Amana awoke in the early morning to the sound of a rooster crowing. She slowly opened her heavy eyelids as the first light of dawn peaked through the windows of her chamber. Please, just a little longer. She blinked and tried to fall back asleep, but it was a vain effort. her bedmates had already begun to stir, and soon they were wide awake. A hand gently nudged Amana's shoulder, eliciting an annoyed groan from her.
'Wake up, sleepy-head," Polly said in her sing-song voice. She is always cheerful, even only moments after waking.
Amana tried to pull the blanket over her head, but it was yanked away suddenly. She set up in irritation and made no attempt to hide her foul mood. "You are cruel, Morgan," she muttered.
The skinny handmaiden grunted and tossed aside the blanket. "If you don't learn to wake up in the morning, you'll never last here," Morgan explained sternly as she pushed back her raven black hair. "Polly knows it too, she's just too nice to tell you."
Amana glanced at the plump girl beside her. "She isn't wrong, Amana, but I have faith in you," Polly said sheepishly. Her curly hair was as red as an apple, and Amana found it rather enchanting.
"Thank you, Polly," Amana replied unenthusiastically. I am glad Polly seems to like me. Morgan, on the other hand, is a cold one.
Polly raised her arms in an exaggerated stretch, and the three girls slowly climbed out of the bed. Once Amana was on her feet, she found herself a bit livelier. Waking up early like this is so unnatural. I would do my work much better if I had another hour's sleep. The handmaidens quickly went to dressing themselves, changing out of their nightgowns and into their servant attire. Amana pulled the long dress up onto her body and reached her arms through the blue-colored sleeves. The handmaiden dress was dyed a shade of light blue, and the bodice was a dark brown. Amana's fingers worked quickly as she tightened the laces of the bodice, and Polly lent a hand by fixing her chestnut hair back into a long tail. Amana covered her head with a white bonnet and tied the string around her chin. She slipped her feet into the small leather shoes by the door and departed the chamber behind the other girls.
The trio made their way down a narrow corridor lined with doors, until they reached the entry hall of the servants' quarters. They arrived in tandem with around a dozen other girls, all dressed identically. Among the gathering of girls and handful of young boys stood, their ages ranging from ten to twelve. The boys served as pages, messengers, and stable hands for the baron and his family. Within the entry hall, the servants lined up quietly and awaited their instructions for the day. Amana stood between Polly and Morgan, trying not to doze off. Just as she feared she might fall back to sleep, the door to the yard opened and an unkind looking older woman stepped into the building. Ugh, Mildred.
"I hope you have all awoken with a renewed vigor on this morning," Mildred, the head servant of the household, said loudly. "I have just received word that our long-awaited guest, the renowned Sir Reinhart, has recently departed Belrose and will be arriving within the fortnight." Polly let out a gasp and the line of handmaidens exchanged glances and expressions of awe. Amana gave a puzzled look and leaned towards Polly to inquire about the mysterious visitor but bit her lip at the last moment. Sir Reinhart, was it? A knight then. Could this be the Knight of Belrose? "Gather your wits, girls," Mildred growled at the handmaidens. "Just because Sir Reinhart is common born, the same as you lot, does not mean you should entertain the notion of trying to charm him. He will wed a noblewoman, or perhaps even a princess." Amana glanced down the line of girls and let out a soft giggle at their dejected faces. Mildred loves nothing more than to dash the hopes of others. "Amana!" The old servant stormed down the line of handmaidens, her steely gazed focused on Amana.
"Yes, headmistress," Amana answered as she snapped into a stiff pose.
Mildred came to a stop in front of Amana and leaned forward. "You seem to be spirited today," she observed sardonically. Mildred's face was wrinkled and covered with age spots and moles, and her grey hair was pulled back tightly. "Did something I say amuse you?"
"No, headmistress," Amana replied simply.
Mildred pointed a finger at Amana. "I know how the pretty ones like you are. Always thinking they can get away with whatever they want. Well, you are sorely mistaken, my dear."
Amana gave an emphatic nod. "Yes, headmistress."
Mildred turned away from Amana with a shake of her head. She paced back down the line of servants, articulating at length the importance of the preparations that needed to be made for the coming guest. Mildred finished her long-winded speech by giving out the day's assignments for the handmaidens and the boys. Once that was done, the servants were dismissed, and Amana made her out of the entry hall and into the yard.
