Fantasy Smothering a Legacy

[That Lass Over There]

Even now, I wonder, how wrong were you? Were we? ... Was I? Regardless of the answer, a sin remains a sin. And, now, we all must pay for it. Excerpt from an unattributed series of journals, recovered from the vault of old House Lancaster

​

Exhausting.

The word couldn't be more perfectly defined than by the newly ordained Baroness' last few weeks. The passing of her father while out on one of the small tours that qualify as a 'campaign' in this era of peace. The capital's insensitive, immediate summons to inherit the title. A grueling journey with only herself and a coachman on such tight schedule that the carriage oft had to run while she slept, ate, and stretched, horses being changed at every possible opportunity to spare the poor beasts of some advisor's cruel joke of scheduling. And the moment she arrived, having to dress in stuffy ornamental clothing barely suited for a woman of steel, then spend hours listening to brats and geezers prattle on about responsibility and honor.

All while choking down treats made with decadence first, aesthetics second, and palatability as an afterthought.

And the ceremonies, dreadfully, had only just begun. An entire week; if nothing else, the Durant lineage and those who serve their crown certainly knew how to pad time.

---

The manor was driven to a stir preparing for their little guest they had caught only a glimpse of earlier that day. In any other estate, a Baron as a guest would be a trivial matter handled by a few unfortunate servants. Unfortunately for them, however, the master of the manor was quite a vain individual, and even this lowly visitor warranted a 'warm welcome'.

Furnishings must be spotless, appearances of servants must be impeccable, none could be seen taking care of any human needs - and any demands must be met, to the best of the lord's ability. In some ways, the incredible level of vanity formed an almost genuinely hospitable attitude, if not for the oversight that only the guest would feel so.



Amidst the busy atmosphere, a maid with an ethereal feeling made her way through her rushing peers, elegantly sidestepping butlers rushing around with bulky spare furnishings and dodging maids bolting around corners. She looked as though a single touch might break her, but none cared for her presence and she remained unbothered by their carelessness. After far too long walking the halls of the large manor, she arrived at the doors to the study she'd been summoned to.

A few knocks in a particular pattern, and a voice called her in.



With a soft set of clicks she opened and closed the door, sliding in through the crack as it barely opened with her thin frame. Staring at her from a desk centered in the room was a man clothed as richly as his home was decorated - the lord of the manor, Raoul Pierrot D'Forest Durant. Upon making eye contact the maid silently bowed her head, thin strands of long black hair drooping over her shoulders to the ground below.

Raoul evaluated her for a moment with his hands clasped together, though she was inscrutable as always. "... Fen."

"Yes, my liege." The quiet phrase was one of the few the woman would speak to him without explicit orders these days, turning her from a fun toy to a barely responsive doll.

And, on days like this, a tool. "As you've heard, we have a guest again. It would be rude to gift a young lady on her own with a man. Besides, rumors are that she's already turned down several more conventional suitors - and you're the best I have to offer for feminine hospitality." Lazily skipping large parts of the 'briefing' that the two had been through many variations of over the years, he gave a barebones explanation of why she in particular was called forth. Not like the man didn't ordinarily take joy in throwing her at everyone who may prove useful. "Of course, if you notice her lacking interest in you, you need to let me know." His tone changed for that last sentence, a strained and assertive feeling behind it.

"Yes, my liege." Though the same cookie-cutter response was all that was offered, a grim smile spread across her lips that cracked to show sparkles of white in the candlelight. It was against her will, but neither party paid much attention to the expected if disturbing expression that stood in contrast with the rest of her subdued facial features.

"You're smiling again." The lord of the manor stated the obvious with a hint of amusement, shaking his head like he would with a mischievous pet. "No matter. Scheme all you want. Plotting is the only thing that keeps caged animals sane." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her and returned to the documents he had scattered over his desk for show.

...

Later that night, after the Baroness had returned from the first round of celebration and ceremony, a knock of a peculiar pattern sounded on her door. After confirming invitation, a maid stepped in through the cracked door, looking almost like she could be blown over by the very breeze she imitated in her nimbleness. Long black hair reaching to the lower back, some strands covering one inky eye as the other stared at the young lady.

After a moment of silent eye contact, too short to be called an evaluation, the maid bowed deeply offering her left hand in front of her heart and holding the other open to her side - an etiquette of serviles, giving everything and hiding nothing behind their liege's eyes. "My name is Fen, milady. For the duration of your stay here I may accompany you in place of your typical retinue. Any need or desire you have, you may call on me for." Fen, finally standing up straight, held her hand out to indicate an intricately designed white bell set near the overly-luxurious bed of the room.

