The Spare's Empire

[lum]

While the mysterious pots remained firmly closed, her father entered.

He was already reading one of his ledgers, spectacles perched low on his nose as he turned a page without even looking where he was going.

Then, somewhat miraculously, when he reached her, he paused just long enough to lean down and kiss the top of her head.

"Good morning, little lady."

"Morning, father."

“Did you sleep well?”

“Sure…”

“Excellent.”

He turned another page. “Hmm…”

Lilium waited.

Nothing. He just kept on reading.

Her gaze shifted.

Cook continued stirring.

Her father took a seat and looked up only briefly at her. “Could you pass me the honey?”

She handed him the little pot without a word.

"Thank you."

He spooned a little into his tea without ever closing the ledger.

Silence.

Lilium waited another few heartbeats.

Still nothing?

She looked from Father...to Cook...to the tied-down pots...and back again.

Then the tiniest smile crept across her face.

Very well then.

If everyone else intended to pretend today was a day like any other…

...then she would pretend it was, too.

"Cook?" she asked in a light-hearted way.

"Mm?"

"May I help with breakfast?"

Cook nearly dropped his spoon. Yet he recovered with remarkable speed.

"... Help?"

"Mhm."

He looked at the three tightly covered pots, then at the girl, then back at the pots.

"I'm afraid...that… ehm…"

His eyes drifted upward, as though inspiration might be hiding somewhere in the rafters.

“... I’m fully staffed today.”

Lilium frowned as she looked around, seeing no one else but Cook, herself and her father.

“Oh.”

Cook nodded. “Yes. But another time, ok?”

She nodded gravely.

Before either could continue, the back door swung open.

Porter stepped inside carrying a wooden crate wrapped so thoroughly in coarse canvas that not a single corner of it remained visible. Thick twine crisscrossed the bundle several times before disappearing beneath an extravagant knot.

He froze in his tracks the moment he noticed Lilium.

“... Oh… hello little miss.”

“Morning, Porter.”

Cook looked up as well, noticing how Lilium looked from Porter to him and back.

Then her gaze dropped to the bundle.

“What is that?”

Porter looked down as though he had only just remembered he was carrying it.

“What is… oh… This?”

“Yes… That.”

He frowned thoughtfully.

"Erhm… This is… Crate."

Lilium blinked.

“I can see that? But what kind of crate?”

Porter shifted it awkwardly beneath one arm.

"The... wooden kind."

Lilium glanced over her shoulder.

Cook however suddenly became extraordinarily interested in stirring his soup. Her father seemed occupied with some math.

Lilium folded her arms. "I've seen wooden crates before. I meant, what’s inside?"

Porter scratched at his beard.

"I've only been instructed..." he hesitated a moment. "...to transport it."

"I see. To where?"

He looked around the kitchen.

Cook stared intensely into his soup, and Master Corvin was lost in the world of numbers.

Porter lowered his voice. "Now I've forgotten…"

"You've forgotten?"

"I had it written down."

"...Where?"

He patted his lower pockets. Then the upper.

His expression grew increasingly theatrical.

Lilium tilted her head. “Let me guess. You lost your note?”

"It would appear so."

Lilium looked from Porter...

...to Cook...

...back to Porter.

Then she smiled the smallest smile.

"Perhaps Father knows."

All the heads turned to Lilium’s father.

Master Corvin slowly finished the line he was reading.

He made one final note in the margin.

Only then did he look over the top of his spectacles, and only then did he notice the people looking at him.

"Hm?"

Porter cleared his throat.

"I appear to have... temporarily misplaced the destination for this crate."

"I see." Corvin regarded the bundle for a thoughtful moment. "Well that’s unfortunate."

"Quite,” Porter nodded.

Another pause.

Lilium waited.

Surely Father would solve it.

Instead, he took a sip of tea.

"Well," he said calmly, "you'd best remember, then."

Porter blinked, "...Yes, sir."

Silence settled over the kitchen once more.

Lilium looked from one man to the other.

Neither seemed remotely concerned that a mysterious crate had apparently lost its destination.

She folded her arms.

"I could read the shipping mark..." she tried.

Porter's eyes widened ever so slightly.

[lum]

Crates had always been one of Lilium’s favorite objects. The quality of the hinges, their dimensions, weight, sender and destination, and whether they were locked or not often hinted at what might be inside.

Porter glanced down at the crate," ...Unfortunately..."

Lilium crouched before he could continue.

The shipping mark had been covered by another carefully nailed plank.

Of course.

She looked up.

"... why is the label covered?"

Porter answered a little too quickly.

"To protect it from the rain. I mean... there had been a hole there. Before. We… I repaired it."

Lilium slowly rose to her feet.

“So… indoor rain huh.”

Cook made a noise that sounded suspiciously like someone swallowing a laugh.

