Sire or Master

"How have you been Mr. Franklin?"

Leonard was examining the thick stack of papers he had been bestowed. His one-day peace period has apparently expired.

"I was fine, Mr. Bentley."

He gave a nervous laugh, sitting straighter. "Sire, the estate needs to be decided upon-"

"Is it creating a burden on my expenses?" I said still shuffling the heap.

"Absolutely not, Sire. It is just-"

"So, this is a fruitless conversation."

"Your father Sire wants you to sell and return." Bentley said in a rush, before fear and power dominated him.

Leonard considered it, "I see. Missing me?"

Bentley looked as if heading to a stroke. The father and son duo may be the end of him.

His shoes again. "Are they that good?"

Bentley looked blank, desperately wondering what he missed.

"My shoes?"

A red flush crept in his neck, "Sire, they are beautiful."

"I will go back. But not now."

"Sire, will you consider the selling?"

"Probably not." Bentley winced, already imagining facing the bigger Franklin.

"You can tell him, I will think about it." Clipping the pages and depositing it on the coffee table.

"Sire." He rose, bowing deeply.

Bentley personally agreed with the younger Franklin. It was a beautiful manor, constructed with the most wistful thinking of a creator. Then, he was just a servant; his opinions were aligned to his master only. He looked at the young master again- he resembled a lost prince returning.

"I am pretty, right?"

Bentley wanted to disappear.

Turdley stood at a respectable distance, giving privacy and yet to the disposal. He looked at his Sire, no Master. He had always been the Master for him. His dark head was bend down to the papers. He felt a similar protectiveness towards master; he did not trust the Lawyer. He had wished Master would deny audience with him, there was something deceptive about his face- not showing what he truly meant. A very lawyer trait apparently. Master was young. So young, his heart breaking. Leonard fingered the pages, tremoring slightly- a sign of stress he had learnt to hide with age. A boy, just a boy.

He was prepped to run every day, just stay away from that third floor, do not visit Mistress, do not wake up in the middle of the night, and do not have nightmares. Live. Live your life.

"Turdley, I will be going out."

He was still sitting, the papers dumped in the coffee table. Turdley came right next to him.

"Sire?" Turdley inquired too astonished.

"I want to ride around."

"I will tell the driver-"

"I will drive." Turdley bit his lips hard.

Leonard looked at this, "I drive fine."

"Sire, the road-"

"I know the way around." He added quietly, "this is not my first visit.

This is home." He snapped at the end.

"Sire."

He could not go.

As he drove his car on the lane to the main gate, another came through the other side.

There was no mistaking it.

For a wild moment, he considered to just move ahead, let it back off or maybe ram into that Sigel burning in the morning sun. James Franklin, the Master has graced himself with his presence. Then he was quite fond of the chaperon who was most probably driving. Nonetheless, he stopped in the mid but made no to back off.

For a moment both the cars stood facing, each other, Turdley who has come to check if Sire had departed, saw this with a fresh horror. The scene looked dramatic, and could sense the wager of power and pride. Can ego and pride be kept on the same balance? Are they synonymous?

Whatever the case, Turdley ran his legs tired from the morning before. He believed in being precise and clear, running was not his forte. He was terrified that Sire would clash the car just for sake of anger or maybe his wish to go out, he had been very persistent. Half panting, out of breathe he reached them and stood in the middle of the two cars and found himself on the biggest trap ever. Which side should he turn to? Whom should he bow to first? Then how will he turn his back to the other? He stood in the middle, conflicted. After some sinister intense moments, the car door of Leonard opened, which he rushed to open, grateful to do something. He reached the door to open it wide, but Leonard did not intend to get off. Turdley made the mistake of looking at his eyes, he was sure he was wearing his shades but now they were devoid of it. His eyes burned with unspent anger, the green eyes that usually sported a cold, distant look were all fired up. Some distant mind of Turdley realised- he looks like his father, probably being a man, yet those flashing eyes and the soft features, which melted the harshness of his face, was a semblance of his mother. He was so arrested with that intent gaze that he could not look down, realizing that would insult his Sire more.

"Did you know?" his voice was clear bearing no sign of the anger visible in his face.

Turdley was not sure, "knew what Sire?"

"That he was coming to grace with his presence. First Bentley and now him?"

Turdley felt a dull hurt, "no, Sire he comes unannounced. Surely, I would have told you if I were to know.

Leonard's gaze was flat, "I am not that confident, I maybe the Sire, or," he added mockingly, "the young master but he is the master, the emperor, right?"

He looked at Turdley again and some part of his mind regretted immediately what he had said, but his mind had shut off the moment he had seen the car. He could not bear the fact that the patrol outside had opened the gates for that car without as much as informing. The objective and reason seemed quite evident.

Turdley stood with his hand of the door, so technically Leonard could not slam it and he did not intend to look at his face after his harshness.

He will wait then. What was the rush?