"Would milady perhaps like some tea, first? Or is coffee preferred? I have also prepared water, milk, and cookies should you like." Behind the door lay a cart of refreshments she had prepared not long ago, as an icebreaker if not a service to a poor soul who had just suffered an event hosted by Capital nobility.

Aron the Aron

 

[Aron the Aron]

Exhausting.

The word couldn't be more perfectly defined than by the newly ordained Baroness' last few weeks. The passing of her father while out on one of the small tours that qualify as a 'campaign' in this era of peace. The capital's insensitive, immediate summons to inherit the title. A grueling journey with only herself and a coachman on such tight schedule that the carriage oft had to run while she slept, ate, and stretched, horses being changed at every possible opportunity to spare the poor beasts of some advisor's cruel joke of scheduling. And the moment she arrived, having to dress in stuffy ornamental clothing barely suited for a woman of steel, then spend hours listening to brats and geezers prattle on about responsibility and honor.

All while choking down treats made with decadence first, aesthetics second, and palatability as an afterthought.

And the ceremonies, dreadfully, had only just begun. An entire week; if nothing else, the Durant lineage and those who serve their crown certainly knew how to pad time.​

​

"Lady Serena Lancaster, heiress to the Barony of Lancaster, presents herself before the King's majesty!"

The brunette stepped forward as the herald's booming announcement echoed off the stone walls of the Estates-General, the long train of her investiture robes dragging against the plush carpet with every step. She felt the gaze of her soon-to-be peers fall upon her from all directions, the heat of their attention boring through the thick fur mantle on her shoulders. Everything chafed, everything itched, and everything sucked. With each step, she deplored the encumbrance of her robes even more, the absent weight of her sabre and pistols leaving behind an uncomfortable longing in her heart.

Yet she kept steady, eyes front, shoulders back. Serena forced herself to walk as if the eyes of the King Himself were upon her, because they were.

The etiquette for approaching a King of Tierra was drilled into her as a child, and through the long years of turmoil in between, her father's voice still reached out and guided her limbs: stop precisely twelve paces before the dais, bow. Three paces forward, bow again. Three more, kneel, and await the King's reply.

But it was not the King who moved first. Instead, a dour-faced man in the uniform of a lieutenant colonel of the King's Knights stepped out from the throne's shadow. In his hands, he carried a gigantic two-handed sword, larger even than those used by the Knights of the Imperial Era, its blade flickering with the faint tracery of enchanted steel. She'd seen this sword before, though only in engravings and paintings: Pactmaker, the Royal sword of state.

From the corner of her eye, the Knight Officer gave her an imperceptible nod as he set the sword before his King. She and Lieutenant Colonel Lefebvre had a history: In the Dragoons, they were comrades-in-arms, not friendly ones. Some part of Serena wished to nod back, in recollection of those scant, cold years in the same squadron.

But it was not the time; that was not what she was there for.

The Grenadier stepped back. The King rose, taking up the sword with which his ancestors wrought the Kingdom more than a lifetime ago. With solemn, practised grace, he moved forward. In the silence, even his soft footfalls upon the rich carpet seemed to echo. He stopped, little more than an arm's length away, and with a strong, clear voice, he uttered the words which he must have by now said a hundred times before.

"I, Jesse Arsene D'Deniel of the house of Durant, do confirm before those assembled here, the rights of Lady Serena of the house of Lancaster, to the barony of Lancaster. I hereby pledge all my power to the preservation of her freedoms, her properties, and her titles. I swear to accept her counsel in the governance of the realm. I swear to be her champion in peace, and her brother in war. This I swear on behalf of myself and the rightful heirs of my bloodline. This I swear by the Heroes of past and my Sacred Honour."

Slowly, carefully, he turned the Pactmaker in his hands, reversing the blade until its hilt hovered just a hand's breadth from Serena's face.

"Upon this oath, swear your loyalty to me," he continued, with all the ominous ceremony the occasion deserved, "or with this blade, strike me down."

Serena felt her fingers reach out, brushing the silver inlay of Pactmaker's pommel…

"I, Serena of the house of Lancaster do hereby swear fealty to Jesse Arsene D'Deniel of the house of Durant, and acknowledge him as my liege and rightful King." The oft-rehearsed words came to her readily, flowing from her lips as easily as breath. "I hereby pledge all of my power to the defence of his realm, to the enforcement of his laws, and to the protection of his honour. I swear to offer him wise counsel in the governance of the realm. I swear to be his sister in peace and his champion in war. This I swear to him, and to all the rightful heirs of his bloodline. This I swear, before all assembled here, and with his life in my hands. This I swear, by the Heroes of past and my Sacred Honour."

