The next morning, Farryn woke before the sun. She shivered in the kitchen, but then remembered. Serval was dead. She had been killed during the night. She wasn't here to punish Farryn for using too much wood.

So she grabbed a few logs, tossed them into the fire and watched as it roared to life. She peeked in the kettle; the stain and stench of the wine had been diluted by the hot water- and dumped everything in the slop bucket, throwing the kettle in too. She boiled water in a pot and made herself a cup of green tea, with too much sugar. She took a sip of it, and dumped the lot in the slop bucket too.

She swept the entire kitchen, and then headed upstairs, taking the hallway that did not lead to Serval's office. Instead she entered her chambers, noticed that Serval's bathing gown was slung over a velvet chair, still damp. It would ruin the upholstery.

No matter. Farryn entered the bath room, unsurprised to see that the tub was still full of water. She drained it, hauled the dirty water up and down the stars, and then filled it with cold water; she hadn't bothered to boil anymore- and climbed in.

She scrubbed behind her ears and neck, her back and legs and hands, washing away the dirt and grime that had accumulated over the past few weeks. She dipped her entire head in the freezing water to scrub at her hair, grimacing at the lice and dirt that fell out into the water. She rinsed her head over and over till she couldn't see any more of them.

Then she climbed out, dried herself with one of Serval's plush towels, and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked normal, plain, perhaps ugly, like Serval loved to say. But she didn't look too much like her. That was a good thing. Her hair was dark brown, not blonde, and the bridge of her nose not as high, nor as straight, though it had been once. It probably never would be that straight again, not after all the times it had been broken.

She dried herself off and left Serval's rooms, headed up another flight of stairs till she reached a little room that sat nestled by a beautiful rose-stained window. The room was large and dusty, never cleaned. Serval would have her hand chopped off if she ever entered it. The bed was still made, everything in order, as though it's owner might walk in any minute and call for a servant before retiring to lounge on the chaise in the corner.

Farryn headed for the closet in the back of the room, and held an arm to her face to avoid the dust that came up the second she opened the door. The closet was dark, cobwebbed, but the dresses at the very front were new, with low waistlines and extravagant sleeves, matching bonnets and stockings heaped on the shelves. On the floor was a basket of sleeve supports, already saggy, since the feathers within had wilted from sitting in the disused room for so long.

Farryn grabbed a soft grey piece with its matching bonnet and a pair of supports before leaving the closet. She loved grey, and it was an unassuming colour.

She dressed herself, stealing a bustle as well to support the skirts of the dress. She decided against taking a corset; it likely wouldn't fit, or, wouldn't fit as well as the one she had on, even though that barely fit, cutting into her ribs and leaving red marks on her stomach when she took it off. But she had grown used to it and that was that.

As she looked at herself in the mirror, she tied the ribbons of the bonnet under her chin, glad it was the latest fashion and hid her face in it's shadow. She took the stairs down, and went through Serval's room, finding her purse and the pile of money she kept hidden in the closet. Then she returned to the kitchen, grabbed a wicker basket and handkerchief, placed the purse and money in it, and headed out the front door.

She started down the path, heart thumping, following her feet. Just keep walking. She looked at all the beautiful houses around her, as servants, lords and ladies began their day.

A carriage drew to a stop near her, and she turned to see the bright face of a young woman hanging of its window. The driver appeared annoyed, and by the looks of the carriage's back rack, they had been shopping.

"Good morning!" the woman in the carriage cried brightly. Farryn smiled, greeting her too, but she could see the twinkle in the woman's eyes. Not so much mischievous as malicious. "You're of Lady Serval's household, are you not?" she asked. "Yes Madam." she replied, and the woman laughed. "Oh don't call me that now, girl. Why don't you come in and join me?"

Farryn knew better than to refuse. The woman would harp on her and cause a scene, so she nodded, waiting as the footman jumped down from his seat and unlatched the door for her. The interior of the carriage was a deep blue and smelled of vanilla. The woman's dress was so voluminous it took up a whole seat so Farryn sat opposite her, clutching her basket close.

The carriage started down the road as the woman spoke. "I'm quite sorry, but I can't seem to remember your name." she cooed. "Farryn, Miss." "Ah! Of course. Such an exotic name. I am Lady Estwor, one of my Estates is down the road." Farryn nodded, unsure of how to respond.

"Where might you be off to this fine morning, Farryn?" "I'm just off on errands for my aunt." Lady Estwor tutted, shaking her head. "I heard Lady Serval has had to lay off most of her staff. How unfortunate. Are there still many working there?" Her eyes were bright again; she longed for gossip, but Farryn shook her head. "It feels as though there is nary a soul left," she muttered. "Lady Estwor, I really must-"

"Oh don't worry about that! We'll take you right to the marketplace and boutiques. I couldn't possibly let a young lady like yourself travel alone." "Ah... Thank you." "Of course." Lady Estwor said. "Pardon me for this, Farryn, but it has been quite some time since I have seen you. I don't believe you were at my husband's dinner with your aunt last month?"

Farryn tried her best not to wipe her sweaty palms on the seats, and instead, she shook her head politely. "I am not out often, I'm afraid. Lady Serval is quite insistent that I maintain a good education. She tutors me quite diligently." she'd rehearsed the lie perfectly, as she had done all these years, or at least, the few times anyone had asked. All of the Lords and Ladies thought that Farryn Serval was simply an intelligent and studious girl, too busy to go out.

