"I don't know what we're going to do with that girl," Laren's mother tsked, expertly threading an embroidery needle. "Headstrong, rash, stubborn. Can't think where she gets it from."

Laren's father, a tall balding man, stood at a large window, looking out onto their land. He could just make out a head of bright red hair bobbing its way through a cornfield. 

He sighed, "I think its all this fratenization with the common workers. Did you hear that she's even been taking fencing lessons from one? And all the stable boys are making her want to marry below her station."

"Well, what's to be done about that?" Larne's mother grumbled, sewing aggressively. "It's not as if we can fire all the workers. And confining her to her room will simply make her even more angry. I think she meant it when she said she wouldn't marry that boy."

Her husband nodded, gazing distastefully out at his daughter as she gave a most un-ladylike flip of her hair when a boy walked past. 

"Well..." he hesitated, an idea occuring. "There is one thing we could do. It would get her away from the servants and hopefully humble her."

Laren's mother instantly put down her embroidery, eyes fixed on her husband. 

--------------------------------------------------

Laren marched into the manor a few hours later, leaves in her hair, grass stains on her skirt, and a smile on her face. One of the cuter stable boys, a brown haired teen named Jerek, had taken her out on a horseback ride that afternoon. She had ridden a couple other times, but never with just a boy her age. 

Lost in dreamy remanissence, she almost ran right into her parents. They stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking her way to her room. 

Smiling brightly, she waved and said, "Good evening. Lovely weather today wasn't it? I think I'll just wash up, and then have a bit of supper. I'm starving!"

They didn't return the smile. Laren's father rubbed his beard exasperatedly and announced, 

"Laren. You are a high ranking lady of noble birth. Your behavior lately has been unaccapetable. You ignore your mother and I's rules, fratenize with the servents, and have just become to sure of yourself."

Laren raised an eyebrow. "Would you rather I be chronically insecure? Never think for myself? Never learn to connect with those around me?" She put on a wounded look, eyes wide and shining. 

But her father was impervious. 

"Your mother and I have come up with the appropriate response to your actions." He took a deep breath, as though bracing himself for a storm. 

"You are to go to the monestary for a month. Learn your place in the plan of God, and work for yourself."

Laren's mouth dropped open. For perhaps the first time in her life, she was speechless. Her mother put an arm around her husband's shoulder, as if to confirm to him that he had done well. Laren could feel the blood surging to her face. Enraged, but unable to speak, she forced her way past her parents and stormed up the stairs. 

"Your things are packed. You leave first thing tomorrow," her mother called after her, regret, but definitely a little satisfaction in her voice.