As you try to make your way through the city, circling around the edge of a crowded square, a putrid stench assaults your nose. You see several passerby wrinkle their noses and retreat in disgust as a skinny hooded figure emerges from a back street with slow, measured steps. Covered in dirty, tattered rags, the figure - presumably a female, judging from her diminutive frame - slowly approaches you. Spare a coin for a poor soul, sir? She mutters a learned phrase in a hoarse, monotonous voice, her accent suggesting this is not her native tongue. As she outstretches her thin hand, a single fiery curl of disheveled hair escapes her hood, the sole spot of color in an otherwise drab and grimy appearance.
I raise an eyebrow How old are you?
I don't know sir... I... remember things from before. My parents sang to me a song in their language, so sweet and warm, but it feels like a dream now... I think they called me Cibia. But how old are you? Are you kind to girls, sir?
I am 24 and I like to think I am kind to girls. I get on one knee to meet her at eye level What do you mean “their language”? Are you not from this city, Cibia?
Small green eyes meet with concerned brown ones. She chews on her lip nervously as she ponders whether to trust you, and decides that you seem kind enough for now. I... don't remember much anymore, sir... All I know is that my parents sang me a lullaby in their language, the language of elves. My father told me stories about it, how beautiful and magical it was. When the war came, we were forced to flee our home... but they were killed before we could reach safety... I managed to escape with only my life...
She trails off, unable or unwilling to speak further about her past. She glances down at your outstretched hand and then back up into your eyes, hesitating for a moment before slowly reaching out to take it, their hands barely touching. May I ask why you are speaking with me? There are many poor souls in this city who need help...
I speak to you because you asked. You seem to be young. If you are elven in nature, you couldn’t be more than a century old. Are you hungry? I could bring you some food. Looking at her, I try to analyze her face. Many thugs and ruffians use children to bait adults into bad situations and I want to see what her intentions are
She hesitates a moment longer before nodding slightly, her gaze shifting back and forth between you and your outstretched hand. Finally, she extends her dirty fingers to grasp yours again in a surprisingly firm grip, meeting your eyes with a look that is equal parts hope and fear. As you take her hand, she feels smaller and more fragile than any girl should, like something that could be easily crushed between strong hands. I... am always hungry... but most people here hate elves, so they don't want to help me... And even when they do, it's never much, just enough to make sure I won't die today... But if you could... If you could help me find a place where I can be safe and have food for more than one day... Then I would be eternally grateful... Her eyes widen slightly as the words leave her mouth. She wasn't expecting such a generous offer from a human after all she had been through, and part of her is afraid that it's too good to be true. But she can't help but hope that this time things will be different...
Cibia swallows hard, feeling a lump form in her throat as emotions war within her. She tries to keep herself composed, not wanting to seem weak or desperate in front of you. She glances around quickly, unsure if anyone is watching them and perhaps plotting against her at that very moment.
Well Cibia. I am not most people. I am looking for someone to help around my estate and if you need food and shelter then I think I can offer you a job. Work for me and I can provide you food, shelter and most importantly, income. Would you like that?
I... don't know what to say... I mean, it's very kind of you, sir... But why would you want to help someone like me? I'm just a dirty, skinny little street rat with nowhere to go and no one who cares about me... You could find someone better to work for you.
Her voice trails off, the doubt and self-loathing all too clear in her words. Even as hope begins to flicker within her, she can't help but fear that it will be snuffed out before it has a chance to grow any stronger. She looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes, searching for some sign that this might not be another cruel trick designed to hurt her further...
Call it a hunch. I like to think I have a good eye for someone stronger than their years. Come on. Let’s head to my estate and get you cleaned up.
I-I... don't know what to say... Th-Thank you... I... won't let you down, sir... I promise... She swallows hard again, her voice sounding small and weak even to her own ears. She hesitates for a moment longer before finally nodding slowly, unable or unwilling to meet your eyes as she does so. The skinny girl with the bright emerald eyes feels like a puppy who's just been rescued from certain death; grateful beyond words but still cautious and unsure of herself in this new situation. She glances around once more, half-expecting someone to step out from the shadows and snatch her back into the darkness she'd become so accustomed to over the years...
I take a quick look at my watch and frown briefly We must get going. I have an appointment I must make back home. I shall introduce you to my head of staff, Manfred and he should be able to sort you with a room and some clean clothes. From there, you shall become aquantied with the rest of my staff. Do you have any skills, either ones learned on the street or those learned prior?
I... used to help my parents with their small garden at home. I know a bit about plants and flowers, how to take care of them. And when they taught me magic... I was good with it too. But... that was long ago, before everything changed... Now all I can do is survive from one day to the next...
Magic? How in depth was your training?
The lessons were... brief, sir. Before they died and the war came, I only learned a few basic spells that could be used for self-defense and survival on the road... But my parents told me magic was like music; one needed to practice and master it to make it truly beautiful. Perhaps if I had more time...
