Chapter 11: The Brat of Emerald Manor
Of all the grand houses in Upper Shavron there was none as beautiful as Emerald Manor. To begin with there was a long narrow pool that invited the guest into the evergreen courtyard with its roses ( painted green for effect), its perfectly trimmed bushes, and quaint yet opulent house that sat at the back of it all. Servants could be found everywhere, whether they were tending to the daily sweep of the court road or the task of making sure that every rose was painted with a fresh coat of green paint every day.
With every estate there is a resident to abide in it, and Emerald Manor had its share of holders. Most of them were honest laborers who worked hard to own the property, but presently it had fallen into the hands of a snobbish family of Servals; who, whether by shading dealing or cheating the hired worker, gained the wealth that sat safely in their hands. Among this family is a young serval named Cyrus who is presently waking up from his sleep. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Cyrus is greeted by two servants: one to take down his preference for breakfast and the other to entertain his morning fits for mischief, and being the only child gave him that privilege.
"Good morning, master Cyrus, what would you like for breakfast?" replied the first servant ready to write down the request.
Cyrus gave him a crossed look as if he wanted the servant to be chopped, baked, and broiled to his to his liking, however, the anticipation of the morning meal did away with his disagreement with the help.
"Let me see, ah, I want three pancakes with syrup and don‘t forget the blueberries or I shall be very angry. I want my orange juice and milk with a side order of ice cream.
Hurry now, make sure its on the table when I arrive."
The servant took the order down and left the room immediately. Now the second servant stood idly by awaiting his master to address him. It was about fifteen minutes or so as the serval washed his face, dressed and groomed his fur before he even noticed the servant standing by.
"Well, look at that. It‘s my favorite servant, Devin. How are you today?"
"Fine, sir."
"Do you know why you‘re my favorite servant?" he said twiddling his fingers with wide eyes, "Its because you‘re bigger than me; I can kick you, smack you around until I feel content , and you can‘t do anything about it."
"Indeed," replied the jaguar, sicken by the thought of it.
Cyrus began to dance around his employee with glee until he promptly stopped and kicked him in the bottom.
"It‘s always good to find an opportunity to relieve some stress, don‘t you think Devin?"
"You have no idea," he said mentally strangling the serval.
"You may go now. I smell my breakfast."
Downstairs Cyrus‘s mother and father awaited him. His mother sat in her pink cloak sipping on a cup of juice. She dipped her head graciously to acknowledge her son‘s attendance. Cyrus‘s father was looking over a piece of paper that took his attention away from the fresh breakfast before him. The young serval quickly tore into his food and drink, calling for more service as he did. There wasn‘t much talking between the three unless it dealt with the morning gossip or any astounding news that may have crept into Shavron‘s borders. Today, Kleos had caught the eye of Cyrus‘s father and he quickly let his family know of his discovery.
"I say, this Kleos is quite the celebrity: many of the Shavronites revere him, the keepers hate him, and rumor has it that he can forgive sins."
"That‘s nice," replied Cyrus‘s mother with little concern.
Cyrus got up from his breakfast binge and went over to his father to look over the paper. He instantly was captivated by the stories of what the panda had done and decided that he wanted to find out more.
"I want to find him. I going to go on a little adventure."
"Hold on son," replied Cyrus‘s father with concern, "Going around the lowly is dangerous for a rich creature like yourself. They may hurt you out of jealousy; its better that you stay here."
Instantly the young serval started to pout and cry. He flared his arms wildly and his body gyrated in frustration.
"I‘M EIGHTEEN, I‘M AN ADULT! I WANT TO GO ON AN ADVENTURE! I WANT TO, I WANT TO, I WANT TO!" he said jumping up and down.
His parents came over to console him, and after five more minutes of acting like a baby, a trait he was good at, he was permitted to explore his desire to find the farmer.
"It will be like a outing, I suppose," replied his father confidently, "Getting the chance to see how the other half live could put a little culture in you."
So that very day Cyrus gather two trunks of clothing, five hundred coins of silver, and five servants to carry his belongings. He left the Emerald Manor with vain glory running through his veins; for he was not looking for Kleos to follow him; but only to make as wish to be more wealthy than he already was. After five hours of walking, he began to be disgruntled. He took a rest, as well as his servants, and began to wonder what to do next.
"This farmer is harder to find than I thought. All this walking ails me, do you know where the nearest inn is?" he said to one of his servants.
"No, sir."
From Cyrus‘s right came a middle aged fox. He looked wealthy from Cyrus‘s eye. He was dressed in a fabulous red cloak that look like it was woven with expertise, and carried a walking stick that had a diamond for its handle. The fox walked slowly by, giving the group a small smile. Cyrus called the fox over.
"Maybe you should let him go about his way, sir," replied one of the servants, cautioning Cyrus.
The serval ignored the advice and continued to call the fox until he came back.
"I wonder if you can help me. I‘ve been traveling for five hours and I need a place to sleep tonight. Do you know where the nearest inn is?"
The fox looked over the young serval, and then over the belongings he had.
"What‘s all of this stuff?" replied the fox inquisitively.
"Just some clothes and mon–" Once again a servant interjected.
"I think it would be best, sir, if we send this fox along his way."
"Well I think I want to talk to him," Cyrus snapped, "Besides you five have been bothering me ever since we left. Go away, I can take care of myself."
The servants did their best to convince the young serval of the danger, but this only infuriated him further. After another scolding remark, and a few swift kicks in the bottom, the servants went home.
"Seems like those jokers didn‘t trust me." the fox said returning his glare back to the serval.
