The frenzied harvest season is slowly coming to an end.

Elia is standing on a ladder outside, hammer in hand, nails in mouth, fixing the treehouse in the great purplewood together with Califer. It is a windy type of evening, and supper lies an hour in the past.

“Is Sam still coming to the harvest festival, Elia?” Cali asks.

“No clue. She wasn’t accepted into state knightship again. She's a bit bummed out.”

“That romanticized dream of a bureaucratic mess?”

“Yes. That.”

“Well, she should be plenty qualified. After all, isn’t she already your solemnly sworn knight?”

She kicks at his face. Cali shakes the slightly ladder in exchange, laughing.

“Since the state proctors should be coming back a week after new year’s, she should have time to study and try again, no? Where is she now?”

“She’s… somewhere.” But not here, Elia knew. They hadn’t seen each other in seven days. Sometimes servants are sent out on errands to the city. But not this long. And Elia is long past only worried. She is scared something happened to her.

“She’ll pop up, sister.”

Elia strikes for a nail and hits her own. She swears up a storm, matching the winds above. This night is turning out to be a cold one.

“Haven’t heard that one before.” Her brother says before turning. Elia only notices as her ladder turns with.

“Stop! StopStopStop!”

“Miss Elia!” The voice of a servant rings out below. “Miss Elia, a moment if you please.”

She packs the rest of the nails in her pocket and slides down the ladder.

“What is it, Yvon?”

She is a new servant of the house, just a week old. She is still not used to how the first daughter addresses every servant by their own name, much less that she can even place them all correctly.

“Well?” Elia shakes her out of her bout of dullness.

“The lady of the house calls for you.”

“Oh. Ok. What does Mum need?”

“She did not tell me, besides that you are to urgently meet her in the study.”

“The study. Alright then.” She turns to Califer. “Tell Sim he’ll have to wait until tomorrow for his treehouse.”

The walk to the study is somewhat awkward. It is Elia’s father’s room after all, one he meticulously keeps everyone out of, under threat of punishment. But today, she is invited inside. And by her mother.

The servant knocks at the closed purplewood door. “Madame. The young lady.”

It opens and falls back close with a heavy metal clack. Her mother is sitting on a padded chair at the opposite end of a wide, old wooden table. The leather office chair remains empty. A big fish with bulbous head sits as a trophy above the unlit fireplace.

“Elia! My little Elia-egg, come in, come in, sit down.” She says. Her face is an owl.

Rye walks forward, sitting on a pillow on a wooden stool.

“Mum.” Elia looks around, her gaze wandering over this alien room in a house where everything else is familiar.

“Tell me, tell me. How are your studies going?”

“Oh. Well. I’ve finished most of my arithmetic assignments for the season. I can read and write poetry that doesn’t make scholar Sniggleswink crumple his nose.”

Her mother laughs. “Ah yes, yes, good old Wilfred. He was a stickler even when he was teaching me. Though I confess, I was much too old for learning. So, how did you enjoy your travel to the city with your father?”

“It was… neat, I guess.”

“You don’t sound all that taken by it.”

“There were a lot of people. I felt very crowded.”

Her mother gives a pitying look. “Well, we all must deal with the cards the gods have given us. But I have good news for my little egg. Oh yes. Listen here: I’ve had a word with your proctor, a clammy fellow by the name of Caul. He has promised me that you will have a slot for your state exam come the first full moon after new years! Isn’t that wonderful?”

“That… that… well… weren’t we supposed to wait another year?”

Her mother waves a hand dismissively and clicks her beak. “The early bird gets the worm, Elia. And what an opportunity the gods have given us!” As her daughter stays quiet, she leans towards her. “I am sure you’ll handle it, no problems. Isn’t that right?”

“Right. Yeah…” Elia takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “I can do that. But mum?”

“Yes, my little Elia-Egg?”

“I… don’t have a lot of time to study as is. Even with harvest season over. There’s wine to be brewed, wood to be cut, wheat to be threshed, Da’ wants to take me to meet all our client tenders, and- well, you see what I’m trying to say?”

“Of course. We will make sure to free you of all your larger duties after noon. We wouldn’t want any distractions for our biggest girl.”

“After noon…” That is… suddenly a lot of time.

Immediately, Elia’s thoughts drift to what she will do with it. Not all her thoughts are occupied with learning. Some are even quite… unsavory. Distracting. Enjoyable.

“By the way, have you seen Sam?”

Her mother blinks twice. “Sam?”

“Servant girl. Head and a half taller than me. Black hair. ‘Vicious eyes’. Your favorite errand maid, the one you always prance about and tell the servants is better than them?” Her mother calls them all servant. The hint of irritation in Elia’s voice goes unreproached.

