Chapter 1. A Not-So-Warm Welcome

“Hmph, so you’re the new Master, are you?”

When Fred Warwick stepped out of his taxi and took in the sight of the large country estate that was Fethrington Manor, he was a little surprised at the sight of the goblin standing and waiting for him at the top of the front steps. But perhaps not, dear reader, for the reasons you might expect.

For starters, it was not because goblins were a fantastical and fictional race. Indeed, in this world, ever since the Great Rending did away with the veils and enchantments that hid the world of goblins, elves and other such fantastical creatures from Humanity, such beings were a very common and unremarkable sight. Over the hundreds of years Humanity grew accustomed to such creatures and they became just as much a part of society as you or I.

Neither was it the fact that this particular goblin was dressed in the traditional black and white dress of a maid. An unusual sight perhaps, but not an uncommon one. While goblins were a mostly reclusive people, as were many of the Little Folk, every now and then some ambitious young goblin would venture beyond the boundaries of their own villages, seeking to make a name for themselves in the big wide world. All too often, however, they were met with the sad reality that people such as themselves were looked down upon by many; regarded as an endearing curiosity at best, and barely regarded as people at worst. So those few lucky enough to find work were often forced to pick between menial labour or domestic servitude to the aristocratic upper class of the Big Folk. Evidently, this goblin had opted for the latter.

No, it was the look the goblin gave to Fred that gave him pause as he approached the stone steps at the front of the manor. Her large, pointed ears flicked and twitched irritably, her brow was furrowed and her flat nose was scrunched up above her broad mouth, which turned up at the edges into a subtle sneer. Her olive-green arms were folded before her chest and she tapped one of her bare feet impatiently on the stone doorstep. All in all it was a look that Fred found remarkably intimidating, at least for someone half as tall as he was.

“And what do I call you, sir?” she asked as she looked Fred up and down with a look somewhere between contempt and disdain. 

He put down his suitcases and walked up the steps, hand raised in greeting. “Uh, hi… my name’s Fred. My uncle Jonathan was the one who used to live here.”

The goblin barely reacted, save for a single raised eyebrow. “Yes, I am aware. My late master was your uncle, and he bequeathed his estate solely to you, I believe?”

Fred nodded. He did not quite understand exactly why or how it happened, but 2 days ago he had received a visit from a portly old dwarf who introduced himself as the executor of his uncle's estate. Lord Jonathan Warwick had passed away and in his will, through a convoluted and confusing series of incomprehensible legal quibble, had left everything to Fred. This came as quite the shock to Fred, chiefly because he had almost forgotten that he even had an uncle Jonathan, let alone that he had been left any sort of inheritance from him. Suffice to say, Lord Jonathan Warwick was not exactly known for being particularly generous to his friends, and even less so to his family. In fact, he was the only aristocrat among them.

So when Fred received the visit and was told that he now stood to inherit his late uncle's entire estate along with his manor, peerage and every penny of his ample fortune, needless to say it was a very surreal experience to be told this while sitting around a cluttered and stained coffee-table in his far-from-lavish inner city apartment.

Fred nodded again. “Yeah, apparently so. I admit, it was… quite a surprise,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “So, I’m guessing you’re the… what, head maid? The matron? The housekeeper? What should I call you?”

The goblin simply rolled her eyes, giving a stiff curtsy to Fred. “Housekeeper would be correct, sir. My name is Flitt, and I’ve served at Fethrington Manor for ten years now.”

“Flitt,” Fred repeated, giving an awkward bow and what he hoped was a disarming smile. “Well, miss Flitt… I’m glad to be here. It’s… uh, nice to meet you.”

For a brief moment, there was a flicker of something on her face. Something other than the disdain and irritation she had expressed since Fred had arrived. But it passed just as quickly as it appeared as Flitt looked past him to the small heap of bags and suitcases at the bottom of the steps. “I suppose I should help you with your bags, Master?”

He glanced behind him to his luggage before turning back to Flitt sheepishly. “Uh, yeah, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The goblin huffed as she began hauling the suitcases up the steps one by one. Fred stepped forward, taking one of the larger suitcases in hand. “Oh, it’s okay, I can take the heavy ones if you-”

“There’s no need for that, Master,” Flitt interrupted as she firmly removed his hand from the suitcase. “Please head inside, it's my job to do the heavy lifting for you. Besides, I'm much stronger than I may look.”

Fred made to refuse and take back the suitcase, but a stern look from Flitt made it clear to him what her reply would be. He backed off, taking her advice and letting her unlock the heavy wooden doors of the manor.

