Lorina Her Golan, the owner of three edifices in the second borough, one in the seventh, and three maternities spread across the city of Ceri, stood at the threshold of the wide door of one of said maternities. The one in the fourth borough, which had become a liability for the Golan heirs during the last two years, as more and more people from the lower classes migrated from the poorer boroughs to the area.

Her sister Pehna had predicted that, of course, and from the share of the heritage of the money her late father had earned as a mining chief in the northern border, she had chosen one edifice only in the prestigious first borough. Lorina, eager with the sheer number of properties had taken all the rest, the maternities, the edifices, all of it, choosing daftly to believe the Green Guard would keep the area clean of the poorest. How wrong was she? As a result, she had to sell all of it, in hopes to gather money enough to buy an edifice in the first borough that could match her sisters.

"They're awfully late, your buyers," said Pol darling, in his deep voice, so certain, the most certain voice hear ears had ever had the pleasure to listen to. A middle-class man that had the manners of a full noble. In fact, Lorina wondered if he wasn't the lost son of a noble family. He'd originally been her butler when she welcomed him in her house, two weeks ago. Turns out, he had other talents. In bed— he loved her like she was as young as he was. Her marriage with Morican had been so lust-starved that she had forgotten the feeling of the weight of a man. In fact, she would probably have him in her bed as soon as the selling of the maternity house was over, that's another two solar arcs until Morican arrived home. She was safe, she was free, and she was loved. On top of that, Pol was the one to advise Lorina to get rid of the maternities. Now she wondered how she had been able to carry such a burden for a long time. Of course, she couldn't count on Morican and his long days of work at the borough's administration for that kind of insight.

Lorina didn't answer Pol's question. She reached for his hands and squeezed them. Her gaze scanned left and right. Silly of her. She didn't care in reality. None of these simple-blooded knew her. She was a free woman and would do as she pleased. Pol seemed too tense at her touch, however. "Is all right, darling?"

"Of course." He patted the back of her hand, she expected a kiss atop her head. Morican could never manage that, being so short. Then again, these youth of Tor Lomeon's time seemed to achieve the full height of a man at age of fifteen. Lorina wondered what it would be like in the times of the next Monarch; there'd be giants walking down these very Ancient-blessed roads.

Her head kiss never came, alas. But Pol was right to be a bit discreet, of course. She let go entirely of his hands. And she was glad she did so, a distinctly noble chariot rounded the corner of the nearest intersection. Two black horses pulled a square carriage heavy with silver ornamentations.

Even from the square window, Lorina could already recognize the buyer, her blond her, and bits of her elegant black clothing. And the distinctly clear eyes, so gray one could mistake her for a blind person. When the carriage finally opened, every trace of beauty seemed to multiply tenfold. Sure, enough Lorina's eyes traveled, discretely, to Pol who of course was looking at her, seeming distastefully pleased. Lorina breathed in, and out. They had already had this conversation. She was the one he loved.

"Lorina her Golin," the woman said, oh Ancients, so sweetly.

Lorina had completely forgotten her name and the papers she had prepared for the selling contract were at the maternities office. "Lady," she replied, smiling with half-parted lips, teeth all pressed together, her hands outstretching to grab the women's cold ones.

"Anya," she revealed her name before Lorina had to look a fool for her increasingly decaying memory. "Anya Dalyr's." After she let go of Lorina's hands, she looked at her from head to toe. "I must say you look splendid today. Forgive me." Her fingers ran along the hem of the sleeve of Lorina's dress. "The arrangements are a feast to the eye."

Lorina agreed. She was wearing an exclusive creation that had come from the highest Anutehi house of fashion. A somber and minimalistic fuel-dark dress, tight and fitting the body from neck to waist, exploding into a flower-like wave of light fabric up to her feet. In fact, she was hoping Pol would have made such a comment when they first saw each other that morning, leading her to their carriage for their leave. Perhaps Lady Dalyr's wasn't that bad after all. "You're flattering me, of course," Lorina said. "Is my memory faithful to reality or you were supposed to make the transaction with your husband?"

"Your memory is quite faithful to reality, indeed. But Fanou cannot be with us today. He's awfully busy with administrative work."

For the first time, Lorina acknowledged the man standing by the Lady's side. Her notary. With his lips seemingly cinched with glue, he looked so serious a neck vein could rupture at any moment to splutter blood all over her gold of a dress. He carried two heavy cases. "As long as the notary is here. . ." Lorina commented.

