I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Chapter 17: Sneaking out of the mansion

The sun was dipping below the horizon as Zafron made his way back to the mansion, a neatly folded package of cloth tucked under his arm. Cordelia's parting words still echoed in his mind as he approached the imposing structure.

As he pushed open the heavy front door, an unusual stillness greeted him. The typically bustling halls he left was eerily quiet, save for the soft murmur of hushed voices. Zafron stepped inside cautiously, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

He made his way through the dimly lit corridors, the package from Cordelia held tightly against his chest. As he turned a corner, he noticed small clusters of maids huddled in various alcoves and corners. Their heads were bent close together, engaged in fervent whispers.

The moment Zafron came into view, a ripple of awareness spread through the groups. Heads turned, eyes widened, and the whispering intensified. He could feel their gazes boring into him as he passed.

"He's back," one maid hissed to her companion, not quite softly enough.

Another added, "Such a poor soul, I pity him. He's too good-looking to be in this kind of mess!"

"Shh! Not so loud!" a third cautioned, casting a nervous glance at Zafron.

The air was thick with tension and unspoken words. Zafron felt a chill run down his spine, sensing that something significant had changed in his absence. The package in his arms suddenly felt heavier, as if weighted down by the secrets swirling around him.

As he continued down the hall, snippets of conversation followed in his wake.

'Why is everyone looking at me like that? I hope everything's alright,' he thought to himself, feeling a bit uneasy.

He quickened his pace, eager to find Matilda and deliver the package, but also burning with curiosity about the source of this palpable unease that had descended upon the household.

As Zafron walked down the hallway, lost in thought about the maids' whispers, he felt a sudden tug on his arm. Before he could react, he was pulled into his room, the door shutting quickly behind him.

"Mara!" he exclaimed, surprised to find the maid standing before him, her eyes wide with concern.

"Where have you been?" Mara asked, her voice hushed but urgent. "Everyone's been in a state, and Mistress Matilda has been asking for you."

Zafron's brow furrowed in confusion. "I was running an errand for Mistress Matilda," he explained, holding up the package. "I went to Cordelia's house to collect this for her."

Mara's expression shifted from concern to bewilderment. "An errand? But... if Mistress Matilda sent you, why has she been looking for you all afternoon?"

Zafron felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him. His mind raced, piecing together the events of the day.

'Cordelia lied to me,' he realized, a cold feeling settling in his stomach. 'But why? Why would she trick me into coming to her house?'

His thoughts tumbled over one another:

'Was this some kind of test? If it was then I'm sorry to say I failed!' He realized terribly.

'And now Mistress Matilda has been looking for me... what if she thinks I've run off? Oh shite, what have I gotten myself into?'

Outwardly, Zafron struggled to maintain his composure. "I... I don't understand," he stammered. "Cordelia said Mistress Matilda had sent me..."

Mara shook her head, her expression grave.

"I need to speak with Madame Matilda," Zafron added, moving towards the door. "I have to explain..."

Mara caught his arm. "Wait! She's not in the house at the moment. She just left some minutes ago."

Zafron's eyes widened at Mara's words. "She's not in the house?" he whispered, his heart racing.

Mara shook her head. "No, she's been waiting for you outside. Although, I'd say you are one lucky bastard. She claimed she'd wait only thirty minutes and look who turned up just in time?" Mara said.

"So what now?" Zafron asked, whispering just like Mara.

"We need to sneak out, and quickly."

With practiced ease, Mara slipped out of the room, returning moments later. "The coast is clear. Follow me, and stay quiet."

Zafron nodded, clutching the package tightly as he followed Mara through the shadowy corridors of the mansion. Every creak of the floorboards made him wince, but Mara guided him expertly, avoiding the areas where they might be seen.

They emerged into the cool night air, and Mara led him swiftly across the grounds towards the road. In the darkness, Zafron could make out the silhouette of a cart waiting by an alley.

As they approached, Mara whispered, "Mistress Matilda is inside. Go to her, quickly."

Before Zafron could respond, Mara was already at the cart, exchanging hushed words with someone inside. She then turned back to Zafron, ushering him forward.

"Good luck," she murmured, squeezing his arm before melting back into the shadows.

With a deep breath, Zafron climbed into the cart. In the dim light, he could see Mistress Matilda's figure sitting there.

As Zafron's eyes adjusted to the dim light inside the cart, he was struck by Matilda's appearance. Her usual impeccable composure was slightly disheveled.

Her makeup, normally flawless, was fading, and her eyes seemed swollen and red-rimmed, as though she had been crying. Despite this, she maintained a facade of control, her posture rigid and her expression guarded.

"Mistress," Zafron began, his voice trembling slightly.

Before Zafron could finish speaking, Matilda cut in, her voice hoarse but firm. "Where were you?"

Zafron swallowed hard, then explained, "Mistress, I was at Cordelia's house. She told me you had sent me to collect this package." He held out the fabric, his hands trembling slightly.

Matilda's response was terse, a single "Oh" escaping her lips. Her brow furrowed as she fell into deep thought.

'Why would Cordelia do this?' Matilda wondered, her mind racing. 'She said she'd send her maid with the fabric. Why take Zafron to her house instead? What game is she playing?'

Matilda had known Cordelia for years, considered her a good friend. But this action puzzled her, and a seed of doubt began to grow in her mind. However, she kept these thoughts to herself, her face betraying nothing of her inner turmoil.

After a moment of heavy silence, Matilda leaned forward and rapped on the partition. "Driver, we're ready. Let's go," she commanded, her voice steady despite the emotional strain evident in her eyes.

As the cart lurched into motion, Zafron sat back, still clutching the package. The atmosphere in the small space was thick with unspoken questions and barely concealed tension. He couldn't help but feel that he was caught in the middle of something much larger and more complex than he understood.

'What have I stumbled into?' Zafron thought, stealing glances at Matilda's troubled face. 'And where are we going in such a hurry? Wait, is she taking me back home?'

The cart rumbled down the dark road, carrying them towards an uncertain destination.

After a few moments, the cart stopped and the driver said, "We're here, Ma'am."

"Let's go," she replied, stepping out of the cart with Zafron following suit.

As he climbed down, he wondered, 'Where are we?'

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