Chapter 27: -26- Jaxan, Her Slave / His Apprentice

The Master was upset with the Mistress when it came to the matter of me being embraced by him.

It’s not like the Mistress and I haven’t talked about such things, as women it is normal to do so, and even more normal to bring up such topics with your household slave, as I am to both her and the Master, Gardavan as I must call him, though he refused to accept me as such.

But Gardavan’s words are as sharp as a kitchen knife, and one thing he said to me that left me truly understanding what he meant by it, was that he did not see me as a woman. He had no intention of embracing me in the way he did the Mistress, and my poor Mistress was unable to accept the fact that it was something that, to the Master, was akin to putting faith in to the Goddess, that, while she revered, he for some reason loathed.

I will say that the Master’s firm and calloused hand resting on my bare body was welcomed, yearned for even. After many nights of watching, there was some part of me that also wished to know of the grand pleasures the Mistress was allowed to have each night with him. But that wouldn’t happen tonight, nor any other night, no matter how much she wished for it.

I understood very well the role I was supposed to fill.

However, The Master is different. His thoughts are different, and his actions are always based with his own justness of mind, and he holds himself to a standard that only he is aware of, almost always speaking of the ways of his homeland, a place called Earth.

Now, I admit my lack of education in the adult world, but even I know that my father had visited the spinstery when it was my mother’s moon. It is simply something that is done by married men during that time. It’s not even considered a violation of the unity between a man and a woman, as the women of the spinstery provide a service by being many a husband’s outlet for a pent up desires which can overwhelm him and cause far chaos and ruin to his family by seeking it elsewhere.

But the Master seems to have no difficulties in controlling his desire for the Mistress, wishing to forgo his own needs while she is unable to serve him, and it puts both she and I in a strange position. Because I also want to fill the role she has prepared for me. To be made plump once or twice is not something I’m against, and in fact it’s almost necessary for what my duty entails as the household slave. To aid with raising the Mistress’ future children, I need to bear milk in order to be a wet nurse. Any child born between the Master and I would be accepted by the Mistress as her own, and I would not need to be fully responsible for their lives while I try to build my own with the trade skill I will have learned after the contracted period with the Oath ends.

But he will not touch me or embrace me as a woman. Not tonight nor any night the Mistress passes her moon. It does sadden my heart a little, not being seen as an adult by him, but it’s done nothing to change his kindness towards me.

That is not to say he does not touch me at all.

If I had to say, he treats me as if I was something between the Mistress and the daughter, Nefetina. Not exactly his child, but something much closer to a family member than a household slave. It’s very difficult to understand where my place is exactly in his eyes, whereas my place under the Mistress and as nanny to her children is perfectly understood.

Though I have not once been cast out of their bed, I feel that I am unwelcome, at least when I am to lay between them. I am not his wife or any kind of surrogate existence in his heart. I am simply Jaxan. By his words, I am his apprentice, and by Oath, her family’s household slave.

