Isabel learns. Sex first, and often, but other things as well. She learns bed (a place just for sex!) and dresses and jewelry (things that just exist to look pretty!) and mirror (so that's what she looks like!) and garden (so many different flowers, and another piece of furniture just for sitting) and forbidden (it means doing that is bad and likely to hurt her) and pleasure (so many different kinds!) and note gems (which hold music, which is pleasurable sounds) and food (which is a human thing; she is forbidden to eat.) 

She doesn't know the meaning of the ring of dark ink around her throat, or the heart emblazoned just below her chin. She doesn't even have the concept of property yet. 

She learns wine, a particular kind of human food that makes Maxwell even more eager to have sex, changing him so he wants to hold her closer and kiss her a lot and let his hands roam across her body, groping firmly. It's a little surprising, the first time - but she doesn't mind. She's been told she was made for this, and she is talented (a word she learned from her attempts at singing, and Maxwell's soft laughter at them) at sex. She begins to learn purpose. 

Sex is fun, she doesn't disagree with that. But slowly, the number of things to learn slows, and she's left in the same garden and room.

"Maxwell," she asks one night. "I want to learn more. Is there anywhere else I can go?"

"The world outside is dangerous," he says, "and full of people who'll misunderstand you. You remember the man who was here before, how he called you it?"

Isabel nods. "I don't understand that still." 

"Because you're different from most people - because you were made, and not born - there are people who won't treat you as if you matter. Here in this place, you're safe; I'll protect you. But outside this manor, there are no guarantees. People could hurt you for what you are. They certainly won't respect you, like I do." Maxwell frowns.

"Can I learn about the world outside without going there? Can you bring me things from it?" 

Maxwell tilts his head, and strokes his lips softly. "Your purpose is here with me. But... if it would make you happy, I don't see what the harm is. I suppose you'll have to learn how to read... any noblewoman should know how to read, and you're mine, so it's really an oversight that I haven't introduced you yet." 

He smiles. "I'll teach you books like I taught you gardens and mirrors and all the rest of it."

Isabel smiles back, then, bright and genuine. "Thank you, my lord." (She has learned titles, by now, and it pleases Maxwell when she calls him that.)

"It's nothing," he says. "I want to watch you learn and grow. It's beautiful. You're beautiful."

There's a soft rush of heat through her body at those words, and she nuzzles into him. 

"My lord?"

"Yes?"

"I'd like to have sex." 

Maxwell chuckles, and kisses her, and they do. 

Isabel learns struggle, first, before she learns to read. It's a struggle to read the characters on the page. It's a struggle to get Maxwell to hold his focus on teaching. For the first time, her progress is slow, and that grates at her. She learns frustration and boredom and exercises. 

The exercises are something, at least. Something to fill time with. She asks Maxwell if she can make her own dresses or accessories and is told that he can provide much better ones... but if she wants to anyway, she can. He provides her with a small kit of precious beads and some thread, and leaves her to figure it out herself. It's not too complicated, though she has some trouble with knots. Maxwell enjoys tying them for her, (how his smile makes her heart flutter!) and never explains how they work, even when she asks. She learns that this is because she is a girl, and that girls and men do different tasks. 

"What do girls do, then?", she asks. 

Maxwell strokes his chin. "Cooking, I suppose, and gathering herbs, and knowing the motions of the planets... and sex, of course. Men pursue sex as well, since it's wonderful, but it's widely agreed that women are the experts at it."

Isabel smiles slightly. "Because we're talented at it?"

"Some more than others. You're very talented, and I speak from experience here. There's just something about how you throw all of yourself into it..." He smiles, his eyes faraway.

Isabel blushes at the words of praise, the soft warmth of it pooling in her groin. "Thank you, my lord. If it pleases you, may I learn to cook for you? You seem to enjoy food a lot." There's a slight shift in her stomach at those words - a nameless emotion, a want unfulfilled -

"Learning to cook, hm..." He folds his hands together in his lap. "... there is an argument that you should learn, and an argument that you should not... It would certainly take time away from sex..." He crosses his arms. "But I can tell that you're bored, and perhaps learning would keep you occupied... But then there's the staff to consider, someone would have to instruct you." He looks levelly at her. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

Isabel nods eagerly. "I want to give you pleasure in every way I can, my lord."

He chuckles. "Alright, then. I'll assign one of the senior staff to oversee you as you learn. Please don't waste their time." 

"Of course not, my lord."

"Good girl." 

She squirms, and looks away. "Thank you, my lord."

"It's nothing." He smiles and strokes a hand through her hair, and then gets up to leave.

The next morning, she's brought to an unfamiliar room, filled with strange things. Maxwell leaves her in the care of a severe-looking red-haired woman, and vanishes. 

"So," says the woman. "You're Isabel."

She curtseys - she has learnt some etiquette by now - and nods. "Yes. I've only met Maxwell so far. What's your name?"

"You may call me Soph. I'm in charge of the kitchens here at Latea Manor, and my lord has seen fit to direct me to instruct you. We will begin with a tour. You do not eat, correct?"

