Cas struggled to maintain an indignant look, but her mind was rocked as she glared at Dirk. She knew she wasn’t perfect, but fatal flaws? What could they be, and more importantly, did this mean she was off the job?

“You heard me,” Dirk said. “Now, I don’t expect you to fix them right away, but you need to be aware of them for this job and work towards fixing them before we begin the next one.”

“Oh?” she began. Her voice was thin, and it was all she could do to maintain a civil tone. Tonight had been nothing but a series of unpleasant encounters. “Please, do tell me what they are.”

“For starters, you are good at avoiding the sight of a particular person, but not very good at staying hidden from eyes you might not be aware of,” Dirk began.

“You have no idea how to go back into hiding of you once you’ve been spotted,” Starkey added.

Cas arched an eyebrow. “And what’s the third?”

Dirk sighed. “You are known to the City Watch.”

Cas bit her lip and her heart ached when she realized she couldn’t argue with any of their points. Perhaps she had allowed her success at pickpocketing hapless tourists to get to her head, though she had never had grand dreams of becoming a career criminal. All she wanted was a return to normalcy, having a proper job that gave her a sense of purpose and a stable income.

Dirk saw the turmoil on his face and softened his tone. “As I said, none of these flaws make you unqualified for this job…”

Starkey cleared his throat, and a sheepish smile crossed the lanky man’s face. “Well, the Guardsman could be a problem… What is your relationship with him?”

“He is just an acquaintance,” Cas began.

“Oh no, he’s more than that,” Dirk shook his head. “You need to be honest with us here. There’s too much at stake.”

Cas chewed her lip for a moment before replying. “For some reason, he’s infatuated with me…”

“He has good taste,” Dirk grunted. “Is he a member of that church of yours?”

Cas nodded.

Dirk exchanged a look with Starkey before sighing. “Well, it’s not ideal, but time is pressing. Our client made that very clear. As for the other two things, it so happens that Starkey here is a master at both skulking about and shaking off pursuers.”

“Starkey here will train you in the other two matters when he can?” Dirk began.

“I will do no such thing!” the diminutive man cried.

“Your wrist isn’t going to recover in time for the second part of the job,” Dirk pointed out.

“And whose fault is that?” Starkey growled.

“You pulled a knife on me!” Cas protested before grabbing Dirk by the arm. “Look, I’m a quick study. Those things you mentioned, I can learn them on my own.”

“Pah,” Starkey scoffed, and Dirk shook his head.

“Starkey here may not look it, but he’s excellent at skulking about and losing a tail,” Dirk said. “And chances are you’ll need both those skills for the second part of the job… That’s going to be hairy.”

Dirk then turned to the diminutive man who was still glaring daggers at Cas. “And you’re going to have to pull your weight if you want your cut of the takings. The others are already grumbling about having to take another person on board on account of your screwup.”

The lanky man gave Starkey, who was fuming in his seat, a pointed look. At length, he sighed. “Fine, boss, but don’t blame me if she’s still no good when the time comes.”

Dirk grinned. “Excellent. Now that that’s dealt with, we can…”

He was interrupted by a pounding on the door that led further into the building. Dirk cocked his head at the door, and Starkey obediently rose to open it with his good hand. On the other side was a florid old man wearing a nightgown and a scowl that deepened when he saw Cas.

“Didn’t I tell you not to bring no more of your doxies down here?” he demanded.

“Oh, we were just having a little business discussion,” Dirk soothed as he spread his arms and walked over to the man.

“Oh yeah?” the man spat. “The same sort of business discussion I caught you having with… what were their names, Erma and Scadra, just last week?”

“Now that was…” Dirk began defensively.

“I didn’t rent out this room for whoring,” the man railed, cutting Dirk off. “I don’t know what sort of salacious business the three of you were planning in here, but I want them gone, now!”

Cas arched an eyebrow and flashed the man her most charming smile. “It’s a shame tonight hasn’t worked out. I’ll leave you fine gentlemen to it.”

“Remember not to be late for your interview,” Dirk called out as she walked outside. “The Lady Armagin is a real stickler about punctuality.”

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Is there a noblewoman in the Eternal City who isn’t?” Cas muttered under her breath as she walked down the quiet alleyways, following her ears back until she emerged onto the bustling Gamon street.

As she took a moment to marvel at the sights, the colourful shops, the painted women, and the bright lights, the mouthwatering smells of roasted meat wafted over from a nearby street, and Cas walked past a troupe of performers who were performing a bawdy comedy routine on a busy street corner to find a road lined with stalls selling freshly cooked food.

Cas looked around and wondered why she had never seen this side of the city despite having lived her for her whole life. She was then amazed to realize that there were no pickpockets working the distracted crowd and wondered why that was. She was briefly tempted to try her luck, for the pickings looked rich, but her instincts screamed danger, and she remembered what had happened to Starkey.

Instead, she shrugged and promised herself to explore this place properly one day. Stifling a yawn, she decided to go straight home. There was an important job to do, and she didn’t want to make any mistakes.

Cas was surprised at how excited she was as she followed the head maid down the richly decorated halls of Armagin Manor. They both wore a blue frock with a navy blue apron with the Armagin crest, an antlered dear, emblazoned on their breast. Cas’ was one of the maids’ old dresses and was about three sizes too big, but she didn’t care. This was a day she had dreamed of ever since she had been fired. It was just a shame it wouldn’t last.

