The trip from Zeidenburg had been a hard one. He'd only managed to escape with a couple loaves of bread and a wheel of cheese with it was a long trip to Vallaki. He wished he had planned this better. Still he had to get away and he had landed on his feet in Krofburg, things were looking very bright.
Life had been hard, though not nearly as bad as was for some. Joszef's father had some skill as a tailor and was able with the help of the his wife to keep a roof over their heads and food in the pot for their family of five. He was not a famous man nor did he make spectacular clothing, but he did make sturdy, serviceable garb that could hold up to the rigors of intense labor at an affordable price.
Joszef could not remember the first time he had been in the shop, it had just always been a part of his life. He had been groomed by his father to one day take over and he was glad of it. It was a respectable trade for a Gundarakite and he would have some options in choosing a wife. Everything looked very promising until he started to turn into a man.
It is often said beauty is a curse to Gundarakite women, making unwanted attention from lewd Barovians a daily struggle. Joszef quickly learned this was not exclusive to women. A few weeks before his 17th year he came home to a sober discussion. His Mother's Mistress, the wife of a wealthy Barovian, had insisted Josef come work in her garden. His absence from the shop would be hard but things would be harder still if his Mother lost her job, not to mention the heavy cloud of influential Barovian enemies. There really was no choice.
So it began, a life of training to be a tailor cast aside to be a house boy. There was not much of a garden. His days we're mostly idle which was good, at first. He would break up his duties with time spent flirting with the maids, he even began writing little poems to amuse them, something he was fairly good at. Gradually it started, a touch here, always a little too close, always commenting on his looks and then the awkward conversations.
Had he kissed a girl? Had he been with a girl? Did he like any of the girls there? Would he like to kiss any of them? He did not enjoy these conversations because he felt there were no right answers. The truth was he did like one of the girls, his Zoe, but he sensed it would be dangerous to reveal this. A few weeks passed and suddenly Zoe was gone, the Mistress had found one of his poems to her.
Things took a different tone after that, he would kiss her, he would kiss her properly. She would touch him places she should not, then she degraded him further demanding he strip for her, and then she did things to him. In time he was told to do things to her.
Of course he had been curious about women but this was not what he imagined. This was not romance, this was not his reward for being charming. It was degrading, demeaning and demoralizing. The first time he had felt dirty, used. Gradually he became numb to it, it was just part of his job. He stopped taking care of himself, his shoulders began to hunch, the spark for life was leaving his eyes. He had hopes and dreams that were slowly dying under the thumb of a woman who repulsed him, though she was not entirely unattractive.
This went on for almost two years. He lived in zombie like state, no hopes, no dreams, just going through the motions. He began to write poems about much darker topics. Fortunately an unexpected event happened. After his sister Nora was married to the butcher's boy his parents ushered him home and told him he was leaving. His Mother had packed him a bag with some food, clothes a blanket and a few fang. He was to run away, start a new life, they would say Old Night got him.
He was in disbelief. Leave everything he knew behind? Go where? Do what? He looked at his parents and knew they were taking a great risk for him, so that he might know happiness. He had to leave tonight, now, while everyone was sleeping off the wedding. He hugged them, said his tear filled goodbyes and headed East, for a new life.