Pactmaker drew away as Serena's voice echoed against the stone. The King stepped back.

"Then by my right as Sovereign and the authority vested in me by this Estates-General, I name you Baroness of Lancaster, as your father was before you," he declared, loud enough for all to hear. "Rise, Lady Lancaster, and take your rightful place among your peers."

---

For a moment, there was silence as Serena rose to her feet.

Then a wave of polite applause washed over the little Dragoon, spilling from the galleries and the ranks of her peers around her. To them, she was little more than just one more Baroness come to join their ranks. Her exploits as a Dragoon made her name, but there, among the men who ruled the Kingdom, that was something that barely registered to the social elite.

She looked for the red dragon banner of the Duke of Dumnonia hanging from the gallery. The benches were crowded, but of the Duke of Dumnonia himself, Serena saw nothing. A shame; she had been hoping to see her regimental colonel that day. She moved to join her fellow Dumnonii lords; none offered to shake her hand as she took her place; none made space on the benches for her to sit down.

Serena took her seat just in time for the King to lay Pactmaker across His lap. The booming voice of the sergeant-at-arms echoed across the stone, calling the chamber to order.

At last, the business of governance began.

---

Quorum was obtained, and grievances were aired.

The issues facing the chamber at first were minor ones: the placement of a fence, the ownership of a road, petty squabbles made significant only by the noble blood of those entangled in them.

Yet even so, Serena paid close attention to the proceedings, even as some of the lords around her seemed to nod off or pursue their own conversations with their neighbours. She carefully noted how a Lord of the Estates-General presented a motion before the chamber, how he never addressed another member by name, only by title, how he asked the King's permission to speak, and how the King, bound by the strictures of his own office, could not but give it.

In truth, the complicated procedure of the Estates-General made for more interesting watching than the debates themselves.

It was sights all far removed from the imagined image of great and eloquent statesmen delivering thundering condemnations of evil and high-minded appeals to goodness and virtue. The Estates-General was supposed to be the refuge of the best of men, doing their utmost to ensure the prosperity of the realm and the security of its people.

Instead, Serena found men and women worse than her, in an atmosphere more like a fishmarket or a cafe than a solemn chamber of state.

She'd never really been too well-versed in court politics, perhaps because she always felt it to be rather irrelevant.

True, the Estates-General as a whole was imbued with great power to tax or spend, but the deciding of such matters had always been the affair of houses far wealthier and more influential than that of the northern reaches of Dumnonia. The Estates-General would decide what it would decide, and its rulings would fall upon Lancaster with no less certainty than the autumn rain. There was no point in struggling against it, and the sole reason to keep abreast of its course would've been to ensure that Serena was prepared should things turn for the worse for her and her fief.

Her fief: Lancaster, that's where her true concern was. That's where her decisions carried weight and her words had power, not there in the tempest of roaring voices, where a man could barely hear himself think, and a woman couldn't be heard.

No, never mind the Estates-General; it was like pissing into the wind.

An hour passed, then two, then more. Arguments and rebuttals subsided into the indistinct buzzing of voices. Those around Serena drooped in their seats like corpses; some dozed off entirely. She wasn't sure if she could blame them: no resolutions were passed, no motions were carried, no votes were called. The Chamber didn't progress, it danced and squawked like a bunch of peacocks.

In the end, the session was adjourned more out of sheer exhaustion than any sort of accomplishment, and Baroness Lancaster couldn't have been more glad to be rid of the itchy clothes she was wearing.

---

Later that night, after the Baroness had returned from the first round of celebration and ceremony, a knock of a peculiar pattern sounded on her door.​

When there was a knock at the door, Lady Lancaster was of half a mind to rudely ignore the knocking and just slip into her nightgown for the rest of the night. Proper aristocratic etiquette told her otherwise though, so it was that an exhausted Serena opened the door to her temporary quarters.

A maid stepped in through the cracked door, looking almost like she could be blown over by the very breeze she imitated in her nimbleness. Long black hair reaching to the lower back, some strands covering one inky eye as the other stared at the young lady.​

After a moment of silent eye contact, too short to be called an evaluation, the maid bowed deeply offering her left hand in front of her heart and holding the other open to her side - an etiquette of serviles, giving everything and hiding nothing behind their liege's eyes. "My name is Fen, milady. For the duration of your stay here I may accompany you in place of your typical retinue. Any need or desire you have, you may call on me for." Fen, finally standing up straight, held her hand out to indicate an intricately designed white bell set near the overly-luxurious bed of the room.