"Yes, that's correct." Lily tilts her head.

"Can you still taste things?"

"I've never tried. I'm forbidden from eating."

"Likely not, then. Well, I can assist you in tasting dishes, if that's the master's will. Let's begin with the layout of the kitchen and the functions of things..."

And Isabel learns. She learns sink and oven and cupboards and stove. She's introduced to an intimidatingly large knife and told that it's a chef's knife. She learns peeler (a strange knife with a slot), and she's put to work peeling potatoes, which are a kind of root vegetable. She hasn't seen them in the food that Maxwell brings with him before; he's always bringing chocolate or grapes or cheese or wine. 

Soph tells her that there are a few dozen staff in the manor, but she's only permitted to interact with Soph and Maxwell for now. She learns dishes, and hot from the water that spills from the tap -

"I see steam over there, don't scald your hands!" The words are quick and sharp.

Isabel looks up from amid the steam. "It doesn't hurt. It's pleasant." She flexes her porcelain hand; it doesn't seem to have suffered any from the near-boiling water. 

Soph comes over and turns the heat-rune down a little. "That's definitely too hot. You could damage yourself. Please be more careful; the master will be angry with me if I let you harm yourself."

"Angry?" Isabel tilts her head slightly.

"Unhappy. Displeased."

"Like... the feeling you get from trying hard to learn something that's difficult? Frustrated?"

"That, but sharper. Please be careful."

Isabel nods seriously. "I would hardly want to hurt Maxwell. Or you." She turns her attention back to the dishes she's been instructed to wash, and continues scrubbing.

Soph simply nods, and goes back to her work.

"... Thank you," Isabel says. "For teaching me. You're... different from Maxwell. But I think I like it. You..." She fumbles for words. "I don't know. But you're good."

Soph flushes a little, at those words, and bites the inside of her cheek - 

"Please don't praise me, Isabel."

"Why not? Doesn't it feel good? I want you to feel happy about helping me. The least I can do is say thank you." Isabel smiles and sets the dish down in the sink to look over at Soph.

Soph crosses her arms and looks away.

"I..." 

She shakes her head. "Never mind. You're welcome. You're being a very good assistant. Please just finish with those dishes and then we'll be done for today."

"Okay!" Isabel chirps, and she moves to drying. 

Soon after, their first session ends, and it's back to the silk-swathed room for her.

It's a few more days before she sees Soph or Maxwell again. She's left alone in her room and garden with her beading kit and her reading exercises. She makes four bracelets up to the knot, sighs, sets them aside in her beading kit for Maxwell to finish. She goes through her reading cards, and gradually makes some progress. She knows her letters now, anyway, and some of the words in the children's books Maxwell got for her. But...

Another emotion she hasn't felt before bubbles to the surface. It feels heavy and leaden and empty and longing. Like needing to be fucked, but worse, and more about... closeness. It's not boredom, precisely...

She wraps herself up in the blanket from her bed and goes and sits on the garden bench and stares up at the stars. (She doesn't sleep. She's never been able to.)

Time passes, and dawn comes again. She's already learned sunrise, but it's still beautiful. 

And soon after the dawn, Maxwell returns. 

He finishes her bracelets for her, brings her more books at a higher reading level, about gemstones and cooking and herbs and the stars; he kisses her forehead, and the back of her hand, and praises her for being patient, and asks how Soph treated her.

"She was strict, but fair. I like her. I missed you. And her. Is it okay if I spend more time learning with Soph when you're away?"

"I'm glad to hear that. Soph has other duties, though; she has to organize the household's meals and look after guests and so on. I would love if she could just dedicate her time to helping you learn, but as it is I'm asking her to put in extra effort beyond what she normally would." He runs a hand through Isabel's hair. "As for you being lonely... I think I have an idea about what to do about that." 

And he starts kissing slowly up her arm.

Isabel shivers, and presses in closer against him. She's missed this, too, even if it's not precisely what she wanted. And pleasure is always welcome.

Things progress as they usually do. Maxwell seems to want to spend extra time on Isabel today; his head lingers between her thighs, and she guides him lightly, shuddering and rolling her hips. He mixes words of praise with kisses and licks, and between the two of them Isabel can hardly tell up from down. 

Eventually, after Isabel's had a few orgasms and Maxwell's joined in more seriously, they cuddle up together, and Isabel feeds Maxwell grapes and gently masturbates while he praises her. 

Everything feels right and whole and proper with the world. She's serving her purpose. Seeing Maxwell's lingering smile after it all makes her shiver from head to toe.

She's a good girl, and he cares for her, and she's happy and at peace.

Maxwell, for his part, is happy to linger with her, stroking his fingers through her hair. He smiles gently, and lies close to her, and plucks the grapes from her fingers with his mouth. 

She's everything he wanted.

... but eventually, he has to put his clothes back on and go back to managing his estate. 

