The journey to the capital took nearly a full day. As the carriage rolled along increasingly well-maintained roads, Aveline watched the landscape transform through the window. The rural countryside gradually gave way to busier thoroughfares, with more travelers, merchants, and carriages sharing the path.

Baron Elfon sat across from her, occasionally reviewing documents or gazing out his own window. He seemed lost in thought most of the journey, though he did point out landmarks as they passed—a famous bridge spanning a wide river, an ancient watchtower that had stood for centuries, a monastery nestled among rolling hills.

“The capital has changed much,” he said at one point, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “It’s grown at least threefold. More people, more buildings, more… everything.”

Aveline nodded politely, though her mind was elsewhere. She thought of Bridget, probably serving customers at Old Man Nox’s restaurant right now, wiping down tables with that perpetual smile of hers. Did she miss Aveline as much as Aveline missed her? Then there was Emily at the townhouse, with her bright eyes and eagerness to help everyone. And Sir Dion, who had been so kind despite her strange episode that afternoon.

‘I hope he didn’t worry too much.’

As evening approached, the capital finally came into view, and Aveline’s breath caught in her throat.

The city sprawled across the horizon like a living tapestry of light and stone. Massive walls encircled it, their crenellations sharp against the darkening sky. Beyond the walls rose towers and spires of every height and design—some crowned with copper domes that gleamed even in the fading light, others topped with flags that snapped in the wind. The Imperial Palace was visible even from this distance, its golden pinnacles catching the last rays of the sun like captured starlight.

As they passed through the city gates, Aveline pressed closer to the window, her eyes wide. The streets were paved with smooth cobblestones, unlike the dirt roads of Perta Village. Gas lamps lined the avenues, their flames already being lit by attendants with long poles. Buildings rose three, four, sometimes five stories high, their facades decorated with elaborate stonework, balconies, and colorful awnings.

People filled the streets—more people than Aveline had ever seen in one place. Merchants called out their wares from shop fronts. Well-dressed ladies and gentlemen strolled arm in arm. Children darted between adults, playing some game. Carriages of varying grandeur navigated the thoroughfares, from simple hired vehicles to elaborate coaches emblazoned with noble crests.

The smells were overwhelming too—roasted chestnuts from a street vendor, the sharp tang of horse and leather, perfume from a passing lady, fresh bread from a bakery they rolled past.

“It’s so… big,” Aveline whispered, almost to herself.

Baron Elfon chuckled softly. “The capital is home to nearly two hundred thousand people. It can be overwhelming at first, but you’ll grow accustomed to it.”

‘Two hundred thousand?’ Aveline’s entire village had numbered perhaps two hundred people at most.

They continued through increasingly affluent neighborhoods. The buildings grew grander, the streets wider and cleaner. Ornamental gardens appeared behind wrought-iron fences. Finally, they turned onto a tree-lined boulevard where massive estates sat behind high walls, each one seeming to compete with its neighbors in displays of wealth and power.

“We’re in the noble district now,” Baron Elfon explained. “The Estonia estate is just ahead.”

Aveline’s heart began to pound. This was it. Her new life, whatever it would be, was about to begin.

The carriage slowed before an imposing gate set in a wall of dark stone. Two guards stood at attention, their uniforms crisp and their halberds gleaming. Upon seeing the Estonia insignia on the carriage, they immediately moved to open the gates without needing to be asked.

As the carriage passed through, Aveline caught her first glimpse of the Estonia estate, and her earlier amazement at the townhouse paled in comparison.

The main mansion rose four stories high, built of pale gray stone that seemed to glow in the twilight. Dozens of windows reflected the sky, many already lit from within by warm lamplight. The architecture was both elegant and imposing—graceful arches and delicate moldings balanced by solid towers at each corner. The roof was dark slate, steep and punctuated by ornate chimneys and small peaked dormers.

The grounds were immaculate. Manicured lawns stretched in every direction, dotted with ancient trees and carefully tended flower beds. Gravel paths wound through the gardens, leading to fountains, gazebos, and what appeared to be a small hedge maze in the distance. To one side, Aveline could see what must be the stables—a building larger than any house in Perta Village.