"Would milady perhaps like some tea, first? Or is coffee preferred? I have also prepared water, milk, and cookies should you like." Behind the door lay a cart of refreshments she had prepared not long ago, as an icebreaker if not a service to a poor soul who had just suffered an event hosted by Capital nobility.

The whole thing reeked of arse-kissing, and Serena wasn't sure if she should've been flattered or annoyed by the idea that her status as Baroness warranted... this. A personal maid for the duration of her brief tenure at the capital? Certainly an attempt at sucking up to the Dumnonii. Still, the young Dragoon was sorely in need of something light after far too many offers of wine and spirits by stuffy noblemen who looked as unappealing as polished turds...

"Lady Serena is fine, not like anyone calls me much besides Baroness Lancaster... is that Kameron Leaf?" She thought she caught the familiar scent of her favorite blend. Screw the cookies; she needed her tea!

 

[That Lass Over There]

When I first saw her opening that door, I had a moment of pause. Had I truly fallen so low as to be baiting a young woman barely an adult into hell with me? A moment before, I felt desperate, longstanding failure leaving me little choice... Even so, I couldn't help but hesitate in whispering my sweet promises to the new Baroness. Excerpt from an unattributed series of journals, recovered from the vault of old House Lancaster

​

"Yes, Lady Serena." Fen bowed her head, excusing herself, and retrieved the cart of refreshments from outside before shutting the door once more. She set the small tea table in the room with care, pouring a cup of warm tea and setting sugar and cream within reach. Nobles of the north particularly tended to be more preferring of a self-sufficient style, and judging by Serena's demeanor she seemed no different. Fen, as a servant, did her best to accommodate such comforts from home for the young lady.

After setting the table the pallid maid went to standing with folded hands between the cart and the unoccupied second chair. Without further instruction, her role was to end there - cleaning up after the young lady is done, bidding her night after confirming her morning needs, and returning in the morn or when called upon. However, with the wonderful excuse of 'apology', she had long engineered her way out of being a simple decoration for nobles to ignore. "I hope you will forgive me, Lady Serena, for my presumptuousness - I made an assumption that you would share the tastes of your mother. Thankfully, I seem to have been of better service for it."



Then, as she suddenly thought of it, she added, "- And it seems I must also apologize, as I forgot standard conduct in my haste to be of service. Milady should know that I am not human, despite appearances." With those words, she watched the little Baroness in front of her carefully - searching for any twitch or tensing. Yet she saw none, and no shoes or tableware came flying her way either. She was likely getting a bit on the Baroness's nerves with her flowered words, as the young lady wasn't entirely calm, but the mention of her non-human identity elicited no ill reaction.

"... I am happy to see that it continues to be the case that the Dumnonian region does not share the Capital's opinions on such matters." She bowed her head slightly in respect, a gesture from the heart. The peoples of the tundra were of few that seemed to have developed in a more decent direction, an example she wished the rest of the kingdom would so easily follow.

 

[Aron the Aron]

"Yes, Lady Serena."

Fen bowed her head, excusing herself, and retrieved the cart of refreshments from outside before shutting the door once more. She set the small tea table in the room with care, pouring a cup of warm tea and setting sugar and cream within reach. Nobles of the north particularly tended to be more preferring of a self-sufficient style, and judging by Serena's demeanor she seemed no different. Fen, as a servant, did her best to accommodate such comforts from home for the young lady.​

It was the small comforts that gave Serena so much joy, from sitting by a hearth protecting against the Northern winters, to sipping on the richness of her favorite tea. No need for the ridiculousness of fashion or trend that most nobles were known for; all Serena needed to be content was a cup of warm Kameron tea and a place to curl up when it got cold. Simple pleasures in life for a simple lady such as her.

After setting the table the pallid maid went to standing with folded hands between the cart and the unoccupied second chair. Without further instruction, her role was to end there - cleaning up after the young lady is done, bidding her night after confirming her morning needs, and returning in the morn or when called upon. However, with the wonderful excuse of 'apology', she had long engineered her way out of being a simple decoration for nobles to ignore.