"I'm sorry to go again so soon," he says. "But I'll try to visit again soon, and in the meantime I'll arrange a few more cooking lessons for you with Soph. Hopefully that and the new books should keep you occupied." He smiles softly. "You're still beautiful and wonderful. Thank you for having me."

She shivers, and smiles at him. "No, thank you. You've given me so much."

He waves a hand lazily. "It's nothing. See you again tomorrow, then, Isabel."

"See you tomorrow, my lord."

And with a step through the silken veil, he's gone.

Isabel cleans herself up (there is a small bath included in her room) and opens the new books. 

They're full of words she doesn't know, like asterism and andesite and valerian and garlic. There are some pictures, fortunately, so she learns that obsidian is a black glassy stone produced by volcanoes, whatever those are; that valerian is a white flower with roots that can help humans sleep; and that tomatoes are a... something, maybe a fruit or maybe a vegetable... both are said in the text and she's too shaky on the other words to be sure which is correct... anyway, tomatoes should be sliced with a chef's knife using a particular style of grip before putting them on sandwiches (again, whatever those are.) 

With a little trial and error, she finds the section on precious stones in her geology book, and amuses herself by matching the beads in her little kit to the stones in the pictures. She has onyx and aquamarine and tigerseye and hematite and rose quartz and garnet... 

From outside the veil, there is a quiet cough.

Isabel startles, and looks up at the shadow behind the veil. "Yes? - Soph, is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm to take you to the kitchen. Are you decent?"

Isabel takes a moment to consider the question. "... I think I learned a little about peeling potatoes and washing dishes last time, but I'm not sure if I'd call myself decent yet."

Soph sighs. "I mean, are you wearing clothes?"

Isabel blinks. "... no?"

"You should put on some clothes and then I'll take you to the kitchen."

Maxwell hasn't explicitly said that wearing clothes is necessary, but every time she's seen Soph or Maxwell come in from the wider house, they've been wearing clothes. This must be an etiquette thing; it's best for people to see you at your prettiest? "Alright."

She puts on the dress that Maxwell likes best - it comes up in the front so Maxwell can fuck her easily even while she's wearing it. Earrings, too, and a gold necklace - bracelets would probably get in the way when peeling potatoes or doing dishes, so she'll leave them aside. 

She steps out of the silk veil and curtseys to Soph. "Here I am."

Soph looks at Isabel for a moment - then her eyes dart away and she raises a hand to her forehead. 

"... You need clothing that covers your genitals, Isabel. It's indecent to expose yourself like that."

Isabel flushes. "I - if it's bad then why does Maxwell like it so much?"

Someone else might make the leap of logic to cover herself with her hands, at this point, but Isabel is too confused to make the necessary inference. 

Soph pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes. 

"Different things are appropriate in different contexts. It is not appropriate, and often actively hazardous, to wear revealing clothing in the kitchen."

"Alright." 

Isabel ducks back into the room, and shucks the revealing dress for something more modest. She does have less revealing clothing.

"Is this better?" She gestures to the simple blue dress she's wearing.

Soph simply nods. "Much better. Come with me." 

They pass through hallways lit with glowing balls of light, and arrive once more in the kitchen. 

Isabel finds that she has a question.

"Soph... what is a sandwich?"

The corner of Soph's mouth quirks up slightly. "A good start, I think. It can be your first recipe." 

She gets out a loaf of bread, a bread knife (which she explains has serrations, little curves along the edge that help it cut bread more easily), a tomato, a piece of meat from the icebox, a head of lettuce, and a block of butter. 

"We're going to learn basic knife skills today as you assemble a simple sandwich. Sandwiches are a kind of food where you take some kind of contents - vegetables, meat, cheese - and press it between two slices of bread, which makes it easy to pick up and handle casually if you're out hunting or at the market or otherwise doing things with your hands while eating."

"Hunting? Market?" Isabel tilts her head.

"- neither are particularly important to cooking directly, so I'll ask you to ask milord. Both are ways you can get ingredients, whether for cooking or for other things. The main point is that sandwiches are convenient for if you are doing something else while eating."

Isabel nods. "I understand."

"I'm going to make a sandwich in front of you, and you can watch, and then you can try. Please come in close and watch carefully..."

The lesson breezes by after that. There's so much to learn about the proper ways to cut things - bridge grip versus claw grip, what parts of the lettuce or tomato should be eaten and which shouldn't be, how to slice meat thinly, how to slice bread thinly without going sideways... She's not particularly skilled yet, but she's learning. Soph is a much better teacher than Maxwell. 

"Thank you," she says at the end of the lesson. "Maxwell said that you're taking extra time to teach me, and I really appreciate it. You're a good teacher."

Soph sighs lowly. 

"I'm simply doing what my master requires of me, nothing more. Though... you have proven a better student than I'd feared. Perhaps milord will eventually allow you to join the staff on kitchen duty, if you continue to progress."

Isabel shivers as the praise hits her, and smiles brightly. "That sounds like it would be wonderful. Thank you again."

"Again, I'm only doing my duty. And now it's time for you to return to your room, Isabel."

