Large snow crystals were drifting past the only window in her room, the silence of an early morning covering the streets outside like fog.

Cara was looking at the snow from her perspective the large flakes were rising against a grey ceiling, her arms began to slightly shake, her muscles doing their best to keep her lifted as the tedious exercise reached it's final seconds.

She was in the middle of her room, hands pressed against the floor and her body stretched out in a slightly curved tower towards the ceiling. A handstand Bartholomew had called it, an exercise for body control and to strengthen her arm muscles.

It was the last part of her morning training and the part she looked forward too the most. The two of them had reached the city just in time, the next day's heavy snowfalls closed off most of the streets and blocked every pass around them.

The two of them were now cut off from Blackriver and the rebellion, deep behind enemy lines. Cara slowly lowered her head on the floor and rolled to her feet making as little noise as possible.

Keeping her training a secret was harder than she had anticipated, the small mansion they had moved in was already equipped with staff, which made moving their trusted assets into it much harder since the nobles of the merchant district payed for all of it.

Bartholomew was sure some of the staff was sent here to watch over them and make sure they were no spies or outlaws. After an evening avoiding the staff her master had scolded her and sent her to act like a spoiled rich girl.

Cara would have never imagined how horrifyingly boring the life of a noble had to be. Her handmaid had assured her as soon the commotion about her person had died down there would be less tiring things happening. Considering the tiring events consisted of tea parties and gossip hours Cara couldn't wait for them to stop.

Remembering every little detail about the recent mishaps of a duke that had tried to count a countess, a count that had found an appetite for young serving girls and the latest duel in the ever growing lines of pubescent boys had her eye the knife on her nightstand in a whole new light.

Every now and then one of the stories peaked her interest, like the one about the son of the king. The young prince had been taken to the city of fire, Arthemia the Capital of Dragons.

Sadly the details of said venture were lost to the girls that had told her about it. They had been more occupied with the bastard sword the boy had been carrying and the fancy armor.

"My father told me the steel for the blade he was carrying was carved from the Dragonthrone. The most sacred places of the Draconians, they never go there since they believe that's where they came from." Alicia had whispered.

Cara had made a note of the name, might be interesting to know humans were sneaking into the sacred spots of the Draconians.

Someone knocked at the door.

"Miss? Are you awake? I have been told to go fetch you for breakfast with your father and a lesson of tailoring." The thin voice of Daphne sounded through the door.

Cara began to quietly undress and wipe away the sweat. If the woman found her like this she would most likely assume Cara was sick.

"I just woke up Daphne... give me five more minutes." she mumbled in her best sleepy voice, covering her face with the towel she was using to wipe the sweat off.

A light clicking sound from the other side of the door had her smile, Daphne might be the most gullible woman she ever knew.

She sat down on the bed and looked across the room where a mirror had been placed. A gift of their sponsor, the councilman that had arranged for their house.

Her picture was different, back in Crossriver she had always liked her eyes best about herself. Now they had changed, dark rings surrounded them, made them seem smaller. Her arms had grown thinner the muscles now clearly visible beneath the skin.

During winter she got away with long sleeved shirts and dresses but summer would prove tricky. Bartholomew had suggested for her to get a tattoo on both arms, according to him it was the latest trend in some of the southern provinces. Cara had little intention of having a tattoo but if she did not find a better excuse by spring she would need to get one... or risk being discovered or branded an outsider by her new girlfriends.

With a sigh she started to dress like a lady of Goldhill, according to her status her dress was covering her legs to slightly under the knees, a blue ring at the edge symbolized her status as a tailor and a gold streak to her side that she was sponsored by a high official that would remain nameless.

It was not the most prestigious thing for a young woman to wear since most that were sponsored were either expensive whores or mistresses, which Cara had trouble telling apart, but not wearing it was an insult to the sponsor... and would most likely get her flogged and thrown from the castle.

With one last check for all her knives she opened the door and walked down to the living room where Bartholomew was already eating a lavish breakfast.

"Good morning my dear!" He said happily between two bites of honeyed meatballs.

Cara bowed slightly and giggled when Bartholomew did the same and lost one of the meatballs he had been holding. Some of the serving girls covered their mouths to hide a smile and Bartholomew exclaimed annoyed. She gladly took the opportunity to slip into character.

"Father! Watch you manners! We are supposedly the honoured guests of this city. I hope you will learn before the big introduction dinner later this month!" Cara pouted and sat down her cheeks slightly red.

Bartholomew looked down at the lost meatball then back up at his daughter. Cara took one last breath before she completely became Angela the daughter of Saulus the tailor.

"Have you decided on what you are going to make for me? I would like to choose mx jewelery accordingly and that will take some time." Saulus sighed at the mentioning of jewelry, he hated spending money for it.

"Honey don't you have enough gold and jewels already? A farmer could live for years if he had only one of those pretty things. Don't you think we could spend our money in a better way? Like paying a teacher for your studies? You know you are behind in every subject if you want to enroll into university next year!" Angela stopped for a second, 'spend in a better way' was code for go along, Saulus had a new plan.

"But dad, I got lots of time to go to university... besides, being smart is not gonna get me a beautiful hu-" Saul reddened and interrupted her.

