Chương 4: First Day in the Castle.

Beyond the gatehouse, the castle opened into a courtyard. Lira stepped into the outer bailey and immediately lost her sense of direction. As she walked around, she realized that it was not a single courtyard, but a maze of connected spaces stitched together without care for symmetry or sense. An ornate garden extended from the gatehouse to the inner bailey and was flanked by wooden stables and some stone buildings that looked like sleeping quarters for visiting guests. Wooden barns sat wedged between towers.

Beyond them were washing areas where lines of damp linen snapped in the wind. Somewhere toward the back, a marshal's yard rang with the dull rhythm of steel striking steel, and at the far end, opposite the gatehouse, stood a squat, hardened keep. Its walls were thicker, its lines cleaner, built for function rather than display. Soldiers moved in and out of it in a steady rhythm, armored, armed, and purposeful. Lira avoided that direction instinctively.

At the center of it all rose another wall, taller, older, and more deliberate. The inner bailey, and beyond it, she could glimpse the upper reaches of the great hall where the royal family resided. Even though she had lived in the city all her life, she felt overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all; it was a small city within the city. She kept walking, trying to make sense of it all.

There were ten tall towers that looked like structures connected to the inner and outer walls, yet somehow they didn't match each other or the surrounding buildings, as if each new monarch had added one to spite the last. Other than the one nearest to the gatehouse that served as a guardhouse, and the keep at the back that looked like a military barracks, the rest of the eight towers seemed to be part of the civilian infrastructure. Scribes holding papers and ledgers exited from a door near the inner bailey.

Kitchens and a mess hall dominated another, while a third looked completely rundown, draped in ivy, thick and creeping. Then the movement of the place surged around her again, and she was forced forward with it. Servants rushed past in every direction, skirts flying, boots slapping stone, and arms full of firewood, linens, trays of food, and bundles of scrolls. Everyone looked busy and hardworking, and no one bothered to look at her. No one asked her name. They barely even cared that she was standing there.

Lira adjusted her posture, lowered her gaze, and stepped into the flow. She tried to find order in it, a pattern or a system. There was only chaos. She couldn't help but wonder if this was the natural state of affairs or if it was the death of the lord steward that was at the center of it all. The first figure of authority she spotted was a maid. She was older than the rest, sharper and meaner looking. She was standing over a group of younger girls who were struggling with armfuls of linen sheets.

She was the only person giving orders rather than doing actual work.

"Not like that," the woman snapped, snatching a corner from one of them.

"Do you want the visitors to gossip that the royal castle has wrinkled linens?" Lira approached carefully, waiting for a pause that never really came.

"My lady," she began, keeping her voice low.

"I was hired…" The maid turned on her with a scowl sharp enough to cut.

"If you were hired, then start working," she snapped. Lira held out the sealed letter.

"I have documentation…"

"I don't care what you have," the woman cut her off, already turning away.

"Can't you see I am busy?" And just like that, she was dismissed. The maid stormed off, leaving Lira standing there, letter still in hand, more confused than before. She tried again. A passing footman, moving too quickly.

"Where do I check in?" she asked.

"Get out of the way!" came the reply. Then, two scullery maids were near a water basin.

"Where should I report…"

"Go to the kitchen," said one.

"The stables," said the other at the same time. By midday, her stomach ached. So she decided that the kitchen was as good a place as any to start working until she figured things out. She followed her nose. Narrow corridors opened into wide spaces without warning. Every turn made the place feel larger. Multiple buildings connected to each other through servant passages out of the main view, where visiting guests and minor nobles stayed.

Lira knew to avoid those places and only stay near the outer bailey, never going too near the inner bailey, the barracks, or the great hall. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. When she found the kitchens, it was mostly by accident. The smell drew her in. Bread, broth, something rich and warm that made her stomach tighten painfully. She lingered a moment too long. A tray was shoved into her hands.

"East wing, second block, third floor, room seven," an old woman barked.

"Don't spill the stew." Lira blinked. Then nodded. And went. With a tray in hand, she felt like she belonged more, and people moved around her instead of through her. Even the guards near the gates were more accommodating when she asked for directions. She passed stone buildings with sleeping rooms where people wore moderately rich clothing. The doors opened when she knocked. An old woman took the tray of food and closed the door. She said nothing. She went back to the kitchen. Then another tray.

Then a stack of folded linens. Then a bundle of firewood. It bit into her arms with splinters and weight as she carried it. Each task led to another. Each hallway blurred into the next. Still, she started to map the place in her head with each delivery. By late afternoon, Lira noticed a young girl who had been doing similar work all day and decided to strike up a conversation. She rushed ahead with a basket of bread and slowed her pace just enough to fall in step beside her.

