The manor grounds had a small stable off near the side of the fence.  A gravel road ran up to it.  Inside she found a small carriage and two stalls.  There were no horses.  She was a bit relieved to see this, as while she didn’t know a lot about horses, she didn’t think that keeping horses cooped up with no fields to roam around in was healthy for them.  With a bit of searching, Olive was able to find some tools she thought would be useful.  A shovel, a canvas tarp, a ladder, and some leather work gloves that were a bit too large for her.

Then, she grimly tied her hair back with some string she’d found, and took her tools towards the front fence.  There was no way she was going to live someplace with a body displayed like that.  To hell with whatever message Prince Cariun was trying to send.  He’d be angry, surely, but that was why she intended to have it done before he ever got back.

Better to ask forgiveness than permission, she thought, except she didn’t intend to ask for forgiveness either.

Unfortunately, Olive quickly found that the job was much harder than she’d anticipated.  The body had been up long enough to become… soft… so getting a good grip without coming into too close of contact was difficult.  She breathed shallowly, trying not to inhale any of the smell.  The flies buzzed thick around her and she resolutely avoided looking at any exposed muscle.  She was better off not knowing for sure if there were maggots.

Finally, with a wrench that took most of her strength, she pulled the torso up over the edge of the spike and dropped it to the ground, clutching at the ladder to keep from falling off.  Panting, she climbed off, her limbs shaking.  The body had hit the ground with a sickening squelch, like dropping an overripe orange.  

Then, firmly on the ground again, she hastily stumbled a few feet away, fell to her knees and vomited into the grass.  She heaved until there was nothing left in her stomach and slowly, her shaking subsided.  She raised her head and looked around.

Someone was staring at her from the other side of the fence.  A young woman, possibly only a handful of years older than her, was watching.  She looked alarmed.

“What?” Olive demanded, her voice shaking.  “Would you want to live somewhere with this hanging on the fence?”

“N-no,” the woman stammered in response.  “Are... you Prince Cariun’s new maid?”

Olive grimaced.  Sure.  Why not let her assume that?

“I am,” Olive replied.  “Why?”

“You’re… not from around here.”  

The woman frowned, looking her over.

“He couldn’t even get you a proper uniform,” she continued, speaking to herself.  “Just hand-me-downs.  Such a pity.”

Then she straightened, tearing her gaze away from Olive’s dress and looking her in the eyes.  She seemed so earnest, Olive thought.  It didn’t seem like she was trying to be rude.  Just… concerned.

“You should find a new master straight away,” the woman said sternly.  “He’ll get you killed.”

“I don’t intend to betray him.”

The maid shook her head briskly.

“He’s not the only one you have to fear.  If they think you’re loyal to him… well, they’ll start wondering what secrets you’ll spill with the right coercion, if you understand what I mean.”

Despite herself, Olive glanced towards the bloodied spikes.  It wasn’t just Cariun.  The whole of the nobility was like this.  She felt cold, despite the warmth from the sunlight.

“Aren’t they afraid he’d retaliate?” she asked.

“Him?  Retaliate?”  The woman laughed.  “Sure, but all they’d need to do is keep their bodyguards close and there’s not a lot he could do.  The king might take offense if they kill him, but they could certainly teach him a lesson if he tried to lay hands on their masters.”

Olive glanced at her feet.  She remembered Cariun’s warning about spies.  This woman didn’t seem like one, or perhaps she was just very very good at it.  She’d keep up the act, she decided, and pretend to be Cariun’s maid.  Even if this was a spy, perhaps she’d lose interest if she believed Olive wasn’t anything more interesting than a foreigner that managed to offend the king.

“I need this job,” Olive mumbled, fiddling with the fold of her skirt.

“Well… I suppose if you’re that desperate, I won’t say anything else,” the maid said reluctantly.  “But do you at least want help hemming that skirt properly?”

“I kind of need to, well… take care of that.  His orders and all,” she lied.

She gestured helplessly at the corpse, refusing to look directly at it.

“I’ll send someone to dispose of it.  One of my household’s guards owes me a favor.  I’ll be happier having it gone too.  Prince Cariun is a brute, isn’t he?”

She shivered.  Olive laughed weakly.  And then she accepted the woman’s offer.  If Cariun wasn’t going to help her with anything, then she’d find her own way forward.

The maid’s name was Lylle.  She worked for a merchant across the street.  There weren’t many nobles near Cariun’s residence, she said.  While this was technically the noble district, there were plenty of high-ranking officials or wealthy merchants that also lived here.  She was quite happy to chatter about their surroundings as they worked.  They were in the servant’s quarters of her master’s manor, where she had her sewing supplies.  Olive stood on a stool while Lylle went around in a circle, deftly pinning the dress so that it would fall more evenly around her ankles.

This area was at the edge of the noble district.  It was a very safe place to walk around, she said, on account of all the noble’s guards wandering about.  The stores and other commercial endeavors that catered to the wealthy were also similarly safe.  She might want to be careful if she went down to the markets past that, though, Lylle warned.  Foreigners were easy targets around here.  

The only thing Olive had to worry about in this area was the nobility.  And if they decided to take her, it wouldn’t matter where she was.  They’d sweep her off the street in broad daylight and no one would bat an eye.  

Lylle was just trying to warn her again, Olive thought. 

“Can maids have… bodyguards?” Olive asked.

“Of course!” Lylle replied brightly.  “If you can get in with a different noble, they’ll make sure you have an escort.  I don’t get one because my master isn’t that important.”

She wasn’t interested in advancement, she said.  There were social ranks within servants as well, which was why Cariun was having so much trouble finding new servants.  All the ones that were qualified to serve a prince would find employment elsewhere.  Lylle could potentially go serve a noble herself, as she’d been working under the merchant for enough years, but the violent nature of their politics frightened her.  

“You’re a lot braver than me,” Lylle said.

“I don’t have a lot of options,” Olive replied.

“Well, I’ll help where I can, then!  You can ask me anything.”

This, Olive thought, was going to be her advantage here.  She didn’t care about status or rank.  She had a whole world of potential allies.  Olive glanced down at where Lylle was finishing with the last of the pins.

“Thank you so much,” Olive said earnestly.  “It’s good to have a friend.”

And Lylle’s smile beamed back at her.