"Matthias. The glutton of Seafang and 'lord' of this mansion. I welcome you to my...'humble' abode. Stay as long or as short as you wish. What's mine is yours and so on and so on..."
Matthias lets his introduction trail off and deciding that he might as well get something done, anything, goes towards the training room. It was an extravagant thing, the training 'room'. Not so much a room as an entire basement level, the 'room' featured an obstacle course, dummies to practice on as well as enough equipment to fully equip a trusted cadre of servants in case of an emergency. Built based on his own experiences as a mercenary, the make-shift training equipment the team used to have when poor and the luxurious grounds opened to them with they had the money and connections, it was probably the only room in the mansion built with any real care as to aesthetics and practicality.
It was also one of the rooms Matthias almost never visited.
It was bad enough that the wound he received put him out of action, but his own body was as well. The same gigantism that allowed him such strength and size in the first place but also rapidly decaying his body as the human organs and bones were simply not meant to ever support a body that large. When he first arrived at Seafang, he was already wasting away. By the end of...everything, it was all he could do to just stay awake for a few hours. Copious amounts of beer, wine, rum and drugs were the only thing keeping him alive, even as they accelerated his death. By that point, it had been literally years since he last visited the training room or level. His servants still dutifully cleaned the level, that was what they were paid for after all, but the Glutton never dared to descend to inspect the actual room himself. Too many memories.
That wasn't the only reason Matthias was taking his sweet time in walking to the training room. As he slowly made his way across the empty halls, the sound of the wind in the air coming from the open windows the only noise aside from his footsteps, he spent a few moments gazing at each room he came across.
There was the study, only a quarter of which was filled with real books. The other three quarters were filled with empty books or cheap trash bought in bulk just to pad out the bookshelves. Back against a windowless corner, allowing full view of the room and anyone who entered it was the gigantic chair and desk where he would read martial arts journals and books on strategy and tactics. Little good they did him, but it allowed him to daydream of better times long gone.
There was the great dining hall with its long dining table and many smaller ones for more 'common' guests. His seat was in the middle where he feasted everyday on the finest meats and sweets Seafang had to offer. Built to feast an entire party, by the end it was one of the emptiest and most depressing rooms. Deliberately built to be as dark as possible, illuminated mostly by the many many candelabra, lamps and the large fireplace, it was a stifling room to be spend any time in as overpriced and undeserving portraits lined the walls as did gaudy curtains.
Then of course, last but not least, before the stairs leading down to the training room, were the senior servants' quarters. A series of relatively small rooms, sparsely (but some might say tastefully) decorated but well stocked with comfortable and sturdy beds, mattresses and blankets, they were more luxurious than most servants ever got. It was perhaps the only good point of the Glutton. Having experienced both the highs and lows of fortunes, he ensured his servants were well paid and ate from the same stock as he did. Though the junior servants bunked in barracks style rooms, their beds and clothing were all of sturdy and comfortable material and a trained medic to look after them was kept on a permanent basis.
As for the servants themselves, they were a loyal enough lot. The cynic in him said it was just because of the generous wages he offered but...that sort of loyalty only went so far. A few of them put in more effort than even just mere money could squeeze out of an individual. It was as if they actually thought him a good master despite it all. Bah. Sheer nonsense.
For whatever reason, it was the thoughts of what happened to his servants and whether they were safe and sound that bothered the Glutton the most. Rubbish. They were just loyal to his gold and him to their service. That was all. That
had to be all.
Disturbed, Matthias quickly brushed aside such thoughts and hurried downstairs to the training hall. It was dark, he could let his new unnatural senses adapt and guide him, but he decided to light a torch anyway and take his time in searching the place for anything useful. Any protective materials perhaps. And while searching, he might as well tour the place. Crude sculptures of the closest of his old mercenary friends 'guarded' each corner of the room and a portrait of himself, depicting him at the height of his prowess, overlooked the proceedings below.
@Terrabrand