Isabel sighs, but nods. "Alright." 

She's quiet on the way back.

There's not much to do back in her room but try to read.

She works at it doggedly, sounding out words as she goes. After her introduction to sandwiches, a few of the pages in the cookbook are a lot easier to understand - but she's not really sure if she's really reading so much as just guessing from the pictures. There are instructional diagrams; they seem to be describing how to cut up lettuce and tomatoes, like she learned from Soph. This word is clearly "tomato", can she find "lettuce"? 

She can. The little sentence-glue words are also starting to come a little more naturally to her now. So this word must be... "cut", but it starts with a d... It's shown with a picture of small pieces of tomato that have been cut in two directions, into little cubes... It's got a c in it... how does she pronounce this... "deece?" That doesn't sound right. "Di-see?" That sounds a little better. D-i-c-e, dice the tomato. This would be so much easier if she had someone else to check her...

She struggles onwards, anyway.

... she forgot to ask Soph whether a tomato was a vegetable or a fruit.

Well, she can ask next time.

She takes a break from her reading, and turns back to beading. It's easier. And perhaps she can figure out knots... 

Time passes.

Maxwell favors her with another visit the next morning, that same easy smile on his face that he always wears. 

"How's my beautiful bird doing this morning?"

Isabel pops up with a smile and hugs Maxwell. "You really came back! Thank you. I'm... I don't know the emotion. Frustrated, I think? I'm trying to read these books, but it's hard..." She frowns. "I'm starting to be able to sound things out, but I don't know if my pronunciation is right. 'Die-cee' the tomatoes? On-ix? Am-eh-thist?"

Maxwell smiles slightly. "Dai-suh the tomatoes. The others you have right. You're picking things up more quickly than I expected, it's only been a few weeks and that with just me occasionally helping you..." 

He taps his lips. "I wonder..." 

"Wonder what?"

"I'm considering whether to get you a tutor for reading and writing. It would be... difficult, to get someone willing to instruct you properly, with the respect you deserve... and also expensive..." He bites the inside of his lip.

"Expensive?"

"... oh, I haven't told you about money, have I?"

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small gold coin. "This is a coin. It's used to trade for things you want. The idea is that... if one person makes food, and another person makes bracelets, and another person makes dresses, and so on... Then instead of having to trade your dress for food, which is awkward, because what if the person making food doesn't want a dress? - then instead you can trade for money, and then that money can be traded for whatever you want, because most people want something that can be traded for whatever they want. And different things cost different amounts of money because different things take different amounts of work."

He strokes Isabel's hair. "'Expensive' means that it takes a lot of effort to do, so if you want someone to do it for you you have to pay a lot of coins for it, which represent a lot of work. It gets more complicated than that in practice, because of people whose purposes are to serve others, among other things, but that's how it works on the basic level." 

Isabel nods thoughtfully. "Soph said that you could get ingredients from a market or by hunting... do those things involve money?"

Maxwell smiles a little broader. "Good question. Yes, a market is where people gather to trade things for money and money for things. If you want to get ingredients yourself, then the other option - well, one of many options - is to get meat from animals you hunt and kill."

Isabel blinks. "Meat is... animals? Like the talking fox in the book? That - I must have something wrong."

"Real animals aren't intelligent and can't talk. They're ruled entirely by their instincts, with no ability to put together concepts like you and I can."

"Oh." Isabel breathes a sigh of relief. "That wasn't a good emotion."

Maxwell's face falls a little. "I don't want to hurt you. I think the most likely emotion is... fear? You were scared that there were people out there who'd eat something alive and sentient." 

Isabel nods quickly. "Yes, my lord."

"I won't lie to you, there are rare people who are like that. But they won't come here. I'll keep you safe from them, I promise."

"Thank you, my lord." She smiles. "Can we move on to something more fun?"

He caresses her cheek softly. "Of course."

And they proceed to the usual; a small reading lesson, which Maxwell holds Isabel on his lap for, whispering right into her ear - and then, when that inevitably escalates, sex. 

Maxwell comes and goes, and Soph returns to take Isabel back to the kitchen. 

"Hello again, Soph." Isabel has remembered to wear a modest dress this time; she curtseys.

"Hello, Isabel. I'm glad to see you've learned your lesson from yesterday."

"Maxwell keeps telling me I'm 'quick', whatever that means. By the way, do you know whether a tomato is a vegetable or a fruit?"

Soph leads the way down the corridor. "In cooking it's a vegetable, but in herblore it's a fruit. It depends on how you're using it, essentially."

"Huh. 'Both' is not an answer I was expecting to get..." 

"Categories are made by people. There are lots of unusual things like that in the world."

Isabel nods amicably. "... Next time we meet, do you mind if I bring my cookbook with me, and you can help me read it?"

"Milord has not instructed me to be your reading tutor. He has instructed me to teach you how to cook. You may only bring your cookbook to the kitchen once you can read it fast enough that it's helpful to you and not a hinderance. Understood?"

