Location: The Goblet Housing wards, outside the Hungry Wolf Company headquarters
Rhea scowled as she rubbed her side, the bruise under her rib reminding her that it did not tolerate so much lifting and straining at the moment. Even as a Conjurer, there were limits to her own body’s natural healing ability, and Juno’s new training regimen, if she could even call the violent, bloody clashes training, was taxing to her body. Around her, the workers talked amongst themselves, busying themselves with old crates and boxes long forgotten in one of the store houses. Occasionally when they saw her move, they would usher her away, saying that the ‘Mistress’ shouldn’t be doing their job, or that the head maid Trisselle had specifically ordered them to ensure that she was to rest. There was only so much paperwork to do, so much post job Rum and booze she could order, and having gone through them so many times, she was getting bored, just sitting here outside the doors, waiting for them to complete the stock removal for the yearly inventory rotations.
“I am going to keep calling him Master Iskandi for that last swordblow.†Rhea snarled to herself, tail thrashing behind her on her perch. The maid beside her merely giggled, before accepting the clipboard and running off to deliver it to her desk.
Another moment, and a crash as one rather clumsy Sea wolf, newly hired, let a crate fall to the floor. Rhea took this chance to bolt up, almost running over, only to see her most experienced worker, a dunefolk picking up the box with ease and setting it atop another crate, chastising the new worker for breaking over the box. Both men bowed as she approached and scuttled away to continue their conversation elsewhere. It almost made her want to throw up her hands in frustration, until her eyes caught sight of the actual contents. A slim, long box of finely carved mahogany poked up from well packed hay, along with a wider, thinner box, taunting her with memories.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it old friend?†She muttered to herself as she pulled out the thinner box, revealing the lattice work of similar boxes underneath. Her fingers pried the box open and the silk tumbled out, pooling over her arms. Pulling out the lone fan, her wrist snapped, the noise echoing through the emptier building as the cloth fluttered to life. The vivid red of the fan was eye-catching, fading into the warm yellows and red, like the flames they were meant to mock, even after so many years.
“Miss! A missive came for you, if we could get a signature!†A voice called from the house. Rhea’s ears perked as she carefully draped the silk fan across the crate, almost bouncing as she rushed to the house.
“What about?†Her question faded as she let the doorman close the door after her.
Rhea scowled as she rubbed her side, the bruise under her rib reminding her that it did not tolerate so much lifting and straining at the moment. Even as a Conjurer, there were limits to her own body’s natural healing ability, and Juno’s new training regimen, if she could even call the violent, bloody clashes training, was taxing to her body. Around her, the workers talked amongst themselves, busying themselves with old crates and boxes long forgotten in one of the store houses. Occasionally when they saw her move, they would usher her away, saying that the ‘Mistress’ shouldn’t be doing their job, or that the head maid Trisselle had specifically ordered them to ensure that she was to rest. There was only so much paperwork to do, so much post job Rum and booze she could order, and having gone through them so many times, she was getting bored, just sitting here outside the doors, waiting for them to complete the stock removal for the yearly inventory rotations.
“I am going to keep calling him Master Iskandi for that last swordblow.†Rhea snarled to herself, tail thrashing behind her on her perch. The maid beside her merely giggled, before accepting the clipboard and running off to deliver it to her desk.
Another moment, and a crash as one rather clumsy Sea wolf, newly hired, let a crate fall to the floor. Rhea took this chance to bolt up, almost running over, only to see her most experienced worker, a dunefolk picking up the box with ease and setting it atop another crate, chastising the new worker for breaking over the box. Both men bowed as she approached and scuttled away to continue their conversation elsewhere. It almost made her want to throw up her hands in frustration, until her eyes caught sight of the actual contents. A slim, long box of finely carved mahogany poked up from well packed hay, along with a wider, thinner box, taunting her with memories.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it old friend?†She muttered to herself as she pulled out the thinner box, revealing the lattice work of similar boxes underneath. Her fingers pried the box open and the silk tumbled out, pooling over her arms. Pulling out the lone fan, her wrist snapped, the noise echoing through the emptier building as the cloth fluttered to life. The vivid red of the fan was eye-catching, fading into the warm yellows and red, like the flames they were meant to mock, even after so many years.
“Miss! A missive came for you, if we could get a signature!†A voice called from the house. Rhea’s ears perked as she carefully draped the silk fan across the crate, almost bouncing as she rushed to the house.
“What about?†Her question faded as she let the doorman close the door after her.
¤