At dawn, Julian stood at the palace gates, the chill of the early morning air brushing against his skin. He was dressed in a simple dark tunic and trousers, far humbler than the servant attire he had worn within the palace walls. A small leather bag, containing only the bare essentials, was slung over his shoulder.
Leona stood beside him, her stance rigid, arms crossed. The ever-serious guard had been assigned to escort him to his new place of servitude. She glanced at him briefly before looking ahead. "Try not to get yourself killed," she muttered.
Julian smirked. "I'll do my best."
With that, the gates creaked open, revealing the city beyond.
The palace loomed behind him, its towering walls and spires a silent reminder of the power he was leaving behind. But Julian did not linger. This was not a loss—it was an opportunity.
As they descended the stone steps into the bustling city below, Julian kept his gaze steady.
The next chapter of his life had begun.
***
The Averill household was not far from the heart of the city, nestled in a district that was neither impoverished nor extravagant. The home itself was modest—two stories, a well-maintained courtyard, and an air of quiet stability.
Leona led him through the gate and up to the door. She knocked once.
Moments later, the door opened to reveal a woman in her mid-thirties, her expression composed but assessing, she was at least an G cup. Her auburn hair was tied in a neat bun, and she carried herself with a quiet authority that reminded Julian, just faintly, of Selene.
"You must be Julian," she said, her sharp brown eyes sweeping over him. "I am Evelyn Averill. Welcome to my home."
Julian bowed slightly." Lady Averill."
Her lips twitched at the title, though she did not correct him.
Leona spoke next. "He has been assigned to your household. He will serve as a general servant. Ensure he understands his place."
Evelyn nodded. "Understood."
With that, Leona turned to Julian. "Behave." And without another word, she strode off, leaving him at the doorstep of his new life.
Evelyn stepped aside. "Come in."
Julian entered, eyes flicking around the interior. It was warm but practical—polished wood floors, simple but elegant furnishings, and a sense of order.
"You will follow the house rules," Evelyn said, closing the door behind him. "You will work hard, and you will not bring trouble to my family. Understood?"
Julian met her gaze. "Understood."
She studied him for a moment before nodding. "Good. Then let's begin."
Evelyn led Julian further inside, her steps measured and deliberate. The faint scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle notes of parchment and fabric—evidence of a household that functioned with both discipline and refinement.
"You will meet the rest of the family now," she said, her voice calm yet carrying an unspoken weight. "I expect you to address them properly and respect their authority within this household."
Julian nodded, keeping his expression neutral. He had no intention of stepping out of line—not yet, at least.
Evelyn guided him through a wide corridor that opened into a sitting area, where two young women were already waiting.
The elder of the two, Celeste Averill, sat with the poise of someone accustomed to control. At twenty, she carried an air of quiet confidence. Her long, dark auburn hair cascaded over her shoulders in soft waves, and her brown eyes—sharper than her mother's—studied Julian with mild disinterest. She was dressed elegantly but modestly, her blouse fitted enough to suggest the curves beneath, though she made no effort to draw attention to them.
Beside her, the younger sister, Lilia Averill, was an unmistakable contrast. At eighteen—the same age as Julian—she radiated a natural boldness. Her golden eyes, alive with curiosity, locked onto him immediately, sizing him up with a slow, knowing gaze. Unlike her sister, she made no attempt to downplay her figure, her fitted attire accentuating the fullness of her chest and the tautness of her waist. The way she shifted in her seat—one leg casually draped over the other, her fingers lazily tapping against the armrest—gave the impression of a cat toying with a new plaything.
Evelyn gestured toward Julian. "This is Julian. He will be working in this household from now on."
Celeste's expression barely shifted. "Understood," she said simply, as if the matter was of no real consequence to her.
Lilia, on the other hand, leaned forward slightly, a smirk tugging at her lips. "He doesn't look like much," she mused.
Julian met her gaze, unflinching. "Neither do you."
A brief silence.
Then—unexpectedly—Lilia laughed. A genuine, amused sound.
Evelyn shot her a look. "Lilia."
"What?" Lilia shrugged, still grinning. "At least he's not a spineless fool."
Celeste sighed. "That remains to be seen."
Julian said nothing. He already had a read on both of them. Celeste, cautious and reserved, would not waste time on unnecessary interactions. Lilia, in contrast, was forward, confident—someone who enjoyed testing others.
A new voice entered the room before any further exchanges could take place.
"Ah, the new servant has arrived."
A man stepped in—a figure older than Evelyn, with streaks of silver in his dark hair. His attire was refined yet practical, marking him as someone accustomed to managing affairs rather than engaging in combat. His sharp eyes took in Julian with a businessman's scrutiny.
Julian immediately recognized him as the Averill family's patriarch—Evelyn's husband.
The man offered a polite nod, his sharp brown eyes assessing but not unkind. "Julian, was it?" His voice was steady, carrying the tone of someone well-versed in negotiations rather than command.
Evelyn turned slightly toward him. "This is my husband, Richard Averill. He manages our family's textile house."
Textile house. Julian noted. It made sense—wealthy families wouldn't settle for anything common.
Richard studied him for a moment before offering a small smile. "Welcome to our home, then. I trust Evelyn has already made our expectations clear."
"She has," Julian replied.
"Good." Richard's smile didn't waver, but there was a knowing look in his eyes. "Do your work diligently, and you'll find life here to be… manageable."
Evelyn cut in smoothly. "That will be enough. Julian has work to do, and we have no need for pleasantries."
Julian merely inclined his head in acknowledgment. He had no intention of making things difficult for himself here—not yet, at least.
Celeste, who had been watching the exchange in silence, finally stood, smoothing the folds of her refined yet simple dress. "Then I suppose we'll see how competent you are soon enough." She cast him one last indifferent glance before turning to leave the room.
Lilia, however, lingered a moment longer. Her golden eyes gleamed with something Julian couldn't quite place—mischief, curiosity, or perhaps a mix of both. "Try not to bore me, servant," she said, flashing a smirk before sauntering off after her sister.
Julian exhaled quietly through his nose. He had a feeling that out of everyone in this household, Lilia would be the one to keep an eye on.
Evelyn spoke again, drawing his attention back to her. "You will be assigned to general duties within the household. Cleaning, errands, and whatever else is required of you. You will answer to me first and foremost, but if my daughters or my husband give you orders, you will follow them without complaint. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
She nodded. "Good. For now, you will be shown to your quarters."
Evelyn turned to one of the house attendants—a young woman in simple servant garb who had been standing quietly in the corner. "Take him to the servant's room."
The attendant bowed her head in acknowledgment. "Yes, Lady Averill."
Julian followed without protest as she led him through the halls, his mind already calculating the next steps of his survival in this new household.
A different setting. A different kind of servitude.
But the game remained the same.
And Julian had every intention of playing it well.