There was a light knock on the door. Sitting up from where I lay back on the bed I frowned. I was literally locked in a cell. Why would someone knock? Blinking in confusion I looked at the door and saw a young woman smiling awkwardly at me. When she saw I was looking at her she raised a hand, and awkwardly waved. I waved back.

“Mr De'Erebus,” she said, “your meal.”

I paused, and pulled my legs around to place my feet on the floor. Nodding a little I began to stand. “Are you coming in or is this a ‘secret hatch’ experience?”

The woman giggled a little. As I looked at her closer I realised I vaguely recognised her from my first excursion to Morningstar’s court. She had been at the edge of his grand throne hall, carrying laundry at the time. By the sight of her she was a mere human being, and could not be older than twenty five. I wondered how a remarkably pretty female like her came to work for a primordial like Morningstar.

“I can come in,” she replied with delight in her tone, “but as I open the door and close it again … if you stay where you are, towards the back …”

Laughing lightly I moved backwards, amused at both this girl’s attitude and my brother’s apparent relaxing of the rules. With a spirit of generosity burning within me, and the knowledge that chance of escape was fairly limited with not knowing much of what lay beyond the corridor outside, I cupped my hands before me and moved to lean against the back wall. When I was steady the woman quickly began to unlock the door with a flurry of her fingers. She twisted her head to speak - which told me there was a guard or other being accompanying her - and then pushed open the door. No sooner was she in, baring a tray of steaming food in one hand, than did she close the door behind her.

“That is me,” she called lightly.

I heard a grunt, and the slim partial appearance of a tall individual. The grating of metal told me the door was locked behind her. Still and patient, I waited.

She spun back around, a great smile on her face. She was a beauty, with long, black straight hair, and an olive-skinned complexion. Her dark hazel eyes were full of exotic patterns, and she wore a simple grey work-dress, with bare feet. Despite its plainess it fitted her well, tailored to suit her curves and endearments.

“I am Regina,” she said warmly, “I work for Lord Morningstar.”

“And I am Charles,” I replied in kind, staying where I was. “His brother.”

“Yes,” Regina nodded, “I remember when you visited us before.”

“And here I am again,” I mockingly gestured before me as I inclined my head. Regina chuckled as she moved to place the tray on my desk. Intrigued by her I watched her, liking both her lighthearted nature, despite where she was and who she worked for, and the pleasant tone of voice.

After she had placed down my meal she twisted back around to me. “So.”

“So,” I said, “do you entertain many of my other siblings here?”

She paused, “some. Some have been … guests, like yourself, yet more reluctant. There are some who are pledged to his service.”

“And then there is me,” I slid my fingers back in line with one another, clasping.

“Yes, he has spoken of you much through the years I have worked for him. I believe you are one of his favourites.”

“Oh how lucky of me,” I sarcastically replied.

Regina’s smile reached her eyes. “The girl, he is holding you hostage for, is she your girlfriend?”

Surprised at the sudden personal nature of the question, I shook my head. “Ayna? No. No, she is a student of mine. I am a lecturer at a university - a professor.”

“Ah, I see,” she nodded a couple of times. For a moment she paused. “But she likes you?”

“A relationship between such is inappropriate,” I explained. “And though she is smart, she is naive. It would not be a healthy one.”

“Master Morningstar said something about her just liking ‘your fake race’ or something similarly.”

I cringed. It was true enough.

“Was that not right to say?” Regina looked apologetic, hand at her mouth in shock and tooth biting her lip gently.

“No,” I waved a hand, “it was fine.”

“As long as you are sure, sir.”

“Honestly,” I answered, “call me Charles. Everyone does. I'm not a great lord.”

“You are a favourable brother of the man I work for,” she shrugged a little, “the honorific can be inferred.”

“'Favourable’?” I questioned, raising my brow. “That's the word he used? 'Favourable’ despite having a desire to kidnap me every few days?”

“You are here because you do not agree to swear your fealty to him, yes?” her smile was brilliant.

I titled my head to one side, and nodded once. “Indeed, I am done owing my allegiance to someone. It's never happening again.”

She gestured at the room, “well. This is your punishment for refusing that. Some of the other employees would say you should die because you refused the offer. They call it an 'honour’.”

My punishment? Well, that was certainly something. It also made me more certain that Regina was here because she wanted to be; not indentured like I had supposed many of Morningstar's staff to be. Whether she saw him as a god in flesh, or simply as a man who upheld her virtues was a complex question in itself, with a myriad of answers. By the way she spoke of the other employees here, this seemed to be the norm of thinking, and it made me wonder:

“So how did exactly a young human like yourself come to work for a Primordial?”

Regina straightened, her some faded a little, and she gestured to my meal. “Your food is getting cold, sir.”

Concern came to me. Had I upset her? Immediately I frowned. “I apologise if I-”

“Oh no, but the story is long. You may want to eat whilst I tell it.”