“Lanni, how are the party preparations going?” Lady Barta’s sharp voice sliced through the air as she entered the kitchen with Lady Telma, a friend and neighbor who often joined her for social calls. The two women swept in, their rich gowns trailing behind them, contrasting sharply with the humble simplicity of the kitchen. Lanni looked up from her chopping, the rhythmic sound of the knife against the cutting board pausing for just a moment. “Ahead of schedule, Ma’am,” she said confidently, popping a small piece of the carrot she’d been cutting into her mouth. She chewed casually, unbothered by the presence of the two noblewomen. Lady Telma’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes narrowing at the sight. “You let your servants eat while working?” she asked, her voice tinged with disapproval. Lady Barta’s expression mirrored her friend’s. She wasn’t pleased either, but she had already accepted this particular quirk of her cook. “She claims she needs to eat more because of her magic,” Barta explained with an exasperated sigh, as if it were something she still couldn’t quite understand but had learned to tolerate. “She’s a mage?” Lady Telma’s tone sharpened, her distaste evident. Magic was often viewed with suspicion, especially when practiced by those in servitude. “She came highly recommended from the Summer Palace in Sen-gan. We checked her references thoroughly. And she’s quite skilled, so we overlook a few minor... eccentricities,” Lady Barta added with a dismissive wave of her hand, as if brushing away something unpleasant. Lady Telma looked unconvinced but seemed to soften a little. “I suppose a few nibbles here and there are a small price to keep her content,” she said, glancing toward Lanni with a grudging acknowledgment. “We’re always hearing from Sen-gan and New Trito that happy servants serve better.” “Yes, so they claim,” Lady Barta said coolly, her gaze resting on Lanni. “Tell me, do you agree? Does a happy servant do a better job than one who faces a beating?” Lanni stilled for a moment, her knife hovering over the cutting board. The question was posed casually, but its implications hung in the air like a threat. Lady Barta seemed genuinely curious, though her question was laced with cruelty as if she was probing Lanni to admit something degrading. Lanni frowned inwardly at the absurdity of being asked whether she’d prefer beatings over kindness. But she kept her face neutral, her voice even. “When I was in the palace in Sen-gan, most servants were treated well. They went out of their way to help. The nobles who didn’t treat them well received... lesser service.” “And yet, they didn’t fear for their lives,” Lady Barta pointed out, her tone mildly smug. “At worst, they had to seek other employment.” Lanni nodded, carefully choosing her words. “Yes, but when I traveled, I saw those servants who did fear for their lives. Any mistake could cost them everything. It bred fear and resentment. Some were too frightened to act at all, terrified of making the smallest error. Others became desperate to escape their situation and would do anything, even kill, to get away.” She paused, letting that sink in. “It created a dangerous environment. People blamed each other, set rivals up to fail. The work became unreliable. If your cook was killed or beaten into a coma just before a party, what would you do?” Lady Telma shifted uncomfortably as Lanni continued. “And those who survived sometimes sought revenge. A poisoned meal, acid in a bath... these are easy things for an angry servant to arrange. It’s better for everyone if servants are treated with respect.” Lady Barta’s lips thinned into a hard line. She clearly didn’t like Lanni’s response. Lady Telma, however, looked intrigued. She was often more curious about such matters than her peers. Of all the Yarb nobles, Lanni found Lady Telma the most tolerable—not that it was saying much. “Have you really worked in the Summer Palace?” Lady Telma asked, her interest piqued. Lanni nodded. “I have.” “What’s it like?” Lady Telma leaned forward slightly, as though eager for a glimpse into a world she had only heard rumors of. “Huge,” Lanni replied, setting down her knife for a moment. “Almost as vast as the castle in New Trito. Hundreds of people work there, both servants and nobles alike. They have a cook, a chef, and several assistants.” “And the servants there are treated as equals?” Lady Telma asked, her eyes bright with curiosity. “To some extent,” Lanni said with a smile. “A