"I hope you will forgive me, Lady Serena, for my presumptuousness - I made an assumption that you would share the tastes of your mother. Thankfully, I seem to have been of better service for it."​

​

​

Then, as she suddenly thought of it, she added, "- And it seems I must also apologize, as I forgot standard conduct in my haste to be of service. Milady should know that I am not human, despite appearances." With those words, she watched the little Baroness in front of her carefully - searching for any twitch or tensing. Yet she saw none, and no shoes or tableware came flying her way either. She was likely getting a bit on the Baroness's nerves with her flowered words, as the young lady wasn't entirely calm, but the mention of her non-human identity elicited no ill reaction.

"... I am happy to see that it continues to be the case that the Dumnonian region does not share the Capital's opinions on such matters." She bowed her head slightly in respect, a gesture from the heart. The peoples of the tundra were of few that seemed to have developed in a more decent direction, an example she wished the rest of the kingdom would so easily follow.

... The blatant pandering by the maid, likely Lord Durant's attempt at buttering her up, was conversely not Serena's style. Clearly he only knew the bare minimum of Dumnonii culture and customs and presumed the rest, believing her to be someone who could be won over with fancy language. Northerners like her weren't exactly shy about their fierce sense of self-sufficiency and honor; then again her mother wasn't a full-blooded Dumnonii.

Lady Lancaster responded to the maid with characteristic Northern tact. "Spare the flowery words, Miss Fen; I'm not one for brownnosing like most of the fools in the capital. If His Grace wants something from me, then he should ask me directly instead of using you to give me the runaround." Another sip of her hot tea cooled her off before her sharp tongue began to show. "Speaking of: I fail to see the reason why a lowly Baroness such as I should warrant a personal maid, even if temporary. What's your real reason for being here, if I may be blunt?"

 

[That Lass Over There]

"'Flowery words' are the language of the Capital, and most nobles who pass through, Lady Serena." The maid asserted, staring the new Baroness in the eye with audacity most servants would not display. With her one unobscured eye half-lidded, she explained, "Veiled intentions are the only way to dance around unwanted eyes and ears. Even more so when some sentiments are restricted from expression. If you are not reading past them, then being amongst your peers today must have been even more tiring and stressful than necessary." Her last sentence contained a note of sympathy, recognition that this was not the most appealing way to live.

Understanding of such delicate social games wasn't even something Fen particularly cared for Serena to have. However, without at least an attempt from the other side, it might be difficult if not impossible to establish communication between them. It was a few seconds of consideration before she opened her mouth again, deciding to make another pass at a more transparent statement within the confines of the lady's statements and questions.



"My liege," She paused, putting undue stress on the title, "wishes only for you to enjoy your stay, and remember this manor fondly for when you may return to the Capital again." Any further, explicit details had to go unsaid, but at the very least she could convey the basics of the Prince's intentions. Reading further into it would be the responsibility of the Baroness.

"For my part, it is my genuine desire as a servant to ensure Lady Serena's comfort, and it saddens me that I can only accommodate so far." After a subtle moment, she added, closing her visible eye with a purposeful air of guilt, "... Does milady find issue with having a motive?"

 

[Aron the Aron]

"'Flowery words' are the language of the Capital, and most nobles who pass through, Lady Serena." The maid asserted, staring the new Baroness in the eye with audacity most servants would not display. With her one unobscured eye half-lidded, she explained, "Veiled intentions are the only way to dance around unwanted eyes and ears. Even more so when some sentiments are restricted from expression. If you are not reading past them, then being amongst your peers today must have been even more tiring and stressful than necessary." Her last sentence contained a note of sympathy, recognition that this was not the most appealing way to live.

Sighing out of exasperation and resignation was highly unbecoming of a proper aristocratic lady in the capital, but such things were foreign concepts to Serena and her Northern upbringing. "Why does everything have to be overcomplicated, it's like half the fools in the capital make a bloody hobby out of it." It was a far cry to the more direct way of speaking Dumnonia was known for, where speaking in riddles, half-truths, and circles was heavily frowned upon. But she was as far as she could humanly be from the comforting snow and ice of home, so she was going to have to dust off the old aristocratic thesaurus, even if she detested it.

"My liege," She paused, putting undue stress on the title, "wishes only for you to enjoy your stay, and remember this manor fondly for when you may return to the Capital again." Any further, explicit details had to go unsaid, but at the very least she could convey the basics of the Prince's intentions. Reading further into it would be the responsibility of the Baroness.

"For my part, it is my genuine desire as a servant to ensure Lady Serena's comfort, and it saddens me that I can only accommodate so far." After a subtle moment, she added, closing her visible eye with a purposeful air of guilt, "... Does milady find issue with having a motive?"

