Chapter 79: Seven Days In Natasha’s House (2)

The fourth day in Rakhshan was one of those rare, quiet moments when the bustle of the town faded into the background. The sounds of the market, the chatter of vendors, and the distant hum of life blended into a soft murmur as Alaric wandered the streets with Kara, his personal maid. The world around them seemed to slow as they moved, the rhythm of their steps in sync.

Kara’s presence was a constant, a grounding force that seemed to soothe the restless stirrings in Alaric’s mind.

Her calm, quiet strength had a way of putting him at ease, a welcome contrast to the uncertainty and pressure that had weighed on him over the past few days.

Kara walked a step behind him, her posture poised yet relaxed, as if she were part of the flow of the town itself.

The sun cast a golden glow over the cobblestone streets, and the warm breeze rustled the leaves of the trees that lined the roads. Alaric stole a glance at her, his gaze lingering for just a moment.

The way her dark hair cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders, the graceful curve of her neck, and the gentle sway of her hips as she moved all had a subtle, captivating allure.

Though she was his servant, Kara possessed a quiet elegance that made her anything but ordinary.

They turned a corner, and a small boutique came into view.

The windows were adorned with delicate dresses, intricate jewelry, and ornamental trinkets, their sparkling colors beckoning passersby to come inside.

Alaric noticed Kara’s eyes immediately drawn to the window, her gaze widening as she took in the displays.

There was something almost childlike in the way she observed the garments and jewelry, as though they were little treasures waiting to be discovered.

“Would you like to go in?” Alaric asked, his voice gentle, knowing that Kara’s reserved nature often made her reluctant to indulge herself.

Kara hesitated, glancing up at him before nodding. “If you wish it, Master Alaric,” she replied, her tone respectful but soft, as though she was merely a servant awaiting her master’s orders.

Alaric gave a small, amused smile. “I do wish it. Go ahead. Choose something you like.”

She looked at him for a moment longer, her brown eyes searching his face. There was an unreadable expression on her face, a flicker of something deeper, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Kara took a step forward, her fingers grazing the glass as she peered inside. Her gaze moved from dress to dress, each one more beautiful than the last, but there was a hesitation in the way she lingered.

Alaric, sensing her uncertainty, took a step closer.

“You deserve something beautiful, Kara,” he said, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “You’ve always taken such good care of me. If you wear something like that,” he gestured towards a gown in the display, a deep shade of blue, “I’d be even more happy to have you by my side.”

Kara’s breath hitched at his words, and for a brief moment, she faltered. She stared at the dress he had pointed to, a deep, rich blue that complemented her dark hair and the olive undertones of her skin.

The fabric looked like it would flow effortlessly with every movement, hugging her figure in all the right places. Her eyes flickered to Alaric once more, searching his face, as though gauging the sincerity of his words.

“Master Alaric, you really think I’d look… beautiful in that?” she asked, her voice soft, almost shy.

Alaric met her gaze, his eyes steady and warm. “I think you’d look stunning. You already do,” he added, his voice gentle, but there was a certain intensity in his words. “But that dress, with the way you carry yourself… It would only make you look more…” He trailed off for a moment, then added with a smirk, “… irresistible.”

Kara’s cheeks flushed, and for a brief moment, she looked away, her fingers brushing over the fabric of the dress in the window as if she could feel its softness even from a distance. She had always been hesitant about allowing herself any indulgence, especially when it came to her appearance, but something about Alaric’s words seemed to stir a different feeling within her.

“I… I’ll take it,” she said, a quiet determination in her voice.

With a smile, Alaric led her inside, and they were greeted by a friendly shopkeeper. Kara selected the dress with ease, and Alaric insisted on paying for it without a second thought, the price hardly a consideration to him.

As he handed over the payment, he couldn’t help but notice how Kara held the gown carefully, her fingers caressing the fabric as though it were a precious gift.

The way she held herself, the way she moved with quiet grace, made her seem like someone far more than just a servant. She was the embodiment of elegance and beauty, though she rarely acknowledged it herself.

