Ambassador

A servant in the kitchen

For the rest of that day, Fabian had changed into some more... camouflaged clothes - a brown waistcoat and trousers, with a crumpled shirt and winter boots. No one had given him a second look as he'd strolled around the castle, gazing out of each crystal window and down onto the courtyard, gardens, or city below. After some exploring, he'd encountered something in the wall panels, carefully hidden from view: a doorway! Peeking inside, he eyed some worn wooden stairs, with beams of light dimly lighting the way, coming from down below. The stairs creaked gently as he edged down, and then down, and down again, until he must've descended at least three or four floors. At last, he touched down on some stone.

The entire area was lit by soft, white streaks from the clouded windows, and the walls were white and chalky, or grey. A corridor stretched left and right from the stairwell, and opposite him was a large archway, through which were the sources of the light. He entered the cold room. 

Immediately, his exploration was halted by something in his path - a... table. In his state of hypnosis, he had hardly realised there was anything in this room at all. The table had a few chairs around it, and stains coating it. But, along the end wall was what really interested him. A row of countertops lined the wall, with cupboards above and below, and a small oven-stove, with spices lined up next to it. But, this still gave off an air of a commercial, rather than private, kitchens, so he took the chance to investigate further.

Inside the cupboards were as you'd expect: herbs and spices, jars of preserves, fresh produce, meat, nuts, and a little wine and juice. Plus, there were a few cups, gobets, bowls, plates, knives, kitchen equipment and trays. As he wondered where the sink was, his other questions were answered by a door into another room. Or rather, an arch. In fact, there was one on each side of the room; one lead to a dull-looking area with a low table and a few crude seats (a mockery of the living quarters in his chambers), and one to a dining room, filled with cabinets and a few portraits. When he listened, the faint sound of kitchen-maids being ordered around, and calamity in the kitchen, drifted up from the stones beneath his feet.

Footsteps trailed in from behind.

He froze - how had he not heard them coming down the stairs? He would be busted, embarrassed and a failure, the whole castle would know! - But, they didn't even seem to notice him, rifling through the cupboards on the floor. No, instead, a young servant girl simply gathered some utensils from the cupboard next to his, and began the hunt for ingredients.

"Pass the ginger." Her voice was unpolished and rickety, like each word was an entire process, and she had an odd, but light, accent. His hands shook as he held up a jar of ginger in syrup, and she grabbed it quickly. "Thanks." Suddenly, he saw an opportunity.

"What are you doing?" Fabian stood up swiftly. The girl looked over.

"I'm making a snack for someone. What are you doing?"

"I'm... exploring a bit. I'm new here, and I was told to... have a free afternoon, while they process my things." Phew, okay. That sounded convincing. Yet, she raised one eyebrow. Just one, that legendary one eyebrow of confusion and suspicion.

"But all the new servants should've started work two days ago. We're not taking on any more while we have guests in the house." Oh dear.

"No, well, one of the new gardeners never turned up. They asked me to come, but I'm not from here, so it took a few days to travel..." The explanations came rolling from his tongue.

"Oh, alright then. So, where are you from, garden-boy?" Her cheeky smile revealed a single white fang, pearlescent against naturally dark lips. With a jolt, he realised that her irises were hollow. Entirely black.