An Erie Operetta Read Online Free Page A

for the tuxedos yesterday.”
    I gingerly slipped my arms into a plush burgundy robe Rugby held open for me. Rugby is one of only four staff that reside in Lupei manor. Servants in our world are humanoid. If you look closely at Rugby though, you can see the slightly pointed ears, as well as the sharp chin of an elf. Rugby is a half-breed. A scorned product of our tightly governed rules about mating. Why he wasn’t killed upon birth I can’t say. Many Halflings are. According to Mikel, Rugby has been in his employ for nearly a hundred years. Halflings may live to be two hundred. Since Rugby is a Halfling, his only recourse is to be a servant. He can hold no other job in our world, by law. Halflings are even lower than skunks, weasels, and the other lesser breeds. And that is damned low and damned wrong, as is so much in our world.
    “Master Reed, your tuxedo was delivered a mere hour ago by Master Tailor himself,” Rugby said as I stumbled blearily into the bathroom. He hurried around tidying the room as I relieved myself, talking about the quality of the gnome tailors’ work, explaining that dinner would be a light affair as the opera began at eight, and that he had noticed that I might require a touch-up to my white roots before the production this evening, if I so wished, of course.
    “That will be fine, Rugby,” I yawned after giving it a shake. Into the tub I was steered. The water was hot enough to scald the fur off a werebruin. My ass refused to sink down into the steaming water. Rugby tut-tutted me then shoved. I went in up to my neck with a hoot of shock. Within a moment I was slumping back into the claw-foot tub, my eyelids heavy as stones.
    “Do you wish for me to wash you, Master Reed?” Rugby inquired. My eyes flew open. The man had removed my glasses while I snoozed. I could barely make out the Rugby’s dark eyes.
    “No, that won’t be necessary, Rugby.” I quickly took the bar of Mikel’s soap as well as the thick washcloth.
    “I’ll leave you to your bath then, Master Reed. If you require any assistance, I shall be directly outside, sanding down the stumps.”
    I slid down into the bubbles until all that remained above the soapy surface were my eyes. By the elders, imagine the gossip in the kitchen this evening. I scrubbed briskly. It was still rather unsettling for me to have a staff. My family never had a servant. It was a rather looked down upon practice among the lesser breeds to be honest. Just another sign of the elite subjugating those less fortunate than them, you know.
    That was why I tended to pick up after the lycans now that I lived here. Mikel was constantly chiding me about it, telling me that serving his family name was all the staff knew or wished to do. But if they were given a choice in this world, surely they would choose something less subservient, wouldn’t they? It was a discussion he and I had frequently but never seemed to resolve.
    Sixty minutes passed as I shaved, had my roots touched up, and was assisted into the most perfectly fitted tuxedo I had ever worn. As I gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror inside the closet I shared with Mikel, I could not believe the dapper man staring back at me was Templeton Reed.
    “Rugby, I look downright debonair!” I proclaimed. Rugby agreed, as all good domestics do. After one final tug on my cummerbund followed by an adjustment of the white rosebud in my lapel, he announced that I was ready. I fairly sailed down the grand staircase. Into the dining room I went. My jaw slapped my chest when my three dinner companions all rose in tandem.
    “What a handsome trio,” I said and meant it. Each of the three lycan men filled out their ebony formalwear to perfection. Mikel stole my gaze and held it. His reddish-black hair was pulled back into a colonial-era club that drew out his regal cheekbones. His golden eyes glowed. The man made the suit in this instance. I eyed him openly. He bowed formally then waved at my seat next to