His jaw dropped as she pushed open the doors and he found himself in a vast, ornate entrance hall. Motes of dust floated in the air, illuminated by a massive cast iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling and streams of late afternoon light that poured through the large windows. Doors on the far end of the hall and on the walls to his left and right led further into the building, and an elaborately carved wooden staircase ran up to an upper landing that led into the East and West Wings.

“Can you please move, Master?”

Flitt's voice jolted Fred out of his staring, and he stood aside as she hauled the last of his bags through the doorway behind him and closed the doors.

“Woah…” Fred's voice echoed off the stone walls. “This place is…”

“Yes, I know, it's not the largest of manors, but it has been in your uncles family for generations.”

Fred turned on the spot, taking in the high ceilings and dusty tapestries hung on the walls with wide eyes. “Are you kidding? This place is like a palace!”

Flitt looked at him curiously. “Hmph, hardly. Compared to many Lords’ Manors this is relatively modest… where may I ask did you live before?”

“In a one-bedroom apartment above a bowling alley!” Fred replied incredulously. Relatively modest my ass, he mused to himself. “Did…my uncle really live here all on his own?”

“Aside from myself, yes,” replied Flitt as she led the way up the stairs, suitcase in hand.

Fred followed, taking a bag in each hand. “Wait, like, just yourself? Weren't there other servants, like butlers or cooks or whatever?”

Flitt shook her head. “There were a few years ago. But in his later years, your late Uncle dismissed them all except for me. He was a… thrifty master.”

Is that just your polite way of saying he was too cheap to hire anyone else, Fred mused to himself with a grim smirk. 

The two of them reached the landing and headed down a corridor on the left, until Flitt deposited the suitcase and opened a door at the end.

Inside was a spacious and comfortable looking bedroom, complete with a massive four-poster bed, an old bureau writing desk and a large wardrobe that took up one entire wall. The whole room was decorated in the same Regency-era style as the entrance hall. 

“The master bedroom,” Flitt announced as she set the suitcase down. “This will be where you'll be sleeping, Master.”

Fred paced slowly around the room, jaw hanging agape once more. The ornate decoration, the bed,  the antique desk, the space, the bed…

Flitt watched him with a critical eye. “Is everything to your liking, Master? This is the largest bedroom in the manor, but if you would prefer I can show you the other rooms…”

Fred shook his head as he sat down on the bedside. “Oh no, it's fine. It's just… I mean, I think this bed alone is the same size as my old bedroom back in the city!”

Flitt scoffed once again as he looked around in wonder. “You really are unused to this sort of luxury, aren't you?”

He nodded. As he lay back on the bed, feeling his body sink slightly into the mattress, Flitt began bringing the rest of his bags into the room. “Is this really all that you brought, Master?” 

Fred sat up on the bed again. “Uh yeah, I didn't really have any furniture or anything to bring, so it's just my clothes, my computer, books and some knick knacks from the old apartment.”

“Hmph, very well. Where shall I start unpacking?”

But before she could unzip one of the suitcases, Fred stood up. “Oh that's okay miss Flitt, I can do that myself.”

“It's fine, Master. I'm here to serve you, after all.”

“No really, it's okay!” Fred lifted one suitcase onto the bed and unzipped it. “You've already done enough for now, I can do the unpacking.”

Flitt glanced at him with a confused look for a moment, before shaking her head. “Hmph, very well. I suppose I'll go get supper started then. Do you have any particular requests?”

“Uh, not really, just… y’know, whatever you think is best, I guess?” Fred replied, honestly at a loss for what to ask for. What do they even have here?

Flitt nodded curtly. “Very good, Master. I'll come find you when it's ready.”

With a final stiff curtsy she turned on her heel and headed out the door, leaving Fred alone in the spacious bedroom. He opened one of his suitcases and began unpacking his clothes, taking them over to the wardrobe. Opening the door, he found inside a handful of old suits and black shoes, dulled by a thin layer of dust that coated them, the shoes and  everything else within. It made for a stark contrast against the colourful but otherwise ordinary clothes he began hanging up.

Once his clothes were all away, he unpacked the rest of his bags, putting his modest belongings around the room, in some attempt to make the cavernous bedroom feel a bit more like home. He chuckled to himself as he set his laptop computer up on the antique bureau, the clean metallic sheen of the laptop sticking out like a sore thumb against the varnished wood and green leather surface of the desk.

He looked around the room with a sigh. “So… this is gonna take some getting used to.”