Maureen was innocently laying out moss to dry in the warm light of the morning sun when the sound of galloping horses reached her ears.

Adventurers rarely used horses, or rather, riding adventurers usually had a mish mash of beasts if they were not elite units with epic mounts. Horses that sound like horses are never epic mounts.

Peasants didn't have horses that would go faster than a nice trot and Maureen's friends would not come with more than a handful of others. Certainly not enough for the ruckus this particular group was causing in her forest.

That left three choices, Maureen thought as she placed another piece of moist moss on the flat stone surface of the stair shaped drying stand. It had been a present and was one of her most useful if simple tools of her trade. The next piece of moss followed as Maureen ignored the approaching annoyance.

Unfortunately the group arrived at her clearing all too soon, sending all the birds flying in fright with their noise.

It was not the number one to be avoided group she had almost feared it might be.

It wasn't a group of bandits either, the people were too clean for that.

No, the group of twenty was dressed in matching bright red jackets with silly fur puffs around their neck, leather armor under those jackets, brown leather trousers and a strange, tiny hat with another fur puff on it. The one at the front looked older than the others and had stripes of fur as lining on his jacket as well as pieces of metal on his sleeves. So he was probably the leader. An officer of some kind.

Maureen stopped what she was doing reluctantly and stood straight, then approached the group. Her muddy hands, stained linen shirt and patched skirt probably made her look like some kind of beggar working for a few copper and a meal, but as long as she didn't start groveling they ought to realise who she was if they came to this god forsaken place.

"You, serf, announce our presence to your lady."

Or not.

Well, there were idiots everywhere.

"I don't have a lady. I'm the only one who's living here." Maureen lifted her hands in a gesture of helpless innocence, her palms up and spread far apart.

The military man looked at her, then the hut and her shed. The hut was made of tree trunks with a roof made of bundles of brushwood and straw, just large enough for a single room. The shed was leaning against one wall, made of some wooden beams as support, with clay and straw walls. It was kind of a scam, meant to look poor and simple but sturdy and older than it was.

The military officer looked around some more as if there might be another lodge or possibly a castle hiding in some bushes. There was nothing else, of course.

One of the soldiers started cursing as the officer grumbled something Maureen didn't quite catch. And then, without another word, the leader turned his horse around and rode back down the road, soon followed by the other riders.

Idiots.

Maureen shook her head at the group and went back to laying out moss. Once dried it could be used to soak up blood from a wound under bandages and prevent infections on top of that. A lot of women used it during their period as well because it was soft and hardly any blood escaped. The dirt would be removed in her cleaner after the moss was dry, of course.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

 A while later she was finished and went back to her lodge. It apparently only had one room, with a bench covered in shep pelts as a bed and the rest of the room a forest of dry herbs hanging off the ceiling in bunches, clay jars covered with linen scraps full of ingredients on shelves that covered all the walls, a table full of things in the middle and the small cooking area to the left with a fireplace and a little cauldron that held softly bubbling millet gruel. 

Maureen walked to the bed, sat down and hit the uneven bit of wood that seemed to have been a branch once. The bed lowered itself through the floor and then she was underground in the hallway of her real home.

Since she was dirty she took the door to her left that led to her hidden hot spring first.

Half an hour later she was clean and her still wet hair was open for once, instead of braided, in a bun and covered by a  headscarf, while it was drying. A trip up above brought her to the cooking space where she took her gruel, threw some herbs, nuts and berries in and then started eating. If a person like, well, her, decided to eat gruel then it was certainly not the tasteless slag the oh so kind temples gave to the poor. Because if it tasted too good those poor people might start liking the stuff enough to eat it even when they were not about to starve and had no other choice. 

Millet gruel could be sweet, or made with cheese, eaten with meat as a side dish, tasted good with preserved vegetables in winter and could even be a spicy dish. So despite being a typical poor people food Maureen had it pretty often. Easy to make, effortless really, tasty and it could be turned into any type of dish depending on her mood at that moment. It was the perfect food in her opinion.

Satisfied with herself and the world after that bowl of gruel Maureen lay back on the sheep skins that were really pretty comfortable and was just about to take a nap when the horses raced back to her lodge. 

Soon after the door was kicked open and an officer with a bright red head and a stormy expression rushed into her poor home only to stop in his tracks at the sight of...well, a table with a pot of poor gruel, a recently washed but shabbily dressed woman on a bench with sheep skins that was a typical poor people bed and a room full of stuff one would expect to find in a local hedge witch's home.

Maureen sat up to look at the man questioningly.

Said man cursed, turned around and threw the door shut as he left.

The sound horses and men riding away followed soon after.

Weird people...

Maureen half expected them to return again after that, but when she got up after her nap everything was quiet.

As she went about her day collecting herbs, making potions in the lab downstairs and playing with...er, no, educating the goblins no other unusual visitors showed up.

When early evening came around one of the peasants from the nearby village came with a letter. Letters usually came that way from casual acquaintances so she didn't pay that event any mind. Instead she had a nice chat about Zoe's second child, the mayor's aching knee and the speculation on whether the tanner's apprentice was in love with the woodcutter Albert's second daughter or the farmhand Gordon's sister.

After the good man left she took a closer look and sighed. 

Well, at least she knew what the strange behaviour of those soldiers was all about. 

While she was still reading the letter full of flowery language the officer came back, again, for the third time.

"You!" He pointed at her from afar, about to blow up due to anger.

Maureen looked at him quizzically. "Yes?"

"How dare you open a sealed letter adressed to the Duchess Bastagar!" 

"Ah...that's because I am Maura Elena Bastagar, of course. Duchess Bastagar, banished to this lodge on the day of my wedding by the Duke, who sent a surrogate to replace him during the ceremony." Maureen explained lightly. "Now, according to this letter you were supposed to accompany me to Ingverstedt for the royal wedding there?" 

She waved about the letter filled with flowery phrases and pretty drawings that people thought were lucky.

"I am not sorry to say this, but going there in style is utterly impossible. As you can see, I do not receive any funds from the Duke and therefore have nothing to wear and no way to acquire apropriate attire."

The officer who looked like someone had just turned his world upside down repeated the "...not sorry to say...?" part of Maureens little speech while she went into the lodge, got a leather sack that seemed to contain nothing but a few spare changes of poor clothing and other necessities, back outside and then started walking down the road towards the village. As she passed the officer on his horse she nodded at him to get another rise out of his shell shocked expression.

Apparently she was going to the neighbouring country for their king's wedding.