Jaxon
Sweating, I wiped down the long wooden table in the main hall of Corvin's residence. The cloth in my hand moved slowly over the polished surface, tracing the same path again and again as I tried to make the already spotless wood shine even brighter.
The rag in my hand was already soaked through with water by the time I finished. I wrung it out into the bucket at my feet and leaned slightly on the polished wood for a moment, letting the tension in my back ease just a little.
Just days ago, I had been buried alive in the mines, choking on dust while swinging a pickaxe until my arms felt like they would tear themselves from my shoulders. Compared to that, cleaning floors and arranging furniture should have felt like paradise. But, servant work was as tedious as it was humiliating.