The first light of the sun was just peaking over the horizon, its orange glow pushing into the dark sky. It was the fourth day since Amana had arrived in Baelcroft and she had yet to settle into a comfortable routine. After signing the contract of servitude, she had been swiftly escorted to the manor of Baron Hyward and his family. She had been placed in a chamber with two other handmaidens and given an appropriate outfit for her new role. The girl Polly had been quick to befriend Amana and had been of great aid to her as she learned the finer points of her new job.
As they entered the yard the handmaidens scattered and went about their chores and tasks. Amana’s first chore was a distasteful one; Mildred had given her the job of emptying the chamber pots in the manor. I suppose I have only myself to blame for this. Aside from the crowing of the roosters, the yard was quiet. Two patrolling guardsmen passed by Amana as she made her way across the grounds, their serious faces unconcerned with her presence.
The manor of Baelcroft was an elongated two-story building of stone and wood. Amana did not think it a particularly attractive structure but acknowledged that it did possess a certain rural charm. The manor was across the yard from the servants' quarters, and the wooden keep of Baelcroft stood between the two buildings. The keep was a large wooden tower that Amana considered an affront to any who laid eyes on it. this tower of timber is a monstrous beast meant as the last line of defense should both the outer and inner walls of the town fall. It’s an ugly thing built to deny an ugly truth; Baelcroft’s final refuge is a deathtrap.
Aside from the manor and the keep, also nestled within the inner wall of the town were the servants' quarters, the stables, a chicken coup, a well, and a small training yard. On her arrival to Baelcroft, Amana hadn’t even realized that the town had an inner wall. Unlike the outer wall, which was a simplistic design of wooden stakes, the walls around the manor were made of finely crafted boards of wood, and four watchtowers stood at each corner of the perimeter.
Arriving at the baron’s manor, Amana pushed through the heavy wooden door and proceeded up the nearby steps to the second floor. A pair of guardsmen set haphazardly at the top of the stairs with little concern for appearance. One of the guards eyed her as she passed, but neither man moved nor spoke. They must be near the end of their shift, to carry on in such a lethargic manner. Amana passed through a long hallway that ran the length of the manor and was lined with doors on both sides. Each chamber belonged to a member of Baron Hyward’s family, or his esteemed courtiers, and Amana slipped into the door at the end of the hallway first.
The baron and his wife, the lady Elise, shared a chamber and a bed, which Amana found oddly sweet. My own father and mother no longer seem to enjoy each other’s company, if they ever truly did. They did not marry for love, and I imagine that in Kyderia my marriage would have been a similarly political arrangement. Both the baron and the lady were still fast asleep when Amana entered their room, and so she quietly tiptoed over to the corner where the small bronze chamber pot awaited and gently lifted it up.
Amana swiftly returned to the yard, trying her hardest not to show her displeasure as she did so. A once proud princess who commanded a dozen servants and lived in a city of gold and marble now forced to dump pots of piss for some petty lord half a world away. It seems the gods have a cruel sense of humor. Amana circled around behind the manor and emptied the chamber pot in a shallow hole near the outhouses. She proceeded back into the manor, up the flight of stairs, and into the baron's chamber where she returned the pot to its place.
Amana repeated this routine for each room in the manor; the baron’s son and daughter, Steward Randall, and Lord Willem of Goldtree. Willem was a guest of Baron Hyward, his own manor at Goldtree having been lost to the fighting and the scourge. He was a kindly older man whose last living son had been captured by Viscountess Roesia and was presumed dead. He reminds me of my grandfather, a gentle hearted man. Amatryl, the most beloved king Kyderia ever had. Father named me for him.
As she completed her first task of the day, the nobles of the manor began to stir to life. On her return to the young Lady Riah’s chamber, Amana was surprised to see that the baron's daughter had awoken. The girl was nine years of age, with big brown eyes and pale blonde hair. Riah was upright in her bed, a grin across her face as she noticed Amana.
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”Good morning, Lady Riah,” Amana greeted as she placed the chamber pot back in the corner of the room.
”You’re the new servant,” Riah observed as she blinked her sleep-filled eyes. “What’s your name?”
“My name is Amana.” She smiled at the girl and gave a slight bow.
”Amana,” Riah said the name aloud to herself. “Where are you from?”
Amana bit her lip and tried to give a somewhat honest answer. “I am from a place far away from here. A different kingdom, not Trilea.”