Her father cleared his throat into his teacup.

"We're a very progressive household," Porter replied with complete seriousness.

For a heartbeat no one moved.

Then Lilium smiled. "I shall have to keep an eye on the ceilings."

Porter gave a solemn nod, tucked the crate more securely beneath his arm, and headed for the door.

Halfway there he stopped.

"Oh..."

Everyone looked at him.

"I've remembered."

"You have?" Lilium asked.

"Yes."

"The destination?"

"No."

"The note?"

"No."

"...Then… what?"

He smiled.

"I remembered not to forget where I put it next time."

With that wonderfully unhelpful observation, he disappeared into the corridor.

The kitchen remained silent for another heartbeat.

Her father quietly turned another page in his ledger. Then he looked over at her. “I’ve remembered something as well.”

Lilium brightened.

Finally.

“You did?”

“Yes. There is a small message you need to deliver. It is however of the utmost importance the seal is not broken.”

“Oh… hmm… sure… I… can do that. Who’s it for?”

Her father lifted an envelop from his ledger and handed it over to her. “For the baker.”

“Oh…”

Cook resumed stirring his pot.

Lilium looked at both of them. She waited a moment, and then gave up.

Fine…

Before she knew she was outside the kitchen and on her way to the front hall.

Halfway down the corridor, she suddenly stopped as a dreadful realization washed over her.

Her belly produced a loud, unmistakable rumble.

Her eyes widened.

...Impossible.

She turned back toward the kitchen.

The door had already closed.

She looked toward the front hall, one hand holding the letter, her other over her belly.

This was the first time in her entire life she had left the kitchen without food!

Hmm…

Duty… or breakfast…

She sighed with all the weight a teenager could summon.

"This," she muttered to herself, "must be what Father means by responsibility."

With that, she continued toward the bakery.

[lum]

Her stomach objected the entire way.

This better be quick…

The familiar little bell above the bakery door chimed as Lilium stepped inside.

The shop’s warmth greeted her instantly.

The clay oven that dominated the far end of the room, glowed red from wood embers banked deep inside. Dim shafts of early morning light pierced the small, shuttered windows at the side, cutting through rising flour dust and woodsmoke.

“H.. hello?”

It was still really early. Quiet too.

Her stomach voiced its opinion once again when her nose picked up the scent of fresh bread, cinnamon, butter and honey.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite messenger."

The baker’s wife emerged from the backdoor and smiled at her.

Lilium offered the sealed envelope. "Father asked me to deliver this."

The woman accepted it without breaking the seal immediately.

"Thank you."

Lilium waited.

The woman looked at the envelope.

Then at Lilium.

“Oh! I have to read it right now. So today.”

Lilium tilted her head. “What’s today?”

The baker’s wife blinked. “Wh… oh! To-day? Today is market day.”

“Wasn’t it market day yesterday?”

The woman cleared her throat. “Eh, yes, but now is a double market day.”

Lilium narrowed her eyes ever so slightly. "I've never heard of that."

"It's... very exclusive."

"So exclusive nobody talks about it?"

"Exactly.”

Right…

The baker's wife hurriedly broke the seal and unfolded the note.

As she read, her smile softened.

"Ah, yes."

Without another word she disappeared through the doorway leading into the kitchens.

Lilium remained where she was.

From somewhere in the back came hurried whispers.

Then someone laughed.

The baker's wife shushed them immediately.

Lilium craned her neck curiously.

Silence.

A moment later the baker himself emerged carrying a square wooden box tied with a simple rope. The knot however was secured under a wax seal.

He held it with almost ceremonial care.

"Master Corvin asked that this be returned to him."

He placed it carefully into Lilium's waiting hands.

OOF!

It was... heavier than she had expected.

"What's inside?"

The baker looked horrified. "I don’t recall exactly."

“But, you made it?”

“I might have. I had to make a lot of these as today is a special day.”

“... so I heard…”

Nevertheless she looked up hopefully. “Still. Any idea?”

He pretended to think very hard.

"It smells..." he leaned forward conspiratorially," ...pleasant. I think."

Lilium sighed. "So you have no idea."

The baker shrugged and then pointed a flour-covered finger toward the box.

"Now, one instruction."

She nodded.

"Carry it level."

"I can do that."

"No sudden turns."

"Alright."

"No running."

She looked mildly offended as she said, "I only run when absolutely necessary."

As she turned toward the door, he called after her one last time.

"And Lilium?"

She looked back.

"Whatever happens..."

He nodded toward the box.

“Be very careful with that and make sure it remains closed at all times. Those boxes tend to be specials.”

Whatever that means, she thought.

She looked down at the ribbon. “I will be.”

The baker’s wife stuck her head in the room. “That also means no peeking.”

Lilium blinked. “I wasn’t going to?”

“No,” the woman called with a wink, “you were only thinking that.”