Yet, it is as he said from the very beginning. I have not a single right or freedom to choose anything on my own, nor will I for quite some time to come. Any opportunity I wish to reach for with my own hand, must first not violate my adherence to the Oath, and must be approved by the Mistress first.

~~~

There were many moments of happiness to be found even amidst the ongoing tensions between the Master and the Mistress, and one such moment came in the form of a visitation to a certain noble household a couple of days after the Mistress attended the tea party with a carriage full of the Master’s newest creations to deliver to the First Princess of Avondale.

I don’t exactly know the details, but he had returned with a large barrel containing the soft white cheese he had been looking for. It was called Rella, named for some town three days away by carriage where it was made, and it just so happened to be enough to put him into the highest spirits I’d as of yet ever seen him in.

He sent me on an errand as soon as he returned to pick up a number of fresh things, such as bell peppers, onions, fresh garlic, raw pork sausages, a whole chicken, many tomatoes, and mushrooms. He was very specific about getting a large quantity of mushrooms, sausages, and tomatoes.

When I returned as quickly as I could with the items he requested, he had gathered everyone in the kitchen, and had already prepared some dough. With the rolling pin, he flattened and stretched it out until it was in a large round shape, which he placed on a round metal pan coated in butter, and then he began to pull and stretch much of the white cheese which remained submerged in water inside of the large barrel.

He immediately took a few links of sausage and put them in a pot to boil, after which he carefully sliced them into very thin strips which he put on a pan and placed into the oven to cook for a short while. He had filled the pot up with more sausages to boil as well.

The outer edge of the flattened dough round was then filled with stretched cheese and rolled up. The tomatoes were peeled, stewed, mashed, and mixed with crushed garlic and salt until it was similar to the ketchup condiment he and the young master enjoyed with their fries. That went onto the center of the pizza, and then plenty of the torn cheese was placed on the red sauce. It was followed by him finely chopping the onions, mushrooms, peppers, and a tomato.

Once he deemed the thinly sliced sausage ready, he threw in the whole chicken to roast, while carefully plucking the hot slices of cooked pork and putting them on the dough, then the whole thing went into the other oven.

It didn’t seem all that spectacular until it came out.

It almost looked like an abomination at first sight, but that only lasted until he cut the Pizza Pie as he called it into eight triangles, and removed one, steam visibly coming off of it, to take a bite.

The only time I had seen that much pleasure on his face was when he was in the throes of passion with the Mistress that one time I walked in on them to let them know sup was ready.

Was it really that good to warrant such a visible reaction?

He quickly motioned for us all to try a slice of pizza, and I eagerly went before the others to do so. It was not enough to say that the slice of pizza was akin to an explosion of flavors in my mouth, and even the onions of which I am not the most thrilled to eat… they too were made delicious somehow.

This food was magical, and it didn’t stop with him making just one.

Almost as if possessed by some spirit of unrest, he made about six more. One solely of cheese and the tomato sauce, one with only cheese and the thinly sliced pork which he called pepperoni, one just vegetables and pieces of chicken to which he added many spices, one which was the fully boiled sausages uncased and crumbled onto the pizza, more thinly sliced oven-cooked pork sausage, and chunks of chicken. One which consisted entirely of sliced mushrooms, as he declared that was his favorite, and one that went in last and was for the young mistress. A so-called dessert pizza, made of apples and cinnamon.

Now, each one was delicious in its own way. The children seemed to prefer the simplistic ones, aside from the dessert pizza, for she has much love for apples, young miss Nefetina enjoyed the pepperoni the next most, and young master Trevorkane preferred the cheese-only one. The mistress showed no mercy to the one covered entirely in meat, and I found the one with vegetables and chicken to be the most satisfying.

Even when the fire had died down and the pizza cooled, it was enjoyable to eat more of it when it had cooled to a lower temperature. I almost wondered if I wouldn’t be made plump in another way entirely by the Master eating such delicious things. Perhaps if I ate such delicious foods every day I would no longer find myself scrawny and homely, and might instead find my body filling out into a proper womanly figure. Would he look at me then, I wonder?

I know it is just wishful thinking on my part.

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~~~

It would come to be a regular thing over the next two months, that some noble would send their maid and request for the bakery to cater the food at their tea party. The master was always gifted with a parcel of strawberries for the occasion as well, sent courtesy of Her Highness the Princess Trustine.

He was also able to introduce the merchant Zedron to the noble family who had gifted him the cheese, and along with the recipe for Banana Bread to them as a token of goodwill, the Master was able to gain the privilege of purchasing the Rella cheese whenever he wished.

Then there came the day in which the Mistress would usually deliver some bread to the orphanage which the High Priestess, Gemma operated. She was feeling sick that day and resting in bed, and with the children outside playing with their friends, the Master asked if I would accompany him.

The reason for him asking me to go with him is because High Priestess Gemma was the one who put the Oath of the Goddess on my body, and as such he wishes little to do with her directly. He will give charity freely to the children, and even speak with the other kind priestess who oversees the children, but that is all.

