Essine watched Domajor nervously as the looming man continued his dusting. He walked through Elijah's study with the thoroughness of a professional killer, his duster like a blade that extinguished any stray mote of dust with ruthless efficiency.

"Are you... sure there is nothing this one can do to aid you? This one feels... uneasy, letting you toil in this way."

Domajor sighed. "Lady Essine, you are a guest of this home's master. It would be a grave insult to me if you took up cleaning, as a result. This is the task of the servants, a divine calling we are proud to undertake."

Well, Domajor was proud to undertake it. The other servants were likely content with just getting paid for their efforts.

"It is just... unusual for a kobold to have someone labour on their behalf," Essine replied, idly fidgeting. Her gaze drifted to the bookcase at her side.

Elijah had gathered a considerable collection over the years, though she had to wonder if he'd ever found the time to read half of it. She was a guest, so there would be no harm if she wished to partake in the tomes. Though she still felt awkward even considering it.

Domajor shrugged without looking up from his work. "Lady Essine, as you have been told many times... you are a guest. And as a guest, your species is irrelevant."

He paused and stroked a gloved finger over the freshly cleaned mantle. His glove remained as white as bleached bone. "Wonderful," he murmured.

"It... must be hard for you, Domajor. We knew Elijah and liked him a great deal, but you must have known him for years. Your sorrow must be great."

Finally he turned and looked at her. His posture was stiff, his expression straddling a line between annoyed and exhausted. "Ser was... a difficult and complicated man, at times. I knew him for many years, yes. He gave me a chance when I was young and untested. And I shall never forget that kindness."

Essine smiled sadly. "He seemed to have a fondness for that. Helping others when most would turn them away, or spurn them."

"He was a generous soul. To the chagrin of those who were to be his peers. It is not the 'done thing' to be so charitable, in their eyes," Domajor explained. He frowned, a flash of bitterness briefly colouring his face.

Essine frowned at him. "Yet you seem displeased, too. Do you... perhaps not like Coin?"

"It's... not that I dislike him. I barely know him, but he seems agreeable enough. Still, not knowing him is part of the problem. Ser travelled with him for perhaps weeks, a month or two at most, yet he was entrusted with Ser's will? I'm not so arrogant to think I was entitled to anything after Ser's passing, but even so..."

He trailed off and briefly screwed his eyes shut. Essine wilted. From what she had seen of the man before, it was hard to believe he was capable of any emotion. He had seemed more like a machine devoted to cleanliness than a man.

"Apologies," he eventually said. "It is not my place to judge or think ill of my new master."

Essine's ears flattened against the sides of her head. "This one knows that this situation must seem strange. And sudden too. But Coin and Elijah were close. They went through much together. And for as much as Coin loves money... this one has no doubt he would choose Elijah's life over money every time," she explained.

"Mm. Well, you know the man better than I." He pressed a hand against the mantle. "I suppose... I will get used to having a new master in time. Or, not, if he plans on travelling as often as Ser did. Fortunately Ser's investments will ensure a steady influx of ducats to keep things flowing here."

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"Elijah did much for this city?" Essine asked.

"Oh yes. He had a few business and institutions in the Merchant's Quarter that he funded to help get up and running. And, to this day, a modest sum of their income is brought into his account. Master Coin's, rather."

He opened his mouth to speak again, only to freeze when the sound of breaking glass sounded from somewhere behind them. It was followed a split second later by a scream.

Essine's eyes widened. "That was... that was Pearl's voice!"

Wordlessly, Domajor pressed to the nearest door and pushed it open. Essine quickly followed after him, only to skid to a halt as she spied racks and cases full of expertly preserved swords, axes, pikes, and throwing blades.

"Ser had a fondness for collecting weapons as a youth. He grew out of it, eventually, but only after amassing a horde that we have strived to maintain ever since." He produced a small key from the inside of his coat (one of untold hundreds of keys he had on his person at any given moment, which he had an encyclopaedic knowledge of and could recognise by texture alone) and quickly unlocked a case.

"I assume, Lady Essine, you are not a fighter?"