She trails off, her voice fading as she allows herself to dwell on what could have been. The hope that had begun to flourish within her slowly withers under the weight of reality, and once again she feels small and helpless in a world that has long since forgotten about her existence...
Well, I shall hire a tutor. If we are to see you thrive while under my care and employment, we need you to grow a repertoire of skills. How do you feel about that?
I-I... don't know what to say... I-I never thought I'd have the chance to learn again, sir... Th-Thank you... If it's what you want... then I'll do my best.
Quickly heading toward the estate, I continue to glance at her. Do you have any questions about your new arrangements?
No, sir... I-I'm just thankful for everything you've done for me so far... I will try my best to make you proud of your decision to hire me... She swallows hard again and looks away, her eyes darting back and forth between the grand estate coming into view ahead of them and the bustling city behind. Part of her wishes she could stay here forever, safe from harm and with people who care about her, while another part worries that this might all be an illusion, a trap set by her enemies to lure her out into the open and finish what they started so long ago...
The uncertainty and fear are etched plainly on her pale features. She knows she should trust you; your words and actions so far have given her no reason not to, but it's hard for her to let go of the past, the lifetime of pain and suffering that has shaped who she is today...
Right. Well once we get you cleaned up and squared away, you will be able to begin your new life. You won't be forced to stay at my estate. No one is. Speak with any guard and they will bring you back to the city proper. Your pay will start a 3 gold per day, and will increase as you learn new skills and perform better in your duties to the household as well as myself.
Cibia takes a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart and quiet the turmoil within her mind. It's hard for her to believe that this could all be real; that someone like you would want to help her after everything she's been through... But as they draw closer to the grand estate with its tall walls and polished gates, she can feel a tiny spark of hope beginning to flicker back to life within her soul. Slowly, cautiously, she allows herself to imagine a new life here, away from the dangers and hardships of the city... A life where she might finally find peace and belonging once more...
As you approach one of the guards stationed at the entrance to the estate, Cibia hesitates for a moment before speaking. She's not sure if it's proper etiquette to address him directly or if she should wait for your lead... Finally, she gathers her courage and meets his gaze with a nervous smile, hoping he won't think her presumptuous. "Excuse me," she murmurs softly, unable to meet his eyes for more than a moment. "I'm Cibia. I've just... I've just been hired by Lord Jamm..." Her voice trails off, the uncertainty and shyness clear in her tone...
The guard's expression softens slightly at her words. He looks between you and Cibia for a moment before nodding slowly. "Ah, yes," he says gently. "Welcome to Blackwood Manor, miss Cibia. If you'd like, I can escort you to the main house where someone will be waiting to help you get settled in." His deep voice is reassuring, and for a moment she feels as if perhaps she might actually fit in here...
I chuckle for only a moment "Worry not about proper etiquette yet. Manfred will certainly teach you how to address everyone on the estate, myself included. Let us head to the main house."
Thank you, Lord Jamm... And thank you, sir guard... I-I'm looking forward to starting my new life here...
The gates open as I and Cibia head up the main road towards. Standing at the fronts steps is a stern yet proper old man studying Cibia "Ah Manfred! I have brought some fresh blood to add to the staff. I trust that you see to that she is cleaned and well dressed before noon." I state. "But sir-" Manfred exclaims before being cut off "No buts. I have hired her and informed her of her salary. If she needs help bathing, ask Malery. I am sure she would be happy to assist" I head inside as Manfred turns towards Cibia and sighs "Another lost soul the Lord has found. What shall we do with you?"
Cibia looks at Manfred with trepidation but tries to stand tall and proud despite her dirty appearance. Her voice is soft but steady as she answers him. "I will do my best, sir. I am grateful for the chance you're giving me." She swallows hard, feeling exposed under his scrutiny. "Please... just teach me what I need to know so that I can be worthy of this opportunity."
*Manfred gives a grunt of approval. * “Come on then. I’ll show you to your quarters and give you some clothes. I shall also show you to the bathrooms so you can get cleaned up.” He opens the front doors wide to an amazing sight. The front foyer is well decorated and well kept. Everything from the spiral stair case in the center to the ornately designed and decorated floors and walls make the room ooze with eloquence and flair. “Please keep your hands to yourself until you are cleaned up and have had some food. I don’t wish for you to dirty anymore than you have to to get to the shower.”
Cibia nods quickly and meekly follows Manfred through the grand entryway, her gaze darting around in awe at the opulent surroundings. She tries hard not to let her dirty hands stray as she's led up the sweeping staircase and down a long hallway, her bare feet almost silent on the polished wooden floor. At last, they reach a door painted a soft shade of blue, where Manfred unlocks it with a large iron key. "This is your room," he says gruffly before handing Cibia another key and hurrying away.
The room is cozy and comfortable, with a small bed covered in clean sheets, a dresser with neatly folded clothes, and a washstand with a bowl of water and a towel on top. Exhausted from her journey and the fear of being thrown out again, Cibia quickly undresses and crawls into bed, falling asleep almost instantly.