"I've been accommodated far less as a Dragoon; sleeping on little more than canvas and tanned animal hides makes everything beyond feel luxurious. Believe me when I say that the sentiment is appreciated, but unnecessary." And though Serena wouldn't admit it, but there was a certain comfort to the austerity of life as a Dragoon. Being largely responsible for your own kit was a liberating experience, and her years of service taught her far more than what passed for soldiery in the capital, most obvious by all the pompous nobles who waved around rapiers pretending to know what they were doing. The only thing Serena missed was the comfort of a pillow... and her beloved November.

"... Nevermind my comment. Just... Tell your Lord Liege that us from the North appreciate and prefer directness."

 

[That Lass Over There]

"... Nevermind my comment. Just... Tell your Lord Liege that us from the North appreciate and prefer directness."

The pale maid opened her inky-black eye again to look at the Baroness, taking measure of her words and attitude. As she was about to open her mouth to respond, she froze rigid a split second, before relaxing and performing a deep bow. "... Yes, Lady Serena. Please enjoy the tea." Leaving the teapot on the table for the young lady, the woman left with cart in tow like a breeze. Whatever she had wanted to say left unsaid, as she did not return that night.

Left alone with tea - at least Serena was left some spare lantern-lit time at peace before she retired for the night. With nobody to hover over her, she was left to take care of herself - a task of limited difficulty, since most of the room had been fully prepared for the arrival of a guest. Searching the room for various necessities to supplement her lacking luggage proved a little troublesome, and she had to explore the halls for the toilet. Still, it was a struggle of her own.

...

The next morning, having woken up earlier than most due to a military background, she was already up and alert by the time she heard another knock on her door. A standard rhythm, unlike the odd pattern of the maid last night. "Lady Serena, it's not long before you must depart. Shall I guide you to the bath to prepare?" The butler on the other side spoke an exaggeration, still a few hours left before the Estates-General were to convene for a celebratory feast welcoming her and the few other nobles who were anointed on this occasion. Though she intended to turn down the offer, the butler proved incredibly insistent unlike the maid of last night, and in annoyance the young Baroness made the mistake of agreeing for no other reason than to shoo the man away.

What she didn't realize, was that the Lord of the manor had heard at least a shadow of her complaint; mortifyingly, the manservant made an attempt to 'aid her' in the bath.

 

[Aron the Aron]

The pale maid opened her inky-black eye again to look at the Baroness, taking measure of her words and attitude. As she was about to open her mouth to respond, she froze rigid a split second, before relaxing and performing a deep bow. "... Yes, Lady Serena. Please enjoy the tea." Leaving the teapot on the table for the young lady, the woman left with cart in tow like a breeze. Whatever she had wanted to say left unsaid, as she did not return that night.

Left alone with tea - at least Serena was left some spare lantern-lit time at peace before she retired for the night. With nobody to hover over her, she was left to take care of herself - a task of limited difficulty, since most of the room had been fully prepared for the arrival of a guest. Searching the room for various necessities to supplement her lacking luggage proved a little troublesome, and she had to explore the halls for the toilet. Still, it was a struggle of her own.

Solitude. It was something all ladies treasured when they had it, and sorely missed when they hadn't. Lady Serena was little different when she could finally peel off the suffocating evening gown in favor of her nightgown. Sure, she probably felt silly when she neglected to ask the maid where the -ahem- "facilities" were, but she had better things to think about at the time. Now that she had her space and silence, she could think.

"Ugh..." She felt happy letting out the undignified grunt when she flopped over onto the soft bedding, her hands groping around behind the pillow until she felt the comforting fleece of her best friend. Were it left to her, she would've preferred the company of her entire treasure trove, but it had been straight from the frontier lands to the capital, and her best friend of nineteen years had been the only one to accompany her from home.

And hell come take anyone who'd dare take away or make fun of her Teddy Bear!

"It's been a long couple of days November..." She whispered, her voice barely audible in the silence. "First the letter from Mama that Papa is gone, and then the letter from the palace summoning me to take over as Baroness; now we're here in some stuck up peacock's manor for a few nights while the Estates-General is in session... It's everything Papa raised me for, but... what if I fail? What if I end up making everything worse for everybody back home?" She traced a finger over the bear's stitched smile, as if his frayed grin held answers to her worries.

"... You’re right," she sighed after a moment, giving him a small squeeze. "It’s scary, but I’ll never know unless I try, huh?" A tiny smile crept across her lips as she tucked November under the covers beside her, the faintest flicker of resolve settling in her heart.

"Good night... November..."

---

.
..
...