"That..." she reached up and scratched her right shoulder. The runes, while invisible, formed a phantom sensation on her flesh. "That is true." The erebite bangle on her right wrist felt so much heavier now.

For as much as she feared Scylla's words, she knew it would be irresponsible to ever be without such an important weapon.

Sighing, Domajor reached into the case and pulled out a dao, the glittering blade broader than his forearms pressed together. He held the weight effortlessly in one hand, doing a few quick whirls that showcased a practiced precision. The metal whistled through the air at every motion.

She wouldn't have expected a butler to look so experienced with a sword.

He took off at a brisk trot, and Essine found herself following after him. If something was going on, and the sound of frantic footsteps from the floor above them certainly gave that impression, it seemed safest not to be alone.

"Most of the staff have gone home by now," he muttered as they passed by rows of darkened window. He was making a beeline for the nearest staircase, his footfalls oddly silent. "Save for myself, Huld who should be in the kitchen at this hour, and Leonid."

"Perhaps..." Essine swallowed hard. "Perhaps Pearl was frightened by a spider." It would hardly be surprising.

"Please do not imply I would allow insects to squat in this home," Domajor replied as he pressed up the stairs.

They rounded the crest of the stairs and hastened down the hall, just in time to see Leonid and Pearl rounding a corner ahead of them. The bard was clinging tight to the slender elf, a few thin cuts marring her right cheek.

Leonid seemed in better shape, though no less panicked. Essine's eyes were drawn to his free hand, rings of white light pulsating along his fingertips. "Master Domajor!" the elf gasped.

"Behind me," he brusquely replied. Domajor swept forward, heedless of the small group gathering behind him. Several figures emerged from around the corner, adorned in dark clothes and hoods. Their faces were further concealed behind masks of lacquered wood, sculpted into placid expressions.

Each of them carried a weapon, some wielding swords while others carried polished hatchets that gleamed in the fading light. Domajor narrowed his eyes.

"Assassins, is it?" he asked, his voice colder than the grave. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. You are not welcome in this home."

The nearest assassin scoffed and swept toward him with ferocious swiftness, his blade aiming toward Domajor's throat. Essine froze in place, expecting to see him cut down in the blink of an eye.

Sparks lit up the hallway as blade met blade, the clang nearly deafening. Essine's eyes widened, watching as Domajor met the assassin blow for blow, the impacts echoing around her with a rising intensity. Domajor moved with feline grace, each move flowing into the next without pause or hesitation.

Domajor kicked the first assassin away just as a second rushed him. He sidestepped a swing from his axe, ducked under another, and severed the masked man's throat with a well-timed slash. Blood gushed onto the window, spraying in rhythm with his fast-fading heartbeat, as the gargling man collapsed to the floor.

"And now it falls to me to clean up the mess you lot have made," he growled.

Essine stared in shock. Pearl looked on the verge of fainting. Leonid, on the other hand, was smiling. "I can't remember the last time Master Domajor showed off his skills."

"He's..." Pearl gripped the banister for support. "The butler is a swordsman?"

Now the assassins watched him with more wariness, uncertain eyes glancing to Domajor's sword as he paced from side to side.

"My father wanted what was best for me in life, better than what he had in his youth. That, ultimately, entailed me working so that I could become an agent of high society. My childhood was dominated by lessons on elocution, etiquette, and foreign languages."

A swordsman lunged at him, only to be driven back by a series of well-timed parries. Domajor kept his composure all the way, not even a hair out of place on his head.

"But he understood the dangers of the world better than most, and dedicated a near-equal amount of time to teaching me the blade. My father, you see-"

A flicker of silver shone in Domajor's free hand. Essine's sharpened senses only barely glimpsed the dagger that slid from the inside of Domajor's sleeve and into his hand. It whistled through the air in the blink of an eye, punching clean through the mask of one assassin and burying to the hilt in his brow. He hit the ground with thud a second later.

"Was something of a notorious bandit. So now, it seems, I have an ample opportunity to indulge in the 'family business.'"