“Ah yes, Sam. The rough servant girl. Of course.” She adopts a straight sitting pose. “She has been made to steer clear of you until you have passed your state exam. As have your siblings. No distractions, remember?”

“No… distractions.” A cool wind blows in from the adjacent study room. A heart skips a beat. “And you don’t happen to know where she is right now?”

“Elia, please. If I had to keep track of every servant’s whereabouts at any time, they’d be more work than worth. If she isn’t here, she’s out in the fields, helping with the last of the harvest. Which I must commend you of. You have been a tremendous help this season. Why, I would dare sa–.”

“Mum.” Elia interrupts her. “Please don’t try to distract me.”

Her mother freezes, small quakes running along her yellow beak. She doesn’t get a full word out.

“She was reassigned to one of our client tenders.” Her father’s voice cuts through the air.

He walks in from the adjacent room, an open book in hand. His body is framed by a tailored tunic in red, brown inlays mimicking much more expensive gold threat and hard shsandals he walks with everywhere, even inside. He wears the simple clothes like a king. His face is a rock, hard and flat, and his voice is a warning to all would be buts and why’s.

“R-reassigned?” Elia asks, tasting the word. “To where? When? Why?”

Her father sorts the book in a cupboard, row against flawless row. His finger trails along the wooden construction before he turns it and stares as if it were his nemesis. The result doesn’t set his face into a disappointing frown. Rocks don’t frown.

“But, but, the harvest isn’t fully over. We need every hand here, not with our other tenders. Why was Sam reassigned to, to–“

“To David.” Her father answers.

“David?” Elia doesn’t recognize the name.

Her mother’s face lights up, proud almost. “Oh, why yes, David. One of our new client and tender. After the old ones couldn’t pay their dues. Such a hardworking young man, from further south in the empire, you can hear it in his words. He’s got fire, he’s bold and a devout follower of Valti, the lady of the hunt. Oh, and isn’t he quite handsome as well?”

Elia’s father doesn’t answer, a small handkerchief conjured from nowhere working along the dusty woodwork with precise disdain.

Elia herself is simply out of it, for a moment. The thoughts in her mind whirling and warring against each other. They fall in line, after some corralling and calming breath.

“So, you sent Sam away.”

Her mother nods.

“Our best maid.”

“She does try hard, that she does. But I could name a few others who do better work in certain areas.”

Elia falters for a moment once more. Something she really wants to say goes unsaid.

“Our best maid. Which you rely on to do as much work as three. To a guy named David.”

“A client. Our client.” Her father says.

“And what a polite young man as well. So well mannered, such a warming smile when we handed over the loan. Oh, and did I mention he is handsome already?”

“And you think this is… fine?” Elia asks.

Her parents give no sign they do otherwise. Her father eventually sits down on the table, the big leather chair creaking with disuse. He is not a broad man, but sitting there, his presence is large and oppressive.

“From the perspective of our estate, one missing pair of hands won’t impact us too greatly.” Her father says.

He starts a lengthy explanation, backed by rational, on the state of affairs of their lands. Hot summer, short harvest, some losses, storm destroyed an orchard. Her mother cuts in every now and again, providing some small and insignificant detail. All in favor of the one they have conveniently forgotten.

They are doing it on purpose.

“One second. Back to Sam. Don’t you remember the promise you made to her? Work and service in exchange for being treated as part of the family and access to the books she needs to fulfill her dream? Reading, writing and arithmetic is all mandatory for state knights these days.”

Her parents look at each other.

“You are… oddly preoccupied with the fate of a simple maid. A firstborn shouldn’t worry herself about such lesser things.” Her mother finally says.

“She shouldn’t just be a simple maid. She’s done so much, worked so hard. For all of us. You could have adopted her. Should have. Like Max. Like Simon.”

“Elia. We have already spoken with her. Her future is something she decides on her own. She accepted to be reassigned to one of the tenders.”

That made little sense to Elia.

“Did you… did you give her another choice?”

Her father sighed, heavily. “Elia, it is time for you to think about your future and what it holds in store for you. You are nineteen years of age. Unmarried. You are well studied and on your way to gain an occupation in the city. You could even petition for citizenship. Not everyone is given that much luck.”

“But…” It’s not luck. Nor is it given. Elia has worked hard for this. Incredibly hard. For years. It’s almost a given she’ll pass the exams and gain some job or other in the city. They come with a lot of benefits after all. For herself, and her family. That doesn’t mean she didn’t put in the effort to be in this position now.

