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Mrs Elincia sits on a bench in the villa’s kitchens, trying to gather enough strength to maintain her usually inflexible aplomb. Today is really taking a toll on her.
First, little Liserett had disappeared again in the morning and she had spent a whole hour trying to find the child. It turns out she was hiding in her mother’s workshop, tidying up the messy place as she had put it. She’d made the place worse really, but at least she were safe and no harm had been done. Well, except for Mrs Elincia’s blood pressure.
Mrs Biakko had had to leave early this morning, in order to negotiate contracts with traders in Gallen. It had given Mrs Elincia plenty of time to clean up Liserett’s shenanigans, then they had went to the construction site to bring Mr Gaston a meal.
What was meant to be a short visit turned into a lockdown as a severe dust storm occurred, thus jeopardizing the roofless inn. For what seemed like two hours, a dozen of workers, herself, Liserett and Gaston hid in the tiny, unfinished inn’s cellar. Sitting straight and properly on hard stone stairs, trying to ignore the smell of the workers, and trying to pacify Liserett's growing impatience had been no small task.
They had then finally returned to the villa and Mrs Elincia was about to put Liserett and herself to nap when Mrs Biakko came back from her journey, unfortunately quite upset. Something about never being safe, spies and being nobody.
And now she’s locked herself in the villa’s larder, naturally.
The head cook gives her a meaningful look. A look that says “Ge’ her outta ther, I gotta ge’ the damn lamb so’s ready fo’ dinner.” With a sigh, Mrs Elincia gets up and winces. Her old bones will surely need several days to recuperate from sitting this long on the stone stairs.
Even with the dryness of this region, she’s not getting younger. Of course it would be easier if she only had to raise Liserett, but Mrs Biakko can sometimes present some rather major behaviour issues. Like this current situation for example.
She carefully walks down to the cellars, and tries to open the larder’s heavy doors. There is no lock on them, but something, or rather someone is solidly preventing them from opening.
“Mrs Biakko, please do come out, this behaviour is a rather poor example to show little Liserett.”
“Ah, Mrs Elincia! I’m afraid not, ye see, it my very well be a matter of life or death and such.”
Mrs Elincia rolls her eyes. She’s heard of Mrs Biakko’s request for asylum. She isn’t a bad person, she’s actually a great architect, and she’s practically the definition of steadfastness. Yet she can be… somewhat paranoid, although this is a new level, even for her.
“I am sure no one threatens your safety here Mrs Biakko, please do come out.”
Silence.
“Mr Shepherdson needs the lamb, Mrs Biakko the only threat now is your family going hungry tonight and Mr Shepherdson resigning from his position.”
Just as Mrs Elincia is about to use the fail proof argument or her own resignation, Mrs Biakko finally responds.
“I need to send a letter. Would ye be so kinde as to write it as I dictate? I will maybe come out after.”
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Mr Horatio Vulkani,
The inn of Edhevrand
Pyrencia
Dear Mr Horatio Vulkani,
First of all, welcome to Hermertia.
I understand that you come from lands far South of Hermertia and I recognize your given surname, Vulkani, as Maarsean. That is quite a coincidence as I know a friend of mine who isn’t me who also come from Maarsea.
Which brings me to a concern of my friend’s. Would you happen to be a spy and or an imperial assassin?
If yes, then I am sorry for your loss.
If no, I am terribly sorry and would advise you wash your hands and seek immediate medical attention.
Kind regards,
Mrs Biakko O’Kleefe
Mrs Elincia puts her pen down and clears her throat.
“Mrs Biakko?”
“Yes my dear Mrs Elincia?”
“With all respect due, this is a very bad idea on several levels, I’ve had a very bad day and I’m not having with any of your irrational nonsense. I will burn this letter in a moment, but first, you come out of there right now and give Mr Shepherdson his lamb before I get angry. I will count to three. ONE.”
“TWO, MRS O'KLEEFE!”
“THR..”
The door opens partially, revealing a pouting, reproachful Biakko, although her reproachfulness is no match for Mrs Elincia’s.
“The Lamb Mrs Biakko.”
_________________
Lady Liserett of the House O'Kleefe
Countess of Chester-le-Ford, Wysteria
Deputy Minister of Hermertian History
Appointed Minister of Wysterian Architecture
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