servant can’t give orders to a noble, of course, and everyone defers to the royal family. But there are places where rank and privilege are set aside. In certain rooms, everyone is equal. No one waits on another unless it’s as a gesture of friendship. The king might serve wine, and the queen has been known to make coffee.” Lady Telma raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the thought. “Fascinating.” Lanni grinned, her tone lightening. “Until you taste the queen’s coffee. Even the elves don’t like it.” Lady Telma let out a small laugh. “Now that’s saying something.” Lady Barta, however, was still frowning, clearly disapproving of such egalitarian practices. “It’s hardly proper,” she muttered. Lanni shrugged. “It’s been that way for a thousand years.” “I’m surprised they don’t invite servants to their parties, then,” Lady Barta said, her voice laced with sarcasm. “There have been occasions when they do,” Lanni explained. “Whenever there’s a school tournament, for example, the parents of all participating children are invited to the celebrations. That includes the children themselves, of course.” “Outrageous,” Lady Barta shook her head, her disdain clear. Lanni shrugged again, unfazed. “Some ambitious parents don’t care much about education but push their children hard just so they can attend those parties. It’s not the best motivation, but the children still benefit from what they learn.” Lady Telma’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of amusement and interest. “Could you imagine that here?” Lanni expected Lady Barta to continue protesting, but instead, the noblewoman’s expression shifted to something more calculating. A smile spread across her face, slow and deliberate. “Why imagine when we could follow suit here?” she asked, a hint of mischief in her tone. Lanni’s stomach tightened. What was she planning? Her mind raced, trying to anticipate Lady Barta’s next move. “Lanni here is Menthanlan. We could invite her to our upcoming party and see how things go,” Barta suggested with a devious smile. Lady Telma, unaware of the underlying malice in the suggestion, beamed at the idea. “Oh, what a lovely gesture!” Lanni forced herself to remain calm, though her mind whirred with caution. At least it wasn’t the worst of her fears—Lady Barta wouldn’t invite other servants as sport for her guests. She didn’t care much for attending parties, no one would give her a hard time. She bowed her head slightly, playing the part of the obedient servant. “It would be an honor, but do you think Sifa will be able to handle the preparations by herself? I would need time to bathe and dress. It would be terribly rude to arrive smelling of the kitchen,” she said, carefully weaving her escape from the worst of the situation. A servant’s appearance would reflect poorly on her employer, after all. Lady Telma hesitated but smiled again. “You can borrow my cook for the evening. Lanni is efficient—she’ll have most of the work done hours ahead. My girl and Sifa can take care of the last-minute details.” Lady Barta nodded with satisfaction. “It’s settled then. Lanni, you’ll attend the party. If you have a man, feel free to bring him.” Lanni shook her head slightly. “I’m single, Ma’am.” “No matter. There will be plenty of men there. You’ll sit at my table. I’m sure the other guests will have questions about Menthanla.” “Yes, Ma’am,” Lanni replied, her voice steady despite the anxiety swirling within her. “The party is soon. Will you have time to get a dress?” Lady Telma asked kindly. Lanni smiled. “I think I can come up with something.” “Yes, Lanni sews quite beautifully,” Lady Barta added. “If she weren’t the cook, I’d consider hiring her as a seamstress.” Lanni knew that was a lie. Lord Rantar didn’t have the budget for a seamstress, and Lady Barta had only seen a few simple items Lanni had made for herself. Nothing fancy. While she could make a suitable dress for the party, she simply didn’t have the time with all her other duties. Not to mention, she hadn’t discovered any sewing spells yet. Still, she nodded politely. There was no need to make a dress. “Come, let’s leave Lanni to finish her work,” Lady Barta said as if the conversation had interrupted Lanni’s progress. In truth, Lanni had never stopped chopping throughout the exchange. As the two noblewomen swept out of the kitchen, Lanni continued preparing the meal, her thoughts now occupied with the party and the unexpected invitation. #fantasy, #magic, #dragons, #hiddenlands