Then, a thought occurred to her. The interview had gone well, and Cas had impressed her enough to allow her to begin work at once. Now, she had around a week to perhaps properly gain her trust…

Cas then realized that the head maid had stopped outside a door and was looking at her expectantly. Perdala Vilstid was a short, dumpy woman who wore her steel grey hair in a tight bun. She had worked for the Armagin household for thirty seven years, and years of hard labour had taken their toll on her joints. She walked with a pronounced limp and had been talking as she led Cas down the halls, but in her excitement, Cas had not heard a word she said.

“Well, get on with it, we have plenty to do,” she said as she cocked her head at the door before spinning on her heel and walking back down the hallway.

“At once, ma’am,” Cas bowed, assuming she was to clean the room.

She peered inside and saw that it was a personal office of sorts. A man sat a large desk that was covered with piles of parchment, absorbed in his work. At his back was a large window that offered a view of an immaculately manicured garden, and the walls were lined with filled bookcases that went all the way up to the double volumed ceilings. In a corner of the room was a cluttered low table that bore the debris from a meeting that appeared to have gone late into the night.

Cas assumed the man pouring over the papers at the desk was the Count himself. The stature of the office matched a man of his standing if not its current state. It was a safe assumption that she had been brought here to tidy up. She checked the sight lines from the desk before slipping in and getting to work.

Half smoked cigars and the remnants of food, china plates, pewter tankards and crystal snifters were placed onto a silver serving tray on the sideboard. Half empty bottles of fine liquor went inside. Books and documents that were carelessly scattered across the table and floor were placed into neat stacks on the floor while taking special care not to accidentally glance at their contents. With the table clear from clutter, Cas reached into her small handbasket of supplies for a cloth which she used to wipe the rich hardwood surface clean.

All this was done while keeping a careful eye on the count. He was a tall, thin man in his thirties who sported thick tufts of rich brown hair on his head and a luxurious moustache. Every so often, he would stretch and look up from his work. When he did, Cas was sure to stealthily step out of his line of sight until he turned away before resuming her work.

Soon, the table was spotless. Cas stepped back to admire her work with a sense of satisfaction that came from a job well done. She was quickly interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Instinctively, she moved out of the count’s line of sight as the head maid poked her head in.

“Excuse me, My Lord, have you seen the new maid I brought by earlier?” she asked.

Count Darien Armagin looked at the old woman and blinked in confusion. “This is the first I’ve seen of you today, Ms Vilstid.”

The head maid looked around the room and narrowed her eyes when she saw Cas standing in a corner. The count jumped in surprise when she followed her gaze.

“You!” she exclaimed. “I told you to come right over to the grand ballroom as soon as you had introduced yourself.”

“Thank you, Ms Vilstid, I’ll deal with her from here,” the Count said. He eyed the low table Cas had tidied up as he walked over. “Please, leave us alone for a minute.”

“I’m a big boy now, and I can take care of myself,” the Count said.

At length, the old woman pursed her lips before curtseying. “As you command, My Lord.”

When she was gone, the count’s eyes turned cold as he appraised Cas. “What is your name?”

“Valdra, My Lord,” she said, using her grandmother’s name while not meeting the count’s gaze as she had been trained. She knew she had made a huge mistake straight away and cursed her stupidity. “Valdra Mimas.”

“Who was your previous employer, Ms Mimas?” the Count demanded. “Your real employer, not the lie you told my wife when she interviewed you.”

Cas hesitated before replying. “Lady Black, My Lord. Lady Elvia Black.”

Count Darien Armagin grunted. “She is an eccentric one, that Lady Elvia, isn’t she?”

“That isn’t my place to say, My Lord,” Cas mumbled, knowing better than to speak ill of one noble to another.

Darien smiled briefly, but the humour vanished from his face so quickly that it left Cas wondering if she had imagined it. “Why were you fired?’

Cas knew better than to tell the truth and gambled that the Count knew enough of her former Mistress’ reputation. “I was seen, My Lord.”

“Your former mistress entertained me at her home once,” the Count said as he straightened his overcoat. Cas’ eyes widened when she caught a glimpse of a chain around his neck. Could it be connected to the key? If only she had the replacement with her... “Damned unsettling experience, food and drink appearing before you seemingly out of thin air…”

He paused to eye Cas’ work before turning back to her. “Well, you have done an immaculate job here, without being seen or heard to boot. However, we do things a little differently in this household. From now on, you are to announce yourself if my wife or I are in the room before beginning any work.”

Cas was shocked and could only stare wide eyed at the Count. She had been half expecting to have the Guard summoned to take her away after her mistake.

The corners of Darien’s eyes crinkled in amusement, and he asked. “Am I clear, young lady?”

Cas’ eyes widened and she bowed her head. “Yes, My Lord, it won’t happen again.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Now you had best get yourself to the ballroom quickly, or you will face the wrath of Ms Vilstid.”

“At once, My Lord,” Cas said. She attempted to curtsey like the head maid had but failed miserably.

“Forgive my clumsiness, lord, but my mistress didn’t train me in such things,” she said breathlessly.

“I can imagine,” Darien said. “There is no need to curtsey or be graceful when your mistress doesn’t want you to be seen. Damned strange, though.

The Count dismissed her with an amused nod, and she fled gratefully.