Chapter 234: An Old Pet

Arriving back at the manor, Isis carefully took out the vial of poison and hid it in the pockets of a random coat. Making a mental note of which one it was, she closed the wardrobe and went to bed, falling backwards onto it, blankly staring at the ceiling, letting out a deep exhale. Although she had already vowed to herself to deal with Justinian, the involvement of the Brotherhood annoyed her. Their goals and whatnot didn’t matter to her. She may have agreed with them on their core principles of freedom for the Lessers, but it wasn’t her fight.

She knew herself she wasn’t a righteous revolutionary; after all, she had allowed herself to declare war. And her journal carried many stories only possible to be gotten if one spoke to the worst of society. At her core, she was selfish, only wishing to hear and tell stories. Some stories were despicable: murderers, rapists, the greedy, and the horrid, but they had a right to have their own tales recorded. After all, if she only recorded the mundane, the good and holy, it wouldn’t be an accurate depiction of the world.

Good and evil were directly intertwined. Joy and sorrow. Prosperity and suffering. Peace and rage. All could give both terrible and beautiful accounts. Neither side of the coin was inherently better than the other.

And it was clear once more in how the Brotherhood acted. They had noble ideals, but pursued them via hypocritical means. Forcing her into a position that endangered her, and even using the exact same language the masters of the city used when giving the illusion of freedom.

They unknowingly had stripped her of the choice she had freely made. If she killed Justinian, they would claim they did it. The suffering she and many others had lived under with Justinian was a side thought. She knew they didn’t care about her. They knew nothing of the need to drink to sleep. The feeling of his cold hands as she was paraded as an auction piece. The humiliation she endured to fulfil his sadistic desire to dominate. All she was, and everyone else who suffered the same thing, were convenient stories to justify their actions, without ever looking deeper into why they should do it.

It was disgusting in a way different to Justinian, and although far better, as it fulfilled a righteous end goal, it stripped the people they claimed to fight for of the freedom of choice they desperately claimed to bring.

’If they were really earnest, they wouldn’t hide in the shadows but fight in the open. Every victory they can claim is nothing to the organism which is Danmor and their elite using such means.’

It reminded her of Veston. There was secrecy and most definitely groups much like the Chained Brothers within the Kingdom; after all, she had the luxury of seeing a few of them, but they hid; they didn’t do so with the grandiose ideal of making sweeping change, but for comfort and survival. They didn’t wish to impose widespread change, only to be free in their own small pockets.

Those that did wish for change, however, never hid. They forced the world to see what they wanted. Every rebellion, every call to arms for a slandered truth. Even if they ended in defeat, the rebelling party had always forced change and made those they fought look at them differently. The change was sometimes instant if they won their battles, but even when they were considered to have lost, the change eventually came, maybe not fully, but it did happen, because the threat posed by it happening again was that great.

’They don’t even have the luxury of saying they fear their ideals vanishing. No matter what, someone will oppose a system, even if everyone before died.’

Clicking her tongue, she sighed. As Seth had said, the entire city was terrible; nothing good to be seen. Nothing was free in reality, and it always came back to the same phrase repeated over and over.

"Make the correct choice." The words came out like an empty breath, devoid of any meaning after hearing them for so long. "For who thought?" It was a question she knew the answer to the first time she heard it. For herself. The slaves of Danmor didn’t matter; she could do nothing to free them, and she didn’t even want to. She could pity and wish for their freedom, but actually acting upon that was too hard, and she was too detached to do it. It would require more than what the Chained Brothers wanted. Killing Justinian was just removing a cog. The entire faith system had to be torn down, replaced and then installed into everyone. Every elite of Danmor had to be executed to remove those who hoarded wealth. Every collared slave had to be re-educated so they wouldn’t wish for the collar back.

The question of the correct choice, when considering that, was easy for her. She would survive. She would kill Justinian because she wanted to. She would escape and continue her journey. She would keep the horrors of Danmor as a memory and nothing more.

Lying still, time passed; Iis wasn’t sure how much, but she was only pulled out of her mindless trance by a knocking on the door. Walking over and opening the door, three maids stood, all wearing collars, with identical haircuts and eerily similar looks, with only the most subtle differences between each other.

"Master Justinian would like to see you, Lady Isis." Sighing and nodding, Isis followed, having already expected Jsutinian would eventually call upon her after her guards’ annoyance with her at the Vine Tower. Slowly walking, the three maids followed close behind. They held themselves the same, making sure to be stiff in their upper body whilst their steps naturally harmonised to be the same.

Thinking for a moment, she realised something she had never asked: "What is your name?" Asking the one in the centre, the woman smiled, "Maria, my Lady." Nodding, she looked to the next.