They left the boutique, and Alaric couldn’t help but glance at Kara every so often as they continued their walk through the town. The dress, still carefully folded in her arms, was already a symbol of her quiet strength. She had always been so humble, so selfless, and yet here was something that was entirely for her. It was a small gesture, but in that moment, it felt like more than that.

Their exploration of the town continued, and Alaric found himself buying small trinkets and ornaments as they passed through various stalls.

Kara, despite her usual modesty, seemed to delight in each little gift, her face lighting up with genuine joy.

At one stall, Alaric picked out a delicate set of ornaments—small glass flowers, each one more intricate than the last. He watched as Kara’s fingers brushed over them, her expression softening as she admired the fine craftsmanship.

“These are beautiful,” she said, her voice quiet with appreciation.

Alaric smiled, a warmth spreading through him at the sight of her joy. “I thought you might like them. You deserve beautiful things, Kara.”

Kara looked up at him, her dark eyes reflecting the sunlight as she smiled. It was a smile that reached her eyes, a smile that spoke of quiet contentment.

“Thank you, Master Alaric. They’re lovely.” She held the ornaments up to the light, her smile widening. “I don’t know what to say.”

“No need to say anything,” Alaric replied, his voice low and sincere. “It’s just a small gift. Something to make you happy.”

Kara held the ornaments close, her expression softening, almost as if she were touched by the simple act of kindness. It wasn’t extravagant, nothing overly grand. But for her, it was a rare and genuine gesture, one that spoke more than words could convey.

As they continued to walk through the town, stopping at various stalls and shops, the day passed in a haze of simple pleasures.

By the time the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets, they had gathered a small collection of trinkets. Nothing too extravagant, nothing too grand. But as they made their way back to the house, Alaric found himself in a state of quiet contentment, the simple joy of being in Kara’s company more than enough to lift his spirits.

Kara’s presence, the softness in her smile, and the warmth in her eyes were all the treasures Alaric needed in that moment.

The fifth day of Alaric’s stay in Rakhshan Town was marked by a different kind of exploration—one that delved into the complexities of power and control. The sun shone brightly as he gathered Evanthe, Elin, Zoey, and Sigrid, the four women who had once been the wives of Edgar Farrow, for a day in town. But this outing was far from a leisurely stroll.

“Ladies,” Alaric began, his voice carrying an air of authority, “today, you will be my personal attendants. Your sole purpose is to serve and obey my every command.”

The women exchanged glances, their eyes betraying a mix of apprehension and resignation. They knew better than to question Alaric’s intentions, especially when that dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.

“Yes, Master Alaric,” Evanthe replied, her voice steady despite the tremor that ran through her body.

Alaric’s lips curved into a satisfied smile. “Excellent. Now, let’s get you dressed for the occasion.”

He led them to a boutique known for its exquisite finery, a stark contrast to the purpose of their visit. Inside, the shop was filled with luxurious fabrics, silks, and laces. Alaric wasted no time, selecting skimpy maid uniforms that left little to the imagination. The tight-fitting dresses hugged every curve, accentuating their voluptuous figures.

The women’s eyes widened in shock as they realized the extent of the humiliation Alaric had in store for them.

“Put these on,” Alaric commanded, his voice laced with a dark pleasure. “You will wear these for the rest of the day.”

They retreated to the changing rooms, their movements stiff with reluctance. The uniforms were a stark reminder of their subservience, a far cry from the finery they were accustomed to.

As they emerged, one by one, Alaric’s eyes roamed over their bodies, a predatory satisfaction gleaming in his gaze.

“Now, follow me,” he ordered, his voice carrying through the boutique.

They stepped out onto the bustling streets of Rakhshan, their revealing attire drawing stares and whispers from the townspeople. Alaric’s eyes gleamed with cruel satisfaction as he watched the women squirm under the scrutiny.

“You will serve me today,” he said, his voice carrying a note of command. “You will do as I say, when I say it.”

The women nodded, their eyes downcast, knowing any defiance would be futile.

Alaric led them to a bustling café, its tables spilling out onto the sidewalk. He chose a prime spot, and the women stood behind him, a living display of his power.