"You are way too young for marriage! Remember what nearly happened with Warren! Do you want to be spoiled for marriage? Do you?

Now stop with the whining! You are going to be a merchant! Act like it! Bargain your way out of this."

He slammed his hand in the table and the room grew quiet. Angela took a step back fear shining in her eyes, then she put up her chin took a step forward and sat down across the table from her father.

"So, you want me to get into university? Fine, if you agree to a monthly allowance i may spend how i see fit I will in turn do whatever you deem necessary in order to pass the entrance exams. their eyes met and for a short moment Saulus's eyes shone in a light that Angela thought could have been pride.

He folded he hand in front of him on the table.

"I am listening, what are your terms?" he waved a servant and the girl disappeared in the study for a moment before returning with a piece of paper and a feather to write.

Saulus took the feather into his hands dipped it into the dark blue ink and turned his eyes back on Angela. Cold sweat crept from every pore on her back as she thought about proper terms for a contract like this. She should have listened a bit closer to the private tutor Saulus had arranged for her.

" Over the course of thr next year, I, Angela, daughter of Saulus the Tailor will commit myself to passing the entrance exam for the University in Arthemia." She stopped and waited until her father had caught up.

"To achieve this goal I pledge three evenings every week to study with whoever my father sees fit." she waited for Saulus to disagree or demand more evenings but he kept quiet and write down her words.

"In return I will be allowed to leave this house two times a week and return no sooner than three hours past midnight..." Saulus stopped writing and looked up to his daughter, Angela smiled.

"Two hours past midnight?" Saulus nodded and kept writing, Angela took a deep breath and continued.

"In case of failure on my part to uphold the promise of passing the exam, all privileges shall be annulated and evenings shall be spent as my father, Saulus the Tailor, sees fit." While writing Saulus nodded in agreement.

He filled out the last part which made the document legally binding for both parties and waved Angela to come over.

When she stood next to him he whispered into her ear.

"The son of the high council will be leaving after this year for Arthemia, you will accompany him." Cara nodded, she would need to talk to Bartholomew soon.

Angela signed the document and watched her father do the same, pride was swelling her chest, she had just successfully closed a very old argument with a deal. Like a true merchant.

"Now, the son of our sponsor is currently being taught by one of this city's finest academics and he offered for you to join them on three evenings a week. Which fits excellently with our agreement wouldn't you say?" A smile appeared on her father's lips, Angela held back a curse she had been played.

The thought of another noble in her life after what happened to Warren was not something she was looking forward too but there was no denying her reluctance to meet boys would lead to questions and rumours. She looked at Saulus and sighed, dramatically and as fake as she could.

"Fine dad, I will learn at the Goldhill mansion." she sat down and tried to hide a smile, Angela was supposed to be happy about this. The girl was in love with Michael, Cara on the other hand would have to be on guard around the boy. Against all the evidence she had heard a first meeting had shown that Michael might be spoiled but smart and an excellent fighter.

What had seemed like something a boy of his age would tell friends to impress them had proven to be a incredibly harsh training under the leader of the Guards of Goldhill. Nearly four hours every day was reserved for training and if he could he trained more than that.

Angela had marveled in what the reason for this regime was, his father was proud of course but he would have been fine with Michael taking more breaks. Yet the boy continued on his path and had already reached the level of a trained soldier when it came to swordfighting. He was about Angela's age and had already bested a couple of guards in sparring matches.

The constant training had made him lean and muscled having most girls following him wherever he went. Angela wished to meet with him, just the two of them and talk to the handsome boy. Cara on the other hand knew how dangerous that was, nobles could get away with everything around here and a girl completely in love could be taken advantage of.

If that happened the Angela and Saulus would receive a nice sum and be thrown from the city before rumours started. If Angela was to truly win the favor of the boy she would need to be different than the others something the boy was less inclined to discard as fast as your average pretty face.

One of their servants brought her a biz of mashed potatoes with strawberry, Angela's favorite breakfast dish. She thanked the young man and began to carefully pile potato and strawberry onto her spoon. Lately it had become a bit of a game among the women to make the perfect spoon filled with food before eating.

Angela had taken to this trend like no other drawing pictures of strawberry onto her mashed potatoes before eating. Her skill in the little competition had lead her to be called towards the higher tables at dinner parties more often. That in turn had gotten her the opportunity to befriend Dalaria one of the richest families daughter and about as smart as an empty barrel of wine.

While the girl was kind to most strangers she kept a close eye on her friends, every move was being noted and every small mistake carefully taken track of. Over the last four times Angela had met the girl she had warmed up to her but also started to display a close interest on what she did and whom she met. A fact that was proving more and more bothersome as she had wanted to keep a low profile, staying out of sight long enough for her to truly adapt to her role as Angela and learn the few tricks she was still unaware of.

Daphne her handmaiden was missing from her side, as soon as she had agreed to the contract she had excused herself and went to the kitchen. Another perfectly styled spoon rose from the plate, she would have loved to just eat but learning the proper etiquette was important if she was to stay in the upper circles of Goldhill.

At the other side of the table Saulus smiled when he saw her arranging another spoon.