Steam rose as a steady stream of warm liquid poured out of the lacquered kettle with a spout. Caorain carefully uprighted the spout when the cup was full and placed it on its saucer, sliding it towards Stellan who sat across from her.

"Thank you," Stellan pronounced the words uneasily as he pulled the cup just a little closer to himself. With his other hand he ran his hand through his hair, shaking out some of the remaining sawdust left from a day of work.

"You're welcome," Caorain said with a smile. Of all the people around her, Stellan was the only person trying to learn her language. His hard work was admirable, and he had a boyish charm which belied his years. She knew he was only a little younger than the Governor, but he had much more vibrance of personality. Another cup was poured and passed to Asion, who sat on her left.

"This smells interesting. What is it?" he asked, lifting his mug.

"It is Shagra." Asion answered without Caorain indicating her to speak. The women looked at each other, but Caorain waved for her to continue. "Made from boiling rye and heather. Sometimes willow bark is added to relieve pain."

"Rye? Well I do like whiskey." He set the cup down on its saucer. "Either I'm here for a job well done, or you're about to fire me," Stellan surmised, leaning back in the chair. Noticing that he got some dirt on it, he quickly sought to try and bat it off of the upholstery. At this Caorain smiled. Her husband could be gone for months, and come back and somehow know that was Stellan spreading his dirt cloud around.

Asion cleared her throat and translated to Caorain. This only caused Caorain to smile more as she poured her cup of steeped rye. She brought the cup up under her nose to take in the spicy aroma. Stellan shifted his position, waiting for a response, looking between the offered cup and the two Lienog women across from him.

"The Governor offered you the Foundry as payment for the work you are doing here, yes?" Caorain asked, waiting for Asion to translate. Stellan tilted his head and listened to the interpretation.

"Yes. Why?"

Caorain took a sip, then set her cup down, pleased that Stellan was continuing to say his simpler answers in her own language. "So you are a blacksmith by trade, but have been doing repairs and carpentry for us?"

Stellan crossed his arms. "Yes." He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Are you set on being a blacksmith? Or would another career opportunity suit you?"

Stellan blinked, dumbstruck for a few moments. He glanced around, then picked up his cup, bringing it briefly to his lips, then set it down again. Caorain tilted her head and lifted her eyebrows, urging him to respond. "That would depend on the career."

"The position of sheriff may soon be empty. Would you take on that responsibility?"

Stellan burst out laughing. Caorain nonchalantly took a sip of her warm beverage. After his mirth dwindled he then raised his eyebrows and stared at his employer's wife. Again, she gave a gentle cant of her head to one side. Asion, likewise leaned forward and steepled her fingers, awaiting an answer.

Stellan put out his hands, palms out as he shook his head. "Uh... yeah, no, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" both Caorain and Asion said in unison.

"Uh..." Stellan rubbed the back of his neck. "Scrutiny. As a sheriff, people will poke at things. Like my past. Like my heritage. And they won't like what they find." Catching the look between the two women, Stellan forced out a sigh. "Don't know what Benold told you, but my family aren't well liked in these parts."

Asion crossed her arms and then leaned closer to Caorain, adding after her translation, "I have picked up some of this. These Ayokonians, they call themselves, warred between clans recently."

Caorain nodded. "I see." It was her turn to release a heavy sigh as she stared down into her cup. "Then we are the same. Both are outsiders, resented for our families. Mine for being of the rightful owners of this land. Yours for being part of familial feuds."

Stellan scrunched up his face. "It's not quite a familial feud. It's more... actually, don't translate that. Nevermind. It's simpler to just go with - you are translating anyway, aren't you?" The handyman gave a long suffering sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, while waving at Asion with the other. "I wasn't trying to hide anything, just confuse Caorain less."

The women smiled at each other, holding back laughter at Stellan's expense. It would not be appropriate, or diplomatic. Caorain sobered her expression quickly, nodding to him. "Worry not, I will still ensure you get your Foundry, even if Benold does not return before your work here finishes."

Stellan rubbed his hands on his carpenter's smock, his eyes narrowed, and a slight smirk forming as his gaze drifted. "But I tell you what." He looked back to Caorain. "The Sheriff and his men will need my services once I get up and started. Give me access to the foundry now, and I will work on winning them over for you."

Caorain and Asion looked to one another as they both digested the offer. "The offer seems sound to me. But I fear it will take too long."

Asion leaned closer to the mistress of the house. "I caution prudence."

"Prudence? About what, Asion?"

Asion's eyes slid over to Stellan, watching him as he twiddled his thumbs. "This offer is seeking to undermine his deal with Benold. To get something sooner, trading something he cannot guarantee."

Caorain narrowed her eyes and nodded. "Ah. So you think he is trying to trick me."

