Lord Luster-Treon hasn’t changed his behavior meaningfully, focusing mostly on wooing Lady Henrietta Grooves, but General Locke has started accelerating the preparations. I have heard from the barracks’ servants that the airship is being refurbished and prepared for deployment if it becomes necessary, though no one seems to think it will come to that. The general sentiment in the castle is that the rebels will be stopped well before they get here and that this is simply an annoyance that will mean high prices for some goods like wood and iron for a while. A soldier told me he doesn’t even think they’ll be deployed but that he appreciates the influx of money coming their way. Apparently, after the Incursion began being pushed back, the local garrisons were almost entirely forgotten.
Eleanor carefully blew over the ink, ensuring it was thoroughly dried, before folding the parchment over itself and slipping it into one of her pockets.
With a sigh, she stood, scanning the empty room she shared with another girl. It was barebones despite the luxuries the castle was filled with. Servants like her might not be slaves, but they certainly weren’t treated like valuable retainers.
The Luster-Treon household was one of the richest in Hetnia, controlling the city of Treon and thus all the trade coming from the West. Given Garva’s mountainous terrain and difficulty connecting with the rest of the kingdom, they served as one of the most important points of connection between the western duchy and the internal trade network.
Such wealth meant that the city of Treon housed a significant contingent of Army, Navy, and Air Force troops, not to mention the local adventurers and mages. This privileged position allowed its people to go about their day without much worry for the future.
As Eleanor left her room and entered the servant quarter proper, she saw dozens of men and women bustling, working hard to prepare the evening meal for the Count and his court. Luckily, today wasn’t a party, as even Ronald Luster-Treon knew how the experience could get cheapened if he had one every day, but there was enough work to go around that no one was allowed to rest beyond their allotted time.
“Girl! Take these to the laundry room and bring back some clean ones!” The massive form of the Head Cook of the kitchens had once scared Eleanor, but the half-orc had somehow turned out to be one of the kindest people in the castle.
She hurried to obey him, grabbing the massive basket of dirty towels and feeling her muscles strain. Luckily, her Blessing as a maid allowed her to carry such loads without feeling too encumbered, though she certainly didn’t enjoy it.
Weaving through the crowds of cooks and workers coming to get their meal with almost ethereal ease, Eleanor exited the kitchens and emerged into the servant courtyard. She didn’t stop her pace but exhaled a breath of relief, allowing her mana to recede now that she didn’t need to avoid being sent sprawling by an inattentive cook. She didn’t have enough of it to be wasteful.
image [https://ibb.co/t80712K]image [https://ibb.co/t80712K]image [https://i.postimg.cc/Bnd65xcg/persimmon0-demure-maid-19-year-old-girl-dark-hair-tidy-hidden-s-221b01bb-d821-4aa0-ac3a-bb3ef952b9e2.png]
A couple of minutes later, she reached the laundry room, where massive vats of alchemical cleaning solutions were always ready to meet the needs of the hundreds of people who lived in the castle. Gratefully, she followed the directions of a young girl waiting near the entrance and dumped her cargo inside one of the empty vats.
“The clean batch needs another ten minutes before it can be taken away. We are drying it, but the sun’s going down, and we can’t make miracles.” The girl told her, and Eleanor nodded in acceptance, moving to the side, where she could wait until the towels were ready for pick up without being underfoot.
Taking a deep breath, she observed the workers. Seven women pushed the dirty cloths into the vats, pouring fresh water and the cleaning agent and working furiously to mix everything with ironwood paddles.
Knowing firsthand how heavy those things were, Eleanor winced in sympathy, though she knew these laborers likely had a specific Blessing suited to these tasks. She certainly couldn’t have done all she did now back when she first arrived in Treon a year ago.
Becoming a maid had never been her dream, but she enjoyed the benefits of being good at her job. The increased stamina and agility were certainly nice, and she hadn’t spilled anything for the last seven months.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
I know most people take at least a year and up to a decade to get their second blessing, but that’s with regular working hours. I’ve been dedicating myself to it day and night for months. I have to be pretty close to getting it. Soldiers can do it in a few months. I should at least follow their timeline. If my other job doesn’t interfere, though that might be better in the long run.
Having been approached by a mysterious woman months ago, soon after Eleanor managed to bag a job as an Apprentice maid at the castle, she had served as a spy for her employer ever since.
Not that she was privy to military tactics or anything beyond idle gossip she picked up from her colleagues and the occasional tidbit she overheard while serving the Count and his friends during mealtime. But her employer paid well for every report she sent, and she couldn’t deny there was a thrill in working to undermine the people responsible for the destitution she had found herself in.
Like many before and after her, Eleanor had been forced to flee her village with the onset of the Incursion. She fled to Sienne first, though the slums stretching outside of it had been enough to convince her she couldn’t stay. Treon had been the furthest she could get to without leaving Hetnia, and she wasn’t ready to go that far yet.
