Countess Dimitrescu

Chapter Eleven: Learning Curve

Your fifteenth chore of the day is a final inspection of the lowly maids. It was your job to ensure they did their job correctly so that you had nothing more on your plate the next day.

In red ink, below the instructions were the words: 'Do not interact directly with the maids, any mistakes must be put in writing and presented to Lady Dimitrescu. – Headmaiden Loisel'

You make the face of a grimace.

The lady seemed in a mood all through the morning, so you could only hope the maids did their responsibilities.

First were the kitchens, which rarely ran throughout the day, so it should be done correctly.

From the main living space, you make a left, into the dining hall, then another left into the kitchens, a small passageway took only a few seconds to get through as you turn right, pushing past the doors to be greeted with...

A disgusting mess?! Pans and cutlery spread out all over the counters and floor, a stew bubbling to the point of overflow on the stove, and blood, so much blood.

Your heart dropped in your throat, the scene was gruesome as you approach, an arm lay on the floor just below the ingredients, still twitching.

It had slash marks on the flesh, indicating an attack with a sharp object.

Ignoring the sinking feeling in your stomach, you turn the gas to the stove off, preventing any further spillage.
You had known death was a common occurrence in castle dimitrescu, but you had not expected to see it so soon.

Rather than stand there, useless as can be, you exit the area, moving to the main hall with haste.

You need pen and paper...pen and paper...

Where is it?!

Your heart pounds in your chest, anxiously searching your apron for the materials you required.

Your fingers inclose a pen, and now you move to the table nearby to look for paper.

"..where the fuck?"

You curse to yourself, remembering a piece of folded paper being right here!

While you remain in your panicked state, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, Cassandra enters the space.

She watches you, amused by your distressed nature. If only you looked lower, you would see the paper had fallen to the floor.

For as much as she wished to torment you, Cassandra couldn't bring herself to do so, a strange sense of empathy forming in her gut. It made her feel sick.

She approaches, only to grab the paper and hand it to you.

"Here," She motions for you to write, "The hallways are clean, the statues have been dusted, the floors swept and mopped, our quarters clean, and laundry put away."

Why was she helping you? Not the slightest idea, but you accepted it, having no other option.

Scribbling down the details, the handwriting was the worst you've ever done, but you could at least read it.

She taps your waist, looking directly at you.

"Don't forget to write about the kitchen," she speaks with little to no emotion, but the gesture alone was enough to let you know she cared a small amount. "Don't assume I'm doing this for you, I'm only trying to ensure Loisel fails, now go, Mother hates waiting."...

..."My lady, I have come with the afternoon report."

"Come in." She practically barked the command.

The door creaks and your shoes click against the marble floor as you enter her chamber.