Maids-of-all-work are the life blood of the house. Lest the maid fail the household, the maid should be disciplined swiftly.

- Domestic life and service to the Hungry Bull

With the swoosh of the long midnight-blue skirt, two young maids glided into the bustling kitchen. Older women in dirty white uniforms went about stirring pots, shoving cakes into the oven, and chopping vegetables.

The two fresh-faced maids picked up white aprons and tossed the canvas straps around their necks. Picking up knives they began slicing blue carrots and tossing the bits into a nearby pot.

After checking over her shoulder the maid with the almond-brown hair leaned over and whispered, “Psst Aelia, do you think that the hunter-slayer is going ta’ kill us all, you know like last time he was here?”

Aelia shook her head, “Naa, I heard from the scullery that the hunter is lookin ta’ snatch himself up ah bride, Fabiana.”

“You no longer work in the scullery, you shouldn’t-ah believe those chatty geese,” her friend replied. “I bet he has dreamy eyes.”

Aelia and Fabiana snickered as a wooden spoon smacked them in the back of the head. They cast a wary eye behind them to see who assaulted them. A plump cook with grey hair glared back at them. The cook turned one good eye towards the two maids as her other eye drifted towards the ceiling.

“If you two little butterflies worked as hard as you talked you’d-ah been done with your work already,” the cook said crossing her blubbery arms.

“Yes Cook,” they responded in unison.

“If I’m-ah butterfly, then you’re-ah moth,” mumbled Aelia.

The cook smacked her with the side of the wooden spoon and continued to glare at them. The cook began to rant at them spouting foul language. As she talked her lower lip curled flashing crocked yellow teeth.

“Do you understand how important tonight is for the Markuss family?” the cook asked.

“Yes, Cook Stave,” they answered together.

After the cook nodded, both the girls half curtsied and cast their eyes downward. Cook Stave studied them with her good eye and shook her head. She tapped them on the shoulder with her wooden spoon.

“I don’t-ah want ta’ hear any more mindless talk about Skulkans, hunter-slayers, or what butterflies these days call killers for hire,” she said as continued to tap them with her wooden spoon. “The Markuss family has hired the best men-at-arms in the empire to protect his family, guests, and even you two. No one is getting in that shouldn’t-ah be here!”

“Yes, Cook Stave,” they repeated.

“Kids these days, not what it was like back in my day, both of you deserved ta’ be whipped,” she said turning around towards an iron pot boiling by a cooking fire.

After adding some herbs to the soup, Stave spun around on the back of her heels and pulled out an iron key from between her sagging breasts. Aelia checked to make sure the cook’s back was turned before she stuck her tongue out at her.

The cook stopped and turned around and smacked Aelia hitting her on the forehead with her wooden spoon. Aelia rubbed her forehead and went back to cutting the carrots.

“I’d-ah flog you two right now if I wasn’t-ah needed ta’ prep for the party,” she said shaking her fist at them. “Maids these days, no respect. Not like it was in my time.”

Fabiana and Aelia watched the cook waddle into the next room and slam the door behind her.

“Cranky old murder-log,” Aelia said in a hushed tone. “I hope that hunter-slayer tosses her into the lake first.”

“I told you that hunter is after ah wife, Binna told me herself before I was promoted upstairs,” said Fabiana.

“Binna…the same girl with the witch sight?” asked Aelia, pointing to her forehead.

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“Uh yeah, that Binna,” she said. “I bet the hunter has bulging muscles.”

“With dreamy eyes,” Aelia added.

They both giggled. Aelia tossed the remaining bits of the carrots into the pot. Fabiana brought over a bowl of leafy green vegetables and dropped them unceremoniously on the cutting table. The older cooks glanced up from their tables, shook their heads, and went back to work.

“I heard that hunters like recently flowered girls ‘cause it makes them unstoppable. I bet it’s-ah the same hunter who you know, tossed ol’ Markuss and Marcia in the lake all those years ago.” Fabiana said running her finger under her throat.

Aelia’s eyes widened.

“Binna said that they like ta’ ravish their wives for days and days,” Fabiana said.

Her friend’s face turned red as she focused on her cutting.

Fabiana grinned and whispered in her friend’s ear, “Can you imagine some hunter, sweaty and back from killing someone making love ta’ you for days and days?”

