City of Scoundrels

Late night mussings

“Hello?”

He walked allow the corridor, candle holder in hand, nightcap on head. His slippers muffled the sound of his footsteps but not the creaking of the floorboards as he slowly advanced through his home, looking for the source of the noise. Over the last few days he had begun to notice more and more voices in the Manor. At first he’d put it down to the patients in the doctor’s clinic and the workmen busily repairing and refurbishing the home. At night though, when there was no-one around after everyone had gone to their beds he still heard them.

The voices always seemed to be coming from the next room along. If he pressed his ear to the wall he could hear them more clearly but still couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. When he went to investigate who was hiding there the rooms were always empty. Someone was playing a game with him, either that or they had lodgers.

Everything really had gone downhill since those new people moved in. The doctor brought all manner of peasant through the front door with his work. A strange, unnerving man. When he looked at you you never felt that he saw you, rather, he saw your organs, your conditions. He saw possibilities. The foreigner made the place untidy and generally seemed to be taking over the manor with his own designs. He also had a strange manor to him. It was really no surprise that he had been sent to this manor. No other Noble would dare take him in. Then there was the new servant. That one was a problem. She was constantly around, getting in the way, preventing the proper running of the manor. She was up to something definitely. He’d have to keep an eye on her.

He preferred the way things used to be, when it was just the three of them. It was a quiet life, a poor life, but a quiet life, straight forward, with a nobility all of its own. Easily managed. No-one takes notice, No one tries anything. They can just live out their last days happy and quiet. But no, instead these new people came along and-

“SULLIVAN”

Lord Stumble-Bum’s voice boomed throughout the house. Sullivan sighed and turned, shuffling back down the corridor clutching his candle holder.

“Coming sir.” His lordship would be having more problems with his foot. “I’ll get the doctor.” Things were never simple anymore. This party was going to be a disaster.

Comments

AHAHAHA I thought that was written from Stumble-Bum’s perspective. I was already concerned that he finally might have seen the light :D

Late night mussings
david_mcnee_05 John_Baggins

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