"... Does everyone in this city know what I'm thinking?"

"Only the people who've watched you grow up."

Lilium smiled despite herself.

Yet, very carefully… she carried the mysterious box home.

[lum]

The box's content shifted ever so slightly whenever she took too long a stride, and after the third warning rattle she slowed her pace considerably. Even as it rained.

"Alright alright… I'm being careful already," she muttered to the box.

The box of course offered no opinion.

She sighed to herself.

The baker had not exaggerated. Balancing the wooden box carefully in both hands proved rather more difficult than Lilium had expected. At least, when she didn’t want to break or mess up whatever was inside.

Rain still pattered softly upon the cobbles as she climbed the familiar steps toward her home.

That was odd, she thought when she noticed the front doors of the building weren’t open yet.

Thus she had to nudge the front door open with one shoulder.

Careful!

“...Mm.. hello? Some help?”

No answer.

She frowned.

That...was unusual.

Normally by now the front hall echoed with voices. Clerks discussing deliveries. Servants carrying messages. Merchants like her father arguing politely over prices that neither intended to accept.

She took another step inside.

"...Father?"

Silence.

"...Mother?"

Only the rain tapping against distant windows.

Lilium adjusted the box in her hands.

"Cook?"

Still nothing.

She glanced toward open doors into the office.

Empty.

The warehouse doors stood open, yet nobody worked within.

Even the front hall felt strangely still.

"...Hello. Where is everyone?"

Very carefully she continued deeper into the building.

Past the study, then the staircase, and further toward the kitchen.

There was a wonderful smell. At least that.

Her stomach, which had already been protesting all morning, immediately remembered what it was for.

She reached for the kitchen door with one elbow.

Caaaaarefully pushed it open, holding that box steady and…


"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

The room exploded into cheers.

Lilium nearly dropped the baker's box, greatly shocked.

Porter caught it before it reached the floor.

"I've got it!"

She however simply stared. That was all what she could do.

Everyone had gathered in that kitchen. Cook, Mara, Porter, a couple of the other traders, clerks, the stable boys, and even Masters Harl and Edrin.

The room burst into laughter as everyone saw how speechless Lilium stood.

"I...I…"

She looked from one familiar face to another.

"...You all knew."

Her father and mother entered the kitchen from behind her.

“We tried to be discrete,” her mother said as she hugged Lilium and then kissed her head.

“I knew it…”

“What did you knew?” her father asked.

“The pots, the forgotten crate, the… the…”

“Yes? Anything else?”

“I… I…”

Then, her gaze shifted to the baker’s box now in Porter’s hands.

“That as well…?”

Her father smiled. “How about we find out together? But it appears we weren't quite as subtle as we imagined. Come.”


The baker's box was finally opened.

The lid lifted slowly.

A warm scent of honey, butter and toasted almonds drifted into the room.

And nestled inside rested the finest honey cake Lilium had ever seen. Golden. A glossy top layer decorated with tiny candied flowers and delicate curls of sugared citrus.

She looked back up at her father.

"Y- you sent me to fetch my own birthday cake?"

"I found it efficient."

The people gathered in the kitchen chuckled.

Lilium laughed so hard she had to wipe a tear from one eye.


Porter cleared his throat. "Well, since the crate no longer needs disguising..."

He disappeared briefly before returning with the mysterious wooden box.

This time the canvas had been removed.

Lilium lifted the lid.

Inside lay something that looked like a windgong, but instead made with beautifully polished brass bells from Lantan. Some a bit large, some hardly bigger than the tip of her pinky. Each had been cast with delicate patterns of waves, stars and tiny sailing ships.

"They're beautiful..."

Porter smiled. “They're meant to hang by the window. And whenever the wind visits… well, I’m sure you’ll learn soon enough.”

Lilium carefully touched a single bell.

It answered with the softest, clearest note she had ever heard.

“Wow, that echo…”


"And now," Cook declared, placing his hands on his hips.

"You've all talked long enough."

One by one the lids finally came off the mysterious pots.

Steam rolled upward.

Lilium’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

There were honey-glazed carrots, her favorite mushroom stew, roasted potatoes crisped in herbs, sweetbaked apples and and… and enough little honey cakes to feast on for entire tenday.

She looked from Cook to her mother and back.

“You remembered everything I liked best.”

"Child..." her mother pointed at the table,"... we've been feeding you for years."


The party was meant to last an entire day.

With an afternoon disappearing into stories, Master Edrin insisting on Lilium correctly identifying other types of wood, with the baker claiming double market day might be popular some time, and with her parents happy talking and laughing back and forth…, Lilium wished the afternoon would never end.

By evening the candles hard burned low. Dishes stood empty and dirty by the metallic tub. She leaned back with one hand resting upon a very contented stomach.

