“Far removed from our Occidanian origins, we do not suffer the rule of Marches , Dukes or Kings or any of the nobility that serves under them. We came to Alkerd to get away from those precocious oafs who like to parade their flatulent bellies so big they cannot see what is right in front of them. Imagine, [Peasant] as a class? No, we were simply tired of their ways that we braved the Straits to get here. Though much was lost, we gained new classes and new rulers who were more in tune with the needs of their people like War Lords who protected their people, Merchant Ladies who made sure their people’s livelihoods were great…”- A Narration by an Old Alkerd Settler.

Hanna adjusted her creaseless waterfall dress as her carriage pulled away from the front gate of the estate. She tugged at the sleeve that terminated before her shoulders whilst clinging snugly against her upper arms; it felt comfortable really as for the occasion? It was just right.

It had a high collar that went up all the way to her neck, accentuating her buxom chest without revealing it. Only her shoulders and part of her collarbone were bare in this case—in short, a high collar off-shoulder.

She smiled as the wind tugged at the sheer material below the peplum layered like a reverse tulip; it sparkled like gossamer fairy wings which had in fact been used to make that skirt section of the dress.

She sighed, her calves were already getting tired and she hadn’t even been waiting for long. As a social butterfly she was used to flitting to and from conversations, not standing in one place for so long, she almost grumbled but her maid, Nydia caught her eye.

“My lady, you must be patient. It has hardly been a par’quart since we arrived. I’m sure they’ll come around.” She smiled as she tucked a stray tress of her hair, the color of earl grey tea behind her ear. At her feet was a pile of wrapped presents; a welcome present for their new neighbours; the Sturmdraches.

She wondered what the man of the house was like. Technically, the house comprised a youth and his own maid but they couldn’t just refer to the house in singular.

Such was the way of nobility. Even for her own house—the Lalilabs as well as the four other merchant families who run the town.

Though they prided themselves as bourgeois, they were closer to nobility than they cared to admit. For one, they had men and women servants waiting on them, hand and foot.

Also, they had the political clout that governed what decisions affected Aldmoor. Even though, unlike their blue blood counterparts, they cared less for court machinations for there was no court, just a council. It wasn’t so hard to deny that the very system they were trying to run away from had come full circle.

The only consolation was that they ruled meritocratically. It was evident in the way they choose their heirs, only the most economically gifted could head the house.

Among her siblings, Hanna had no inclinations towards running a house but a business she could. Nonetheless, she preferred being a free spirit—free from poring over ledgers.

The girl grimaced whenever she thought about calculating taxes and balancing accounts; numbers were so infuriating even though her arithmetic skills were nothing to scoff at.

“Morning Miss Lalilab,” a boyish voice startled her from her daydream. She turned to the lean adolescent with freckles that had just saluted her.

Nevine wore the guild uniform well; it looked like it had been sized by hand just for him. If Hanna had to guess, the boy’s mother had tenderly done it as soon as he’d gotten the guild internship. He was still on his probationary period so that made Hanna his senior at work.

“Good morning, Nevine,” she offered a curt smile. She was relieved to see that his glances were cursory, never lingering anywhere on her; none of that ogling she got occasionally from some adventurers. How she missed Elena’s company, she always told them off on her behalf.

“What’s with the guild hands?” Hanna asked, eyeing a crew of workers decked with cleaning as well as gardening tools; they were all guild hires and she recognized some of them. All diligent fellows and respectful too.

“Those?” Nevine replied as he adjusted his glasses. “The guild master said to bring them. They offered to spruce up the estate as thanks when they heard about how the Sturmdraches saved Elena.” He had a wooden board with parchment secured by string in one hand and a magical quill in another. The latter was new stationery.

“Huh? That’s news already?” she bit her lip. This was going to be tougher than she thought if the other families got wind of it. “Maybe we should just go in…” she suggested as she cast her eyes about Founders’ Street. They were too noticeable.

“Ah, I almost forgot, they don’t have any other employees with them,” he blushed, embarrassed that he’d been enthralled by Hanna’s dress. The wearer gave him a knowing smile; her dress was working—irresistible to those she was not averse to if she willed it. Mini Hanna laughed evilly, the charm enchantment worked.