"Uncertain. I do not know him well enough, but I'd be vigilant."

With a shake of her head, Caorain looked back to Stellan. "Your offer is thoughtful. But I will not undermine my husband's directions."

He cocked his head to the side as he listened to Asion explain their refusal. With a shrug he gave a lopsided smile. "That is quite alright. I understand."

"Unless..." Caorain rose her hand in the air. Both Asion and Stellan looked to her questioningly. "Unless you think you can finish your assigned work while running the foundry. Are you up for that challenge?"

"Is that wise?"

"Results are what I'm after."

Stellan scratched his scruffy cheek, jaw hanging open as his eyes and supposedly mind wandered. "It'd be a challenge. If you don't mind my working here late hours."

Caorain placed her hands on her lap. "It disturbed Benold, but he is not here. I shall permit it." She smiled sweetly, although her arched eyebrows gave a slight edge to her demeanour. "But if your work on the house suffers as a result, I will be sure to tax the foundry as compensation."

There was a small cough from Asion, who cleared her throat. Her eyes were only momentarily wide but she regained her usual composure and translated for Stellan. Likewise, his eyes also bulged, but stayed that way as he processed.

"Can you... do that?" the bewildered tradesman asked.

"Do you want to find out? Just consider this condition. Now I ask again. Are you up for the challenge." Caorain dipped her chin, one eyebrow still quirked.

Asion went very still, and Caorain calmly sipped her tisane. Stellan's eyes became unfocused and he stared at no one in particular, his hands coming together to rest on his lap.

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"I suppose he is not."

Stellan looked up, his eyes focusing on Caorain, a slow but steady smirk forming. "I'll do it."

Once the agreement was formalised and hands were shaken, Stellan left. Asion crossed her arms and regarded Caorain for a long moment. "You are taking liberties. How do you plan to enforce a tax on the foundry when you cannot read their script? I cannot be here at your beck and call, and Mrs. Gray is too busy to always scribe."

Caorain shook her head and flipped her braid off of her shoulder. "I will find my ways. All that matters if Stellan believes I can and will."

Asion placed her hands on her cousin's shoulders. "You are taking risks. You are using even kind people. This is not like you."

Caorain tossed her head to the side, bringing up a hand to brush away Asion's grip. "You said he was trying to trick me. I make sure he does not. If he was not, then he will lose nothing."

Asion placed her hands on her hips instead as she looked at her darker haired kin over critically. "I know we have our missions. But do not let the mission consume you, Caorain."

"Honour in du-"

"Not-" Asion brought up a single finger as the cut in, "...if it destroys you. There is no honour in that."

Caorain pursed her lips staring directly into Asion's eyes. "But you were always cunning and calculated. Cold, even."

Her cousin lifted a hand, palm out. "Yes. I always was. You were not."

The two women stared at each other. Caorain broke eye contact first as she breathed in as deeply as her corset would allow. "I am only doing what was asked of me."

"You are overreaching. Be careful, Caorain."

----------------------------------------

The candle flickered as Caorain sat at Benold's desk in the study. It was getting harder and harder for her eyes to focus in the dying light, but she squinted and carried on, copying words carefully from a book. Her husband was always criticising her penmanship as being either too rigid or too sloppy. As her appearance would likely be criticised if she wore her traditional clothing, she knew how she wrote would also be criticised. And it was true. She could not rely on Mrs. Gray as a scribe forever.

Caorain rubbed her forehead, smudging ink across her brow. She leaned back in the cushioned chair, looking to the window, framed by heavy, deep red drapes. Barely any moonlight reached her from yonder. The candle recaptured her attention, dwindled down to a stub, the brass holder close to overflowing with melted wax.

With a sigh, she took a new candle and lit it using the old, before snuffing it. With the fresher light source in her hand, she walked to the window and gazed out at the night sky. She longed to wrap herself up in a fur cloak as a chill slid up her bare arms. Her eyes went to the spectre-like reflection of herself, the glare of the candle reflecting back at her. A sudden urge to tear off the stuffy and opulent dress she was expected to wear seized her. One hand went to her sleeve, but she halted herself.

Caorain set the candle down on the window sill and rubbed her arms instead, as if she could smooth out the goose pimples that formed. She heard the thudding of feet out in the hall, but ignored it. In the scant reflection, a bar of light appeared and grew wider and more diffuse, showing just the vaguest silhouette.

"There you are, M'lady."

There was no need to turn and look. That voice could only belong to Mrs. Gray. Caorain tried to look past her phantom like reflection to the stars. They never looked quite as brilliant or close from this town as they did from her village.

"Ah! Tut tut!" Mrs. Gray clucked in dismay as she bustled over, quickly seizing the candle from the sill. "These drapes would go up at the slightest spark!" She gently sheltered the delicate flame with her cupped hand, the warm light and deep shadows making her face appear all the more haggard and care-worn.