A full belly, a beautiful present, everybody sweet and kind. Her thirteenth birthday was a brilliant day.

Every day could be like today for all she cared.

Tomorrow, after all...

Always came.

[lum]

The warehouse smelled different now. Apples, chestnuts, and the season's late harvest had begun arriving. Merely a month after her birthday.

Peeking through the semi open door she noticed how rain had given way to crisp autumn air. The trees had begun shedding their leaves which were blown all the way from the richer wards to here.

She looked back at the deliveries and noticed immediately while rubbing her hands together in excitement.

“More apples today!”

Porter snickered.

“Mhm… harvest wagons.”

She nodded knowingly.

“So... winter isn't far now. That means it's time to start stocking the things people will miss.”

“Good observations. Some of this will be worth a little more in a few.”

Lilium smiled and then crossed the courtyard.


The kitchen greeted her with its familiar warmth.

Cook stood over the great stove, humming something almost recognizable while stirring a pot large enough to feed half the household.

Her mother sat nearby at the long table peeling apples into a wooden bowl. The curls that had escaped her braid caught the morning light as she looked up at her daughter arriving.

"Good morning."

"Morning!"

Lilium leaned over to kiss her cheek after helping herself to a slice of fresh honey bread.

Cook glanced sideways. "See?"

Her mother smiled.

"I told you she'd find the bread before she'd find either of us."

“Huh? I found you first.”

“But you looked at the bread first,” Cook teased.

Lilium sighed dramatically.

"I can't win ever in this kitchen."

Her mother laughed softly.

Cook bowed his head with exaggerated dignity.

"I've devoted decades to this battlefield. And before that I-”

“You were an army cook. You told me that a hundred times,” Lilium rolled with her eyes.”

“Marine cook,” Cook insisted. ”There’s a difference.”

Her father entered halfway through the conversation greeting everyone individually before sitting down.

Only after pouring himself tea did he look toward Lilium.

"I have something for you,” he said briefly glancing at her belly, “...after breakfast."

Her ears twitched.

"Another errand?"

"Perhaps."

"I like errands."

"I know."

Her mother smiled into her tea.


As everyone ate, conversation wandered from shipments to weather, from harvest prices to rumors of an unusually early snowfall in slightly more northern parts of the World. Otherwise, it was an ordinary morning.

When breakfast ended, her mother placed both hands upon the table and slowly rose. Just for the briefest instant…

...her fingers remained resting against the polished wood.

The moment lasted perhaps a heartbeat.

Cook and Corvin looked over at her.

Lilium, meanwhile, was studying a dried apple slice.

"Cook?" Lilium asked lightly.

“Hm?” the man turned his head quickly to her.

"Why are these sweeter now than in summer?"

Cook looked pleasantly surprised.

"Because autumn apples have had longer to ripen."

"Oh..."

She immediately reached for another.

"I do approve of autumn now."

Her parents exchanged the smallest smile over the rim of the teapot.



A few days later on another seemingly ordinary morning her father turned over an envelop. To Lilium it seemed simply another piece of correspondence.

Her father however lifted an eyebrow and he opened it as he sipped his tea.

Her mother had noticed his reaction. “Good news?”

He handed over the card that sat inside. “Invitation. House Hawkwinter.”

She smiled. “Oh, that is flattering.”

Lilium looked up. “What is? And who is Hawkwinter?”

Her father smiled. “Old money.”

Her mother laughed soft. “Very old money.”

Lilium shook her head. “I’m not sure what you mean. But why did they invite you?”

Master Corvin shrugged. “Because merchants occassionally know useful people, and useful people know merchants.”

“Alright, obviously adult stuff. I give up. When is it?”

“In two days. Your mother and me will be home late then.”

“Sure, don’t worry about me,” Lilium said playfully.

Her mother winked. “I’ll make sure the kitchen is left open.”

[lum]

A crisp blue sky. That following morning truly arrived clear and bright. Gone was rain of the previous tenday, and through the open office windows drifted the familiar sounds of Waterdeep beginning another day's business.

"Seven hundred and..."

Lilium sat opposite her father at the broad desk, carefully copying figures from one ledger into another. Then she frowned.

“...forty-two?”

Her father glanced across the page.

"Correct."

She smiled to herself before dipping her quill again.

A knock came at the office door.

"Come."

Master Harl stepped inside carrying the morning correspondence bundled neatly beneath one arm.

"The post from Castle Ward, sir."

“Ah, thank you.”

Her father accepted the stack slightly occupied.

Most of the correspondence found its place in neat piles before he even opened it. One, she knew, was about the warehouse rents. Another was connected to their business in Daggerford. A third pile received letters that earned little more than a quiet sigh, matters that required attention whether one wished to give it or not.

Lilium watched this ritual with interest.

Some of these letters announced tomorrow before tomorrow actually arrived. And days after that.

