There were times when Francesca wondered how much better place the world would have been if the rich had even a bit of consideration for people like her. Sometimes she suspected they had never grown out of the belief that you just had to open your mouth and food would fall in. How easy it was to forget that it was people like her who did the feeding and cooking. The party didn’t start for another hour, and they needed all the time they had down to the minute.

“Take some refreshments and appetizers for our early guests.” Francesca told Emilia, the youngest maid in the mansion.

When the viscount led the father of his fiancé to his study, her eyes briefly met with lord Capello’s, and a shiver ran down her back. Something about the man made her skin crawl. Her mother had told her once that the only way for a woman to be safe was to read a man’s character with a glance. A skill she had taught Francesca.

“And tell the other girls not to end up alone with lord Capello.” Francesca said.

Once she was sure everything was back on track, she moved to the closed off part of the mansion. To the rooms that the lords of the manor called their own and servants could only enter when called.

She found Sal in his study that also doubled as his bedroom. The walls were lined with books and a heavy desk ruled over the room. A comfortable bed rested in the corner. The room’s window was broken, and Sal had pulled away the blanket that was used to cover it. He sipped brandy while looking at the stars through a mounted telescope.

It had shocked the entire mansion when a rock had been thrown through the window while Sal and the viscount had been playing chess and drinking in his study. The viscount had been up in arms and ordered the entire estate searched to no avail. When Sal had read the note wrapped around the stone, he had gone as pale as someone of his complexion could and had headed into The Wyrding the next day with the viscount.

“You’re not joining the party?” Francesca said.

Sal took his eye off the stars.

“Not tonight. I don’t think this… Elysa is ready to experience me yet. Let’s give her time to… ease into the idea that me and Cassio are a package deal.” Sal said.

“If you say so.” Francesca said.

“And I do.” Sal said and raised the bottle: “Brandy?”

Francesca smiled.

“If I must.”

“I insist.” Sal said and poured her a glass.

While Sal poured her brandy, Francesca looked through the telescope. She had loved looking at the stars as a child, but the sky was never so clear in the city as it was here. Here the night sky was full of wonders.

Before handing her the glass, Sal took a sip to prove he hadn’t poisoned the glass, or the drink as was Garuccian custom. Francesca took the glass and twirled it in her hand, letting her hand warm up the brandy.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“I must admit, Franz… I am a bit disappointed that my window is still broken.” Sal said.

“Good windows don’t grow in trees, Sal. Besides, you know how paranoid the viscount can be.” Francesca said.

“It’s my job to be paranoid for him.”

“At least we cleaned the glass. Did you get compensation for the window?” Francesca asked.

Sal shrugged.

“I am paying for that from my own pocket. A very old friend of mine just didn’t know how mailboxes work.” Sal said and drained his glass empty: “So… did you manage to dig out anything about this Pietro Capello?”

“Not much but some.” Francesca said and took out a small note from a hidden pocket in her dress.

She handed the note to Sal and his eyes raced over the note that contained Pietro Capello’s known history.

“He fought in the Twelve-Year-War and then disappeared for eight years. His family thought he was dead.” Francesca said.

“Fathers… always trying to ditch their families.” Sal said and his eyes narrowed while staring at the note: “Where the fuck is Cobbler’s Hold?”

“I asked myself the same question. I had to go through three different maps before I found it. A tiny village in the north.” Francesca said and grinned: “Isn’t knowing this stuff your job? Does that mean I am the new head advisor and you’re the new head maid?”

“Luckily for me, I don’t look as good in a dress as you do.” Sal said and stroked his beard.

“Now that’s something we can agree on.” Francesca said and emptied her glass.

Sal finished reading the note and poured them both another serving of brandy. While thinking, Sal sat behind his desk and put his feet on the table. His long fingers pressed together while he thought things over.

“So… a carpenter’s apprentice from a no-name town gets drafted into the Twelve-Year-War, abandons his family for eight years and now… he has become one of the richest men in Garuccia. You know what I’m thinking, Franz?”

“No. What are you thinking, Sal?”

“That some vile fuckery is going down here and I don’t like it.” Sal said.

Francesca smiled into her glass.

“That is truly an unbelievable success story. I don’t think I’ve heard anything quite like it since this circus brat and a Romani to boot became a viscount’s head advisor overnight. I hear he even disappears into The Wyrding regularly. I don’t know about you, Sal, but it sounds to me like some vile fuckery is afoot.”

Sal snorted.

“I’ll be sure to look into that but… touché, love.” Sal said and sipped his drink: “What did you think of lord Capello?”

“He seemed like a creep to me.” Francesca said.

“Creep, huh?”

“I already told the girls not to end up alone with him.”

“Good work.” Sal said.

While Sal pondered things over, Francesca did the same. She had known Sal for years. Since he was a fifteen-year-old boy who had mysteriously entered the viscount’s service. She had even made a man out of him when he was seventeen. If she ever had to slit his throat, she would do it painlessly and mourn him afterwards. But even after all that, she had never gotten a proper read on him. Sal was a slippery one and she had never been able to shake the feeling that there was a depth to him that she hadn’t been able to grasp. Then there were those eyes… those too blue… too deep eyes that could make you forget rest of the world with a single look.

But when that note had been thrown through the window, she had seen another side to him. A genuine desire to do good.

“Sal?”

“Yeah?”

“Ever wonder if you could do more?” Francesca said.

“I think I drink enough.” Sal said.

“No. I meant more for others. A lot of people are… stuck. The way you and Pietro were. These aristocrats don’t get it. They don’t know how much others have to work and suffer so they don’t.”

Sal grimaced like the brandy had turned into acid in his mouth.

“Franz…”

“Or is the great Salvatore Torrini afraid?”

“Franz… these aristocrats tolerate me as long as I make them laugh. The second I criticize them, I am dead.” Sal said and forced himself to empty his glass: “I got mine and I’m not ruining it. I have a family to look after. My old man isn’t exactly getting younger.”

“I… see.” Francesca said.

After all these years, Francesca had thought there could be no more awkward silences between them. She had been wrong.

“When… will that window be fixed?” Sal said.

“I’m not sure. I can set you up in another room in the meantime.” Francesca said.

“If you’re worried, I’ll catch a chill, you could always stay here and keep me warm.” Sal said.

Francesca glanced at the queen-sized bed she had shared with Sal more than a few times.

“I have work to do.” Francesca said and finished her drink: “Goodnight, Sal.”

She was about to leave when she remembered the car keys lord Capello had gifted to the viscount. She put them on Sal’s desk.

“Lord Capello gave one of the cars to the viscount. I guess figuring out how to drive it is your job.” Francesca said.

Sal looked at the keys.

“I guess it is. Thank you, Franz.”

Francesca returned to oversee preparations for the party when she came across her viscount. As was custom, she bowed her head and waited for him to pass but unusually the viscount hovered around her. Looking confused and lost. Two words no one would have used to describe him.

“My lord?”

The viscount flinched like he had been knocked awake and he looked at Francesca with a cloudy look in his green eyes.

“Francesca…?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“Could you… tell Sal to take my new car for a drive and… take it to Leoden?”