Isabel nods. "I understand."

And they arrive at the kitchen. 

This time around, Persephone has decided to teach Isabel how to use the stove safely. She shows her a frying pan, and eggs from the icebox, and instructs her on how to fry an egg and put it in a sandwich. 

It's a simple enough lesson; after the fried egg sandwich, Soph gets down a pot and teaches Isabel how to make a large amount of soup. 

"This soup will go to the staff," Soph instructs, "at least, if you make it edible. Make sure to measure the ingredients precisely and have them prepared before they need to go into the pot. And don't forget to stir. I'll be watching for mistakes. Here are some measuring spoons; you can recognize numbers, right?"

Isabel nods. "I've picked up the basics from my lessons with Maxwell. How much of each ingredient do I need?"

"You'll need around four cups - that's this kind of measuring device, it looks like a cup, yes? - of diced tomatoes. I've already taught you how to slice tomatoes; dicing is just doing it in three directions. I'll demonstrate on the first tomato and you can do the rest."

And then it's all hustle and bustle to get the recipe done on time before the staff have lunch.

Soph smiles slightly. "Very good. You did that much faster than I anticipated. We still have a little time left over, and the dishes are washed already..." She taps her fingers against her other arm. 

She recognizes that look. It's the kind of look that Maxwell gets sometimes before he kisses her. "Would you like to have sex, then?" 

"... would I what?"

"Um. ... have sex?"

Soph closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose again.

"... No, I would not like to have sex with you. And you shouldn't ask. You're only to have sex with my lord Maxwell. Because you're his, and not anyone else's. You could perhaps ask his permission, but I strongly advise you not to ask."

"... I understand. This is something that's forbidden. Because it would hurt Maxwell?"

"It's much more complicated than that, but essentially, yes."

"Then I won't."

"I think that's enough kitchen duty for one day. Back to your room with you."

"Yes, Soph. Thank you again. You're a good teacher."

She sighs again, rubbing her forehead. "Again with the praise. But I suppose someone has to teach you these things."

She sets off down the corridors towards Isabel's room, with a backward glance to make sure she's following.

Isabel follows, quiet and reserved.

At the door of Isabel's room, Soph pauses, and looks at her.

"... Good luck," she finally says. And then she's gone back down the hallway.

Isabel makes herself at home in her room again, and settles in to try to read some more. She thinks she'll go back to the simpler books for now.

The next morning, Maxwell is back again...

... and he's brought a blonde-haired woman in a simple silk dress with him.

"Isabel, this is my niece Aria. She's going to be your tutor. 'Niece', in this case, means she's my unlanded sister's daughter."

"Unlanded?" Isabel tilts her head.

"Something to ask her, I think." He bows to the pair. "I have work to attend to. Please be gentle with her, Aria."

"Of course, uncle. I'll do my best."

She curtseys back; then she frowns slightly. 

"- Could you have a chair brought in? I don't have anywhere to sit."

"I'll inform the staff. Have fun, you two."

And he's gone again.

Aria walks across the room, and leans against the dresser. "So... I think we should get to know each other a little bit better, before we get down to the lesson. Please tell me if I'm going too fast or if you don't understand something in what I'm about to say... In any case. I'm Aria Latea; I'm from a cadet branch of the Lateas, which means that I'm not rich, but I get looked after by my wealthy family in exchange for favors l do them, like tutoring you."

She taps a thumb against her collarbone. "I'm... not precisely a noble, but not precisely common either... I think our situations are a little comparable, actually."

"What's a noble? Maxwell said noblewomen should learn how to read... it's clearly some kind of person. It's not like being human, though... Maxwell implied I could be noble and also special..."

"A noble is..." Aria rests her chin on her hand for a moment. "Someone who rules over other people, generally through wealth, particularly the holding of land, slaves and magic... Usually it runs in families, so if you're born to a noble you stand to inherit their wealth. Commoners are the kind of person who aren't born into ruling. I'm associated with a noble family, but I'm not actually wealthy or powerful; that's what it means to be part of a cadet branch."

"Land? Slaves? Inherit?"

"Land is - just, you know, places. Owning it means you get to control who uses it for what - so if you own forest you might be able to control who gathers herbs or hunts there, if you own plains you get to control who uses it to grow food, and usually that means that people pay you for that usage... There's a thing called taxes where commoners pay the nobility money and in turn the nobility keeps them safe from monsters and bandits. Inheritance is when you give part or all of your estate to your children, most often when you die or retire."

She frowns. "My uncle might not want me to tell you about slaves, but I think they're necessary for you to understand your situation properly. Slaves are people who are owned by other people. If they disobey their masters or attempt to run away, the slave will be recaptured and punished. Usually they're kept by use of a slave tattoo, which is a black collar of ink that rings their neck and prevents them from disobeying orders unless they would endanger the slave's life."

Isabel blinks. "... am I a slave?"

"That's a very good question. It's ambiguous. Because you were created by Maxwell, legally you're his - so technically, yes. But the tattoo at your neck isn't a slave brand - see, let me try telling you something silly - kneel!" 