"If they are so flammable, why do we have them?"

The housekeeper barely looked up from the candle she was fostering as she brought it to rest on the table. "What's that, M'lady?"

"Nothing."

Caorain watched as Mrs. Gray approached her. She took the shawl off of her own shoulders, wrapping them about her lady. The warmth was comforting, but Caorain was unsure if the gesture was genuine tenderness or simply practicality. "Helygen has been waiting in your room to help you undress for the night."

With a soft snort, Caorain took the shawl off, handing it back to Mrs. Gray. I should have known better. Even when her words aren't scolding, she is criticising me for making servants I don't need wait and stay up.

"Coming."

Caorain paused by the desk, staring down at the progress she had made. Looking back, her letters were improving, but they lacked the flourish of Benold, and the stateliness of Mrs. Gray's cursive. Her housekeeper also looked at the parchment, and then back to Caorain as she lifted the candle, holding it daintily by the ring.

"It will come, M'lady." The wrinkled lips of the matronly woman twisted up into a brief smile. But then it dropped into a squinting scowl, made all the more fierce in the flickering light. Mrs. Gray brought the candle closer to Caorain's face as she scrutinised it.

"What?"

"Hmph!" Mrs. Gray lifted the tip of her apron and licked it a few times, before roughly wiping Caorain's brow. "No proper lady should walk around with ink stains on her face."

There was little to do but submit to the older woman's rushed grooming. Caorain gently massaged the raw skin that had been treated to the quick cleaning as she followed her out of the study.

"Mrs. Gray."

"Yes, M'lady?"

"You like me not."

"Oh stuff and nonsense. It is not for me to like or dislike my employers."

"You do not. Like you Trosyn more?"

The floors creaked as the two women walked along the corridor. With Mrs. Gray in the lead, her face could not be discerned by Caorain, but she could picture the woe-begotten expression vividly.

"It doesn't matter who I like. I work for this household." Mrs. Gray briefly glanced over her shoulder, half her face cast in shadow as if to make sure she was keeping up, then sped up.

"Is Trosyn pretty?"

Exasperation exploded upon Mrs. Gray as she flung her free hand in the air and the candle sputtered. "I don't know!" Huff. "She's got all her parts in the correct places. Beyond that I'm no judge of appearances."

Caorain furrowed her eyebrows, pouting her lower lip, not understanding the second sentence at all. "Is Trosyn more young?"

"More young... do you mean younger than you?"

"Yes."

"No."

Despite how long she waited, Caorain received no elaboration. "Same age? Me?"

Mrs. Gray's shoulders visibly shrugged. "No. Older."

Caorain thought about this for a while. Benold probably sees me as a child compared to Trosyn. He tried to tell me he felt awkward with me. I thought it was because of language or culture. But is it age? There is nothing I can do about that. She sighed, adding to the noisy grunting and breathing of Mrs. Gray as they climbed the stairs. I must improve my speech so I can show him I am a woman, and I know my duty.

As they passed by the door to Benold's room, she paused. Mrs. Gray was a few steps ahead before she noticed and turned around, arching her thin eyebrows. "Come now, M'lady. Do not fret. The master will be back when he realises his search is all folly. Get some rest."

"M'lady..." Caorain repeated, her feet moving once more, passing by the master bedroom. "You call Trosyn M'lady?"

A scoff was followed immediately by a cackle of a laugh. The head housekeeper shook her head. "No. I never could call her that." She lifted the candle and gestured to the bedroom several doors down. "Now come. I have other things to do before I can return to my bed."

A surprised stupor overcame Caorain as she walked in her her room, feeling Mrs. Gray's hand briefly on her shoulder as she entered. What did she mean? Why did she say 'her' like that? Like Trosyn was beneath her? She turned to ask yet another question of the servant, but she was already down the hall, the candlelight fading down the stairs.

"M'lady!" The lady's maid turned from the fireplace, which crackle merrily. "Are you retiring for the night?"

Caorain just nodded and walked over to the vanity, barely noticing the hands that began unfastening and untying various portions of her Ayokonian garb. She just stared at her own face in the candlelight. She did have round cheeks that lent her a certain youthfulness. Her plump lower lip was made for pouting. But she had a long and straight nose which didn't seem to complement her other, softer features, although she always fancied it made her look more mature. It was one of the few features she and Asion shared.

Caorain curled in her lower lip, sucking on it a moment. She needed to spend her time wisely, proving not just to Benold, but to all of New Karebryn that she was neither simple, nor a child. The simple life she had wanted was simply not in her fate. Eyes narrowed with resolve, she sent the maid away, tired of being treated like a doll. She was going to show everyone.