Raising Evzen - 1. Master Novák

Black cloth covered marble foxes. Head bowed, hands clasped behind his back, Aleksander stood draped in itching clothes, waiting with his brothers for the master they’d been training to serve since they were born.

44 draks old, the litter of Faro had been born 28 draks before the third child of Clan Novák. Their first 27 draks of life had been uncertain; if the clan had failed to produce a third child, they would have been terminated. And yet they had received all the training necessary for personal slaves of nobility, along with a few lessons most slaves never received. Lessons that had been requested specially for their litter.

Lidikrys stood all around Aleksander, handlers, owners, trainers. A trio of reptilian Daknar waited nearby to protect the masters. One of the Lidikrys held the remote to Aleksander’s collar, a barebones collar that marked him as unsold. That would change only if the Novák son liked what he saw. If he didn’t, a syringe would destroy the Faro.

He could see the case that held his death, resting in the hands of the farm’s owner, Mistr Krutý. Its presence unnerved him only slightly. His entire life was devoted to the Nováks; if they decided they wanted one of his brothers instead of him, nothing could be done about that.

And so he stood calmly under the spotlight, waiting as a rain cloud passed overhead, blocking out Kinesi and the bright spot that was the third star in their system. The Prsteny shone through the cloud, rings of dust and rocks that reflected the burning light of Slunce behind the world.

Three bells passed before the quiet purr of an engine could be heard. The noise was welcome to Aleksander, a rare jolt of pleasure, or perhaps it was fear, rushing through him at the thought that it would all be over soon, one way or another. Aleksander dismissed the thought of fear a moment later. He wasn’t afraid of death; he hadn’t been for a long time.

He remained motionless as a car pulled up to the courtyard. A ruby Daknar in a deep blue silk uniform stepped out of the driver’s seat, opening the back door to allow an agouti rat out of the car.

Pan Bohdan Novák stood tall for a Lidikrys, nearly 152 centimeters tall. Coarse brown fur covered his body, a well tailored black suit barely revealing the ruffled white shirt that lay underneath. Long pants reached down to his ankles, impeccably pressed with not a single wrinkle showing. A pair of leather boots hid any sign of ankle, no fur visible save for the smooth brown pelt lining his face. He was the picture of wealth and success.

And yet the Daknar driver told Aleksander the truth about his master. The Nováks were destitute, their money squandered so much they were forced to rely on field slaves for household affairs. How they could afford a custom bred Faro was beyond Aleksander’s understanding, and the Faro wondered if he would eventually be sold for credits to feed the other slaves. It was why there would only be one Faro leaving the farm with the Novák.

Pan Novák approached with a noble bearing, eyes studying the Faro he’d had bred for his youngest son. A brief cloud crossed his face, and the Lidikrys turned to the farm’s owner.

“Mistr Jan, are these the Faro I was promised?”

“Yes, Pane Novák,” Mistr Krutý replied evenly. “Marble markings, no genetic issues, in immaculate health, and fully trained, as per the Liška a Drak guarantee.”

Bohdan stepped around the Faro, Aleksander holding himself motionless as he was examined. Deep, even breaths barely moved his chest, eyes staring at a point on the ground ten feet away.

“Why are they waiting under a spotlight? I was told you show your property off in better lighting than this.”

“Of course we can bring them inside, if you wish to see one better,” Mistr Krutý said quickly. “We were told to have them waiting when you got here.”

A soft hum of disapproval escaped the noblerat, his beady pink eyes flashing back at the ruby Daknar. The lizard refused to meet the scowl, but it was another point toward the theory Aleksander held. They were using Daknar to call people. There was no one else.

“I wish to see him in private, in a well lit room,” Bohdan said, pointing at Aleksander.

“Right away, Pane Novák.”

Aleksander turned at a fingersnap, following his owner into the viewing hall used for auctions. A door was opened, and the Faro paused, waiting for Bohdan to enter the room beyond.

Standing with his head bowed, the fox waited in silence as the door was closed, locking him in with the rat who would decide if he lived or died.

“Tell me your name.”

“Aleksander, Pane.”

“Can we be heard in here?” the Lidikrys demanded, his eyes sweeping the room.

“No, Pane.”

“Good.”

A coarse hand lifted his chin, fingers checking his teeth, eyes looking over his own eyes as the rat examined the slave.

“They did a good job,” he conceded. “Tell me what you know.”

“What do you wish to hear?”

“What have they taught you?” the Lidikrys demanded.

“I know my place as a slave, Pane. I can speak Krithin, Xanthian, and Niathin. I was taught combat to be a guard for the young Pan Novák, Imperial Navy doctrine, and psychology for most of the galactic species.”

“Good. What do you know of my clan?”

“You are 700th in line for the Imperial throne. Your clan is struggling, your wealth is kept in a few select slaves, and your children have taken careers in the sciences, save for your younger son who has yet to choose a path in life. Your clan gained its wealth through arranged marriage.”

“And who told you all of this?” Bohdan asked sharply.

“I was taught the circumstances of your rise to power by Pan Bedrich. I theorized the state of your wealth through the ruby Daknar you have as a chauffeur.”

The Lidikrys scowled at the Faro. Whiskers twitched in annoyance, and Bohdan turned away to look through the false mirror on the far side of the room.

“If I told you I want my son to enter the Imperial Navy, how would you ensure his success?”

“I would convince him that his current goals are unattainable and steer him toward the excitement of galactic travel. I would suggest that comfort and adventure could be found in equal measure among the stars. And I would arrange for any competitors to meet subtle ends, while extolling the virtues of my master to any who ask.”