Servants moved about their duties, some carrying linens, others tending to the gardens even at this late hour. All wore matching uniforms, the women in navy dresses with white aprons, the men in dark suits with the Estonia insignia embroidered on their breast pockets.

The carriage rolled to a stop before the main entrance, where a broad staircase led up to massive double doors. A line of senior staff had already assembled to greet Baron Elfon’s return.

As Aveline stepped down from the carriage, her legs unsteady after the long journey, she felt terribly small and out of place. The townhouse had been grand enough, but this… this was beyond anything she could have imagined.

“Welcome back, Baron Elfon,” came a dignified voice.

An elderly man with silver hair and a perfectly groomed mustache stepped forward. He wore an impeccable black suit. His sharp eyes assessed Aveline in a single glance—not unkindly, but thoroughly.

“This is Romanof, the head butler,” Baron Elfon introduced. “Romanof, this is Aveline, the new maidservant I mentioned.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Aveline,” Romanof said with a slight bow. His voice was formal but not cold. “I trust your journey was not too taxing?”

“It was fine, sir. Thank you,” Aveline managed, quickly dipping into what she hoped was an appropriate curtsy.

“Good, good.” Romanof gestured to a woman standing beside him. “This is Mrs. Hedrig, our head housekeeper. She will see to your orientation and accommodations.”

Mrs. Hedrig was a stout woman in her fifties with iron-gray hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her face was round and might have been pleasant if not for the stern set of her mouth and the critical way her eyes swept over Aveline from head to toe.

“Come along then,” Mrs. Hedrig said briskly. “The baron and Mr. Romanof have much to discuss, and you need to be shown to the servants’ quarters.”

Aveline glanced at Baron Elfon, who gave her an encouraging nod before turning to enter the mansion with Romanof.

“This way,” Mrs. Hedrig said, already walking at a clip toward a side entrance. “And do keep up. I have much to show you and little time to waste.”

Aveline hurried after her, casting one last look at the magnificent facade of the Estonia mansion as they went around the side of the building.

****

The servants’ wing was attached to the main house but accessed through a separate entrance. Inside, the corridors were narrower and the decor simpler, though still far nicer than anywhere Aveline had ever lived. The walls were painted a clean cream color, the floors were polished wood rather than the marble of the main house, and gas lamps provided steady illumination.

Mrs. Hedrig walked with purpose, her keys jangling at her waist as she led Aveline through a maze of hallways.

“The servants’ wing has three floors,” she explained without slowing her pace. “The basement houses the kitchens, scullery, laundry, and various storage rooms. The first floor contains the butler’s quarters, housekeeper’s office, servants’ hall for meals, and workrooms. The second and third floors are the servants’ dormitories, separated by gender of course. Female servants on the second floor, male servants on the third.”

They climbed a narrow staircase to the second floor. The hallway here was lined with doors, each presumably leading to a room.

“You’ll be sharing a room with two other maids,” Mrs. Hedrig continued, stopping before one of the doors. “Rosie and Clara. Both are experienced, so I expect you to learn from them.”

She opened the door to reveal a modest but clean room. Three narrow beds lined one wall, each with a simple wooden frame, a thin mattress, and neatly folded blankets. Three small wardrobes stood against the opposite wall, and a single window overlooked the gardens below. A washstand with a basin and pitcher occupied one corner.

Two young women were already in the room. One sat on a bed mending what looked like a pillowcase, while the other stood at the washstand, pinning up her dark brown hair.

“Rosie, Clara,” Mrs. Hedrig said sharply, and both young women immediately stood at attention. “This is Aveline, the new maid. She’ll be taking Marta’s bed.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hedrig,” they chorused.

The housekeeper turned back to Aveline. “Settle in. Rosie will explain the house rules and your duties. Tomorrow at six in the morning sharp, you’re to report to the servants’ hall for breakfast and assignments. Do not be late.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Aveline replied.