The young lady’s eyes went wide at that, and curiosity overtook her. “Neat! Tell me all about it! Are there castles and palaces there?”
”Um, yes, there are castles and palaces there.” Amana did not want to hurt the child’s feelings but wished to avoid a prolonged conversation about herself. “My lady, I am afraid I have little time to talk, there are chores I must attend to.”
Riah stuck her lip out. “But chores are boring! Stay and talk to me, Amana,” the girl demanded.
This child is used to getting what she wants, it seems. Spoiled brat. Although I cannot deny that her behavior bears a striking resemblance to my own in the years past. “Very well, but only this once. What is it you want to know?"
Riah through her arms up in excitement and crawled over to the edge of the bed. "What kind of place did you come from? Did you live in a castle?"
"It was city, but the walls are as big as those of a castle. And yes, I lived there," Amana smiled as she spoke of her home. "It is a beautiful place, full of people. In the summers and springs there would be grand feasts or tournaments. People would come from all across the land to see the most skilled knights in the kingdom compete in the jousts, and at the feasts there would be foods finer than anything I could ever describe." The memories were bittersweet; familiar, but distant. "And as the leaves fell and winter neared, there would be a grand ball for the most renowned of the nobles. The ladies would wear fine gowns of silk and there was beautiful music as sweet song filled the halls. The nights were spent dancing, reveling, and watching the stars."
"You like to watch the stars? Are you a follower of Synola?" The young girl asked.
Synola is the goddess of the stars here in Trilea, if I remember correctly. "Well, yes, I suppose so. In my homeland we simply call the stars by what shape they take in the night sky, but we believe our fates are written among them. I also follow the moon-, ah, Lunaria, that is."
Riah nodded in agreement. "I like Lunaria too, she's so pretty." The girl stretched her legs out to the floor and pushed herself up off the bed. "So, if your home was so nice, why did you come here where there's monsters and fighting?"
Amana twiddled her fingers together at her waist. "That is a story for another time, my lady. Now I must be off, before I am missed." With another slight bow, Amana made her way to the chamber door and pulled it open.
"Wait." The girl spoke quickly, her voice just above a whisper. Amana looked back over her shoulder. "It was nice to meet you, Amana." Riah gave a small wave of her hand, and after returning the gesture Amana left the chamber.
✸✸✸
The better part of the day passed without note. In the afternoon a wall of looming clouds rolled across the skies and obscured the sun. A few raindrops trickled down to the world below, and the water was cold on Amana's skin. Despite this, she toiled without stop, completing whatever task she was given. She cleaned the dining hall after the nobles had finished their midday meal, washed the bedsheets and soiled clothes of the manor's residents, and swept the floor of the entryway. Despite her apprehensions, the work was not overly tedious, and it provided ample time for Amana to plan her path forward. With broom in hand, she crossed the yard and headed back to the servants' quarters.
Two months, maybe three. By then I should have enough coin to hire an escort of some sort. Surely there is a former guardsman somewhere within Baelcroft in need of work. After much thought, Amana had come to the conclusion that traveling on her own was far too dangerous. A girl traveling on the open road alone invites trouble. But I must be certain I find someone who can be trusted. While cleaning the baron's parlor on the prior day, Amana had spied a map of the realm. She had studied it intently, trying to discern a route that might free her from these lands. I am near the southwestern corner of Trilea, with naught but shoreline to the west. To the south lies the border with Lindran, but it is closed off and guarded. To the east is the kingdom of Sargotha, the place I have claimed to be from. Until another option presents itself, that is likely my best route of escape.
As she passed the training yard, Amana stole a glance at the sight of several men gathered in a half circle around a sparring session. Two armored men were locked in a duel, their blunted blades ringing as the smacked and walloped each other. Though she knew little of swordplay, Amana had beheld a number of duels in her life and this one struck her as particularly lacking. Neither participant seemed to possess any skill with sword, and the master-at-arms seemed of a similar mind as his shouts brought the duel to an abrupt end. One of the men angrily discarded his sword and ripped off his helmet. Amana raised her brow as she recognized him as the Baron Hyward's son, Kamon.
"This is a waste of time, you old fool," Kamon admonished with visible frustration. He was the age of sixteen, and, as Amana had been warned, quick-tempered. Though his stocky build lent him the appearance of a warrior, it seemed to Amana that he was hopelessly without skill.