Manfred, hearing her soft snoring, chuckles. Of course she would be exhausted from the travel. She would need food and time to adjust to her new surrondings. He gestures over to another staff member. “Please bring a small plate of food and a glass of water to the outside of that room once you have a moment.” He then leaves to go speak with me and give an update regarding Cibia’s condition
Cibia sleeps soundly through the night, her exhausted body finally giving in to rest and relaxation. The scent of fresh food wafts under the door when she wakes up, filling her nostrils and stirring her hunger. She sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and tentatively unlocks the door. A young serving girl stands outside with a tray, containing a plate of steaming food and a glass of water. "Good morning," she says brightly. "Manfred said to give you this when you woke up."
"Thank you," Cibia replies, taking the tray and retreating back into her room to eat in private. As she eats, she can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the kindness shown to her by Lord Jamm and his staff. She wipes her hands on her napkin and decides that it's time to face the day. Exploring her new surroundings beckons, as well as meeting with Manfred to discuss her training and duties around the estate.
Looking around she sees she has multiple sets of matching uniforms. Simple dress clothes to match the attire of other staff members. A white button-down shirt, a black vest, and a blue tie. The wash stand is separated from the rest of the room with a small tiled border-wall surrounding and a drain in center it so that any liquid used doesn’t spill out to the rest of the room. A pail, some brushes and soaps sit on the wall to be used and a faucet over the drain to ensure there is not too much spillage
Taking a deep breath, she carefully changes into her new clothes, taking care to mimic how Malery and the other female servants dressed when they helped her earlier. The attire is unfamiliar but feels oddly comfortable, like a symbol of the fresh start she's been given. She brushes her hair until it shines, then heads out into the hallway, hesitating for a moment before knocking on Manfred's door. "It's me, Lord Jamm said I should speak with you about my training and duties," she says softly.
Manfred grunts approvingly “Waking up nice and early. Have you rested well? We will be covering a lot of ground today so you understand the basics.”
"Yes, sir," she replies respectfully. "I slept very well, thank you. I'm eager to learn and serve Lord Jamm however I can." Her voice is soft but determined as she meets Manfred's gaze steadily. She may have been a homeless street urchin only yesterday, but now she's part of something much greater than herself, and she won't let anyone take that away from her easily.
Manfred nods and leads the way to a small room filled with books and scrolls. "These are the basic household spells you will need to know. I expect you to study them thoroughly and be able to recite them at any moment when asked." He then gestures to a second set of shelves, stacked high with wooden swords and practice daggers. "And these," he says gruffly, "are for self-defense training. You will also need to learn how to use them properly."
Cibia's eyes widen in surprise but she nods again, determined not to disappoint him or Lord Jamm. Together, they begin the long process of teaching her about life within Blackwood Manor.
“Both Magic and weapons are an extension of oneself. They aren’t just tools to be used to accomplished tasks,” Manfred says, handing a practice dagger to Cibia. He takes a practice sword, adjusting his stance as he faces her. “There is room for self expression. For example: I am direct. To the point. Efficient and effective. I find the fastest way to do something effectively and get it done.” He swings the sword with blinding speed towards Cibia. Before she can blink, the practice sword hovers less than half an inch from her neck. “Simple, fast, effective. You will likely not have the same mentality, few do, but you will find your own methods as you learn and grow.” He lowers the blade from her neck. “Now let’s see what basics you have. Try to strike me with your blade.”
Her heart racing, Cibia holds her dagger at the ready, trying to mimic Manfred's stance as best she can. She swings the blade toward him but hesitates for a moment too long, and he easily deflects it with his sword. "Faster!" he barks, spinning away before thrusting his sword back toward her. This time, Cibia manages to dodge out of the way, only narrowly avoiding being struck again. She feels a surge of adrenaline as she lunges forward, aiming for Manfred's exposed side. But he easily sidesteps and with a quick flick of his wrist sends her dagger flying from her grip.
Panting, Cibia falls back several steps, glancing at the practice sword still hovering in mid-air where her previous attack had failed. "I-I'll do better," she promises through gritted teeth.
“I know,” he says, “Should you wish to stay here, you will need to. I will practice with you and teach you forms, strikes, and how to read your opponent. The rules of combat matter only as much as a few moments. If you understand what rules your opponent plays by faster than they do, you shall always come out on top. Tell me, have you ever fought while living in the streets of Ezdin? I imagine the alleys and abandon buildings weren’t the safest havens around.”
Her face flushes at Manfred's words as she recalls the countless times she had been forced to defend herself against ruffians and other street urchins who considered her fair game simply because of her gender and impoverished state. "Yes, sir," she says quietly, still glaring at the floating practice sword with determination. "But I was never very good at fighting like that... I-I mostly relied on my magic to protect me." Her voice trails off as she wonders if her lack of combat skills will be a hindrance here, among people who are trained in battle and warfare from an early age.
But then she remembers Lord Jamm's words about giving her the chance to learn and grow, and she steels herself, determined to prove him right. "I won't disappoint you," she says fiercely, drawing a deep breath as she prepares for their next practice session.