As it is now, there is hardly anyone in the commons of Avondale who haven’t heard of the newly renamed Ashford Bakery. So there came to be a secondary reason for this trip in direct relation to the first, I was brought along to speak with the High Priestess on a certain matter of which he had spoken at length about with me.

So now, while the Master delivers breads and snacks to the children, I find myself in the room of the High Priestess, who has greeted me kindly preparing to speak with her about it, though it would not be until the end of our talk.

“Hello, Jaxan. Are things going well for you?”

“Yes, High Priestess. I couldn’t ask for a greater blessing than having been fortunate enough to be a household slave to the Mistress and the Master.”

“The Master?” she asked.

“It is of my own will that I acknowledge Gardavan as my Master. He is my Mistress’ husband after all, and it is he who sees to me being fed things even the nobles come asking for. It is he who has paid his own coin to dress me in store bought clothes made only to fit me, and it is he who sees to it that I learn my letters, numbers, and even now how to write and keep the many recipes which even the Mistress does not know the full extent of. And when the Mistress’ Moon came, and I was to warm their bed, never did his hand reach for me instead of her. He even introduced me to the First Princess not as a slave, but as his apprentice. It’s really too much that I am at a loss of what I am supposed to do in that household. Even the children have begun to treat me as the Master does. The Mistress is the only one who sees the Oath as the Oath, but without the Master willing to embrace me during her moons, it will be difficult… to fulfill my obligation. What am I to do, High Priestess? The Master only craves only her warmth in their bed, even during the moons.”

“Have they spoken properly about what your duty is?”

“The first night of her moon two months past, she drew his hand to my body, and it was stiff. He withdrew as soon as he could and gave her a glare that could freeze the sun itself. To my knowledge that is exactly how much they’ve spoken of it. When his common sense is at odds with hers, it becomes a silent war in their household. Is he really the same husband she saw off to the Salonika war? When she takes to the wine, she speak of him before to me, and I cannot help but realize that they are two different people entirely.”

The High Priestess folded her hands and placed them under her chin as she sat at the desk in her office, her elbows resting on the table before replying.

“I have met Gardavan before the war, for he came to me asking to take her as his own. I’ve looked after your Mistress since she was a child here, and I can say for certain that he was as normal as any man I had ever met in my life. His only notable skill was his gift with the sword, and aside from his appearance, which even now after five years still looks almost exactly the same as when he left, I too believe that he is the same man.”

I was given no answers to help with my situation, only that I should keep my faith in the Goddess. I then spoke with her about what Gardavan had asked of me to do. To ask her to send two able bodied children to help at the Mistress bakery. The orders have been so much that Trevor has had difficulty in keeping up, and even now the Master and the Mistress have spoken of soon needing a bigger place. The High Priestess had promised to send them soon, and so with my business done on the Master’s behalf, I returned to Gardavan, and we departed back home to the bakery.

This week was going to be when his business with the merchant Zedron finally came to begin. The decks for his card game would be sold at the merchant’s business soon, and the promotional cards and packs would be delivered to the shop here to supplement the bakery’s sales.

Over the last month, both the young master and young miss had been given extra decks in order to teach their friends the game, and often times after the bakery closed, one or two of their friends could be found inside at one of the booths playing it.

Yet I could only worry for myself.

If this is something that brings the Master and Mistress to riches as the merchant Zedron seems to agree that it will, what will this spell for me and my future as their household slave?

Will they get another who can fulfill the necessary duty?

What is truly my place in this household?  Without a doubt, to the Mistress I am her slave and treated kindly enough.  But to the Master, I am his Apprentice, something I never believed was possible given my prior situation.

It would be the day before the launch of the card game promotion that both the Master and I woke up with a terrible fright in the middle of the night. Standing in our bedroom, leaning over the Mistress with a smile on her face, was the Goddess of the Oath, Fairyluna.

As I had yet to fall asleep, she simply turned her head to catch me staring at her. She put her finger to her lips, her warning for me not to say a thing. I was shaking with fright for some reason, but I kept my mouth tightened and not a peep of sound escaped.

The Goddess had placed her hand on the Mistress’ belly, and then with a smile most wicked, a snap of her fingers a moment later has her disappearing once more as she had done before in the church the day after my servitude began. I thought the Master had slept through it along with the Mistress but he sat up and stared at me the moment she was gone. He too put his finger to his lips before beckoning me over to him. He patted the bed next to him, inviting me for the first time to join their bed in the space between them, then he lay back down on his side, and nothing more was spoken of it.

For the first time when thinking of the Goddess, I felt fear.

It was when his arm draped around me, with my body pressed tightly against his own, that was when a different feeling formed somewhere deep inside of me.

Safety.

In Gardavan’s arms, in the home of my Master, I understood somehow, there was safety.

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