Twilight Between: Day 14

Word Count: 84,043

Summary of Events:

Adler got up and ate a meagre breakfast before heading to where he was supposed to, only for the other two slaves he worked with to not show up; the Aufseher determined that both of them had died in the night and reassigned Adler elsewhere. Torben encountered Fürst and Fürstin Bach returning from their private audience with König Theoderich; he was encouraged by their favourable description of König Theoderich, but still felt some worry. Following a meagre supper, Adler was taken from among the slaves to the master's house, where he was presented to the woman who'd been watching him, who intended — to his horror — to use him for her pleasure. Emma woke up near to dawn, feeling a little anxious about her father's private audience, but managed to calm herself before determining that it was a little early yet to be awake . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Emma turned back to her bed to climb into it, but her gaze was drawn to the doorway, beneath which a dim light was shining.

She walked over to her door and opened it to see a lamp burning low at the writing desk illuminating Papa’s form slumped over the desk in his nightclothes.

Alarmed, Emma hurried over to Papa, reassured when she saw his back and shoulders rising and falling with sleeping breaths.

Still, she was sure he would wake up mightily sore if he were left to continue sleeping over the desk. She wondered why he’d come back out and resumed working after going to bed too.

“Papa,” she whispered softly, squeezing his shoulder. “Papa, wake up.”

He appeared to be sleeping deeply, for neither her touch or voice roused him.

“Papa,” she said, using a whimpering voice.

At once Papa startled awake and upright, looking frantic until his gaze found Emma, then he sagged back against his chair, looking relieved, weary, and even subtly ashamed.

“Won’t your bed be more comfortable for sleeping on Papa?” Emma asked.

Papa nodded.

“Then why are you sleeping out here?” Emma asked.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Papa replied. “I wanted to be sure that I hadn’t missed anything.”

“You need to be rested Papa,” Emma said. “You don’t want to fall asleep on König Theoderich, do you?”

One corner of Papa’s mouth lifted in a feeble smile. “Nein.”

“Then come, Papa, you need to go to bed,” Emma said.

“Ja, I know, my little mother Emma,” Papa said, shifting his arms.

Emma gasped at the mass of black, and Papa immediately startled as well.

“Oh nein!” he exclaimed.

Likely when he’d fallen asleep, Papa had knocked over the ink bottle, staining the sleeves of his nightshirt, as well as his hands, all his papers, and the desktop black.

“I’ve ruined them all!” Papa said, looking horribly distressed.

Emma felt like crying, but she forced herself not to, instead, she peeled apart the papers, most of which were still damp with ink, in an effort to see if any of the pages were salvageable, but every single one was almost entirely black with ink.

“I'm sorry Papa,” Emma said.

“It wasn’t your fault Emma,” Papa replied. “I just worry so much and I didn’t go to bed when I was feeling tired, now I have to find a way to get all this ink off my hands before my private audience, and I might owe Häuptling Ölberg a new desk.”

Emma watched as Papa gathered up the ink-soaked papers and discarded them into the fireplace, whose grate lay empty, and its floor swept free of ashes. Come autumn the papers would be burned up, seeing as they were utterly useless now.

“I don’t think this is going to wash out either,” Papa said, surveying the black stains on his nightclothes.

There was a spot of black on his lap showing that the ink had spilled over the desk’s edge as well as soaking into his papers and sleeves.

“Papa, don’t touch your hair, you don’t want to get ink in it,” Emma said, seeing Papa looking like he was going to run his fingers through his hair.

“My hair is dark enough it wouldn’t be visible,” Papa said. “And I don’t think it is wet on my hands anyways. What a mess.”