---

The next morning, having woken up earlier than most due to a military background, she was already up and alert by the time she heard another knock on her door. A standard rhythm, unlike the odd pattern of the maid last night. "Lady Serena, it's not long before you must depart. Shall I guide you to the bath to prepare?" The butler on the other side spoke an exaggeration, still a few hours left before the Estates-General were to convene for a celebratory feast welcoming her and the few other nobles who were anointed on this occasion. Though she intended to turn down the offer, the butler proved incredibly insistent unlike the maid of last night, and in annoyance the young Baroness made the mistake of agreeing for no other reason than to shoo the man away.

What she didn't realize, was that the Lord of the manor had heard at least a shadow of her complaint; and, mortifyingly, the manservant made an attempt to 'aid her' in the bath.

It wouldn't be for several minutes after Serena left the baths that other servants of the manor found the poor butler lying in a heap outside said baths, an angry red handprint seared onto the poor sod's face alongside a conspicuously large and round bruise on his head.

Sufficient to say that the new Baroness Lancaster was more than a little displeased when the butler tried to enter the baths with her, news that made everything all the more baffling when word passed to one Raoul Pierrot D'Forest Durant that the Baroness Lancaster asked for the services of the first maid...

Such was the baffling and confusing enigma painted around Serena's image as she descended the grand stairs to the foyer of the manor, her tailcoat fluttering about as she smoothed it down against her day dress.

 

[That Lass Over There]

When Serena returned from what the nobles of the Capital considered 'duties' later that evening, she saw neither hide nor hair of the butler that had offended her that morning. In fact, much like yesterday now that she thought about it, she didn't really seem to see anyone - if she didn't know better, she would almost think the manor borderline abandoned. Completely empty, all except for the maid silently standing wait in front of her bedroom door.

Unlike her appearance last night, the maid had a bit of color to her skin. A large ugly yellowish green splotch on her neck, poorly covered by a choker that was newly added to her uniform, and a bruise on her cheek too nasty for the makeup to have had a chance at concealment. "Lady Serena." The maid greeted, the same gentle tone of voice as yesterday, a professionalism that almost covered the slightest rasp left in her voice. "Please forgive my appearance. It was not expected that you would desire my services again." Closing her eyes, the maid continued to talk in the same circuitous and meaning-laden words as yesterday. A habit that had gotten her dismissed, yet she was right back to it as if it were all she knew.

For being 'not expected', the maid herself certainly seemed unsurprised by the turn of events if her nonchalance were more than an act. "During your absence, I cleaned the room for you, and just a few minutes ago I prepared tea on the table. It should still be hot, if you like."

 

[Aron the Aron]

When Serena returned from what the nobles of the Capital considered 'duties' later that evening, she saw neither hide nor hair of the butler that had offended her that morning. In fact, much like yesterday now that she thought about it, she didn't really seem to see anyone - if she didn't know better, she would almost think the manor borderline abandoned. Completely empty, all except for the maid silently standing wait in front of her bedroom door.

Unlike her appearance last night, the maid had a bit of color to her skin. A large ugly yellowish green splotch on her neck, poorly covered by a choker that was newly added to her uniform, and a bruise on her cheek too nasty for the makeup to have had a chance at concealment. "Lady Serena." The maid greeted, the same gentle tone of voice as yesterday, a professionalism that almost covered the slightest rasp left in her voice. "Please forgive my appearance. It was not expected that you would desire my services again." Closing her eyes, the maid continued to talk in the same circuitous and meaning-laden words as yesterday. A habit that had gotten her dismissed, yet she was right back to it as if it were all she knew.

The Estates-General had been a bothersome and boresome repeat of the previous day, capped off with the knowledge that nothing had been accomplished again despite the presence of so many nobles in high-standing and office. And as Baroness Lancaster, Serena had to suffer it for another five days (although the reigning King could always call it at any time earlier) before activities concluded and she could return to her fief.

If she was honest: she wasn't sure if her sanity could hold out that long; it certainly frayed at the edges when one Countess started passing out strong spirits to some of the nobles. How and where did she find the time to sneak in entire bottles!?

The sight of Fen greeting her as she stepped inside the empty (again) manor was a welcome one; far better than the butler who had greeted her earlier that morning. If Raoul was going to keep sending servants to her, then she would at least prefer the company of someone who at least gave the impression of knowing what "basic decency" meant. The changes to the maid's appearance didn't escape the tiny noblewoman as she nodded at the greeting; a blind beggar could see the blatant and eye-grabbing attempt at hiding apparent abuse Fen suffered. She would have to address it at some point.

