The Consort Of House Marasarah

25

Massillon's abrupt exist seemed to starle his personal guard who was leaning against the wall opposite the door to his official office.

She had given her name at some point and Massillon had forgotten it. He didn't know why her presence bothered him so, the female was just trying to do her duty, but it did. Having Markus at his side for so long had not felt like a guard, he had come to realised because of how close they had always been. He was like a shadow and his presence reassured Massillon is a way he had never acknowledged before. Now that he was gone Massillon felt as though he had lost two people he failed to make them aware of how much they were needed and appreciated.

Lost in his head, Massillon took a while to notice the attendants and other subjects trying their best to look busy and avoid eye contact. Just how much of his warth had they borne the brute of, he wondered defeatedly. He was not a bully and his father was right, his subjects deserved better than this, and his mother would not be proud.

Massillon moved through the hallways as quickly as he could to reach his private swimming pool. It was an Olympic games regulation sized pool located under the home so that he could swim day or night. It was his preferred form of exercise and giving him a chance to think.

The staircase down to the pool level was dark but Massillon knew the placement of the steps by heart and didn't bother with the lights, his guard who had trailed behind him suddenly rushed forward to reach for the light switch and stumbled on the uneven steps. He hadn't come down here since returning home so the female had never been here.

"My Liege?" The female asked unsure once she found her footing and the light switch.

"I.. " she didn't finish her sentence. Massillon knew his expression was not pleasant and he fought himself not to lash out at the female.

"The steps are uneven by design," he forced himself to explain in as calm a voice as he could manage before continuing past the female to the changing room by the pool.

The room had two closets with clothing bags and a weapons case. Markus was always armed even when they swam, usually swappingout his gun for a blade which he would attach to his leg by a special strap. Massillon shut the door and engaged the latch. It wouldn't keep a trained warrior like his personal guard out for every long if needed, but it would signal to her that the area was private. He took off his suit, depositing each item onto an individual hanger before pulling down his boxer briefs and stuffing it in the small bag attached to one of the hangers his attendants put their for him to use. Then he grabbed a fresh set of swim trunks and gently pulled the spandex material up his legs, a cap for his hair, finally goggles his put to rest on his forhead and a smart watch which he connected to his private line. The almost ritual like motions of getting ready had ease most of the tension from his shoulders.

Emerging from the changing room, Massillon eyed the female, she had stationed herself at the bottom of the stairs. Good, he thought, not having the energy to deal with the female. He approached the deeper end of the pool and dived in letting the crisp chlorinated water shock his senses, allowing his body to slip to the bottom of the pool. The water was kept at a constant temperature to make it usable throughout the year, but it was by no means hot. Once his lungs began to burn, Massillon kicked off the bottom to surface and breath. He then pulled his goggles into a more comfortable position before launching himself across the surface of the water kicking with his legs before turning his head out of the water to pull in a breath through his mouth and bringing his elbows over the water to maintain proper form.

Freestyle was always his preferred method of swimming and far more intense than running but it was also a style of swimming he could maintain for over an hour at a reasonable pace. His mind was quickly filled with thoughts of Isalinah as it was now accustomed, and then the undeniable fact that his father wasn't wrong. He didn't know the female and Isalinah was, Massillon was sure, a good person with a kind heart but he didn't know if she possessed the kind of will a Consort ought to have. He hated the fact that his father could be right, the female felt so right on his arm and in his bed. It was probably best the courtship end here because if she proved to be lacking Massillon wasn't sure he had the strength of character to reject her.