“No, there’s nothing,” Aveline denied, her voice soft but firm. “Just thinking, but thank you.”

She meant it, and Bridget knew she did. She was grateful for Bridget’s presence and all she had done for her so far.

Bridget didn’t push. She simply hummed, a gentle, reassuring sound, and offered a soft, knowing smile that seemed to say, I’m here whenever you want to talk, and I’ll listen.

Soon, the rickety carriage rattled to a stop at the stone archway that marked the entrance to Salem. The three-hour journey had felt like an eternity, the road a brutal, uneven expanse of rocky terrain and deep ditches. The constant jarring and lurching had made the ride unbearable, leaving both girls aching and disoriented.

“I think I can’t feel my bottom anymore,” Bridget moaned, carefully unfolding herself from the carriage and taking a few tentative steps toward the town gate.

Aveline, meanwhile, paid the fare to the weathered coachman. “Thank you,” she said, before turning to see Bridget leaning against a gate post, massaging her lower back with a grimace.

“Done?” Bridget asked, spotting Aveline approaching. “Why don’t you look as pained as I do? Seriously, is my bottom still there? I think I heard a crack when we drove through that particularly deep ditch; it must have been my bone. Goodness, was the driver blind?”

Aveline managed a small smile. “It’s manageable. Let’s go. Didn’t we come here for the hiring steward?”

“Right, right,” Bridget agreed, taking one last, slow stretch. “Just a sec. I don’t want the hiring steward to think I’m an old woman disguised as a young lady with the way I’m walking.”

****

As per the address on the hiring post, the steward was staying at Creek Tavern. After asking locals for directions, the girls finally arrived at a three-story building with polished wooden beams and intricate latticework, balconies adorned with carved railings, and lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. A small creek ran nearby, the soft sound of water adding a peaceful murmur to the bustling town. The design reminded Aveline of inns she had glimpsed in illustrations from distant lands: functional yet elegant, with subtle ornamental touches.

Aveline and Bridget stepped inside. The air was warm with the scent of roasted meat and ale. At a front desk carved from a single piece of dark wood sat a woman.

“Hello, we’re looking for Baron Elfon. Is he here?” 

The woman at the desk took a moment to size them up. She pegged them as being somewhere between seventeen and early twenties, their clothes simple but well-kept. “Why are you looking for him?”

“We want to apply as maidservants for Grand Duke Estonia,” Bridget replied enthusiastically, bobbing her head in a proper but eager manner. Aveline remained quiet by her side.

The attendant’s expression flickered with a brief moment of confusion before she composed herself. “Please wait here while I have someone call the Baron down. You can sit in the common lounge over there.” She gestured toward a cozy area with comfortable armchairs and a small fireplace, then sent another servant to fetch the Baron.

They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, a middle-aged man with a distinguished monocle descended the stairs, followed by two men carrying a number of leather-bound travel bags. The Baron’s eyes scanned the room and quickly landed on the two girls, as the tavern servant had described them.

“I heard you were looking for me?” he said, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to being in charge.

“Are you Baron Elfon?” Bridget asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ah, you are Baron Elfon, that’s great! Sir, my friend and I would like to apply as maidservants for the Jade Bleu Villa,” Bridget stated, her tone as proper as she could make it.

The Baron’s graying brows furrowed slightly as he seemed to recall something. “That application… it seems to be a month old.”

A month old? 

“What do you mean, sir? The post was just put up yesterday in our village.”

Aveline, however, was not surprised. She’d known Perta Village was far from the capital. News traveled slowly, sometimes taking several days to reach them. The thought that the hiring post was a month old meant someone likely made a cruel prank. Adding up the fact that any application posts requiring serving nobles wouldn’t, for sure, reach such a remote village.

“Yes, we did issue applications for maidservants, but that was a month ago,” the Baron confirmed, his expression one of polite regret.

“Eh? But… but…” Bridget stammered, her face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“Young ladies, where are you from?” the Baron asked kindly. “Perhaps someone played a prank in your village, or the news simply traveled too slowly. The capital is a week’s journey from here, even more so to the Grand Duke’s castle in the Grand Duchy.”

Bridget’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly, her hopes dashed. Aveline bit her lip. She should have been more careful, more inquiring. Or perhaps she knew, but the enticement of 50 kravants was just that tempting.

“Bridget—” Aveline started, ready to tell her it was okay, that they would find something else.

But the Baron cut her off. “Perhaps you two are from Perta Village?”

“Y-yes, we are,” Bridget replied, her voice barely a whisper.

“I was also from Perta, until the Old Grand Duke hired me to work for him.” The Baron’s face softened, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a lifetime of memories.

Both girls’ eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yes,” the Baron chuckled softly. 

“Wow…”

One of the men behind him spoke up. “Sir, we should probably board the awaiting carriage.”

The Baron nodded, shaking off the thought. He had been due to return immediately to the Grand Duchy to welcome the new master’s arrival.

“Sir,” Bridget pleaded, her voice filled with a desperate, last-ditch hope. “Is there any way you could hire us? Even as stable cleaners or animal keepers? Anything?”

“Bridget—” Aveline tugged at her friend’s sleeve, an uncomfortable expression on her face. She was broke and knew she could be homeless next week—but perhaps there were other opportunities. She didn’t need Bridget begging.

The Baron’s gaze lingered on them, and a flash of memory crossed his mind. The girls reminded him of his own daughters.

‘They might have been their age now if not for that tragic fire.’

He sighed, dispelling the painful thought.

“Since you both seem honest and desperately in need of work, perhaps I can,” he said, weighing his options carefully. “But I can only take one of you with me to the capital.”