But this isn’t about her luck, or exams, or Sam. Not to them.

“Elia, my little Elia Egg. Have you even thought about what you’ll do with your state degree once you’ve got it? New years is only four months away, after all.”

After you pushed up the deadline.

Elia thinks. A moment strikes her.

“Oh, I didn't think about it much yet.” But she has already thought at length what to do with it. “What did you have in mind?”

Her mother immediately coos, jumping on this line like a cat on fish. “Ooh, I think your father and I both had the same idea. There’s this position in the administration of the city’s lands, a good thing to start from with room upwards. And your father has had a talk with Citizen Paulus. Remember him? Well, Paulus – his son, the younger one – just so happens to lead an orderly room in the office of tax with enough space for our little Elia to learn the ropes.”

The shine in her mother’s eyes reveals pride. Elia is supposed to be thankful for this.

“You want me to… become a tax… writer? Maker? Enforcer?”

Elia would certainly have to extend her own family estate some, well, benefits if she took this office. But that isn’t unusual. Everyone does it. Even this close to the capital.

“Oh, and did I already tell you about the younger Paulus? He is such a fine city boy, well mannered, a strapping young lad. You can trust him, he’s honorable and a friend of the family. He’ll show you how it’s done.”

Ah horrid process clicks to an end and Elia realizes a lot.

“You want me to work under him. With him. And then to marry him.”

Her mother attempts to stop her right there. “Elia, that’s simply not true. But you have to admit, he would be quite the catch–”

“You, this… You promised me. That I would get a choice in who I’ll marry.”

“Well, it doesn’t have to be him…”

“It could be any other, what, rich citizen you just happen to have set me up for?”

“Elia. Enough.” Her father says.

But Elia doesn’t feel like stopping.

“This is, it… Oh.” A knot forms in her belly. “Oh gods. You… you didn’t just do this to me. You sent Sam away because, because… you know. About us.”

Her mothers lips are thin and pursed. “We do.” Is all she says.

“And we do not approve.” Her father says. “You can do better.”

Better. Better?

“And why exactly do you think Paulus is better?”

They don’t say it, but everyone knows why. Wealth. Connections.

“Oh, Elia dear.” Her mother says and walks around the table, trying to smother her daughter. “You’re such an innocent little flower. You’re so delicate. We’ve always protected you from the evil in the world, bless Ruthe. We just want what’s best of you.”

But Elia shrugs her mother off. Quite strongly in fact.

“You’re lying.”

“Young lady!”

“You are, though!”

“That is no way to talk to your mother!”

“You are! You just want to control who I marry because they’re a better fit for what you want!”

“You, you… If we didn’t watch out for you, you would be led astray! Seduced by pretty men and bewitched by lusty women! You deserve better, Elia, you do. Think about us! Think about your brothers and sisters! You’re a firstborn, think about the family!”

Elia’s breath quickens. Something bubbles beneath the surface. She can almost feel it. Almost say it.

“I always have. I’ve thought of nothing but others my entire life. And Sam? Sam has never been beneath me. She has always been beside me.”

“She is a servant!” her mother nearly shrieks.

Elia looks her in the eye. “She deserves better.”

“Anyone! Anyone else! But I-I will not have my little Elia be dragged away by that mean barbarian whore!”

The room falls deathly silent. Rye has shot to a stand. Only her father remains seated and calm as only a rock can be. Uncaring.

“You will take the exam at the first opportunity after new years.” He says. “Then, you will enter a post under the office of tax. It doesn’t have to be under Paulus. But realize that you are causing a lot of grief, for me and the family. You would undo years of work.”

Work. That’s all it is to you. Work.

Rye turns to face her mother. “Sam? Sam, a whore? SAM?”

Her mother takes a step back as Elia approaches with an accusing finger.

“How dare you? How dare you? After all she’s done for you. After running her ragged and making all the other servants hate her. After her ten years of loyal service, that is what she is to you?”

Her mothers nose turns raised and her arms defensive, wrapped around her chest. “This was all for her future as well. She should be glad for it.”

The last thing in a long row of reveals clicks for Elia.

“You didn’t send her to David because he needs help.” She says.

“El–“

“You sent her there because you hope he'll seduce her and forget about me!”

Her mother reels and for a moment, Elia knows she has her. Then, her mother starts sobbing. She sits down and buries her face in her husband’s chest.

“Ungrateful! Selfish, mean daughter of mine! Oh, oh, where did we go wrong with you?”

Elia looks her father in her face. His gentle strokes on his wife’s hair a sole comment on where he stands.

