[Closed] Housemaids from Hell

Daalton is looking for a new servant. Berna applies for the job.

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Bernadette Seymor
Posts: 16
Joined: Tue Jun 26, 2018 4:55 am
Topics: 6
Race: Passive
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Writer: Lantern
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Wed Jul 11, 2018 7:03 am

10 Roalis 2718
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The old compass had been Berna’s toy when she was a child, in her life as galdor, before she was outed as passive and gated in Brunnhold.

It was still a real compass. It worked just like a compass should, although it was looking a bit battered and scratched after having been a plaything. Her uncle had given it to her when he had replaced it with a newer model. Berna’s memory of the moment and her uncles kind and loving words when he gave her compass felt like a memory of a mysterious dream to her now, enigmatic and surreal.

One day Bernadette, one day you may become an explorer just like me and travel to the unknown and still unchartered corners of the world. Who knows? If you just study diligently and put in effort to learn and memorize everything your teachers tell you to learn, you can become anything you want to be. The sky is the limit, child, only the sky is the limit. The whole world is open for an ambitious galdor. See this little device I have here? It’s a compass. The compass can seem like a very simple instrument, but it’s actually based on one of the most mysterious and unexplained powers in the world: magnetism. Just like galdori have fields of magic, the earth has fields of magnetism, and the compass detects those magnetic fields and uses them to tell you which direction you are going in. Here, you can have it! I have bought a new one for myself, but this one still functions perfectly well even if it’s a bit outdated. It will show you the way wherever you want to go.

Berna held the compass in her chapped servant hand and watched the small needle point to the north, as always. It trembled slightly. She knew that the nearly invisible trembling of the instrument would stop and the needle would become totally still and stable if she would put it down on the table. Although the table had once been a tree vibrating with life like all organic beings, it was dead wood now. It would be totally still and the compass needle would mirror the stillness of the dead materia. Her hand would never be that totally still as long as she was alive. All living beings were constantly in motion. Whether they were awake and aware or not their bodies or were never sleeping. Berna’s heart was working night and day and so were her lungs and other inner organs, the part of her which was always in motion even when she lay sleeping, seemingly motionless, exhausted after a day’s hard work.

Life trembles inside us as long as we live. This affects the compass and makes the needle tremble too. It not only reads the mysteries of the earth’s magnetic fields, but also differs between the fields of the living and the dead. If you use it on a ship it will move with the waves, if you use it a wagon it will move with the wheels as they move over cobblestones and gravel and if you use it on an aeroship it will dance with the winds. But it will always point to the north. You will always know where you are headed.

"Like right now" Berna thought sarcastically to herself and put the compass back into the drawer.

She didn’t need a compass to tell her the way. She had been gated in Brunnhold for fifteen years and she wasn’t going anywhere at all, ever.

Her red hair was braided and by looking at her uniform for the day people could see that she was a housemaid on cleaning duty. The dress was black and the apron was white, both were of simplistic cut and lacked any hint of elegance. She was going to sweep and wash floors, dust off and polish furniture and trinkets, and clean windows until the glass was so spotless and clear that it was nearly impossible to see it.

“You coming Bernie?”

Berna’s bunkmate Mary was her constant companion at work as the passives always worked in pairs. Mary waited impatiently and had already opened the door. She wore the same attire as Berna but was twenty years older and looked way more gruff and tough than her younger serf colleague. Unlike Berna, who had been gated in Brunnhold since they had found out that she was a passive, Mary had been dumped in Old Rose Harbor on a dark and stormy night thirty-five years ago. She had lived as a so called free passive for thirty-two years, until she had been sentenced to servitude and sent to work in Brunnhold, so she had only been a serf for three years. The lion’s part of her life as passive had been totally void of the repetitive routine of their life in Brunnhold. Sometimes in the evenings, if they weren’t too tired, she entertained Berna with colorful stories about her past as Mary “The Lamb” Lambert.

Berna had a perfect track record as paragon servant and was informally supposed to supervise Mary. The idea was that the example of an ambitious and reliable high performing servant would inspire the less reliable convict to improvement and reform her. That wasn’t how it really had turned out, but both housemaids kept the appearance up when other people could see or hear them.

“Coming.”