The girl was carrying a pitcher of wine, careful not to spill as she moved through the crowded corridor.

"Hey," Lira said, keeping her voice low.

"My name is Lira." The girl glanced at her, surprised at first, then smiled.

"Hi, I'm Tessa." Lira adjusted the basket in her arms.

"I just started today. I was wondering… if I could follow you around for a bit. Learn how things work." Tessa's face brightened immediately, her whole expression softening into something open and warm.

"Oh, I remember that feeling," she said with a small laugh.

"I'm still new myself. Been here a month, and I still get lost half the time." That alone made Lira feel a little less out of place. They walked together, weaving through servants and narrow halls, their pace matching without effort.

"So… how does any of this work?" Lira asked quietly.

"There doesn't seem to be any system." Tessa snorted.

"That's because there isn't one. Not really." She shifted the pitcher to her other hand before continuing.

"The important servants, they have fixed roles. The cooks stay in the kitchens, handmaids attend the nobles, chamber maids clean the rooms, and personal servants follow their masters around all day."

"And the rest?" Lira asked. Tessa gave a small shrug.

"The rest of us do everything else. Cleaning, carrying, serving food, and running messages. Some people get used to certain tasks, but mostly we just do whatever we're told." Lira frowned slightly.

"Then how do they keep track? Who's working, who isn't?"

"They don't," Tessa said simply.

"Not properly. The stewards and head maids just… notice things. If they think you're slacking, they'll yell. If they're in a bad mood, they'll punish you. If they don't notice you at all, that's usually better."

"And we still get paid?" Lira asked. Tessa nodded.

"As long as you don't get punished too often, yeah. End of the week. You get a silver coin, can you believe we are paid in silver!" Lira absorbed that quietly. They finished delivering the food, moving from one corridor to another until the last tray was gone and the pitcher was empty. By then, the flow of servants had thinned, replaced by the slower rhythm of evening settling over the castle.

"Come on," Tessa said.

"I'll show you where to get a proper uniform." She led Lira up a narrow spiral staircase tucked into one of the towers. The air grew cooler as they climbed, the sounds of the castle fading behind them. At the top, they stepped into a storage area cluttered with shelves and chests. Folded uniforms were stacked in uneven piles, sorted more by habit than order. An older woman stood near the center of the room, overseeing the space with tired eyes.

She was sorting through a bundle of fresh laundry, muttering to herself as she worked. She barely glanced at them as they entered.

"Take something that fits," Tessa whispered.

"Not the newer ones. That gets you noticed more." Lira nodded. They moved quietly through the stacks until Tessa found a dress close to Lira's size. It was worn, the fabric softened with age, but intact.

"Try this," Tessa said. Lira slipped into it, adjusting the sleeves and smoothing the skirt. It fit well enough. Dark dress, white apron, and a headdress. For the first time since entering the castle, she looked like she belonged. Tessa grinned.

"See? Now you won't stand out as much." Before Lira could respond, the sound of a bell rang through the tower, low and echoing. Tessa's head snapped toward the stairwell.

"That's the evening bell."

"For what?" Lira asked.

"Dinner," Tessa said quickly.

"If we're late, there won't be anything left. Come on!" They hurried down the stairs, joining the stream of servants moving toward the mess hall. By the time they arrived, the room was already crowded, filled with noise, heat, and the clatter of bowls and spoons. The food was simple: stew, bread, and watered ale, but to Lira, it might as well have been a feast. She ate quickly, not speaking much, too focused on filling the ache in her stomach.

Tessa talked between bites, pointing out faces, explaining who to avoid and who might help, but Lira only caught half of it. She focused on remembering the names of the people who are in charge of her: Dalwin, Berem, Harwin, Old Marga, Celene, and Hesta. Afterward, Tessa led her through another set of corridors, deeper into the servants' quarters. They climbed a shorter stair and entered a long room lined with narrow beds.

"This is one of the dormitories," Tessa said.

"There are a few like this. You can take any empty bed." Each cot had a small wooden chest beneath it, just large enough for a few personal belongings. Lira chose one near the corner. Finally dropping her satchel of personal belongings, she has been carrying it around all day, adding extra to an already exhausting workload. By the time she sat down, her legs were aching, her arms heavy from hours of carrying trays and wood. She wasn't used to this kind of physical labor. Not like this. Not all day without pause.

She lay back slowly, staring up at the ceiling. Around her, other servants were already settling in, some talking quietly, others too tired to do anything but sleep. Lira closed her eyes. For a moment, she let herself feel it, the exhaustion, the unfamiliar weight of this new life. Then the thought came, quiet but persistent. Had she made the right choice, coming here? She didn't have an answer. Not yet.