Aelia shook her head and said, “Oh you are so bad!”

Fabiana continued to giggle and stopped when she caught sight of the cook returning from the side room. She tapped her friend’s hand and tossed her nose towards the cook. Aelia’s face soured.

As Stave wobbled, she carried a tray of herbs and threw them into the soup. She swayed her fat hips as she continued to stir the pot, humming a song to herself.

Aelia rolled her eyes when Fabiana pointed to her cankles every time her dress hiked up over her feet.

A baker pushed Fabiana to the side and grumbled a slightly intelligible, “move it butterfly!”

The baked deposited a tray of palm-sized cakes by her. Fabiana watched the steam swirl up from the cakes. She licked her lips and inhaled deeply. Her stomach began to growl. Checking to see where the baker disappeared to, she snapped up a cake and juggled it from hand to hand. Judging it was cool enough to eat Fabiana opened her mouth, but her prize was stolen by Cook Stave.

The cook mumbled, “Keep your eyes on your work, not your stomach.”

Stave snapped her fingers at the baker and pointed to the tray. The baker nodded and moved the cakes away.

As Cook Stave talked she shot cake crumbs in every direction, “I don’t-ah want you two gonna on about this hunter-slayer anymore.”

She ambled towards the kitchen exit towards. A man-at-arms, clad in a hybrid of leather and chain-linked armor, blocked her egress. He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and shook his head no.

“Pardon me Cook Stave, but I can’t-ah let anyone wander out of the kitchen cause of the gathering tonight,” he said shifting on his feet. “You know once someone comes in they can’t-ah go out. Dems the rules.”

“You must be new because I was the one who’s-ah made the rules!” she said spaying him with crumbs. “I need ta’ rest my feet before the guests show up, and if you don’t-ah get out of my way, I’m-ah going ta’ break your feet. So shoo!”

She knocked on the side of the head with her knuckles till he finally stepped to the side and opened the door. Stave pushed her way out the door and into the crowded hallway.

Maids-of-all-work rushed by carrying loads of bedding, pots, brushes, and buckets of oils. Guards were positioned at the doorways, checking the maids before allowing them to scurry off somewhere in the villa.

After giving the guards a sour look, Cook Stave passed by and stomped up the stairs. She turned the corner and the number of staff trickled down to one or two people rushing out of the hallway and down the stairs.

Once the hallway was empty, the cook reached into her mouth and pulled out her yellow teeth and tossed them to the floor. She stepped on them and scattered the broken bits with her foot.

She opened a door at the end of the hallway and shut the door. Stave leaned over and ran her fingers through her hair, shaking it violently. White flour fell out of her hair and to the floor. The cook dipped her fingers in the water basin and ran them through her hair, removing the rest of the flour.

“Oh, I’d give anything to be young again,” she said dropping her Gamsbin accent.

She stood up straight and wiped away the water from her jet-black hair with a nearby towel.

“I mean kids these days don’t appreciate what it’s like to be young,” she said removing the wrinkles from her face.

Stave pulled off her white clothes and flipped them inside out. Then examined the dark blue material sewn under the white clothes and untied the sack around her stomach. She removed a pair of colored glass lens and smashed them on the floor.

“In my day, we worked from sun up to sundown,” she said throwing the sack on the floor and putting on the dress. “I mean half the time we didn’t even know when the sun was up or down.”

She placed her foot on the chair and pulled down her white stockings. Stave removed the bags tied around her thighs and legs and tossed them to the floor.

“Not like we could tell anyway, being stuck in that drearily lil’ basement,” she continued as she put on a set of leather boots hidden under the bed.

Attaching a dark blue headband to her hair she examined herself in the floor-length mirror. After making a few minor adjustments to her dress she curtsied to her reflection.

“Stupid lil’ butterflies throw away their time and dreaming about hunter-slayers,” she said tucking her hair under the band. “It’s-ah not like they want any of you loudmouths working for the Reapers of the God’s Eyes anyway.”

The woman reached into her apron pocket and withdrew a hand-sized bundle of linen. She unwrapped the bundle and held up an old fish by the tail.

After gingerly placing the fish on the bed she picked up an arm full of fresh towels from the closet and exited the room.