Berna rose from her bunk and walked the very short distance over the floor, went out through the door and closed it behind her. She continued silently towards the stairs, Mary following behind her like a lamb. After quickly swallowing the morning porridge in the servant’s diner, they continued to the room where they could fetch brooms and scrubbers, buckets, dusters, floorcloths, mops, soap, towels and all other things a proper housemaid could need for a day of hard work in the cleaning brigade.

Berna and "The Lamb" would soon be on their way to work, feeling pretty well prepared. They were going to clean someone’s house or perhaps a public location. Exactly where they were going still remained to be revealed to them, as there was no reason for telling servants about next day’s chores in advance. The uniforms they had been given indicated the nature of the coming tasks so they could prepare properly. That was enough. They joined the line of servants waiting for their working orders without any signs of enthusiasm, expecting to just be told where to go and what to do.

“Before I give you your work orders for the day I have an announcement for you.” The matron in charge spoke to the passives in a self-important tone as she unfolded a sheet of paper and started to read the content aloud.

“Professor Daalton Gilardioni is looking for a servant of a more permanent nature. Those who want this position may ask to be assigned to work for him for a day, so they can apply for the job personally ... on my recommendation. ”

She continued to read. A personal application was desired, not only because the passives weren't skilled enough in intellectual matters to be able to put together a decent application letter, but also because the professor saw no reason to waste time. The requirements on the applicants was that they must have a good track record of loyal and reliable service in Brunnhold. They must never have shown any signs of volatile diablerie. Although being passive, with what foul and cursed nature this indicated, they should be among the relatively better passives. If they had been raised in their parental home to be well-behaved and well-trained servants it would be seen as an advantage, although it wasn't necessary.

A profound silence descended over the room. All the housemaids stood like statues in the line, gazing emptily out into the air. Daalton Gilardioni was a well-known ultra-racist. The matron looked annoyed. She consulted the paper again and added the last sentence, which she had taken for granted she wouldn’t need to say.

“Good prospects for the right applicant.”

Compact silence. An insect buzzed in a corner. I was nearly the only sound, because the servants were doing their best to breathe soundlessly. Nobody stepped forth. Nobody even moved, for fear of any slight movement being mistaken for interest in the job. Nobody ...

Thoughts started to rise in Berna’s brain. Nobody wants the job. At least not right now. The competition is zero. None of those “home-raised” ones want to apply, at least not among the women, don’t know if there’s competitors stepping forth in the men’s section, but ... judging from the silence this can be my chance to advance. Daalton Gilardioni? Oh my, that man’s reputation for racism, how can I even think of this ... but what if it is my best chance ever to advance and become more than a general housemaid?

Regardless of the reasoning which continued to spin in her mind, regardless of reason and common sense, Berna stepped forth like carried by an unknown inner power and said that she wanted to apply. A loud clanking sound behind her indicated that Mary had dropped a metal bucket on the stone floor.

The matron looked relieved. Berna and Mary were promptly sent to professor Gilardioni.
Last edited by Bernadette Seymor on Fri Jul 27, 2018 1:37 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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Daalton Gilardioni
Posts: 30
Joined: Sun Mar 25, 2018 5:05 pm
Topics: 5
Race: Galdor
Location: Brunnhold
: Better Than You
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Wed Jul 18, 2018 12:10 pm

10 Roalis 2718

"Good help is so hard to find," Daalton muttered, placing his face in his hands as cool morning air blew in through the window. He'd been awake for two hours, and because of the death of his manservant, Duncan, had not had breakfast yet. Frowning, he let muscular legs fall over the side of his bed, feet touching the cold wood of the floor and sending a shiver through his body. He slipped on his house shoes and stood, stretching his back with a low grunt. He pulled a robe over his bedclothes and set off to find something to eat, perhaps the pack of bacon he'd seen in his icebox the previous day. Frowning, he stood in the kitchen, staring at the stove, dismayed.

He needed a new servant. Quickly.

He put the ad out and had a reply within a few hours, which was more than he was expecting. It took him weeks to find Duncan, whose countenance was perhaps the most admirable Daalton had ever seen in a scrap. Duncan was quiet, polite and respectful, and knew how to anticipate the man's needs before he needed them. It was impressive in a servant, and the best part was that Duncan took his punishment without complaint or comment. He knew his place, and Daalton knew it would be unrealistic to expect this one to know his as well. Sighing, he set to frying up the bacon, the loud popping and exquisite smell filling the house.

