Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 3 Zere Andrei

At exactly six o'clock in the morning, the prayer bells of the Church of the God of Death ring out on time. They not only guide the believers in their morning prayers, but also awaken the servants from their sleep.

"My little Fafnir, it's already six o'clock, time to get up."

Elisa whispered in Fafnir's ear.

Elisa and Clint had changed into what looked like decent but old-fashioned formal attire.

Still half asleep, Fafnir immediately got up, changed into a comfortable cotton robe, washed up briefly, and left the room with his parents.

Along the way, the aroma of aged wine and the enticing scent of smoked meat wafted from the basement storage room. Fafnir and his parents arrived on the first floor and went straight through a side corridor to a large room—the place where the servants gathered in the morning.

A few minutes later, the butler, whose uniform was ironed perfectly, arrived, and the many servants stood in a line with their heads bowed.

Good morning, everyone! Cheer up!

The handymen and kitchen staff, immediately return to your posts. The stove must be lit within fifteen minutes, and hot water, morning drinks, and cleaning tools must all be in place… The yard servants, go and sweep the front yard, side paths, flowerbeds, and pathways, and check all the doors and windows…

Personal servants—you two stay here for now, and come with me to inspect the second floor later… Oh, and please have Mr. Treasurer Clint make a proper account of the expenses for this period; we need to report to the master in a few days…

"Let's go now!"

As expected, Fafnir, the handyman, was assigned the cleaning task, which meant he had to clean from the first floor to the fourth floor and back again all day.

Fafnir was somewhat frustrated: he really didn't know when this would end. Ever since he turned six and was no longer a toddler, he'd been forced to do odd jobs. Perhaps in a few years, when his parents' employment ended, he could return to his homeland, that human land he'd never visited before…

Servants were not entitled to breakfast. It wasn't until the church bells rang at noon that Fafnir put down his rag and prepared to go to the servants' dining room on the basement floor.

However, at that moment, a servant came and told Fafnir that the butler wanted him to go upstairs because it was about that important person.

Fafnir followed the messenger upstairs to the second floor, feeling somewhat uneasy.

The servant stopped at the top of the stairs and gestured towards the end of the corridor: "Go over there yourself. The butler is at the door of the reception room."

Fafnir nodded and walked down the corridor.

The corridor was long, and the oil paintings on both sides appeared softer in the afternoon light than the night before. He walked briskly forward, the hem of his cotton robe brushing against the floor that had just been mopped.

The door to the reception room was half open.

Fafnir stopped at the doorway, about to speak, when he heard voices coming from inside.

"...Please rest assured, these children have all been carefully selected; they are clean-handed and quick-witted." The butler always spoke humbly and politely to his master and his guests.

"Hmm," another voice replied calmly.

Fafnir knew it was the man in black robes from last night, Zero Andrei.

The butler glanced towards the door and briefly exchanged a look with Fafnir, who was waiting.

"You standing outside," the butler's voice suddenly rose, "come in."

Fafnir pushed open the door, walked in with his head down, and stopped three steps away from the two of them, leaning forward slightly.

The reception room was small, with a low table and two chairs placed near the window. Lorraine was not there; only Andrei sat upright, while the butler, standing to the side, turned to look at Fafnir.

Monsieur Andrei sat by the window, sunlight streaming in from the window behind him, his grey eyes fixed on Fafner—as calm as the night before.

"Is it him?" Andrei asked.

"Yes, sir." The butler stood up, walked to Fafnir's side, and put a hand on his shoulder. "The son of the treasurer Clint, he's hardworking and honest."

Fafner felt the hand on his shoulder tighten.

The butler's fingers were long, with distinct knuckles, and the tips dug into the flesh of his shoulder. Not hard, but it hurt.

"Mr. Lorraine mentioned yesterday that you're taking over twenty students with you this time," the butler's voice remained respectful. "I thought it would be good to bring a few volunteers along, so they can help you and the students once you arrive at the school. He was born and raised here as a servant, so you can trust him with your services."

Andrei didn't say anything.

Fafnir kept his head down, and he could feel those gray eyes still watching him. The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip again, and it really hurt.

"Lift your head up," Andrei said.

Fafnir looked up.

The midday sun shone from behind Andrei, somewhat dazzlingly bright. His wrinkled face was expressionless, his gray eyes staring intently at his own.

The ratman's bloodline cannot be hidden. Even if he looks like a pure-blooded human, those superhumans who know magic will definitely be able to tell.

"What's your name?"

"Fafner Beckett, sir."

"How old are you?"

"Seven years old, sir."

"Can you read?"

Fafnir paused for a moment.

“I recognize it,” Fafnir said. “My parents taught me some Common and Elvish.”

Andrei nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

He picked up the glass on the table, took a sip of his drink, and looked out the window, seemingly lost in thought.

The butler waited a few seconds, and seeing that Andrei didn't seem inclined to ask any further questions, he smiled and said, "Sir, although this child is young, he never slacks off when he works, and he's quite clever. Please feel free to use him if you need anything on the journey..."

"Alright." Andrei put down his cup, stood up, paused as he passed Fafnir, glanced down at him, said nothing, and went out the door.

The footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

The meeting room was silent for a few seconds.

"Alright," the butler's voice came from above, the deliberate humility gone, "You can get out now."

Fafnir turned around, leaned forward, and prepared to leave.

"stop."

The butler walked up to him and looked down at him. Fafnir had to tilt his head back to see his face.

The face was facing him, and there was even a slight smile on its lips.

"Do you know why it was you?"

Fafner didn't say anything.

The butler bent down, leaned closer, and said in a low voice, "Because your parents gave you the money. Three gold pounds, enough for them to save for two years without eating or drinking."

Fafnir looked at the face so close to his and felt his breath.

"Do you know what three gold pounds can buy?" The butler straightened up, patted his shoulder—this time it didn't hurt—"It can buy the life of you, you bastard."

He said this while smiling, his tone light and cheerful, as if he were talking about today's weather.

"I hate you! I really don't understand why Clint and Elisa, who are both human, would give birth to something like you!"

He looked down at Fafnir, his eyes revealing undisguised disgust.

"You're filthy and stinky, like a rat. You think you can hide it? I can tell the smell off you just by smelling it."

Fafner didn't speak; he just stood there with his eyes downcast.

"Alright, get out of here," the butler waved his hand. "We're leaving early the day after tomorrow. From now on, serve Lord Andrei and the students well—if you dare cause any trouble, I'll skin you alive."