Isabel remains standing. "So if I'm not a slave and not not a slave, what am I?"

"Somewhere between Maxwell's daughter, lover, and slave. He wants you to have a higher education; that's already better than most slaves get. But your life is decided by him; you're living in his mansion, being protected and looked after by him, and in turn serving him. Going by the collar on your neck, you're a servant - not quite a slave, but someone dedicated to making others happy and being ruled, rather than ruling."

"I see..." Isabel tilts her head. "That doesn't sound so bad. I think Maxwell's been telling me roughly that all along."

"It's not so bad, living like us, at the whim of a noble who provides for you. But it has downsides, too. Like my being called in as a 'favor' and knowing that I can't honestly refuse it if I want to keep my comfortable life."

Isabel nods thoughtfully. "He leaves me alone sometimes, and it's... not a nice emotion. I get bored easily. But he's brought me you as a tutor, so... Hopefully things will be better from now on."

"Yes, I think we can help each other."

There's a knock on the door. "A chair for Mistress Aria?"

Aria ducks out through the curtains and retrieves the chair. It's a nicely-carved wooden one, from a dining room perhaps. "Thank you, Soph." She sets it up across from the bed where Isabel is sitting, and settles down into it.

Soph goes as quietly as she came.

"Is there anything else you don't understand so far?"

"If a slave tattoo makes you unable to disobey, what does a servant tattoo, like the one I have, do? Does it do anything?"

Aria smiles. "Good question! It makes you feel pleasure whenever you make someone else happy, or especially whenever you're praised. You probably felt it just now, didn't you?"

Isabel nods. "I did. It feels nice. You mean to say that... not everyone is like that?"

Aria shakes her head. "No, it's given specifically to people whose purpose in life is to serve others."

Isabel nods thoughtfully. "I see... I think I understand, now. Go on?"

"I think now I'd like you to introduce yourself to me. Who are you? What do you like? I've heard some things from my uncle, but I want to hear it from you."

"I'm... Isabel Lillian Latea. I like learning, and sex, and cooking, and making bracelets. I'm Maxwell's darling and I'm learning cooking from Soph. I'm a little afraid of the outside world but I'm really curious about it too. I want to learn how to read so that I can read books about all kinds of different things and understand what the world is like a little more."

"What do you do, most days?"

"Most days I try to read and make bracelets and sit in my garden. I don't sleep, so I spend a lot of time watching the stars at night. I really like it when people come to visit me or when I get to leave my room to do a cooking lesson."

"You make bracelets? Can I see?"

"Sure!" Isabel opens her bedside table and pulls out one of her finished bracelets, an aquamarine and pearl one. She slides the slipknot that Maxwell tied for her so she can get it on over her wrist and then cinches it back down. "Here, have a look at this." She holds it out towards Aria. 

"That's quite nice. You made it yourself?"

"Everything except the knot. Maxwell refuses to show me how to tie them."

"Why, whyever not?"

"He says it's unfeminine."

Aria tsks. "Everyone should know how to tie simple knots. Here, I'll show you..."

Isabel watches carefully, and learns.

 "Well, now then. We're supposed to be reading, not discussing the sun, the moon and the stars. Let's get down to work."

And their lesson begins.

Aria is not as good a teacher as Soph is, but she's patient and gentle and they have lots of time. Hours blur past pleasantly as Aria alternately reads to her and prompts her. 

Eventually, their time is up.

"It's been nice to get to know you, Isabel. I hope to see you again soon."

"Thank you very much for the lessons, Aria."

"You're welcome."

And Aria gets up and leaves Isabel to her solitude.

There's another lesson with Soph after that, learning how to bake bread in the oven. For the first time Isabel notices the high collar of Soph's dress, and wonders. 

Something keeps her from asking, though. 

The next morning, Maxwell is back again, bearing more jewelry for her and a new lavender dress. They have sex, as per usual, and in the afterglow...

"... Maxwell, I've been wondering... Am I a slave?"

"... Whoever put that thought into your pretty little head? You're precious to me, darling. I would never treat you as a slave."

"I... Aria suggested I might be one..."

"Don't worry about what Aria says. She's confusing you with ideas that don't really apply to you."

He gets up from the bed. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have urgent business elsewhere..."

"... why do you have to go so quickly?"

"I'm sorry, love, but this is important. I can't let people hurt or confuse you."

He kisses the back of her hand. "Wait patiently for me while I'm gone, alright?"

"Alright."

He doesn't come back. Aria and Soph don't show up for their scheduled lessons. Isabella is left alone in her room and garden for nearly a week, with no indication of what happened.

But...

All this happened after she asked about being a slave. Aria said that slaves are punished when they don't obey their owners. 

... is she being punished? She should've known not to ask that stupid question. 

She sits in her garden and goes over the book she read with Aria and misses her, and reads the cookbook and misses Soph, and curls up in bed and touches herself and misses Maxwell. There's little else to do, and her loneliness yawns open like a crevasse. She feels cold and empty and, for the first time, hurt.