Once he'd eaten the bacon and the eggs he fried in its grease, he set to drawing his own bath. He didn't even know where he kept the scents he preferred in his water, searching while the water filled the tub. It took fifteen minutes, drawing him from the bathroom until he found them. Clove and pine, the perfect combination of oils, went into the water he hadn't tested yet. He stripped, admiring his nude form in the mirror before lowering himself into the water. Pain immediately danced in front of his eyes.

"Ten clocking hells!" He exclaimed it to nobody, shouting and letting the words echo off the walls. He leaped from the water, splashing it all over the bathroom. The lower half of his body was angry and pink, the water too hot. Swearing, he set to mopping up the mess, letting out some of the water to fill it with cooler liquid. While he waited, watching with narrowed eyes, he clenched his jaw. He needed that new scrap, sooner rather than later. Finally, it reached the desired temperature, and he lowered himself in.

He never realized how much Duncan did for him. As he was washing his own back, Daalton considered how much the scrap meant to his daily routine, and a twinge of something pulled at his heart. He considered for a moment, whether he had started to feel something genuine for the man, but realized that it was a twinge of annoyance at the subservient bastard's insistence on dying young. Forty-five was no age for a servant to die. He hadn't even lived long enough for one of Daalton's punishments to affect him for multiple days. Frowning, Daalton scrubbed, the smell of his bathwater invigorating him and fueling his energetic anger. Fifteen more minutes in the bath, and he was clean. It took far too long.

Dressing was easy enough for the galdor, since he'd always taken to choosing his own outfits for the day. For all Duncan's strengths as a servant, he had absolutely no fashion sense. Dressing sensibly but donning the glasses he didn't need, Daalton prepared for the passive the University would send. It had been so long since he'd gotten Duncan, he didn't know about the procedural changes in sending two at a time, and he only prepared for the one. As they arrived, Daalton frowned, cold blue eyes working over the forms of the girls that stood in his doorway.

"The university had two eager scr-- volunteers, eh?" He smiled forcedly, looking more like the wolf that ate the granny. "Come in, it's too hot to stand here with the door open."

He stood aside, allowing the two girls to pass him. He held out a hand for the papers they were meant to bring, and when they were delivered, he quickly opened them and scanned them. Bernadette Seymor and Mary Lambert. Daalton had heard of the latter, the woman having been a mainstay even during his attendance of the university, though she'd aged more than the few years he'd been graduated. Nodding, he shut the door behind them, and directed them to the study.

"This way," he said, opening the door to the cramped room with bookshelves lining the walls. The desk was small, too small for the amount of work scattered across it, and the chair behind it offered the only spot to sit in the room. It was quite clear that Daalton did not intend to offer the passives a place to sit. Instead, he walked around the desk himself and took the seat, placing his fingers into a steeple as he observed the two women. He sat there, uncomfortably long, his piercing blue gaze drawing over the both of them.

"Mary, Bernadette, I am Professor Daalton Gilardioni. I am currently looking for a replacement for my manservant, Duncan, and am to believe the two of you have volunteered. Unfortunately, I am interested in only keeping the one of you, as I don't have the space to accommodate two servants. I will explain the details of your duties, and will allow you to discuss among yourselves who will stay, and who will go. Understood?"

There was obviously not much in the way of negotiation.

"Any questions before I begin?"






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Bernadette Seymor
Posts: 16
Joined: Tue Jun 26, 2018 4:55 am
Topics: 6
Race: Passive
Character Sheet: Character Sheet
Plot Notes: Plot Notes
Writer: Lantern
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Tue Jul 24, 2018 4:41 am

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Now when she was standing face to face with Daalton Gilardioni, Berna actually started to wonder if Mary had been right ... her bunkmate had scolded her for the rash application all the way to the professor’s home in The Racks. Not that it had been possible for Berna to change her mind, even if she had wanted to do it. They had been sent there in a carriage together with a bunch of other passives and with guards who supervised the “deliveries” of each pair of passives to the right destination.

Berna dismissed the unrealistic thoughts of changing her mind. Of course she wanted the job. Of course she must follow through, or else her chance to advance might be forfeit forever. Daalton’s reputation in the passive community wasn’t nice, but Berna was a longtime serf in in the city and didn’t expect any galdori to be pleasant to her. It was no surprise that the professor seemed cold as ice. Berna had no illusions. She hadn’t applied for the job because she expected it to be nice. She was in it for the title and for the somewhat better conditions the personal servant’s enjoyed. Or, as she had been told when she still was a small galdori girl, “it was better to cry in a gilded galdori carriage than in a rickety wick-cart”.