"Bothersome, that‘s what they are. So, about that inn."
"Oh yes, there is a inn just five mile up road there."
"Thank you, I shall pay you for your trouble." said Cyrus.
Cyrus took a key from under his cloak and opened a small chest. Within that chest was the five hundred coins of silver. Cyrus counted out twenty of them, but over his shoulder the fox watched carefully. The silver glitter of the coins took hold of him. He licked his chops, rubbed his hands, and devised a way to get the money. Cyrus dropped those twenty coins in the fox‘s hand, at which the fox took a bow.
"So you‘re ready to go! How about some help with your stuff.
"Sure." Cyrus said, happy for the aid.
"Do you know about the bridge?"
"Bridge?" he said scratching his head.
"There‘s a toll bridge up ahead," said the fox, "I think the toll is twenty–no– thirty silver coins. Now I know the bridge-keeper because I travel this road frequently. I can talk him down so you have to pay only twenty five coins. You can just hand me the money now so, it‘ll be easier that way."
Sheepishly, Cyrus took out the money and placed it into the fox‘s greedy hands. They came upon that bridge, but there was no bridge-keeper.
"Where the bridge-keeper?"
"He must be gone for the moment." he replied. " Don‘t worry about it. Let‘s keep moving," the fox said quickly, hoping the serval would forget about the money.
Along the way there were other things that Cyrus had to give up money for: there was the imaginary robbers that the fox said he would protect Cyrus from–– that was thirty silver coins, and then the fox asserted that he would have get a room for himself since he stayed out so long to help Cyrus: that was a hefty one hundred silver coins. By and by the two went on until the fox took the young serval to an area away from the main road. Cyrus was a little concerned about this, but dared not to correct the fox out of fear of insulting him. By the time Cyrus found the courage to speak up, the main road was out of view. The fox stopped suddenly.
"Excuse me, I–I think you‘re going the wrong way."
"No," said the fox, looking over his shoulder, "You are exact where I want you to be." The fox turned to reveal a long dagger stained with dry blood.
"What are you doing? W–what do you want?"
"Don‘t play stupid, I want those dandy clothes of yours and the rest of your money," replied the fox taking a step forward
"But look at you," said Cyrus nervously, " you don‘t need my money."
The fox looked over himself as if his clothes had suddenly appeared out of thin air.
"Looks can be deceiving. How do you think I got this handsome cloak and cane?" he said waving the stained dagger.
Cyrus knew he was in trouble, and he did everything he could to evade the possible attempt to end his life.
"All right take my money. Just leave me alone!"
"I can‘t do that," said the fox, "I can‘t have you running to the authorities, now come here!"
The fox lunged forward, throwing forward the dagger at Cyrus‘s chest. The serval struck the fox across the nose, drawing a little blood, and ran as fast as he could away from the murderer. He ran, tripped, and regained his footing through bushes and shrubs desperately seeking the main road. Finding the road again was difficult; for the fox had taken him around so many twist and turns beforehand that nothing was familiar. Finally, he came to a clearing. This road was less discreet than the one before, but it was enough for Cyrus.
Two hours went by, with the fox nowhere in sight. Being relieved to have escaped death, the young serval sat down to gain what little strength he had. What could he do now?
There was no money for food or board; no fresh clothes to keep him happy. He was lost and lonely, two things he hated to be. This adventure that he had embarked on so hastily, was now a deep regret.
"I need help." he said to himself.
Another two hours went by. Cyrus found his way to a town that was rundown. The buildings were falling apart: windows cracked or broken, the wood rotting, and the streets paved with heavy dirt. No creatures stirred about the streets, which put Cyrus on edge.
The only living object was a tumbleweed rolling down the dusty road. Out of curiosity, he walked slowly into town until he heard a familiar sound: talking. He followed the voice that beckoned him as a father would call a lost child. The voice brought him to a section of town where the inhabitants where standing together. They were listening to some creature that Cyrus could not see, for the crowd was side by side blocking the speaker. The serval took his place at the back of the group inconspicuously as he listened to the orator. Kleos spoke of Hell, which put a fright into Cyrus soul. He had never heard any creature speak the way this one did.
Within that crowd lurked the spies of the keepers, for the keepers were looking for any and every opportunity to destroy Kleos. One of them asked Kleos a question.
"Farmer you are wise and just, but tell me who gives you the authority to do the things you do?"
The keeper looked to his fellow spy. If they said that Magee‘s preaching was of Heaven, they were afraid of being rebuked for not believing him; and if they said of this world, they feared the Shavronites for they regarded Magee in high standing. The keeper cleared his voice and said,
"I cannot tell."
The young serval; being drawn by God, sprung forward through the crowd. He stood quiet embarrassed for the move and did not speak when Kleos looked upon him. Cyrus nervously introduced himself. However, the six; perceiving the young age of the Cyrus, told him to back away.
"Don‘t hinder the young from coming unto me, for the realm of Heaven is made of these. If you do not accept me as a young one—even as a mere child," Kleos said placing his hand on Cyrus‘s shoulder, "you will not go to Heaven. Follow me, Cyrus." The serval, a little confused, thought it would be necessary to inform the farmer of his reason, for finding him.
"I didn‘t come to join your little group" said Cyrus arrogantly, "I have my own life." Kleos loved Cyrus, and told him;
Then one from the crowd cry out: "You are truly Lord and all the world will proclaim it!" But Kleos said,
Kleos continued to teach and preach the kingdom of God from the afternoon to the setting of the sun.