With that, Mrs. Hedrig swept out of the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

For a moment, there was silence. Aveline stood awkwardly near the door, her small bag still in hand, unsure what to do.

Then the girl with dark brown hair—Clara, Aveline assumed—broke into a warm smile.

“Well, don’t just stand there! Come in properly.” She hurried over and took Aveline’s bag from her hands. “I’m Clara, and that’s Rosie over there. Don’t mind Mrs. Hedrig, she’s always like that.”

Rosie, a slender girl with blonde hair and freckles dusting her nose, set aside her mending and smiled shyly. “Welcome. We’ve been wondering who’d be taking Marta’s place.”

“What happened to Marta?” Aveline asked, relaxing slightly at their friendly reception.

“Got married,” Clara said, setting Aveline’s bag on the empty bed. “Lucky thing found herself a nice blacksmith’s son. They’re setting up shop in the merchant district.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s nice,” Aveline said.

“Mmmhmm. We were at the wedding just last week. Lovely ceremony.” Clara flopped onto her own bed and patted the space beside her invitingly. “Come on then, sit. You must be exhausted from the journey. Where are you from?”

“Perta Village,” Aveline answered, sitting carefully on the edge of Clara’s bed.

“Never heard of it,” Clara admitted cheerfully. “Is it far?”

“Very far. In the Klen Mountain range, to the north.”

“Oh my! That is far.” Rosie came over to join them, sitting cross-legged on her bed. “What brings you all the way to the capital?”

“I… needed work,” Aveline said simply.

Both girls seemed to understand that this was not a topic to press further. Clara changed the subject smoothly.

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters. The Estonia household is a good place to work, all things considered. The pay is fair, the food is decent, and as long as you do your job properly and don’t cause trouble, you’ll get along fine.”

“Mrs. Hedrig can be strict,” Rosie added, “but she’s fair. And Mr. Romanof is quite kind, really, even if he looks intimidating.”

“What about… His Grace?” Aveline asked hesitantly. “The Grand Duke?”

The atmosphere in the room shifted subtly. Clara and Rosie exchanged a quick glance.

“Well,” Clara began carefully, “His Grace is… He’s not often here, to be honest. He’s been at the border for years. This is the first time he’s returned to the estate in I don’t know how long.”

“Is he…” Aveline struggled to find the right words. “Is he difficult to work for?”

“We haven’t actually served him directly,” Rosie said quietly. “That’s mostly Romanof and Baron Elfon’s responsibility, along with his personal attendant. But from what we’ve heard…” She trailed off, looking uncertain.

“He’s not cruel or anything like that,” Clara clarified quickly. “Just… distant. Cold, some say. Doesn’t smile, doesn’t speak much except to give orders. Though can you blame him? After what happened to his parents…”

Rosie elbowed her sharply.

“What? It’s not a secret!” Clara protested. “Everyone knows about the fire.”

“It’s not polite to gossip,” Rosie hissed.

“I’m not gossiping, I’m informing our new roommate of relevant information about our employer!”

Despite everything, Aveline felt a small smile tug at her lips. The easy banter between the two girls reminded her painfully of Bridget.

‘I hope she’s doing well.’

“Anyway,” Clara continued, “the point is, you probably won’t interact with His Grace much. Most of us don’t. We keep the house running, and he… well, he does whatever grand dukes do. I assume it involves a lot of brooding in his study.”

“Clara!” Rosie scolded, but she was fighting back a smile.

“What? I’m just saying—”

A sharp knock at the door interrupted them. All three girls straightened immediately.

“Come in,” Rosie called.

The door opened to reveal a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with sandy hair and a friendly face. He wore the male servants’ uniform and carried a bundle of fabric.

“Evening, ladies,” he said with a cheerful grin. “Got the new girl’s uniforms here. Mrs. Hedrig sent me up.”

“Thanks, Erik,” Clara said, hopping up to take the bundle from him.

Erik peered past her at Aveline. “You must be the new one. I’m Erik, one of the footmen. Welcome to the estate.”

