The city of Sol’s Heart was divided into three different sections. Each region belonged to different social groups. Poor were given space on the outskirts while those richer had a lakefront district. This did not mean the rich were surrounded by a layer of disguised squalor. Region soldiers were often sent to clear out an entire stretch of land so that those rich and affluent citizens of Sol’s Heart would never lay eyes on the poor. As such, even those desperate homeless rarely ventured to the southern edge of town.

Influential clans had residences along the water, granted by the Region Lord. Three such families held larger holdings which spread for miles and distorted the cities shape. Their properties might house thousands of the downtrodden, but instead were private due to their powerful, and often arrogant, families.

“Mother? That boy is on the roof again.” The youngest daughter of a small clan wore finery that lifted already growing assets into an alluring shape. She leaned out the third story window of their manor and stared across at a young man.

Those walking the pathway below could easily look up and see a young girl nearly spilling out of her tightly cinched top. Her mother hoped that such a dress might attract the eye of young nobles in higher families. The gambit paid off with both her older sisters in years gone by. Only one was successful married while the other found another, less proper way to survive.

“Show me you’ve been paying attention to my lessons. What name should you address me by in public?”

“Lady Iola, or Clan Mother of Shore’s Hearth.” the youngest daughter responded while giving an exaggerated curtsy. Almost immediately she turned back to the window and leaned out once more.

“Then to answer your question, direct your attentions elsewhere and ignore the young lord next door,” Lady Iola said.

Across the wall of their estate lay a fairly unused but wide stone path. Past that was an aqueduct which funneled water from the lakes edge further into Sol’s Heart. On the other side of running water lay a tall wall which had been carved with ornate decorations. One entrance had a stone bridge which went into a heavy double door. That passageway went to the Asger clan’s property and had not been opened once in six years. Their main door sat further to the south.

“But that boy’s up there every morning. He just sits, staring like a loon, then he bows. It’s so strange,” the young girl responded.

Noble families such as the Shore’s Hearth clan held only a small tract of land. Their city property traveled an eighth mile along the aqueduct. It was only one of many such holdings that served to buffer between larger families. The three great clans were too prideful to withstand being direct neighbors.

Many chose this path in hopes of witnessing the spilling treasures of her daughters, as they had at one time made less than casual glances at the middle aged woman. It served to increase their reputation, even if the cause was less than pure. Attentions lead to power of sorts.

“Mercy. I’ve told you to stop looking at the Asger family’s holdings. It’s not proper,” her mother said in with a slow voice. In pieces about her was a dress that had not been fully assembled.

Mercy’s mother, or as she was called in public, Lady Iola, wore the same style of clothes. Part of it was competition with the budding flower her daughter had become. There were other reasons as well, of course, but mostly jealousy. Their family had few who practiced The Way. As such, they were all equally torn down by times cruel march.

The youngest daughter turned. Her shoulders pulled back to lean on the windowsill which only served to highlight Mercy’s chest. She said, “But he’s my age, and I’ve never seen him in any classes. Shouldn’t all nobles of age be in the Region Master’s school?”

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One of her fingers casually twirled towards the other property. The angle of their third floor living room allowed for a clearly visible view into the garden’s other side. A small house sat inside, and atop it a smaller boy stared upwards at the sky every morning.

“And?” Lady Iola asked.

“I only asked why he doesn’t show at class. The boy looks cute enough to contend with Prince Char and his friends, though this Asger boy rarely smiles,” the daughter responded with a shrug. Mercy’s cheek tucked back in a disapproving expression that every woman in the family had.

Lady Iola said nothing immediately and kept working at the dress. She enjoyed being a seamstress despite its toll. Each twist of needle wore on stiff fingers. Neither hand looked like the slender beauties they had once been. Such was the price of crafting clothes by hand. These works were creations of pure art, which was half the reason her house retained any nobility at all, that and ample charms coupled with slender waists. Beauty kept them noticed. It certainly wasn’t the work of a philandering husband whose attentions drifted as age had its way with Iola’s body.

“Their clan head can afford private tutors if they so desire.” The clan mother of Shores Heart spoke with a calmness her mind didn’t have. Seeing her third daughter displaying such charms without an ounce of self-awareness nearly caused her to twitch in irritation. Eventually the jealousy would pass, once Mercy had been married off to a proper husband. Then the house would be empty, and perhaps she could leave Sol’s Heart for greener pastures, or at least ones where Lady Iola could find a more attentive man to warm her bed at nights.

“Can we pay him a visit? He looks lonely and could use some cheer.” Mercy shook her front and smiled. The clan mother took a slow breath which disguised a sigh. Perhaps, at twelve, her daughter was not as ignorant about charming people as she hoped. Early maturity was dangerous, but that too could be used.

One did not have to be a lady at all times, and often men preferred it when a woman knew exactly when to drop the façade. The problem with each daughter had been showing them how to separate the two sides of a woman’s nature. In public one had to remain refined and dignified. Such front shaking served better in brothels and bedrooms rather than a nobles dining halls.

“No.” She tried to lead her daughter by deed and word. “It’s not our place to pay any heed to that garden. A lady does not step above her station unless invited.”

The next day Stone Hearth gardeners started creating a higher lettuce of vines to blot out their western neighbor across the aqueduct’s edge. This only increased Mercy’s intrigue, for something being hidden meant there was value in knowing. Both of her old sisters had explained this truth upon her twelfth birthday.

Lady Iola started looking for suitors which might keep the youngest of her daughter’s busy. Perhaps another outlet, a proper one of course, might reign in such idle curiosity. Most than one family around the city engaged in such actions, all striving for what they felt was best. Such plotting would keep her busy until more pleasurable activities could be pursued.

Across the way, another set of parents plotted out methods to deal with their children as well. Lady Iola had heard of some of the Asger clan’s plots, and counted herself lucky to only have three daughters. Sons only brought troubles, especially if the rumors were to be believed.