Corbin, age 34, City of Marin

The young woman disappeared into a back room, and I looked around the room, not recognizing half of what I saw but understanding that what I did observe was of the highest quality money could buy; there was a richness to all the fabrics that I knew would be unmatched down to the smallest swatches at the bottoms of the immense piles. Even the scraps would have been more than I could have afforded in my current financial state. We heard the shuffling of feet scuffing on the floor as someone walked, and soon, the young woman pulled the curtain aside and held it for a stooped aged woman to follow her through.

What the crone lacked in proper posture, she made up for with the alertness on her face and brightness in her eyes. She looked me up and down and tsked. "Well, of course, you won't fit into Faryn's livery. No, that would be too easy." She motioned for me to turn for her, and I suppressed a grin as I spun in place under her gaze. "Hmm. Yes. I think I have pants that will fit with minimum alteration, but those shoulders... You're built like an ox!"

She spoke to the girl, "Go and find those shirts we made for what's his face. They'll fit through the shoulders, and we'll alter the rest."

The girl bobbed a small curtsey for the woman. "Yes, Ma'am," she said. "The shirts we made for the Lord's brother?"

"Yes, those," the old woman scowled, shooing the woman into the back. "We'll need to take measurements for a dress uniform, too. Rush job on that one with the Queen's event in a few weeks."

"Yes, Ma'am." The young woman disappeared behind the curtain as the crone approached me, pulling the measuring tape from around her neck. She swiftly took measurements, noting them on her pad as she did. Her touch was businesslike and professional, even when she took my inseam.

The young girl returned with an armload of red silk and black leather items. She plopped the pile on the table, then fished out a pair of pants, which she held out to me. "Here, try these on."

I looked around for a screen or curtained-off area in which to change. Both women put their hands on their hips and smirked at me. It was then that I realized they were related, a grandmother and her granddaughter, perhaps. When I further understood they expected me to simply strip and dress in front of them, I felt the heat rise from my collar.

Typically, I wasn't a shy man, but something about the situation did me in. I hesitated.

The wrinkled seamstress arched an eyebrow. "Well? What are you waiting for? We haven't got all day. Put those pants on so we can see how they fit."

I swallowed and began to undress, pulling on the pants as quickly as I could. The older woman spun her finger again, and I twirled for her so she could see the cut of the pants. They fit through the thighs, but were loose in several other places. I tried not to let the color on my face deepen as she started to pinch leather, smacking at me to move me left and right and mark it here and there. I burned beet red, mortified, that I squeaked when she adjusted the crotch.

The younger woman handed me a bundle of red silk with a devious look on her face. "This next."

I removed my vest and shirt to replace them with what she had given me. I'm a big man, and the shirt was tight across the shoulders, but dwarfed me around the middle. The person they had made it for was rather rotund. The girl tucked and folded, adding pins here and there before having me strip everything off, leaving me standing in my skivvies. I held my hands in front of me as I blushed again.

The older woman chuckled and waved at me. "Get dressed. Come back tomorrow for the livery, and we'll do a first fitting on the uniform then."

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, relieved to be putting on my clothes. Full armor had never felt as protective as my britches did at that moment. Their scrutiny had been brutal.

I exited hastily. I found Bobby leaning against the wall just outside the room. He caught my eye and shuddered. "So, you survived." He leaned in close, and I smelled the onion from the stew on his breath. "That old woman gives me the heebie geebies."

I swallowed and nodded, and he smiled and winked. "But, she does good work. No finer seamstress anywhere. Her grandniece April is excellent, too." He waved me forward. "Come on. Time to head back to the Second Mistress."

I was instantly more alert. Second Mistress Morgan Ravel was an exceedingly interesting woman. Odd that I was scared of an old woman with a mouth full of pins, but not the second most powerful woman of the Household. Instead, I felt a healthy respect for the Second Mistress and, if I had to be honest, more than a little attraction. Powerful women had always attracted me.