“Aveline,” she replied, offering a small smile.

“Well, Miss Aveline, if you need anything or have questions, just ask around. We’re friendly, mostly.” He winked. “Try not to let this place overwhelm you. It’s big and fancy, but once you learn your way around, it’s not so bad.”

“Thank you,” Aveline said sincerely.

After Erik left, Clara shook out the bundle to reveal three navy dresses with white aprons, along with caps and other necessary items.

“Here you are. Your uniforms. Two for daily wear, one for when the others are being laundered. The aprons need to be kept spotless—Mrs. Hedrig will inspect us regularly.”

Aveline took the dresses, running her fingers over the fabric. It was sturdy cotton, far nicer than the worn clothes she’d been wearing.

“Try one on,” Rosie encouraged. “We need to make sure they fit properly. If not, we’ll have to get them adjusted before tomorrow.”

As Aveline changed into one of the uniforms behind the modest privacy screen in the corner, she listened to Clara and Rosie chattering about the day’s events—apparently, one of the kitchen maids had burned an entire pot of soup, the gardener’s cat had gotten into the pantry, and there was speculation about the upcoming ball that would be held at the imperial palace.

The dress fit reasonably well, if a bit loose in the shoulders. When Aveline emerged, both girls assessed her with critical but kind eyes.

“Not bad,” Clara declared. “A few tucks here and there, but Rosie can do that easily. She’s magic with a needle.”

“It’s not hard,” Rosie said modestly. “I’ll fix it after dinner.”

“Speaking of dinner,” Clara said, “we should head down soon. Servants eat at six-thirty sharp, and Mrs. Hedrig gets angry if anyone’s late.”

****

The servants’ hall was a long room with several wooden tables and benches. When the three girls arrived, it was already filling with other staff members—maids, footmen, kitchen workers, stable hands, and others whose roles Aveline couldn’t yet identify.

The noise was considerable—people chatting, laughing, the clatter of plates and cutlery. It reminded Aveline of meal times at Old Man Nox’s restaurant, though this was far more organized.

Clara led them to a table where several other maids were already seated. She made quick introductions—there was Margaret, an older maid who’d been with the household for twenty years; young Lily, who couldn’t be more than fifteen; and Helen, a quiet woman in her thirties who worked in the laundry.

The food was simple but plentiful—thick vegetable soup, fresh bread, roasted chicken, and boiled potatoes. After the sparse meals she’d grown accustomed to at the restaurant, it felt like a feast to Aveline.

“Eat up,” Margaret advised in a motherly tone. “Tomorrow will be a long day. New staff always get the toughest assignments first, to assess their capabilities.”

“What kind of assignments?” Aveline asked.

“Probably chamber pots, fireplaces, and polishing silver until your arms fall off,” Clara said cheerfully around a mouthful of bread.

Rosie shot her a look. “Don’t scare her on her first day.”

“I’m not scaring her, I’m preparing her!”

Despite herself, Aveline felt some of the tension in her chest ease. These people, while strangers, were kind. The food was good. The room was warm. Perhaps this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As the meal continued, conversation flowed around her. She learned that there were nearly fifty servants working at the Estonia estate—house staff, groundskeepers, stable workers, and more. She learned that Romanof ran a tight ship but was respected by everyone. She learned that the best time to use the washroom was early morning before everyone else woke up, and that the cook, Mrs. Patterson, would sometimes sneak extra desserts to staff who’d had particularly hard days.

She learned the names of people she’d be working alongside—John the first footman, Peter the underbutler, Alice and Emma who worked in the kitchens (a different Emma than at the townhouse), and many others whose names blurred together in her exhausted mind.

As dinner wound down and people began to disperse to evening duties or rest, Aveline felt a strange mixture of emotions. Everything here was so different from Perta Village, from Bridget’s easy friendship, from Emily’s bright smiles, from Sir Dion’s patient kindness.

But perhaps, in time, this could become familiar too. Perhaps she could belong here.

If only she could shake the feeling that she was running from something—or running toward something—she didn’t fully understand.