angle. Three stories towered over them all, with a slanted roof and its gables. The bricks were sand-colored stone, likely from a local quarry. The workmanship seemed top-notch. 

Luther stood awestruck by it as the footman helped Criella down from the coach behind him. Then, before Luther could recover, the driver and the footman were off, and the carriage had taken off toward the stables. Luther couldn't see them from his position, a few yards from his new front door. His luggage was behind him, unloaded while he was still awestruck, his eyes examining the masonry in the moonlight. 

"It's a lot." Criella said. "But your father was thrilled by the final result, and I know he was really hopeful you would like it."

Luther swallowed in an attempt to regain his powers of speech. "I like it." He said. "I really do. I'm just… a little surprised and a little overwhelmed."

"I'd offer to introduce you to the staff, but the rest of them have the day off today for mourning. Some of them will be back tomorrow. I can introduce you to them then." Criella said. She stood beside Luther now, looking up at the house with him and waiting for him to take the first step forward. "Would you like a tour?" 

Luther had to think about it for a moment. "Maybe in the morning." He said. "Right now, I want a bath and a bed." 

"I think we can manage that." Criella smiled softly and headed ahead of him to unlock the front door. Luther picked up his baggage and followed her, slinging the largest pack over his back and carrying the other under one arm while holding the third bundle over his shoulder. 

The lamps in the foyer were also magical, and Luther was surprised when they turned on. Examining the one just inside the door, he could see it was some kind of crystal within the mechanism. The machinery exposed the crystal when it sensed someone approaching, likely an interaction of auras, and shielded it when no one was nearby. 

“These lamps are amazing.” Luther said, so distracted by it that he missed the impressive stature of the wide foyer entrance and its grand staircase. The space was open and decorated with flowers, filled with it, all sent by those wishing to pay their respects to his father. 

“The work of a local artificer in town.” Criella explained. “Your father wanted to commission more of them and have them in every room, but the vein of crystals ran dry. From what I understand, they’re searching out another vein to complete the order.” 

“I have to admit I'm curious about their construction. Or at least, I will be when I am more awake.” Luther confessed. “I've heard of these before but never seen them.”

“Follow me.” Criella said. She stepped slowly enough for Luther to follow her at a confident pace up the unfamiliar stairs to the second floor, where they turned left and started walking down the hallway. 

Luther kept track of the turns and the number of doors. It seemed his father had built a mansion, and he always liked to know where he was when he was in a new place. Navigating previously unknown buildings, cities, and locales was a skill he’d trained well these last few years. 

“Your father had his apartment overlooking the gardens, facing the West.” Criella explained. “He made multiple suites of rooms for you and any family you might bring with you, but seeing as it’s just you… would you like to stay in his rooms? Or would you prefer the one he had set aside for you?” 

Luther didn’t have to think about that. “The one he set aside for me. At least, for tonight.” 

Criella nodded. He didn’t need to explain himself to her, nor did he feel the need to. She had been his best, and often only, friend for most of their childhood. She knew him better than anyone, or at least she had before he left. Luther could only wonder what changes the years had produced in her. 

She carried herself more seriously now, more professionally than he would have thought possible. It surprised him but also might have been a side effect of the circumstances that brought him home. Funerals had an unfortunate, sobering effect on many. She loved his father as much, if not more than he did. Not in a romantic way, of course, but in a safe surrogate paternal love.  

Luther’s love for her changed over the years. They had always been friends first, but they were also each other’s first kiss and first time. Even now, as she looked over her shoulder at him and smirked, he couldn’t help but think about the times they’d shared kissing behind his father’s archives or in the dappled shade of the oak tree on a hot summer’s day. 

Criella turned her face forward again, away from him, as she stopped. Luther waited as she opened the door leading into a suite of rooms. 

The apartment consisted of a foyer with a coat closet on the right, opposite a hung mirror with a narrow table beneath it. The entry opened into a lounge with a large, cushioned bay window on the far wall opposite the entrance. Two sofas were in the center, facing one another with a low glass-top oval table between them. A bar to the right held a surprisingly varied array of liquor. 

The double doors to the left led to a small sparring room, with several dummies standing in the ring and training weapons on the wall. His father had remembered his love of training for adventure, and he recognized some of his favorite weapons from his childhood, including a ‘quarterstaff’ that was nothing more than a thick branch, which he’d dried and lacquered himself. 

The double doors to the right led to a study, which just happened to contain Luther’s favorite books from childhood. Beyond that room was a bed chamber with a bed wider than Luther was tall, two walk-in closets, a changing screen, and a massive wardrobe. Beyond that, a narrow door led to the washroom, which was well-tiled, with pumps for the hot and cold water to fill the ornate porcelain tub. 

The high ceilings, the ornate carvings on the doors, the stone tiles, and the woven rugs all spoke to an elegance and luxury Luther had never known in his childhood. He had to wonder at his father’s accounts, and he was starting to worry he would find he’d inherited debts he would prove unable to pay. 

Luther set his luggage down. 

“You can manage your own bath?” Criella asked. “Or would you like me to draw one for you?” 

Luther hesitated. She knew he could handle drawing his bath, and he wasn’t sure if her question was an offer of something more. He couldn't decide if he wanted to be alone, but Luther knew he didn't want to reunite with Criella to avoid loneliness. If, or when, they spoke of their past feelings for each other, it should be out of a passion for the other and not a desire for anyone but their own thoughts. 

Whether she wanted to leave or not, he thought it a bad idea to mix the high emotions of the day with any thoughts of passion or romance. He and Criella had been younger then, when their young romance had seemed to fill their entire world. Now, the world was much larger, and they’d spent much of that time apart. Besides, there were other things to consider in wiser, more mature terms. They weren't rebellious youths any longer. He was his father's heir, and she was his solicitor. 

“I can handle it tonight.” Luther said. “Thank you, though. I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow?” 

“Of course.” Criella nodded with her entire torso in a polite half-bow, tilting only slightly. “Sleep well, Luther.” 

And he did, after bathing off the road's dirt and the day. Scrubbed clean, warm from the heated water, and dry from the softest towels he’d felt against his skin in ages, he fell asleep mere seconds after he settled between the blankets. He dreamed of wandering the halls of an endless house, unable to leave it no matter how far he walked or which window he tried to break. His sleep was deep, but his dreams were fretful until he finally woke.