Then she noticed how her father paused while he was going through the stack.

A single envelope lingered in his hand.

It looked thicker than most other envelopes.

The parchment itself looked finer, almost creamy white, and instead of wax it bore a foreign seal pressed directly into the paper.

Lilium leaned forward a fraction.

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“No… you wouldn’t,” he murmured.

He turned the envelope over once more before breaking the seal with exceptional care.

His eyes moved steadily over the page.

Lilium watched his expressions.

"You've got that face."

"My face?"

"The one you get when something wasn't what you expected."

“Mm… from across the Sea of Swords. Something I’ll have to deal with sooner or later.”

Her father folded his spectacles and laid them beside the ledger.

“But… not today. I have to collect my outfit for tomorrow, perhaps a few modifications.”

Lilium blinked. “Are you nervous, Father?”

"For attending to a party organized by one of Waterdeep's oldest noble families?"

“Wait? House Hawkwinter are real nobles?”

“Yes? Why wouldn’t they be?”

Her attention remained fixed on her father. “And they invited… you?”

Corvin glanced at the card at the corner of his desk before smiling faintly. “So it would appear.”

Lilium found herself wondering what lay beyond another kind of door entirely. She had seen nobles before, but never up close. Of course her father had had business with some in the past, but they had always sent some representative.

As if the highborn men and women of society were allergic to these surroundings.


That afternoon the business house settled into its familiar rhythm once more.

Meanwhile Lilium had spent nearly half an hour polishing a couple of her boots. Not because she had to or needed them right away. But if her father would start meeting nobles, and if they’d ever come down here, it would be important to look good.

She turned the last pair. Her favorite set. Satisfied that her reflection could almost be seen in the leather, she carried them upstairs to show them to her mother.

The bedchamber door stood half open.

She knocked lightly.

"Mother?"

"Come in."

Her mother was seated beside the window with a length of pale blue fabric draped across her lap. A sewing basket rested beside her chair, though the needle lay untouched.

Lilium proudly held up one boot.

“Look!”

Her mother smiled.

Lilium spun once. “And the ones I’m wearing!”

Her mother's eyes lingered on her daughter a little longer than usual.

“You look somehow taller now. Or you have really grown.”

Lilium rolled her eyes.

"Father says that too."

"He isn't wrong."

“So, what are you going to wear tomorrow?”

The question lingered.

Only then did her mother lower her eyes.

"I don't think..." she paused briefly, "...I'll be going tomorrow."

Lilium blinked.

"What?"

"I'm not feeling quite well enough."

“Oh…”

“Is Father… are you going to stay home?”

Her mother nodded. “Perhaps a day or two and I’ll be better.”

Lilium looked disappointed, though she tried not to show it. In her head she cancelled the kitchen raid she had planned down to the smallest detail.

"But someone should keep an eye on your father."

“Huh? Wh-?”

Her mother reached out and straightened Lilium's collar. “The only question now is, what are you going to wear?”

A knock sounded at the open door.

Her father stood outside, already wearing his coat.

"There you are."

His eyes moved from wife to daughter.

"We should leave if we're to reach Mistress Elsera before she closes.”

Lilium looked from him back to her mother.

“You -are- serious?”

Her father smiled.

"Of course. I wouldn't joke about Mistress Elsera's closing hour."

Lilium shook her head. “Not that.” Then she looked at her mother. “You’re.. sending me…?”

“... to keep your father company."

"But..." she glanced down at herself. "...I've never been to anything like that."

Her mother smiled. "No."

Her father offered his hand toward the doorway. "Come along, little lady. Lets get you an appropriate outfit."

Lilium hesitated only a heartbeat before taking it.


Her mother listened to their footsteps fading down the stairs.

Then, her smile softened into something quieter as she reached for the blanket folded beside her chair.

[lum]

The streets gradually widened as father and daughter left the Tradesward behind.

Busy warehouses, counting and currency houses gave way to elegant townhouses. Their facades existed in polished stone that looked as if they were cleaned every other day. In front of those, high iron fences surrounded carefully tended gardens in which late autumn flowers still clung stubbornly to life despite the cooler weather.

She noticed how the transport had changed too.

Instead of carts laden with barrels, fabric and timber, lacquered carriages pulled by elegant horses rolled quietly over the cobbles, their polished wheels hardly splashing through yesterday's rain.

Lilium however found herself looking upward more often than ahead.

It was as if a competition had taken place between buildings, one determined to be bigger than the other. Tall, striking dark iron framed expensive surfaces of glass which maximized natural daylight across the multi-story façades. It was amazing how the afternoon sun was caught, and then reflected. Balconies carried flowering vines, and rooftops boasted a menagerie of strange stone creatures watching the streets below silently.

"...This is all still Waterdeep?" she asked softly.

Her father smiled.

"It is."