“Kneel, Evanthe,” Alaric ordered, his voice low and dangerous. “You will serve me my meal.”

Evanthe’s emerald eyes widened, but she obeyed, her knees sinking onto the hard pavement. She served Alaric with trembling hands, her face flushed with humiliation.

“Elin,” Alaric called, his voice carrying a cruel edge. “I need a back massage.”

Elin’s slender frame moved to stand behind him, her hands hesitantly beginning to work on his shoulders.

“Harder,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving the street scene.

Elin’s hands pressed harder, her fingers digging into his muscles, her face a mask of concentration.

Zoey stood nearby, her sapphire eyes flickering with defiance, but she remained silent, knowing any protest would be pointless.

“Sigrid,” Alaric called, his voice cutting through the bustling street noise. “Fetch me some water from that fountain over there.”

Sigrid’s hazel eyes widened, but she obeyed, her steps hesitant as she made her way to the fountain. The passersby stared, some with curiosity, others with amusement, at the unusual sight.

As the day wore on, Alaric continued to issue commands, each one a deliberate humiliation. The women served him, massaged him, and performed tasks that left them exposed and vulnerable. The crowd’s stares intensified, some whispering, others openly gawking at the spectacle.

“Clean my boots, Evanthe,” Alaric ordered, his voice laced with satisfaction.

Evanthe’s hands trembled as she knelt before him, her fingers working on his boots, her eyes downcast.

“Zoey,” Alaric said, his voice dripping with pleasure. “Dance for me.”

Zoey’s sapphire eyes flashed with defiance, but she complied, her movements graceful yet reluctant. The crowd gathered around, their eyes fixed on the captivating display.

Alaric’s smile widened, a cruel satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he watched the women, their bodies on display, their every move a testament to his control.

“All of you, kneel,” he commanded, his voice carrying through the crowd.

One by one, they sank to their knees, their eyes downcast, their bodies trembling.

Alaric’s gaze swept over them, a predatory satisfaction in his eyes. “This,” he said, his voice carrying a note of finality, “has been most entertaining.”

The crowd dispersed, their whispers and stares lingering as Alaric and the women made their way back to the Khysarel House, their bodies marked by the day’s humiliation, a stark reminder of Alaric’s absolute control.

The nights were a different world entirely. As the town settled into its tranquil rhythm, Alaric found himself drawn to Iridelle’s workshop. It was a cozy, chaotic haven where the soft glow of enchanted lanterns illuminated shelves stacked with tools, vials, and parchments. The scent of ink and metal lingered in the air, mingling with the faint hum of latent magic.

Iridelle was at her workbench, her long blue hair cascading down her back like a waterfall under the warm light. Her violet eyes narrowed in concentration as she sketched delicate lines across a large blueprint, her slim fingers tracing symbols with practiced ease.

Despite her focus, there was an air of sensuality about her—her form silhouetted by the lantern’s glow, the curve of her figure accentuated by the snug apron she wore over her tunic and trousers. Alaric leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his lips curling into a faint smirk.

“You know, Iridelle, you make staying up all night seem worth it,” Alaric remarked, his tone light and teasing.

Iridelle glanced up, startled. “Young Master Alaric,” she said, her cheeks warming as she straightened up. Her voice was as measured as ever, but the faint blush creeping across her face betrayed her flustered state. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t want to disturb the genius at work,” he replied, stepping into the room. He let his gaze wander over the blueprint spread before her. “What masterpiece are you crafting tonight?”

Iridelle tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, regaining her composure. “It’s the ring artifact you requested,” she said, motioning to the blueprint. “You were very specific about the functions and enchantments you needed. I’ve done my best to incorporate them into a practical design.”

Alaric leaned closer, inspecting the blueprint. “These designs are incredible,” he said, genuine admiration coloring his voice. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

The compliment caught her off guard. Iridelle’s blush deepened as she murmured, “Thank you, Young Master. It’s been… invigorating to work on something like this again.”

“’Invigorating,’ huh?” Alaric teased, his grin widening. “You don’t usually get excited about blueprints?”