“You would do exactly what I bought you for,” Bohdan replied evenly. “My son will likely try to break you. How will you stop him?”

“I am already broken, Pane. He will see what he wants to see.”

“And if I ask you to tell me what my son is doing?”

“You own me. I am obligated to tell you, even if he asks me to keep secrets.”

Bohdan turned back to the Faro. Aleksander kept his gaze on the floor, where it belonged, as the Lidikrys walked toward him.

“One more question. How many hours are in a drak?”

Aleksander’s eyes flicked away from his spot in surprise. Alliance measurements converted to Imperial mentally? Was this indicative of his new master’s usual needs?

“Um…”

Fuck, six hours to a storm, he knew that… 560 storms to a dragon’s circuit… 3360 hours…?

“3360, Pane,” he said, wincing at the nervous emotion that leaked through his voice.

“Correct,” Bohdan said. “My son will need someone intelligent. I think you’ll do just fine.”

The Faro stared at the ground, his tail flicking slowly despite his efforts to control it. He might not be scared of death, but he was still happy not to die.

They returned to his brothers, the other Faro casting sidelong glances at Aleksander. Bohdan approached Pan Krutý, pointing at Aleksander.

“He’s the one.”

“Are… are you sure, Pane Bohdan? You do not wish to test the others?”

The Lidikrys scowled at the other rat, and Mistr Jan ducked his head apologetically. He snapped his finger and the case was opened, revealing three slender syringes with a green liquid inside.

Around Aleksander, Daknar grabbed the Faro, holding them in place. A whimper escaped one of the Faro, and Aleksander looked at him in disgust as the other Faro struggled with his captor.

“Please Pane! I don’t want to die!”

A needle was shoved into the Faro’s neck before he could say another word, poison injected into his blood. It took barely a minute for him to fall limp, and stop breathing. Only then did the Lidikrys move to the next Faro, a second needle in hand.

Aleksander watched dispassionately as his brothers were killed one by one. His life belonged to the Novák clan. To pretend otherwise was disgraceful.

The Novák mansion was immaculate. Small automatons roamed the yard, cleaning porches, fixing the mortar between bricks, trimming the lawns, tending to the bridge over the Elbe River that ran through the grounds. It appeared like any other sprawling Lidikrys mansion Aleksander had seen in his training, save for one thing.

The Nováks didn’t have any slaves working outside.

And Aleksander knew why. They would try to make it seem like the robots cleaning the house were superior to the Daknar, like not having any outdoor slaves made them better than their neighbours. It was a false hope.

Aleksander stepped out of the car as soon as it came to a stop, adopting a demure manner as he stood waiting for his orders. He knew where he was going, he knew he belonged to the young Evžen Novák, but until he was introduced to the young master, he had to obey what Bohdan ordered.

The Lidikrys stepped out of the car as the Daknar opened the door. A ruby Daknar, the kind Bohdan had bought for his eldest daughter as a present. This lizard must have been bred by Tanya Novák; there was no way she would have parted with her present willfully.

“You will wait in the foyer while Radek fetches Evžen,” Bohdan said. “He is to be your sole concern.”

“Yes, Pane,” Aleksander replied, following the Lidikrys into the manor.

The Daknar vanished into the house, and Aleksander stood behind Bohdan, off to the side so he was still visible. His eyes ran over the golden door handles, solid wooden doors that hung heavily on their hinges. A tapestry hung on the wall, five Lidikrys standing together for a portrait that had been threaded into fabric, and the Faro glanced at the smallest Lidikrys. A cinnamon rat pouted for the picture, his heterochromatic eyes demanding to be anywhere but there. In the tapestry, he appeared barely 12 draks old, still a child who would rather play with his toys than sit for a picture.

The opulence in the hall only served to ignite the Faro’s suspicions. This was a family who layered wealth thickly to better impress their socialite visitors. And it would fail nine times out of ten. He had no doubt the Nováks’ peers knew exactly what they were doing.

“What is the fox doing here?”

The high pitched squeak grated in his ears, the sound of a Lidikrys who had not yet been through puberty. Aleksander’s eyes moved back to his spot, and then up to the small cinnamon rat who stared at him with disgust in his eyes. Instantly the Faro steeled himself for a fight. This was not a Lidikrys who was happy with his pet.

“I said I wanted a Daknar like Tanya got!” Evžen snapped at his father.

“And I told you that is impossible. Giving two of my children the same pet, that would look ridiculous,” Bohdan said. “You will be happy you received a pet. The way you’re playing in the flowerbeds, I should have bought you a dress to pass you off as my second daughter.”

Evžen glowered at the fox, looking up to stare Aleksander in the eye. His fists balled up in a childlike tantrum, one Bohdan cut off instantly.

“You will take him to be washed and properly dressed. He is your responsibility. You like making plants grow; it’s time you learned to care for living beasts.”

“I don’t want to-”

Bohdan reached out and grabbed Evžen’s ear, tugging the young Lidikrys toward him.

“I don’t give an Egaro’s ass what you want. You will do as you are told. There will be no supper for you until he is clean and in proper Novák attire.”

Evžen’s face contorted in sudden pain, the rat trying to pull away from his father. Bohdan released his grip, and the Lidikrys scowled at his father before turning out of the entrance.

“Follow,” the young rat said, barely hiding the tears that threatened to escape at his father’s punishment.

Aleksander followed silently, not wanting to piss off his new master more than his presence already had.