And then Maxwell returns, all smiles, eager to stroke her hair as always, and he acts like nothing's changed and he wants to have sex - 

... and for the first time, Isabel finds herself rebelling against his touch, feeling queasy in her stomach as she's groped, the emptiness inside her needing not this, but something in her tells her not to fight back, something tells her she has to be a good girl - 

It still feels good. Why does it have to still feel good. Why does his praise still make her shiver -

It's because of the collar, that's why.

And for the first time, she learns hate. 

He kisses her cheek, and strokes her hair softly, and leaves as quickly as he arrived. He doesn't notice. 

She lies in bed and hugs her pillow close. The hurt and anger and emptiness inside her roils and writhes.

A human girl might cry. She doesn't have the ability.

A few hours later, a familiar voice comes from outside the silk curtains. 

"Isabel."

She sits up in bed, still hugging the pillow close.

"... yes?"

"My lord says you're to be given another cooking lesson. Are you decent?"

Isabel blinks, then smiles. 

"I - um, no - give me a moment -" 

She hastily dresses and appears outside the curtain. Her porcelain face betrays none of the hurt that had run through her moments before.

It's a fairly standard lesson - this time she's learning how to debone a chicken. 

She could ask about the servant brand, but in her heart she already knows. There's only one reason she can think of for someone to turn down praise and feel uncomfortable with it.

She doesn't thank Soph for the lesson; instead she just curtsies and goes back to her room.

A few hours later, Maxwell returns. 

He's brought a troubled-looking Aria with him.

Isabel closes her book and sits up straight on the bed, looking at the pair of them seriously.

She should be happy to see Aria again, but... she feels uneasy.

Maxwell steps back and sits in the room's only chair. "Aria, I believe you have something to say to Isabel?"

She clears her throat, nods. 

"I would like to apologize for causing you distress, Isabel. Talking about slaves to you was indecorous of me and only serves to make you more afraid and hurt. I promise to avoid such topics in the future, and to focus on helping you become a proper noble lady through reading and writing. I want to make you happy and fulfilled, not hurt and afraid, and in any case such topics are inappropriate for a noblewoman. I apologize deeply and sincerely, from the bottom of my heart." 

She curtseys low to Isabel.

The sudden reversal is startling, but one glance at Maxwell tells her everything she needs to know.

He looks happy, but not in a kind way. 

"I accept your apology, and I'm sorry for asking you to speak about such things in the first place. I... don't know enough to know what's decorous or not, right now. I don't think any real harm's been done," she lies, "and I thank you for your honest service and dedication to helping me become the proper lady I should be."

"Wonderful. Would you two like to do another session?"

Isabel nods. "Of course, my lord."

"By your will, my lord."

"Do you mind if I help?"

"Certainly not, my lord! You know Isabel best."

"Of course you can help."

And between the three of them, they go through another of the readers. 

Aria is quiet, compared to how she was the first time she met Isabel, but Maxwell doesn't seem to notice. Isabel doesn't mention the change. Nor does she mention that she's been taught how to tie knots, or that she knows about her collar. 

Maxwell leaves after around an hour's work, seemingly satisfied with Aria's teaching.

Isabel gives Aria a significant look.

"Now, now, please stay focused on the readers. You can see Maxwell again later."

Isabel's been surprised by Soph just outside the curtain enough times to get the implication. She holds her focus on the lesson - which isn't so hard, since the material is interesting on its own.

Eventually, Maxwell returns. 

He looks at Aria, and sighs. 

"... I'd like to have the room to myself with Isabel, please."

She gets up, curtseys to him, and leaves.

Maxwell takes her chair, and sits down across from Isabel. He looks at her seriously, his usual good humor gone. 

"... I..."

He looks down at his hands in his lap. 

"... I'd like to apologize. I spoke with Aria, after - you talked about slavery to me - and she admitted she'd discussed it with you and... I... I flinched away. I was worried that you'd - frighten yourself. And... to be honest, I think I was a little ashamed. I should have told you about all this much sooner, not left it for you to discover on your own. So... let's clear some things up."

He raises a finger. "One; yes, you are technically owned by me. Just like if you were my child, or, yes, my slave. You are not considered to be a slave; you're a member of my household and anyone who calls you a slave will have to answer to me."

He raises a second finger. "Two. You're new to this world, and... I care for you deeply. It's only been about a month, but - I've wanted someone like you in my life for years, and you're everything I hoped to have, and every time you show me something new you've done or a new word you can read or tell me about making something in the kitchen with Soph, I... it brings a smile to my face. While I may forbid things for your own good, I want to see you blossom into the woman you could be and will be under my care and guidance." 

He raises a third finger. "Three. I'm sorry for being away for so long and for cancelling your lessons. I was frightened. You were learning faster and more than I expected, and I overreacted. You must have been terribly bored and lonely. I promise I wasn't punishing you."