“You are grounded for a week.” He says. “Go to your room and think about what you’ve said.”

Rye doesn’t.

“She was supposed to be family! She did everything she could to get your approval! You never treated her any better than dirt to shake off your boot!” She points to her father. “And you. You promised Sam. You made a deal. And didn’t do a single thing to help her fulfill her dream.”

“Lies! Lies! Ungrateful daughter!”

“Two weeks.” He says.

“You didn’t even give her any books to read. You gave her glorified picture books and worthless tomes we use for toilet paper!”

“One month.”

“How could you betray her? Betray me, fine. But she willingly entrusted her life, her future to you! How could you stab her in the back?”

“All we did was for you!”

“Two months.” He says, an unbreaking and unfeeling rock. “Be careful what you say next, young lady.”

“Fuck you.”

That at least gets movement into his stone face, a crack splitting a corner.

“Fuck you.” She repeats, and then once more to her mother. If someone else entered the room, she would be the one looking like a victim, abused by her own daughter. “Fuck you. Is this still ok, you think? Manipulating your servants, betraying them, your daughter, and calling them names, just so you can have your way? Do you think you’re better because Da’ pulled you out of the legion’s whorecamp?”

“ELIA!”

Her fathers face shows emotion for the first time. A genuine anger scrawled across craggy brows.

Ah. So this is where you draw the line? You did at least show pity once, to her.

“Do not show your face outside of your room until the day of the exam. You will take it. You will go and work under Paulus. I can’t force you to marry him but mark my words young lady: I will make sure you will never see that servant ever again.”

Rye turns and storms out the door. Hot angry tears within her eyes, but she brushes them away.

“I hope that unclean mean-eyed vixen gets knocked up by that stupid southern hick!” Rye hears her mother scream from outside the room.

She makes it to hers, pushing servants and sisters out the way. A Viln Vase depicting the gods in a closed circle, cutting the woods to keep them at bay narrowly escapes her bottled fury. Finally inside, she sags down next to her bed and cries.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

It is dawn. Hours have passed.

Why am I awake? Am I alive? Why has everything conspired against me? For what? I’ve always been good. Sam has always been good. And yet. And yet…

She sits up, hugging a pillow and stares at the wall.

I can do nothing. As long as I’m under my parent’s roof, they can make me do whatever they want. Whatever they think is right.

Disgusting.

She sits at her desk, a half-cracked book still open, a dried quill and a few closed inkpots littering the sides.

If Sam is with a tender, then she’s there as a servant. Has been lent. Like a thing.

He can do whatever he wants with her, short of killing. He won’t be punished. Not by the law. Not by father. Certainly not by mother.

A moment passes. Silence. Rye lights a candle wick and presses herself against pillow and desk. Her eyes flit over a meaningless passage in the book up front.

The law.

She flips a few pages, revealing nothing until a single important paragraph under state officials and civil services.

“…any state official is answerable upon their inception to no one but the empire, the empire and the empire.”

Time seems almost to stop. The storm outside bangs against the walls and windows. It has almost passed by this time.

I can do… something. Maybe. Something drastic.

She finds another passage, as important as the other.

“… when sworn to an order under the direct purview of the imperial government, a knight may choose up to three loyal servants, friends or relatives and have them accompany them to work the menial tasks and labor expected to form under extended deployment, among them being…”

One more. One more. I know it’s in here somewhere.

“… the imperial state extends its protection from all but godly intervention to the direct servants accompanying a knight and working within the order holdings, namely…”

A mote of hope forms within her chest.

When’s the next knightship exam? When, when?

Her heart falls a bit as she reads the week after new years. She won’t have her degree by then.

Mum and Da’ think I’ll take the state exam on the first full moon after new years. But if I take the next one, which is… in two months, I’ll have it by the knightship test. I’ll be overqualified, but… I am not really qualified outside of writing, reading and calculating.

I don’t even know how to hold a sword.

And then. Then I can take Sam with me. She is technically a servant under me, loathe as I am to admit. But I can save her from the clutches of David and my parent’s schemes. And then… then I will have to leave.

A flood of doubt threatens to overwhelm her. But she steels her heart, stoked by the burning hatred. By the dagger in her back. And the hope that she can undo the injustice done. To her. And to her love.

Cali can take care of everyone else in my stead. I feel bad about my brothers and sisters. But not my parents. They can go to, to… they can live an unhappy life without me.

She notes down the dates and looks outside. The sun is gently rising over clouded sky. She cracks open the book and starts digging into her last assignments.

In our relationship, usually Sam’s the knight. But oh well. I don’t think she’ll mind the role change for a bit.