Daniel prowled through the Servants sections, dark thoughts and crushed expectations swirling in his mind. Outside of Esra and the goose boy, all of his interactions this day had been charged with threats, dancing with deceit, and overshadowed by the ever-looming Game. Even when he had 'won' in the Sky Court, those were partly victories that promised more pain for the bother.

Hunger pained him, and his growing dread at his remaining duties washed over him.

The Grand Stable, or the Grant Stable, as the Lordlings called it. The Last Duty of the day. If he completed this day, then the Game could no longer be prevented. His name would be recorded and then dated.

But before he could go there, he needed to find whatever remained of his garments brought from the wash. Considering the meal he had been denied, he had little hope that his rather plain garments were not terribly mangled beyond repair, and attempt to finish the last duty of the day.

Daniel moved through a series of rooms, to the room he had left his clothes earlier that day. The walls sagged here, and the smell of mildew was slight but undeniably present. No one had followed him after he had left the Lesser Hall, and he felt some relief. What more could he do? What more would they do? The Glasbin fae was in a position of semi-authority over him, but even then the true danger came from the servants' general hatred and vengeful spirit regarding a fallen Lordling.

No doubt they would continue this frustrating game of pranks and small accumulating discourtesies.

All the favors they had owed him had vanished like smoke. All tied to the name Elswith. All gone. Standing alone in this little room, he reached, even knowing it was hopeless, to reclaim the favor the Glasbin fae, Jasper Dunlap of Glasbinshire, owed him. The Law of Fae stirred, unexpectedly.

Daniel tensed, surprised. Could it be possible...

But then the Law of Fae returned to him void. The favor was owed to the defunct Lordling Elswith, and could not be transferred.

He rubbed his eyes.

He just had to finish today. Survive until midnight.

He could imagine what wretched things were done to his clothes. Would it be a bottle of ink accidentally mixed in the wash? Loose fleas suddenly finding a new home? A Griffin bored and decided to make large gashes in the vestments?

To his surprise, there was a fae waiting for him in the room. She was a fae creature, beautiful moth wings gracing behind her back. Her two lower arms held a bundle, and her upper arms were clasped. "Hello servant Branch!" the upper arms waved at him.

"Greetings," he replied, trust withheld and frozen in his chest. His relationship with Glasbin fae was no doubt ruined beyond repair, the O'Tells house seemed like a dark fate awaiting him. This Mothkin fae was hesitant. "What is your purpose?" he asked, suddenly dreading the worst scenario: Not that his clothes would be ruined or mangled, but that his clothes simply would not be returned to him.

"About your clothes..." the mothkin girl started, and began removing brown paper away from the bundle.

The Servant Branch was not allowed to take his Hall Attendant uniform away from the O'Tells house. Would he be forced to complete his day in his undergarments? What if he had allowed even the thin shirt and half pair of breeches to be taken away? Would he be expected to walk around with no proper clothes, a thin shirt and in short trousers, with boots riding too high on the knee? Who would ever wish to see that? What if something happened to the thin shirt, and then he was forced to leave it behind also? He'd be forced to go about his day with his unfashionably defined abdominal muscles shown for all the world? His broad shoulders looked more appropriate for a common laborer than a...wait, he was a common laborer now.

Still, he had some dignity left for his previous station. He hoped to avoid that.

"So about your clothes..." the mothkin girl said, finishing pulling the paper away and revealing his clothes. "Tada! I saved them."

But the clothes were completely unharmed. Daniel waited to take them until he verified, twice, there were no strings attached, to the Law of Fae or otherwise. Servants working together for the same group rarely garnered favors for performing their basic duties. His clothes were dirty in pursuit of his duty, getting to the O'Tells House on time, and she had washed them as part of her duties, washing maid.

When he took them in hand, he saw that the garments were fresh, clean, and completely un-hexed, un-burnt, un-soiled, and un-dismantled.

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This was confusing.

"Why...what happened?"

"It was tricky! I had to guard them." she lowered her voice. "There was an overseer with a dark cast to her face, searching high an' low for them. Offered a reward if one of us washers turned the clothes o'er. See, I hid 'em, in me bag."

Clothes washing and mending were one of the benefits of being a servant. Servants had little time to accomplish this on their own, so like much of the food preparations, the servants were allowed to make use of the washing services and the kitchen. But this was above and beyond a washer worker's duties. He still had feathers left over from the Sky Court wild goose chase and the washing girl at the Sky Court had been pleased with that. If all washing staff liked long feathers, Daniel may need to note that.