Her expression softened, a hint of vulnerability flickering in her eyes. “Not since my magic circuits were damaged,” she admitted quietly. “I’ve had to rely on others to bring my ideas to life. But tonight, I can’t help but feel inspired.”

Alaric straightened, his expression turning serious. “Well, that’s about to change,” he said, picking up the blueprint of the ring. “We’re building this. Tonight.”

Iridelle blinked, stunned. “You mean… you’re going to craft it yourself? Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I could have prepared—”

“You’ve already prepared enough,” Alaric interrupted, walking to the workbench and gathering tools with the ease of someone who belonged in the space. “You designed the blueprint. That’s the hard part. The rest is just putting the pieces together.”

Iridelle hesitated, her hands clasping the edge of the table. “Young Master, crafting an artifact isn’t just about following instructions. It requires finesse, control, and—”

“Relax, Iridelle,” Alaric said, cutting her off with a chuckle. “I’ve got this.” He slid his own ring off his finger and placed it on the workbench. “You’re about to see me in action.”

Iridelle’s eyes widened as he began to work, his movements fluid and confident. He handled the tools with precision, his fingers deftly shaping the materials while his other hand channeled fine threads of magical energy. The air in the workshop grew heavy with the hum of power, the soft glow of his magic illuminating his focused expression.

Iridelle watched in silence, her initial skepticism giving way to awe. “Your control over your magical energy is incredible,” she murmured without realizing she was speaking. “It’s like you can manipulate it down to the finest hair-like strands.”

Alaric glanced at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Impressed?” he asked, his tone almost smug.

Iridelle cleared her throat, her formal demeanor returning. “It’s… surprising. I’ve worked with many skilled artisans, but your level of precision is rare. Especially for someone so young.”

“Fifteen isn’t that young,” Alaric quipped, smirking as he continued his work. “Besides, I’ve had good practice.”

She tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her gaze. “Practice with what? Building artifacts?”

“Among other things,” he replied cryptically, his grin widening at her puzzled expression.

As the hours slipped by, the workshop became a sanctuary of quiet focus and occasional banter. Iridelle found herself drawn to Alaric’s energy, his casual confidence infectious. She couldn’t help but offer suggestions and observations as he worked, her initial formality softening into a tentative camaraderie.

“Here,” she said at one point, stepping closer to adjust his grip on a tool. Her hand brushed his, and she quickly pulled away, her cheeks pink. “You’ll get a cleaner cut if you angle it like this.”

“Thanks, teacher,” Alaric teased, shooting her a wink that made her fumble with her next instruction.

By the time the first artifact was complete, the night had begun to wane. Alaric held the ring up to the light, its polished surface gleaming with a faint magical aura. “What do you think?” he asked, turning to Iridelle.

She stared at the ring, her eyes wide with admiration. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Young Master, you’ve truly exceeded my expectations.”

Alaric shrugged, sliding the ring onto his finger. “It’s all thanks to your blueprint,” he said casually. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Iridelle lowered her gaze, a small smile playing on her lips. “Thank you,” she said, her tone sincere. “For trusting me with this.”

He grinned. “Don’t get too sentimental on me, Iridelle. We’ve got more artifacts to make.”

The days that followed were a blur of activity. During the day, Alaric spent time with Natasha, wandering the town and sharing laughter over fond memories of the academy. At night, he returned to Iridelle’s workshop, their shared passion for artifact creation deepening their bond. The workshop became a space of creativity and discovery, their conversations flowing easily as they worked side by side.

On the seventh day, Alaric stood at the edge of the town, the first rays of the morning sun casting a golden glow across the landscape. In his hand was a letter, the wax seal bearing the crest of the Silver Raven Guild. He broke the seal, unfolding the parchment with a mix of anticipation and trepidation.

“Dear Alaric,” the letter began, “I was surprised and delighted to receive your letter. I have indeed come across an alchemist who may be able to assist you in your quest for the Mystic Rejuvenation Elixir. His name is Orion, and he is renowned for his skill and expertise…”

As Alaric read, a sense of relief washed over him. The words were a lifeline, a beacon of hope in the midst of uncertainty. A smile played on his lips as he whispered to himself, “Time to take the next step.”