the Tale of Sir Isaac



Rafael snapped his mouth shut with a click. After a moment, he spoke again, upper servant’s accent back in place, with a cool distance. “My deepest apologies, Master Isaac. I spoke out of place. My remarks were ill-considered and uncalled for.” He bent and picked up Isaac’s sword, offering it hilt-first, and bowed when the knight took it. Stiffly, he left the room.

Isaac felt shame and guilt flood through his body then and he winced, head bowing low as he opened and closed his mouth a few times. He may be the Master and Rafael the servant, but Isaac had always attempted to treat the other male like an equal of sorts, and to be talking down to him like this, even when enraged, caused him to feel a sickness forming. “I’m sorry…” He choked out then, fingers twitching by his side as he reached to take the sword, regarding the male before him with a helpless frown. “But that’s the way it is, Rafael, and nothing you can say will change my mind on the matter…”

Rafael didn’t answer, but his elevated chin and stiff posture said it all as he left. Summer waited for Isaac at the door, eyes worried. “The Prince sent a messenger to look for you,” she said quietly.

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