She took in the appearance of her potential new boss and his home. Berna had imagined him to be older and his home to be bigger. Daalton looked to still be fairly young. In passing by she noted a faint fragrance of pine and cloves. He looked well-groomed and his haircut was perfect, but his home smelled bacon and looked like it could need to be tidied up a bit. It was less impressive than she had expected.

Obviously it was true that Daalton didn’t have place for more than one servant, if “accommodate” meant that his servant would live here in this quite small apartment ... it hadn’t occurred to Berna until now that the job could mean that she must leave the familiar “safety” of the dorm she shared with Mary and move to a new place ... she was accustomed to always return to her usual shared servant room and fall into exhausted sleep when the workdays were over.

As always when she was dealing with galdori, Berna was on her toes. She was ready to obey orders. That was what the galdori expected. After her fifteen years of servitude Berna knew exactly how to stand: her pose was the servant equivalent of that of a soldier standing at attention. She stood on the spot Daalton had pointed at, not on the side of it, in front of it or behind it. On the spot. Exactly on it. She would try her best to do exactly as he wished, neither more nor less.

Unfortunately only one could stand on that special and perfectly correct spot. As Mary had only been in Brunnhold for three years and had never planned a career in servitude she didn’t care. She was concerned with totally other things. Firstly, she wanted to ensure that she wouldn’t be claimed by mistake. Secondly, she didn’t want Berna to get the job either. She wanted her young bunkmate to fail at the interview.

“Me ain’t the one who applied, sir” Mary announced.

“Berna did. I’m just here cuz we’re always going in pairs, you see. Dunno why, really, but they don’t allow us housemaids to go anywhere alone, even though we’re just cleaning and not doing any diableries. I mean, it wouldn’t work to have diableries in people’s homes. Important property could be destroyed. People could die. So, yeah, altough little Berna here is said to never have had an outbreak of the curse, one day it will probably strike out of the blue, so I always fear her myself to be honest. You’d better just forget the whole thing and send her away, sir. There’s plenty of better servants who were trying to get the interview so I dunno why the matron picked Berna. I mean ...”

Mary’s tirade continued. It evolved effortlessly into a long and windling story of the endlessly complicated kind that had nearly driven the court members insane at Mary’s trial for fraud. The woman didn’t seem to need to breathe. It was like one endless run-on sentence.

So incredibly wrong. It was a disastrous beginning of what had meant to be a totally perfect interview. Berna knew that Mary wasn’t dumb. The woman was deliberately doing her best to sabotage Berna's chances to get the job. There was no way for Berna to stop her without dropping her own perfect servant behavior. If she would get involved in an argument with Mary in front of Daalton she would come off as squabbling goof. It would just make Mary’s lies seem like the truth. Nor would Berna take the risk to immediately reply to the professor’s encouragement to ask questions, not as long as Mary was babbling. He had said that he would give them information first and let them discuss afterwards, not told them to start a discussion with each other right away ...

All she could do was stand totally motionless and silent and look attentively at Daalton Gilardioni, like nothing else than he existed in the whole world, just the way a proper perfect servant ought to do.

It wasn’t only her fifteen years of daily drill as servant and a strong focus on career at all cost enabled her to do so. The galdori family she had once belonged to, the quite insignificant Seymors in Vienda, had been obsessed with compensating for their lack of fame by trying to come off as flawless. The family culture had shaped her during her formative years in early childhood. As long she could recall she had been told would-be wise statements about the importance of constant improvement and memes like “if you don’t try you’ve already failed”. Some would have called it persistent and foolhardy ambition against all odds.

It was hard to know if Daalton Gilardioni would find her conduct right, or if he felt that it was Berna’s job to make her fellow passive shape up. Would he blame Berna for Mary’s lack of correct behavior? Berna hoped it was safe to assume that he took it for granted that he was the boss here, so she didn’t try to do anything. Hopefully the galdor would find it natural that he must be the one in command and meant to deal with Mary. She didn’t care what he would say or do to make Mary shut up if he just put an end to the babble. The woman had started to seem more like a saboteur than a friend.

Mary was at the end of the story: “Sooo ... now you understand that she’s impossible, Berna is. She would just pull shame over you and you’d seem like a person who’s unable to recruit a top class servant. True story! Mark my words!”

Berna just waited, her face impassive.

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