"It doesn't feel like it."

"No," he admitted. "Every ward tells a different story."

She nodded thoughtfully.

“And the smell here is… it’s… what is it?”

Her father considered the question.

“... expensive perfume?”

Lilium laughed. “Hey, I think you are right.”


As they continued, she gradually became aware of something else. Some people looked at them. At her.

Not all of them. Most just passed without a second thought.

But here and there she noticed conversations pausing for the briefest heartbeat, and once or twice she sensed how people stopped and glanced over.

Well, it were actually only a few. One gentleman seated on a bench had glanced over the rim of his spectacles. And two finely dressed ladies allowed their eyes to linger just a little longer than what she considered polite herself before continuing on their way.

But when a servant carrying parcels nearly walked into a gate because he looked twice, Lilium instinctively reached up, her fingers brushed one of her horns.

"...Father?"

"Hm?"

"...Are they looking at me?"

Corvin followed her gaze without appearing to.

"They are."

"Because of…?”

He was quiet for a few steps.

"Yes. Some are."

“Only some…?”

He nodded. “Some see your horns. Others are probably wondering whether I have finally become important enough to deserve an invitation.” He offered her a wink.

Lilium giggled.

"So... they're looking at you too."

"I would hope so. It would be terribly rude to ignore my presence."

That made her smile.

Somehow the glances no longer felt nearly as heavy.

They were simply... part of another part of Waterdeep.


Their destination was down a quieter street lined with discreet signs of prosperity.

To Lilium it was awfully peaceful. No shouting merchants, no wagon drivers insulting each other.

Just a single carriage passed by, its wheels little more than a soft whisper upon the damp stones.

Once it had passed, her father motioned to cross the street toward a broad window.

“Is this…?”

He nodded.

Weird. No dresses were being displayed to impress passersby. Just two examples of craftsmanship. On the left was a gentleman's coat rested upon a polished wooden form, its embroidery so fine Lilium almost mistook it for painted thread. Beside it stood a gown of deep emerald silk that seemed to catch the light differently each time she looked at it.

Above the polished oak door hung a modest brass plaque.


Mistress Elsera - Tailor and Seamstress


“It doesn’t look like a shop,” she commented.

"Strange as it is… That…," he replied as he opened the door for her, "is rather the point."

The small silver bell that chimed overhead sang only a single delicate note. Quite different from the lively baker’s bell.

Inside, the shop smelled faintly of lavender, cedarwood, freshly pressed linen, and some other exclusive fragrances she didn’t recognize immediately.

Bolts of cloth stood neatly upon polished mahogany shelves reaching almost to the ceiling. They seemed arranged not by color, but rather by texture and weight.

Still, no complete outfits within eyesight.

Mannequins around displayed only half-finished garments pinned with tiny silvery needles, while a broad worktable not far from the window disappeared under measuring tapes, chalk and carefully folded patterns.

Yet to her, everything in here looked really expensive.

Not because it glittered, but because of the display of craftsmanship and dedication. She understood all too well that such added to the final price of a product.

A woman looked up from her work.

Her long dark hair had started to surrender to silver, though her posture remained perfectly straight. A measuring tape rested comfortably around her neck, and a pair of tiny round spectacles sat perched low upon her nose.

She offered them a polite smile.

“Master Corvin. And this must be your daughter.”

He inclined his head. “Mistress Elsera. And indeed.”

“Ma’am,” Lilium nodded politely.

"I've heard quite a lot about you."

Lilium blinked.

"...You have?"

"Oh yes."

Mistress Elsera looked toward Corvin with obvious amusement.

"Your father has spent the better part of three fittings talking about you."

Corvin cleared his throat.

"I may have mentioned her once or twice."

“Fifteen times,” Elsera corrected him.

Corvin adjusted one of his cuffs with remarkable concentration.

"I wasn't aware anyone was counting."

Mistress Elsera smiled.

"A seamstress always counts."

[lum]

Mistress Elsera walked slowly around Lilium, saying nothing for a time.

“Hm…”

She adjusted one sleeve.

Then smoothened the shoulder of Lilium’s blouse.

And then, without force, she tilted the girl’s chin ever so slightly.

Lilium tried very hard not to move.

“Am… am I standing wrong?”

It gave away how much she knew about dress fittings and seamstress work.

"No."

“Maybe if I stop breathing…?”

A faint smile now touched the seamstress' lips.

"Not yet, sweet girl."

Corvin quietly folded his arms, clearly enjoying himself. This was by no means boring.

Elsera stepped back.

"And now that you mention it… you have your father's posture."

"But also her mother's patience," Corvin added.

"That," Elsera replied dryly, "remains to be seen."

She disappeared through a curtain at the back of the shop and reappeared merely moments later carrying three garment bags.

She laid each carefully across the worktable.