For being 'not expected', the maid herself certainly seemed unsurprised by the turn of events if her nonchalance were more than an act. "During your absence, I cleaned the room for you, and just a few minutes ago I prepared tea on the table. It should still be hot, if you like."

"It's been another long day, Miss Fen." And Serena wasn't sure if she should prepare herself for more of the same the next day or pray that the morrow would produce something productive. "If you wouldn't mind; I think I'd like to head to my quarters right now."

"Of course, milady." Fen opened the door beside her and stepped away to maintain comfortable distance while Serena passed inside. A few moments after, she followed, closing the door behind them and leaving them in the sanctity of (relatively) private space. And the first order of business to the young Baroness was obvious:

"Right... I need you to take off that choker."

 

[That Lass Over There]

The maid didn't seem surprised by the request, though her gaze remained to the floor even as her fingers reached up to trace the accessory. "As I thought, it doesn't suit me, Lady Serena?" The meaningless, slightly playful words served only to delay as Fen considered the situation, what words to use - and if she were really so low as to push with this unexpected momentum. The thought that she may be taking advantage of a gentle heart, even if they were to establish proper cooperation later, left a bitter taste in the mouth.

After a few moments of tracing and picking at the fabric, her hands reached behind her neck to loosen the black lace, removing it and revealing in full bruises around her throat that didn't leave much to the imagination as to what violence the thin woman had faced. After gathering her courage - though she was loathe to call it such after so many years of using it to go against herself - she mumbled in a voice just loud enough to allow the young Baroness to hear: "Would milady have me strip, too? I am afraid of spoiling the tea I brewed." Her nervous fidgeting with her long sleeves revealed similar discoloration around one of her wrists, no doubt present on the other as well.



After her words hung in the air, letting Serena contemplate just what the maid might mean, Fen pushed forward, the crack in her voice too genuine even for her refined skills. "Last night, I asked milady if she found issue with having a motive, but I never got to speak my own." For the first time since stepping into the room, she made wavering eye contact with the young woman in front of her, "Lady Serena, you see, I really like the snow. It is dreadfully rare here." The most straight-forward appeal she could think to make under her restrictions, the lines she had intended to use last night to begin a dialogue before being dismissed.

 

[Aron the Aron]

The maid didn't seem surprised by the request, though her gaze remained to the floor even as her fingers reached up to trace the accessory. "As I thought, it doesn't suit me, Lady Serena?" The meaningless, slightly playful words served only to delay as Fen considered the situation, what words to use - and if she were really so low as to push with this unexpected momentum. The thought that she may be taking advantage of a gentle heart, even if they were to establish proper cooperation later, left a bitter taste in the mouth.

After a few moments of tracing and picking at the fabric, her hands reached behind her neck to loosen the black lace, removing it and revealing in full bruises around her throat that didn't leave much to the imagination as to what violence the thin woman had faced. After gathering her courage - though she was loathe to call it such after so many years of using it to go against herself - she mumbled in a voice just loud enough to allow the young Baroness to hear: "Would milady have me strip, too? I am afraid of spoiling the tea I brewed." Her nervous fidgeting with her long sleeves revealed similar discoloration around one of her wrists, no doubt present on the other as well.

Serena caught the traces of additional violence, and the involuntary twitch in her eye was all the forewarning Fen received before the diminutive Baroness marched over to her sparse belongings and drew out an entire sealed bottle of Bourbon. The temptation to take a swig was damn strong, but discipline won out and she refrained from tearing the seal. "I'm not drunk enough to have a woman undress in front of me... I got this bottle from one Earl of Tierra earlier, said it was a gift from his personal collection after what I've done for his son-in-law back in Blogia." It was still relatively cool to the touch, which was something she was thankful for when she began pressing it against some of the bigger bruises the maid had.

After her words hung in the air, letting Serena contemplate just what the maid might mean, Fen pushed forward, the crack in her voice too genuine even for her refined skills. "Last night, I asked milady if she found issue with having a motive, but I never got to speak my own." For the first time since stepping into the room, she made wavering eye contact with the young woman in front of her, "Lady Serena, you see, I really like the snow. It is dreadfully rare here." The most straight-forward appeal she could think to make under her restrictions, the lines she had intended to use last night to begin a dialogue before being dismissed.

"If this is you trying to make smalltalk, you're awful at it. If this is you asking me to whisk you out of here... I'll think about it." The Baroness said, not at all missing the blatant direction Fen was trying to steer the conversation. "We can hold a more proper conversation after you're done looking like you've tried to spar with my NCOs."