The master-at-arms folded his arms in disappointment. "It is my time you've wasted, Lord Kamon. All this time you've trained to be a knight, when instead you could have learned to be a blacksmith. You swing your sword as though it were a hammer, doing more damage to it than your opponent."
A few of the gathered guardsmen chuckled at that, which further enraged Kamon. "Do not lecture me on what it means to be a knight, you're the furthest thing from one!" Kamon yelled as he stared down the old trainer. "And what are the rest of you laughing at? Be gone at once."
While the onlookers quietly dispersed, Kamon's opponent raised his visor and as he scanned the yard his eyes spotted Amana. His face had the look of a teenage boy, and he made his way over to her as Kamon fumed and threw down his helmet down in the dirt. Amana panicked, unsure if this boy was a noble of some sort and gave a bow. "My lord, forgive my gawking," she said apologetically.
The boy laughed and slid his helmet off before tucking it under his arm. "You need not act proper toward me; I am no lord. We're quite a sorry sight, aren't we?" He gleefully held out his armored hand. "Lloyd."
Lloyd's face was round and his eyes a mix of green and blue. His smile was crooked and his face hairless, and Amana thought him out of place in his suit of mail and armor. "Amana," she replied as she extended her own hand for him to take. "I only saw a little of your fight, and I have little knowledge of these sorts of things."
He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "That is a very pretty name, Amana." His shaggy hair was a shade of dark brown, and his brow was damp with sweat. "And you should consider yourself fortunate that you saw only what you did. Kamon may yet make a warrior, if he ever grows up. But I am without hope."
"Perhaps that is not the life that best suits you," Amana offered. "There are other livelihoods."
Lloyd chuckled and gave a shrug. "I agree wholeheartedly. I have no business on the battlefield."
Amana was perplexed. "Then why are you here, in the training yard?"
"Because, these days everywhere is at risk of becoming a battlefield. Like it or not, I fear I cannot escape the war," he explained, before adding jovially, "and Kamon has been my friend since we were both very young. He can be rather... Temperamental, at times, but we look out for each other." Lloyd glanced over his shoulder at Kamon, who was standing impatiently as one of the servant boys removed his armor.
"Well, that is very considerate of you," Amana said, wondering why Lloyd had approached her. "I certainly hope the fighting does not come here. This place is rather quaint."
"Indeed, it is," he agreed with a nod. There was an awkward pause, and Amana was about to speak when Lloyd blurted out, "I've seen you the past few days, Amana, and I think you're quite pretty. I'd like to ask you to accompany me to the tavern, uh, if you're not involved with anyone else, that is." Lloyd kept his gaze turned down to the ground as he talked, his face growing redder with each word.
"That is quite the offer, Lloyd, but I am rather busy. Or at least, I should be," Amana explained with a forced smile as she held up the broom in her hand.
Lloyd looked up and made an exasperated face. "Oh, of course! I did not mean for us to go at this time. I am sorry, my words came out wrong," he brought his hand to his forehead in embarrassment. "What about an evening, after you've finished your work for the day? Would that suffice?"
He is sweet, and I imagine this took him great courage. If only I were the person you thought I was, Lloyd. "Thank you, for showing me such affection. I'm afraid I cannot accompany you, however." Amana tried to be gentle as she spurned the boy. "It's simply not the right time for me to become romantically involved with someone."
"Oh. Of course," Lloyd said, barely concealing his heartbroken demeanor. "I am far from ideal, anyways. I imagine someone more to your liking has already caught your eye."
Now he's going to sulk. Boys are the same, everywhere I end up. "Lloyd, there's no need to demean yourself. You are charming. The truth is that I am not the girl you think I am."
"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked.
"It's a long story. But all that matters is that I will not be remaining in Bealcroft for any great length of time. A few months, at most, and I will be leaving again." She hoped that was enough to curtail his interest in her.
"I see," Lloyd acknowledged, his expression one of concern. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I'm here around the manor several days a week."
Amana nodded and watched as the boy shuffled away with his head down. To think, there was a time when an exchange of this sort would have given me great pleasure. In Kyderia, I would have looked down on Lloyd for having the gall to approach me. I wanted the attention but cared little for the those I hurt along the way. With a heavy sigh, she continued on her way to the servants' quarters as tiny drops of rain fell around her.