But he doubted it.

He must discover what the mothkin holding his clothes hostage wished for in return for such a service. "What do you hope to gain?"

"Pride in a job done well, sirling." Her dark eyes sparkled. The Law of Fae danced in her words. "It t'weren't right, tryin' to harm the clothes. Me job is to wash the clothes and mend 'em." she smiled then, standing as tall as her small frame would hold her. "Give 'em to me in the future," she said. "I swear that I will do me best to protect 'em sirling."

Gratitude bloomed in Daniel's heart. The Law of Fae danced true in the moth fae girl's words.

He beheld his clothing. They were indeed brought back to him. Nary a stain nor mar upon the garments. The small tear that he had inexpertly repaired with three rough stitches with course threat was now mended as surely as it had never been cut. He could only feel that the fabric was slightly denser than before where the cut had been. Impressive work. The quality was good enough for a Lordling.

"T'was a hard stain, near the tear. But I persevered! Out spot, I said! Soap an' bubbles never fail!" she said, wings fluttering proudly. "I mended it too, sirling. Used my family's secret magic to get the threads to grab each other."

"You do a service to your craft," he said, feeling strangely pleased. If his clothes were perfect, he may have enough time to forage for food, drop by an untainted kitchen, or even see if there were raw oats at the Stable he could acquire.

He touched the repair again. While magic had been used in the mending, it was not what was holding it together. The threads had been rejoined physically, so he wouldn't have to worry about the magic wearing off. Then he froze, as he felt a trace of her magic.

The signature of magic was the same as the iridescent purple that had been cast on his boot, in the early morning.

He felt his stomach twist, and not due to hunger. Was this a set up? Because if she was the one who had cast that magic...

And the dark plan, that had been ruminating in the back of his mind, came to the forefront.

After his name was dated in the book, after midnight, he would act. This entire day had shown him there was no compassion nor true softness in the ruthless servant class. Not for a former Lordling. Daniel would retaliate. He had to, or even the passive would devour him. He had to show them he was not so weak he could not strike back, not so vulnerable he could not defend. He needed to stand, not for himself or his betterment, but for the Rural Places and those depending upon him.

He could not be weak.

He could not lose.

If there could not be peace, then the war would be fought on their territory.

And this strangely friendly and dependable Mothkin girl was one of his targets for later in the day. He had memorized her magic earlier, to track her down.

He had to respond to this morning's engagements.

Payback against the places he worked, such as the Sky Court, O'Tells House, or the Grand Stable, were removed and special. It was expected to be harassed in those places. The entire scenario was established as an obstacle in the Game, to begin with.

But the events of this morning, in the Servants Keep, were different.

The servant who spit at him first, the one who had mocked the Former Heirling of the Red Sword as he approached the former dais where the First King once ruled, and the clerk who had toyed with him. And whoever had cast that magic on his boot to change color. Four, the number of trials and mischief. Four repayments to establish his place in the servants' hierarchy. Four strikes to declare that he was not weak.

While the action of casting weak magic to change the color may have seemed small, Daniel had to react. In fact, it was an insult worse than being spit in the face. For the former Heirling of the Red Sword to wear a purple boot would have been tantamount to denouncing the entire faction, an action which may see him slain or detained, Game or no Game. It would have seen him alienated even more than he already was. Worse, it may have set the ancient Red Sword against him. Not his Lordly Father, but the Sword itself.

There was debate regarding whether the thirty-seven blades were truly sentient or merely possessed some likeness to self-awareness. Elswith had not known which was the case.

But the Amethyst Sword and the Red Sword always repelled each other. Not a single alliance ever prospered between the two factions. For hundreds of years. There was even a legend that long before Elswith's Lordly Father was the Red Lord, a previous Red Lord had attempted to marry the beautiful she-elf Amethyst Lord to forage an alliance between factions.

The Swords disagreed.

Violently.

There was no marriage alliance because neither the former Red Lord nor the former Amethyst Lord remained. Both factions lost their leaders, and the Swords passed to new hands.

Since then, there had never been attempts for the two Factions to ever come to more than a none confrontational truce.

"I like doin' me work well, sirling! I always go above an' beyond! Me family depends on me!" Her dark eyes glistened with sincerity.

The Moth girl's 'prank' could have seen Daniel removed. Even if he was not killed, if he was taken out of play, the rural towns would lose their protection and no doubt be destroyed.

She had been the one to cast his boots to purple that morning.

Which meant he would need to make an example of her.

He did not wish to.

He did not have a choice.