Surprisingly, darling Pol spoke. "May we enter?" And he was already turning his gaze to the arcade way leading into the maternity establishment. Without responding to Pol, Lorina quickly sauntered before him and led the way into the building. She usually didn't mind his sense of initiative, but this was a matter to be sorted among nobles. Still, she wasn't about to scold him in front of strangers. Lucky for him they'd become much more than mistress and servant. Lucky for him, not all simple-blooded were that bad.

"I imagine it would be the case that your husband wouldn't be present," Lorina said. "I witness the same with Morican, my husband dear. It's awfully hard to let men get to leave their work behind isn't it?" It was Lorina's cue to lead the way into some personal conversation. She was aware of the couple leaving in the first Borough near the avenue of the first Monarch, all of that information being gathered from the best gossip cycle she frequented after the couple manifested interest in buying the establishment. Too little information compared to what she usually was capable to gather.

They needed to be swimming in golden Cerics if they could afford a house in the avenue of the First Monarch, where they had apparently been living for multiple years now. They weren't one of those who came to the first borough and aimed for the most prestigious avenue only to move somewhere cheaper once they realized what that kind of prestige entails for one's finances. If Lorina could gather some information on the couple, she would be the star, the center of attention during her next mid-week gathering over hot liquor and red grass biscuits with the girls.

Alas, Lady Dalyr's didn't take her bait. Instead, she seemed marveled by the passers-by: women in different stages of pregnancies accompanied by nurses across the halls, some lucky enough to have their husbands by their side. Lorina dared to turn her gaze to the Lady and realized she was beaming. Well...

"I learned a good number of these children are abandoned by their parents here," said the Lady.

Lorina sighed exaggeratedly. "You have been in the city for a while now, have you not?" she said. "Well, you should know now that this is just the way of the simple-blooded," peering towards Pol, she classified her statement, "well, most of them. They reproduce like cattle, but unlike cattle they have much less care when it comes to actually providing for those children, to be sincere. I believe it's time the Monarchy regulates the number of these children being born. There are already too many of them. It's all a matter of sheer numbers. With all the rebellions going on. One day, they will be numerous enough to decide they won't follow the natural order of things anymore. It's not a secret that the upper classes are at a grave threat."

"Indeed, I completely understand your fears. But these children also didn't ask to be brought to the world only to be abandoned. I had been abandoned as a child myself," the Lady said. "That is why I ask."

She had been abandoned as a child...So was Dalyr the name of her progeny or an acquired name? Sorting that information was too much work and Lorina could already forget relying on it to discover things to feed to the girls. And was she even a real noble, or just a social climber? Lorina was losing her patience. Could this Anya Lady be clearer? "Oh, you were abandoned as a child?"

"Yes," she said. "How many births are there per day?"

"I would say around the hundreds but that is something you should ask the workers. But I assure you the business generates enough Cerics. Most who come here to the maternity house have money enough to pay around thirty-five silver Cerics for the admission." Before Pol's brilliant idea to sell the establishment, Lorina was thinking about making the price fifty silver Cerics. Even then that wouldn't be enough, given that she needed to pay each worker around forty per season. Good riddance actually.

"I appreciate the valuable information but I am not looking for profit," the Lady said. "This is more valuable to me. In fact, I will make admissions free of charge."

Lorina was at a loss for words. How well-off was she if she could afford to make all this a charity? And how did she plan on financing the worker's salaries? Not her problem. "That's splendid." Lorina smiled. In fact, she was afraid the Lady had not understood all the work the maternity house entails: cleaning, engaging workers, paying taxes on the Land to the Monarchy, and even dealing with the simple-blooded poor manners. "Perhaps it's time we sign the papers, I suppose you will be awfully busy afterward." Lorina needed to get rid of this establishment and could not risk the Lady backtracking. She rushed her steps towards the office of the maternity house, where her own notary already waited. All papers ready at the table.

There was a ceremonious talk on the stages and conditions of the selling and buying contract, which Lorina hadn't the brain to follow closely. She had paid her notary exactly for that. He knew best. Except for one point, the payment schedule: a single payment of two thousand and forty-three silver ceric to do immediately. All of it was ready inside two cases where were arranged rows and rows of Ceric coins.

Immediately, the notary put himself to work, verifying the legitimacy of each Ceric with a metal stick to verify consistency and a magnifying glass held one-handed. A long laborious process that had Lorina sore in her new tight dress, finishing only once the sun was well past midday point. The joyous verdict came from the notary exactly when she was on the brink of falling asleep.

All Cerics were real.

They signed the papers. Ancients! She was free from maternity house. Now, Pol deserved a sum of it. He'd been the one to give her that brilliant idea. And she needed to wait until other of her properties attracted clients. As for the girls, she'd done her best but she doesn't know much more about Lady Anya Dalyr's.