only evil would be found behind them. The black brick
made the edifice almost disappear into the night, although
the small amount of white trim gave a faint outline of the
dwelling. The stone path leading to the front doors had
been exquisitely laid by hand, each stone blending with its
mates flawlessly. Three floors towered above the gardens
and paths of the estate, which no one dared approach
without invitation.
Lazarius walked quietly up the path to his master’s
estate. He entered through the French doors, shutting
them softly behind him. Walking through the front hall
with its black & white flooring, tall statues and paintings
on the walls, he continued to the parlor. He had always
enjoyed walking down the hallway, it led past numerous
displays of swords, knives, axes and other various weapons
from around the world. His master was remarkably
capable with any weapon given to him.
One of his favorites to stop and admire was a
grouping of four Scottish Broadswords, whose exquisite
craftsmanship was beyond compare in this day and age.
Their hilts were finely crafted, the blades honed to a deadly
edge. Every weapon in the manor was battle ready at any
given moment, for his lord had two men in his employ
whose job it was to care for the weapons and nothing else.
He waited quietly in the parlor to be called back to
his master’s study. Uncertain of what the man’s reaction
was going to be, he would tell him everything that had
happened. Even if it is angered his lord, he would not lie
to him. Lazarius was a lot of things, but a coward was not
one of them.
He stood up from the chair he had been relaxing in
and began to walk about the room. He had waited there
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