"Since the party is tomorrow evening, we don't have the luxury of creating something entirely new."

She unfastened the first bag.

"But we do have a few options."

The first dress Elsera unveiled was a deep forest green, elegant without being extravagant. The second was a soft cream trimmed with silver embroidery that caught the afternoon light.

Her heart had already jumped at that one.

But then the third was even more surprising.

It was midnight blue without being bright or sparkling. It was simple yet graceful at the same time.

“They are all lovely! Can I try them on?”

“Of course, they won’t fit perfectly yet, but lets see how they look on you.”


After a few Lilium found herself in front of a set mirrors.

“The green is lovely…” she started.

“It is, but it also makes you disappear a little. Your frame is a little too thin for it.”

So she switched and a bit later she posed once more.

She marvelled at her reflection. That cream looked almost regal.

Her father looked a bit sceptic though. “It’s very beautiful, but how shall I put it? Hmm. Perhaps by saying it will never survive a merchant’s daughter?”

Lilium blinked.

"...Because I'll spill something on it?"

Corvin coughed into one hand.

She stared a moment at him.

“Fine. I’ll try the blue one then.”


When she emerged from the changing room, Elsera circled her once. Twice…

The seamstress tugged a sleeve barely half an inch. Stepped back. And then motioned Lilium to step in front of the mirror.

And when Lillium looked she stood very still.

She hardly recognized the girl staring back. As if this dress had revealed someone she'd never really looked at before.

She turned once, watching the skirt move with her.

"...Mother will like this," she murmured.

Corvin smiled quietly.

"I think she will."

Elsera however remained thoughtful.

Her eyes drifted upward.

Not to Lilium's face.

Higher.

She said nothing for several moments.

Then walked toward another cabinet.

"I believe..."

Elsera opened a polished wooden drawer.

“... there is one more piece that will truly make it a complete ensemble.”

She lifted a ladies hat of deep blue felt trimmed with a narrow silver ribbon and a small autumn feather.

“May I?”

Lilium nodded.

Elsera settled it carefully upon her curls, making the smallest adjustment here, another there.

“Excellent. Now, look in the mirror again.”

The brim swept just low enough that, from the front, Lilium's young horns became entirely hidden beneath the angle of the hat and her dark curls.

Lilium blinked.

"...Ohh… "

To her she looked… older. And almost like one of the young ladies she'd seen walking through the Ward.

Corvin studied her silently.

His smile grew just a fraction.

Elsera noticed and motioned at him. “I trust -that- means my work is acceptable?”

"What it means is," Corvin answered softly, "you've somehow managed to make her look exactly like herself."

The seamstress nodded. “The best tailoring never changes the client.”

She gave the hat one final adjustment.

"It simply ensures people notice the person before the clothing.”

Her father nodded approvingly.

“I will take measurements and have the dress delivered by tomorrow around noon,” Elsera said as she carefully removed the hat.

“... I really like the feather…” Lilium said.

Elsera smiled.

“Then the feather shall stay.”

[lum]

The finished dress had arrived in a sturdy garment case, along with a neatly folded note pinned next to the fabric wishing miss Lilium ‘an enjoyable first evening among Waterdeep's finest’.

Lilium had read that note at least a dozen times, counting down the hours until the party.

And now, as dusk was settling over the city, she stood near the front entrance adjusting the blue hat for what had to be the tenth time.

“... Does it sit okay?”

Her mother looked up from fastening the silver clasp of her husband’s dark evening cloak.

“It does, sweetheart.”

Lilium waited a moment, then said : “Are you sure?”

Her mother smiled. “You asked four times now.”

Lilium sighs. “I know… I just thought it might have changed…”

A quiet knock echoed through the hall.

“Now, off you go you two. And enjoy yourselves.”

Porter had opened the great front doors and Lilium stepped through as first.

Her eyes widened.

Outside, a polished black carriage waited beneath two lanterns whose warm light danced across rain-dark cobblestones.

Two of the finest bay horses stamped patiently in the cooling evening, a warm moist breeze flowed gently from each nose.

“Are… are we going by carriage?”

Her father raised an eyebrow.

"You sound surprised."

"I thought we'd walk."

“Normally we would. But not in that dress. And besides, we’re guests tonight.”

She accepted her father’s arm, trying very hard to remember everything her mother -who was watching her- had taught her.

Walk, don’t rush. Smile, stand straight. And don’t step on your dress!

That last lesson already felt considerably more difficult than the others. She had no idea how her dress would have survived if they had to walk there instead of this transport.

The coachman tipped his hat as Corvin helped his daughter inside.

“Miss, Master Corvin.”

Inside, the carriage smelled faintly of polished leather and cedar. It featured a small, intimate cabin lined with some excellent fabrics, plush bench seating, and exceptional wood and glass work. Even the small floor was lined with a carpet.