"That's quite impressive, but you ought to spend more time with your peers, don't you think?" Estwor chuckled softly. "Though I understand that you must be quite busy helping your Aunt. What a brilliant young girl you are."

Farryn nodded, abashed, and Estwor trailed off describing her husband's birthday dinner to her. Soon she heard some noise and commotion around them, and Lady Estwor called for them to stop.

The footmen opened the door and Farryn climbed out into the bustle of the Shopping District. Women in fabulous gowns flanked by their footmen and servants, hauling bags definitely not filled with food, but overflowing with gems and fabric and dresses and toys. Servants and maids, in their signature grey and white dresses, scurried in and out of shops with their own packages, picking up the Saturday shopping for their Masters and Mistresses.

She bid Lady Estwor farewell and walked until she was well out of view, wandering in and out of stores and even buying a few things. Strange carrot crackers and cookies, something called 'sorbet' that was so sweet it bit at the insides of her cheeks and made her blush. After 30 minutes she entered a fairly small store, dimly lit but for a few lanterns, and brought several meatpies and hot bread rolls, all wrapped up.

She left the store, and walked south until she was out of the Shopping District, the hustle and bustle wearing down as she walked. Her shoes pinched; she had stolen them from Serval's closet, and they were stiff and uncomfortable. And also unbearably loud.

But she kept walking, nodded to whoever stared too long, keeping to herself and keeping her head down. With her luck, no one would be able to see under her bonnet. With her luck she would get to her destination safely.

After two hours of walking; a feat that proved near impossible in the voluminous skirts and dampening sleeve puffs that she resisted removing- Farryn found herself at the port. It smelled of fish, stray dog and urine, but she didn't mind, high-tailing it straight for the smallest ship she could find. People bustled about the port; sailors arriving on land for the first time in weeks, maids and housewives yelling at merchants for overcharging, children in large hats with gaudy ribbons yelling down from the larger ships and throwing things. Farryn held her basket close as she pushed through the throng, heart racing.

The ship she was headed to was small, but not too small. The paint on the hull was faded, little more than a distant memory, and the sails were dirty and patched in several places. Sailors hauled heavy boxes that seemed to be filled with cargo onto and off it, and she bumped into one of them, making him lose his grip and almost dump the box into the sea.

"Oy!" he hissed, turning to her but then stopping, stunned. Farryn remembered she was dressed as a fairly rich woman and decided to take advantage of it, clearing her throat.

"Excuse me. I need passage to St. Berkerly's. Do you have any accommodations on your ship? I need to be there in less than a week." The sailor, seemingly not much older than her, raised an eyebrow. "A lady like yourself, on a ship as this? I could show you to one of the larger-" "No, I don't want a larger ship." she snapped. She cleared her throat, whispering to herself. Calm down. Stick to the plan. "I'm sorry, but my Mother is quite sick and I must be in Berkerly's immediately. The larger ships will take much too much time loading up and there will be much too many people for me to get any rest. I will pay whatever is needed if you can get me safely to Berkerly's before Sunday."

The boy still looked confused, but nodded, dumping the box almost on top of her feet. "Course Ma'am. I'll talk to the captain." he hurried up the gangplank, leaving her there alone, and she gulped, clutching her basket even harder, hoping no one could smell how much she was sweating.

A few other crew members loading the ship stared at her, but none commented. As a few people begin boarding; lower class families, mothers carrying their own children and fathers who haven't slept in days, she began to worry that her requests have been ignored, until the boy reappeared, leaning over the side of the ship.

"The captain would like to speak with you, Ma'am!" he yelled, and she nodded, hurrying up the gangplank and almost falling off a few times. The swaying of the boat unnerved her, but she followed the boy into the small shack-like structure at the back of the ship.

He knocked on the rickety door and a surprisingly feminine voice called "Come in." The door opened, and Farryn peeked into a decidedly gloomy little room, the only colour a shining trophy of some kind situated on the low desk and a quilt strewn over the chair behind it.

A woman sat in the chair, smoking a pipe, and she eyed Farryn up and down before setting it down. "Salutations, My Lady." she said. "Eggs here has told me you want us to take you to Berkerly's? I'd like to know how much you're offering." The boy protested "I'm not Eggs!" but the captain responded with a cutting glance. He turned red and marched out, leaving Farryn staring at the strange woman.

Farryn looked around for somewhere to sit, and when she found nowhere, gulped. "I'd offer you twenty-six Passes to get me there. Thirty if I arrive before Friday night." The captain tried to hide her satisfaction with the offer, but Farryn was good at reading expressions by now. "That isn't nearly enough to accommodate a lady like yourself." she crooned.

"Unless you plan on building me my own quarters, it will have to be." she retorted. The captain laughed, the laugh of a smoker, and then nodded. "Very well. We will leave in an hour or so, so I would advise you find a bed before they're all gone."

Farryn nodded, shoulders slacking, and hurried out of the office. She found the stairs leading below deck easily, and found herself in the damp and dark 'suites'; room after room full of rows and rows of beds. Already they were filling up, parents trying to coax their children to be silent as they prepared for the journey, single travellers settling down on the thin mattresses. Farryn lay on one, and stared up at the second bunk, mind spinning. The last time she had been on a ship; the first time she had been on a ship- had been over a decade ago. And now she was going back. Back to fix everything. Back to find her.