Luckily, she had an attractive enough face that the Lord’s Steward, who had been looking for new maids, accepted her quickly into his service once she presented herself to him. Even better, she hadn’t needed to repay the man physically. He accepted her coin easily enough, and after she got recruited as a spy, she was able to get rid of that debt.
Ten minutes had passed, and there was no sign that her cargo was coming. Noticing that all the other workers had long since stopped paying attention to her, Eleanor smoothly moved to the far side of the room, where the garbage chute was. She had no idea how her employer was able to pick out her messages in between the tons of waste that were thrown there every day, but she got paid for every single one she dropped there, so she grabbed the handle, opened it a crack, and slid the folded parchment inside.
Depending on how juicy her employer found her message, she’d be paid more or less. For simple, idle gossip, she usually received a dozen coppers, which were still enough to cover a few days of work, but once she had gotten an entire gold. She still wasn’t sure why that was because she hadn’t reported much that day beyond seeing a Blessing be given in the middle of the dinner hall and reporting the reactions to that.
Still, she faithfully wrote everything that happened. Who knew what would be valuable to the mysterious lady?
Today should be a good day. Military-based news always pays more, and with the rebellion in the southeast, she’ll be interested. I might get a few silvers. That silken ribbon from Lantea will be mine!
----------------------------------------
“Can you believe it? Apparently, he took Lamprey Port without much of a struggle. They say the Navy tried to run away rather than face the Rebel Hero in battle.” The high, mocking voice of Count Luster-Treon rang through the room, and Eleanor didn’t need to look to know that the young Captain who sat at the far end of the table was red in the face with shame.
This was a regular enough occurrence that no one batted an eye. The Count preferred feasts, that was true, but if he couldn’t get roaring drunk with his friends, his next favorite pastime was to invite someone from the city and humiliate them before the local nobility to remind them of their place.
Eleanor doubted it worked as well as he thought. If she were General Locke, the man in charge of the overall military deployments in Treon, she’d alert the unfortunate sods that they’d need to weather the treatment for a few hours and then reward them for making the Count think he still held the leash.
But she wasn’t, so she had no idea if the Captain was truly humiliated or playing along.
“I even heard they stood by while the Hero slaughtered civilians and nobles alike. The harbor’s waters ran red, and they did nothing but float there!” Miguel Gret, one of the Count’s hangers-on, added, eliciting a fresh round of laughter from the assembled scions.
Luckily, the captain had the presence of mind to keep his mouth shut. She had seen what happened when the chosen victim didn’t and would much rather not see a public flogging again if possible. Already, being forced to walk through the slave market that morning had unsettled her stomach enough. Eleanor didn’t know if she could keep her lunch down if blood came into her sight again.
“We might have to go and handle the problem ourselves! I bet we could assemble a company of horses within a day or two and be done before the week’s end.” The Count mused out loud, to much cheering.
Noticing the captain’s pressed lips, Eleanor thought he probably shared her opinion that it wouldn’t go as well as the nobles seemed to think, but that, too, went unsaid. It was unlikely, to say the least, that Ronald Luster-Treon would leave his warm castle to take the fight to the Hero anyway. The rumors might say he had gone insane, but they made it clear he wasn’t weak. A real warrior like that would be enough to destroy a company of young nobles who had barely gotten their second Blessing.
The Count stood up, pushing a lock of blonde-white hair from his eyes and lifting his crystal goblet high, “I propose a toast! To the brave men of the Navy, who resisted all of three seconds after the Hero entered Lamprey Port!”
Again, laughter boomed through the room. Feet stamped down and plates clattered as the assembled nobles showed their mirth in excess. The dozen servants scattered around the room said nothing. They watched the scene impassively, not making a noise. They were supposed to be invisible when not needed, after all, and Eleanor knew at least two of the older women were Experts who had served the household for decades. An equal-level ranger would be needed to spot them when they didn’t want to be noticed.
The humiliation continued for the whole meal, but the young captain seemed to have found a surprising inner strength as he kept his mouth shut and replied politely - if a bit stilted - when asked direct questions. It was a much better showing than men twice his age had, which endeared him slightly to Eleanor. Not that she’d go out of his way to help him, but she refilled the glasses of the people who looked to be gearing up to insult him to distract them, making them lose the moment.
These were glimpses into a world that was almost - but not quite - separate from hers. The young scions came from storied houses and had access to wealth and support she couldn’t imagine. And yet, little Eleanor undermined their every action. While working silently as a servant, barely above one of the slaves that toiled in the field or the mines, she passed along precious information without their knowledge.
It gave her a thrill. She couldn’t do anything for the young captain, not that he would have helped her had she been in his position, but she could go to sleep knowing that, one day, these people would fall, and she’d have contributed to it.