Her first thought when she stepped on it was wondering how they kept it clean.

She settled carefully upon the cushioned seat opposite her father’s, smoothing her skirt almost exactly as she'd watched her mother do countless times.

Outside sounded the smallest jolt.

She sensed the very moment the horses leaned into their harnesses. Then the carriage was gently jerked forward and their trip began.


For a little while neither of them spoke.

Meanwhile outside, familiar streets slipped past the windows. There was the baker's shop. Rolling through Ship Street, past the warehouses, past people and everything else she knew so well.

Gradually those disappeared.

The streets became broader, and lamps stood farther apart.

Then, she noticed something strange.

Music drifted from some brightly lit townhouses where servants welcomed elegantly dressed guests beneath glowing lanterns.

Lilium watched and listened.

"...Do people here really have meetings or parties often?"

Her father chuckled.

"They do."

“But… what do they celebrate?”

“Whenever they have a good reason. Sometimes an engagement or a successful deal. And sometimes they simply celebrate having enough influence to gather everyone else in one room.”

She considered that with a strange look on her face.

“That… sounds expensive.”

“Oh, it usually is.”

“But they have a lot of money.”

Corvin smiled with a nod and then motioned. “We’re here.”

Lilium felt how the carriage rounded one final corner.

Ahead, beyond an open wrought-iron gate, stood an estate unlike anything Lilium had ever seen. Its windows just glowed. Servants must have lit at least a thousand candles behind the glass.

Lanterns lining the sweeping drive reminded her of fallen stars. In front and behind their own ride, other elegant carriages were arriving. Music floated across the gardens even before the carriage had come to a stop.

Lilium stared through the window, her heart pounding as she took in the three great manor buildings that together formed Hawkwinter Villa.

“...Ohh…” she whispered.

Her father followed her gaze.

"Yes."

For the first time that evening...

...he looked just a little impressed himself.


For every arrival the great doors of the central building swung open without a sound. And now it was their turn to make their appearance.

She was almost enchanted by the warm light spilling across polished marble walls and floor. Upon entering she briefly stopped to take her time to fully absorb all she saw.

This… entrance hall alone felt larger than the entire ground floor of their own business house. And this was merely one of the three castle-like buildings.

Twin staircases, one at either side, curved upward beneath a painted ceiling where heroes, dragons and sailing ships seemed to drift through painted clouds. Massive, ornate hanging light fixtures made of heavy wrought iron and glistening crystal commanded the space of the high ceilinged room. Caught within, hundreds of candles scattered their light into tiny stars across the polished stone.

Servants accepting coats and escorting arrivals moved with practiced precision. There wasn’t a lot of noise, just the soft music, hushed voices and the rustle of heavy coats and fine dresses. The quiet elegance felt almost louder to her than the docks ever had.

Instinctively she slowed her pace and swallowed.

“... Father?” she asked.

“Hm?”

"...If… if I accidentally break something..."

He smiled without looking away from the servant relieving him of his cloak.

“Please don’t,” he teased.

She couldn’t help but to grin.

“I’ll do my best.”


This time a liveried servant approached and bowed.

"Master Corvin. Please follow me."

“My thanks.”

They were announced as another servant opened a pair of carved doors leading deeper into the house.

Lilium had expected dozens of people immediately staring at them.

Instead, conversations just continued. She noticed many of the guests spoke in muffled tones, their heads angled together while using their hands as makeshift barriers to keep their conversation strictly between themselves.

It quickly dawned on her she was the one who was staring. And with her also other arrivals whom quietly assessed the room, the decor, or the other guests.

Okay, so that’s how to arrive at such party, she thought.

Before she could study the next room any further, she heard someone say her father's name.

“Corvin…?”

Her father stopped.

A smile spread slowly across his own face.

"Well, I'll be..."

The gentleman bridged the gap between them with surprising speed for someone dressed in embroidered velvet.

His hair had silvered at the temples, though his back remained perfectly straight. One hand rested upon an elegantly carved cane which seemed more a fashion thing rather than a necessity. A single scar running from his jaw toward his ear suggested another life entirely.

Before Lilium could guess what proper nobles did when greeting one another...

The two men clasped forearms.

Just like soldiers.

"I thought someone was playing a joke on me," the noble laughed. "I read your name on the confirmed guest list three times."

"And I thought the invitation must have been addressed to the wrong Corvin."

“Well, it wasn’t.” The man stepped back, looking him up and down. “You hardly changed.”

Corvin raised a polite eyebrow. “"We're both old enough to know that's a diplomatic lie.”

The man chuckled. "Well. You've changed into someone respectable. I never thought I'd see Sergeant Corvin wearing silk."

Corvin smiled. "Neither did Sergeant Corvin."

Then the man’s eyes fell upon Lilium. “And this is…?”

Corvin’s expression softened.

“My daughter.”