The cleaning crew filed into the gate, helping carry some of the presents to relieve her maid’s burden. She would have carried them all anyway, no matter how high she had to pile them.

Hanna's [Maid] had a skill, [Adroit Poise] which ensured she wouldn’t spill a single drop of tea or topple a champagne tower balanced on a serving tray when she tripped. Assuming she even tripped in the first place.

Hanna got a glimpse of the interior of the estate that was just a house over from her residence. She’d only grown up hearing the stories about the unoccupied mansion, stories that were meant to be chastisement for when she didn’t want to go to bed.

It was her doting father’s fault; telling her about the bogey man who lived across the street. It wasn’t that bad, just a pile of overgrown vegetation and an aging paint job, that's all.

Even the dark windows were simply that, curtained. Woe be her father; she was going to give him a stern talking to for lying to her when she was little. She was not her father’s weakness for nothing.

Perhaps she could even fleece her old man for some money to sink to her aership fund, she grinned cheshirely; internally of course. Her outward features were tranquil and schooled as deserving of her [Socialite] class. She could only show the emotions she wanted seen.

The dozen or so people reached the portico; the workers conveyed the gifts besides the door and waited for instructions by the eaves.

It looked like it had been scrubbed and dried recently; the workers were almost dismayed that they wouldn’t have much to do but Nevine reassured them there was yet much work to be done.

“Miss Lalilab, if you might do the honors? You’re the guest here after all.” Nevine touched up the bridge of his spectacles. A force of habit, Hanna observed.

While the nobility would have let their maid do it, she held no compunctions about it; she clanged the knocker once to let their hosts know someone was at the front door. No sooner had the ringing died down than the door was answered. Even Hanna was stunned by the prompt response.

‘I thought they were only two occupants, surely they haven’t hired some helps already?

The door was answered by a plum haired, petite woman in a rather peculiar maid uniform. It featured silver and blue accents on the frills and the hem that were tastefully done. Except for the apron, the whole outfit was a black ensemble, even the frills which were normally white.

The dress ended at the knees, followed by a pair of black velvet stockings which entered a pair of calf length boots with steel capped heels. Perhaps peculiar was an understatement.

The maid looked more suited to fighting than waiting on her master; maybe her class was [Battle Maid]? Her wrist length leather gloves wouldn't have looked out of place on someone suited to handling unsavory business. Hanna gulped.

“How may I help you Milady?” the girl said, peering at them from beneath her ruby haired bangs as she curtseyed. There was no headband on it either. Her silver irises turned to regard Hanna whose breath had hitched in her throat.

Despite the impassivity of her expression , it was so unlike her to get caught flat footed. But the thing is, the girl or woman in front of her was simply that dazzling even in her exotic uniform. Her maid was quick to salvage the situation, introducing them on her behalf.

Nevine took over after that, expressing why he had a crew of workers behind him. The girl nodded in understanding as he let the guild employee lead some of them into the house while the rest headed to the gardens.

Between the two of them, the maids carried the presents into the drawing room as Hanna trailed them. There was not much in the way of furnishings but it hardly detracted from the ambiance of the mansion seeing as its owners had just settled in.

The drawing room was minimally and tastefully decorated and looked decked out to receive dignitaries if they were going for a casual setting.

A set of settees, teal in color surrounded a low coffee table. There was a motley of throw pillows with neutral as well as bright patterns that made the drawing room look colorful but not to the point of being distracting. The man of the house who’d been sitting on one of a pair of wing back seaters stood to receive them.

The man was tall, so tall Hanna could barely reach his shoulders. Yet his demeanor was both regal and warm; the clothes he filled out conveyed that he wasn’t there to show off.

Her host's cerulean blue eyes flecked with gold looked like some rare gem as they caught the light of the chandelier. Hanna realized she’d been staring and even her [Socialite] skills could not stop her from blushing.

“Welcome to my humble castle,” the man said, directing her to the adjacent seat, with a voice that turned her legs into jelly. Hanna was grateful for that, otherwise her legs would have given out from her.

Not even Nolan Bluecastle had that sort of presence. No sooner had she taken her seat than their maids came toting a tray of tea and some pastries that looked like fluffy pieces of cake. The aroma of cinnamon and Valerian tea teased her nostrils.

