It was a pleasant room. It possessed none of the grand elegance or ostentatious decoration a true nobleman would demand, but it was cozy in the way only a small, well-kept space could be. The furniture was simple, sturdy oak, a modest table and a few chairs outfitted with plush red cushions that added a much-needed splash of warmth.
If Marcus had ever allowed himself the foolish luxury of dreaming about owning a home, he supposed this was exactly how he would want his kitchen or a room for settling guests to look. A cozy sanctuary for a quiet house, perhaps with a swarm of little brats waiting by the hearth for his return...
He caught himself and grimaced. No, I really can't see it.
He was cursed to serve the King until his body finally failed him in the dirt. It wasn't the sort of dream a free man would proudly boast of, perhaps, but it still bested the rot of being a slave by a spectacularly large margin.