"You?"

"Maria." Just like the first, she answered with the same name. Isis furrowed her eyebrows and looked at the next one, who replied with the same thing.

"You three are all named Maria?" The centre maid nodded, continuing to smile as she spoke.

"All of us women who wear the collar are named Maria. It was explained when we first came into his service. Master Justinian did not wish to learn names for every single Lesser if he ever wished to directly talk to us. So, in order to work for him, we must give up any name we have and take the name Maria. The men, in turn, must all take the name Felix." The maid said with a smile, unbothered and seemingly thankful for such an opportunity.

Isis slowed her step and looked the three up and down. If she didn’t know better, she would have assumed the three were siblings along with every other maid who was a Lesser. "Then why do you all look the same?" It was a question she had also really wanted to know but never asked.

"Master Justinian requests it, so we oblige. If one has hair a different colour from black, they will have it dyed to the colour; the same applies to the eyes." Covering her mouth and politely chuckling, she carried on in an amused tone, "It is a joke amongst us that the barber is the best paid in Master Justinian’s service, as we must all cut our hair every two weeks to ensure it continues to match."

’Why would he put so much effort into having everyone look similar? Sure, it may be because he is lazy, but having the exact same name for all Lessers. It feels like it would make work much more troublesome. And what if one does something that needs to be punished? How do you say Maria did it?’

There was something more to it; Isis was sure of it. The identical looks could be summed up as Justinian’s personal tastes for his servants, and the Lesser being the only ones who really could be used to fit it, but the names were what stunned her. Pushing the thought out, he remembered she came to a stop outside Justinian’s office as one of the maids moved forward, knocking. Unlike before, there was no delay as Justinian allowed her in.

"My dear. We both know why you are here." He said calmly, but Isis couldn’t help but notice the slight difference in his outfit compared to normal: the colour was a darker blue. "Will you be honest with me? Did you really go there because you were bored?"

Rolling her eyes, she walked forward and looked at one of the chairs before looking at Justinian, his smile creeping up his face as she asked for permission to sit. Nodding, Isis smiled, internally scoffing at how obvious he was about his pleasure.

"I really don’t understand how it is strange for me to want to go to the Vine Tower. I only went once when I came, and Seth practically dragged me directly to where he wanted." Pausing for a moment, she thought carefully about her next words and sighed, "Anyway, don’t you own it. Why was he so worried?"

"It’s their job to worry, you see. What would I do if anything happened to you, my dear? I... I would be heartbroken." Even if she tried to fight it, Isis rolled her eyes again and chuckled, making Justinian’s smirk bloom even more. Getting up, he slowly walked around his desk towards her, never taking his eyes off her. Walking around the chair, he stopped behind her and took a deep breath.

Even without his touch, goosebumps ran all over her body; his presence near her was repulsive, yet when his cold hands touched her, it made her shiver. Slowly, he massaged her shoulders almost like an old friend, seeing she was tired; his grip was not too tight but comfortable. Even so, Isis could stand it, a disgusting feeling forming in her stomach from it.

"You are truly an entertaining woman. I had assumed that before I had done enough to make you like all of those in my care." His hands crawled up her shoulders, getting closer and closer towards her neck, but done naturally as he continued to massage. Isis desperately wanted to move, the touch sickening to her core. "Of course I never wanted you to be too much like them. It was why I had allowed the old butler to be around you."

Isis wondered where he was going, as Justinian let out a nostalgic breath, his hands continuing to creep towards her neck. "I had a dog once. Loyal beasts they are. No matter what you do, they always come back. Feed them, play with them, beat them, starve them. They will always find their way back to you." His hand stopped for a moment. "She was so fun; I was... heartbroken when she passed."

It wasn’t a lie. Isis could hear it in his voice, able to tell that even now the man still missed the dog. His hand began moving once again. Finally reaching the base of her neck. "She was too good for this world, and I pushed her too hard, you see. I wanted to know when she would stop coming back. I took no joy as she died that day." Placing his hand on her neck, Isis took shallow breaths, feeling like an animal about to be butchered.

"I am so happy you have come, my dear." His hands slowly tightened as Isis felt every breath become a fight. Trying to rip his hands free, he didn’t stop continuing to talk, "Because, whilst you are not loyal like her, you are similar. No matter what I do, you keep getting a resolve to fight back against me. It is really fun breaking that resolve and seeing it come back. But running off. I can’t allow that." His grip tightened as if truly attempting to kill her. Isis fought but eventually lost the strength to continue. Just before she passed out, he let go, and she fell forward, grabbing her throat, taking deep, greedy breaths. Slowly, she looked back, and Justinian simply tilted his head and innocently smiled, as if he had done nothing.