‘Thea take me; I’ve never been so off my rocker like this. Get it together girl!’ Inner Hanna was running circles and putting out fires.

“—Lalilab?” she’d missed the first part of the statement.

“Pardon me,” she flushed. “I was simply taken by your strange pastry. It seems like cake and yet not.”

“Oh, is that so?” he chuckled. “They’re pancakes—I made them myself this morning.”

‘He cooks? What’s the maid for then?’ a stunned Hanna thought.

“As I was saying; you must be Hanna Lalilab I presume? I’ve heard so much about you,” he said, as he motioned to his maid to start pouring tea. Hanna accepted a cup, savouring the aroma before sipping. Valerian tea; It was refreshing.

“You’re correct Milord Sturmdrache. I am the third and last born daughter of the Lalilabs. I am pleased to make your acquaintance in such short notice” she bobbed her head.

“And I as well; we can dispense with the titles however—,” the Lord’s maid furrowed her brows as she handed the cup to him. Hanna only caught the tail end of her expression, one moment it was there, the next it was like it had never happened.

The young lord cleared his throat,“I am not a blue blood who would take offense. I hear you are our neighbour from across the street,” He sipped his tea as he peered over the rim of the cup. Though across the street was understating it; the compounds were large enough that Hanna had to take a carriage just because of the gifts

“That we are,” she let down her cup onto the saucer. Delicately, she sliced a piece of the pancake. The soft pastry gave in easily under the knife; It felt as fluffy as it looked and it was like cutting through a piece of spongy cake made by her house’s baker. Hanna loved sweet things.

The flavor practically melted in her mouth; the sweetness of honey and the spicy citrusy notes of cinnamon made her toes curl in her doll shoes. She had to stop herself from groaning in pleasure in front of her host; she’d already embarrassed herself as things went.

They made small talk as they had their tea. The pancake was the main highlight of the refreshments for Hanna, the valerian tea being a forethought. Then ,they got into their main discussions as the maids took the utensils away.

“So Milord Sturmdrache—”

“Call me Arthur,”

“Master Arthur then,” Hanna insisted, folding her arms on her lap. The man was her senior and a powerful [Mage] at that. She would have called him [Magister] or [Magus] but she wasn’t sure of his credentials yet. Information on him was scant and closely guarded by the Guild. Even the Council was not privy.

“Do you have any ambitions in Aldmoor?” Straight to the point; that was her mantra. There was no need for tiptoeing around the issue; the man did seem direct during their prattle over tea. He seemed to pause for a moment, gathering his thoughts before he answered.

“As you can see, my position does not come from political ambitions or power whatsoever,” he arched his brow, “It does somewhat put me in a precarious position since the guild master has recognized me as a powerful individual. That could be misconstrued to mean that I have some designs on entering the upper circles—

My wish however, is to stay away from the politics of governance and focus on my magic that is all. I am sure that a person of your class understands the weight of rumours.”

‘Whoa, he speaks as if he saw this coming. Did he know I would be the first to make contact?’ Hanna shifted in her seat. Her skill [Read the Room] wasn’t sending out any warnings of stepping on his toes with the question she posed.

“I see; though I might not be part of the inner circles—,” Hanna opined, “Some merchant families won’t see it that way. Some might attempt to curry favour because, besides the guild master and some gold rank adventures, you might just be able to tip the balance of power–”

“Assuming you’re not already affiliated with the guild. People do not like wild cards.” Her skill [Tactful Temerity] came through, helping her blunt the edge of the warning tone in her statement. It allowed her to make bold statements without the bluntness of flying masonry.

The man considered her statement for a moment. He wasn’t really the diplomatic sort from what Hanna could see, but he made a good conversationalist and was rather agreeable and logical.

“It is possible that I may demonstrate my neutrality in other ways. I have made contingencies after all.” He folded his leg as he regarded her confidently.

“If you say so, master Arthur. On behalf of my family we understand and appreciate your position.” She gave a curt smile. “I hope you might receive our gifts as a gesture of good will. Think of them as a housewarming gift.”

“I shall accept them wholeheartedly Miss Lalilab,” said he, with a polite smile of his own.