Bobby led the way through the back corridors and stairs, but I kept a mental map in my head. It was one of the many skills I'd mastered in my former life; I rarely got lost or turned around. Once given the freedom to do so, one of the first things I'd do would be to wander the grounds and get the layout. So far, I knew the Second Mistress' offices and rooms occupied the east wing of the first floor, the kitchen was on the bottom floor centrally located, the barracks were to the southwest of the kitchen across the yard, and the seamstress was in the west wing on the third floor. I had caught a glimpse of the stables opposite the barracks on the other side of the yard.

The architect had situated the house within a wrought iron fence on several acres. Covered guard houses were at the gates north and south of the property, and additional guards stood at each entrance to the house. A circular drive curling around a beautiful fountain at the front door made picking up and dropping off notable guests easy.

When I entered through the front door that morning, a white-gloved butler had met me at the bottom of a grand staircase gleaming in the sun streaming through the windows framing the front door. Rooms, which I presumed to be of the entertainment variety, were off to the sides, with doors closed against the morning's chill. Naturally, I had been taken up a back stairway to the Second Mistress' office, not having had a recognized name or invitation. I'd have gone through the servant's entry, but I'd been dressed too nice. It would have caused a scene.

As I followed Bobby, I wondered what my first duties would be. My thoughts drifted to what my family would be doing for the coming spring celebration. Here, in the city of Marin in Cephada, where I had escaped, the Queen would visit her favored nobles for the season, beginning with the Household in roughly two weeks. In Richende, my former city of record in Bajaden, the nobles would be expected to travel to the King and, subsequently, the Archbishop at his palace in Crenith.

My father would sweat over the cost of flowers and wine. My stepmother and sisters would argue over the year's color palette, and my brother would ignore the whole mess by going hunting or fishing or... something... every day.

My heart stung with the thoughts of my sisters. I loved them almost as if they were my own daughters. They were so much younger than I was, given that they were from my father's second marriage after my mother had died. My stepmother was about my age. I wouldn't say I got along with her, but I wouldn't say I hated her, either. No, I saved my hatred solely for my despicable father.

I shook my head to clear it. I had left that all behind when I followed the Bluejay's man the night I defected. The agent had been so thorough at his work that we had had no issues crossing the border into Cephada, traveling some miles before he dumped me at the appointed place. From there, I traveled alone to Marin to join the Household as arranged. Now, my fate was in the Second Mistress' hands, but from how she had reacted to the letter provided by the Bluejay, I felt no need to overly worry about her loyalty.

Still, it didn't do any good to let my guard down. I knew I would have to scope out the rest of the Household, particularly the guards, to find my place. I would have to fight my competitive drive to succeed; I didn't need to climb the ranks here as I had worked to do in the Bajaden military. I needed safety. I knew full well sometimes that meant simply doing what those in charge expected of me and keeping my head down. That was the plan.

Bobby and I climbed the back stairs again, emerging at the end of the hall some distance from the Second Mistress' office. I contemplated her man, Vanusia, and wondered if he'd be a threat. He'd seemed very comfortable in his place with her, grabbing for the letter before she had reached for it. Perhaps that was part of his role with her, reading correspondence first to deem which was worth her time. Some assistants functioned like that. She had not seemed flustered by it.

Bobby addressed the guards, detailing that we had been to the kitchen, the barracks, and the seamstress. The guard nodded and shooed him away. He nodded to me as he made his way to a bench about halfway down the hall to sit and wait for further instructions.

The guard sized me up again. "You look big enough for the job, but can you handle yourself with a weapon? We don't need raw recruits right now. We've got work to do, what with the Gala just two weeks away. The Queen herself will be visiting."

"I can handle myself, don't worry," I growled. "I wouldn't have applied for the position if I didn't think I was qualified. The quartermaster put me through my paces."

The guard grinned, a lopsided expression that spoke a condescending tone louder than his voice. "Put you in his place, did he?"

I scowled. "If having my sword at his throat while he sprawled on the ground is what you mean by 'my place,' then yes, he put me in mine."

The other guard's eyebrow shot up. "You grounded the quartermaster?"

I bristled. "I said I did, didn't I?"

The guard held up a hand to ward off my anger. "Hey, no need to get your nickers in a twist. We'll hear all about it soon enough. It's just that not many can get the jump on quartermaster."

I scoffed as the first guard knocked, entered the room, and announced my presence to the Second Mistress.