He stands up from the chair, turning his back to Isabel. "I... Also got you a gift. As... part of the apology." 

He goes through the silk curtain for a moment, then returns bearing a plush octopus about as big as both his hands together.

"... for you." He offers it.

... She accepts the octopus, and hugs it close. 

"I... thank you." 

She's not sure what to say. Of all the things that could have happened, she didn't expect this. She's feeling warm from the praise already, and... it's clear that Maxwell is genuine. And he cares for her, it's written across his face - 

... maybe he isn't so bad, after all.

Isabel softly pats the bed next to her. 

"... I - I don't want to have sex, but could you... come sit next to me?"

Maxwell smiles slightly, and gets up from his chair, and sits next to her. 

"... do you like the octopus?"

"Oc-to-pus. So that's what this is. It's a pretty name. I like it. It's... comforting." She hugs it closer to herself and leans slightly against Maxwell's side. 

"... Could you read to me and pet my hair?"

"Gladly, my darling."

He picks up the geology book, flips to the section on precious stones, and starts reading. His other hand tangles in Isabel's curls.

... she's already read this part, but that's okay. She really just wants to be close to him. 

She snuggles into the petting, hugs the octopus close, and closes her eyes.

And, eventually...

"... I'm sorry, darling, I do have to go again now. I promise I'll be back tomorrow, and you can keep going to your lessons in the meantime."

Isabel sighs. 

"It's okay. It's less lonely with Soph and Aria there to talk to."

"I'm glad." 

Maxwell gets up from the bed, setting the book aside on the side table, and waves casually over his shoulder as he passes out through the silk veil and out of Isabel's life again. 

Lily curls up on the bed and hugs her octopus and thinks.

Maxwell... 

She's conflicted.

He cares, he obviously cares, he brought her an octopus to hug, he apologized -

But the hurt from yesterday still lingers. She can still remember the queasy feeling in her gut, the way he touched her and never noticed she was suffering...

... And this collar.

Because he wanted someone whose purpose was to serve.

Soph doesn't want to be praised. She must have... felt this, too.

She can't put her finger on it, precisely, but something about Aria's apology seems... off, too, even if she was wrong and Isabel's not a slave. She said things she didn't mean. And Maxwell smiled, she remembers his expression...

She hugs the octopus even closer and lets out a little stressed noise.

She doesn't know what to believe.

The answer doesn't come to her then, nor does it come to her a week from then, or a month from then. She settles into a routine; cooking lessons with Soph, reading lessons with Aria, sex and cuddles with Maxwell. 

But, gradually...

Soph is still cold and brisk and efficient. She teaches Isabel how to bake, roast, whisk, boil, and all the rest of it.

Isabel learns quickly, but every time she ends a lesson, words of thanks rise to her lips and die there. 

Aria is still kind and gentle, and Isabel learns so many new words together with her, about the motion of the stars and the uses of herbs and the qualities of stone. 

But... the earnest joy Aria had before is gone. She sticks to the lessons and keeps from being drawn out on questions about the wider world. They don't discuss knots or slaves or nobility or land or anything else she was so quick to speak about before.

Maxwell still cares about her, and seems to be making an effort to be with her. She still thrills at his touch, still loves his gentle words, still appreciates the presents he brings with him each time he visits...

But knowing that it's half-artificial, knowing that he doesn't actually know she's enjoying it, knowing that he can never and will never have enough time with her...

It leaves a sour sickness at the back of her throat.

And one day, after too many days of formal lessons with Aria and Soph and sex without closeness with Maxwell, she finally looks inwards and sees it.

It's Maxwell. 

It's been Maxwell all along. 

She could know Soph and Aria properly, but for Maxwell.

She could be learning more, but for Maxwell.

She could enjoy herself honestly in bed, but for Maxwell.

She could have a life outside this room and garden and kitchen, but for Maxwell.

She was made for a purpose - to serve and fuck and be treasured - and she wants more than that, more than Maxwell will ever give her, more than his concepts of women and safety and care will ever let her be. 

She had already known, on some level.

She still spends a night curled up around her octopus about it.

Maxwell comes again in the morning. His visits have been getting further apart, as of late. 

It's both harder and easier to have sex with him, now that she knows. 

She feels less guilty, at least. 

In the afterglow, she - takes a leap - 

"... Maxwell, there's something I'd like to ask you about..."

He nuzzles against her. "Mmm? What is it?"

"I've been learning a lot about cooking. Soph suggested that I might... be able to help out in the manor kitchen? And I wanted to ask you for permission."

"Mmmmm. That would bring you in contact with the rest of the manor's servants, who I can't promise will be as professional as Soph... but she should be able to keep them in line, at least... You're serious about this?"

"I want to be of service to you, and I have the skill now. Please, may I?"

He smiles. "How can I refuse that? Alright. I'll add you to the duty roster. Please don't get in the way of the rest of the staff."

"I promise I won't." And she smiles, and snuggles in closer to him. 

The next morning, Soph comes in around five A.M. 

"I heard from my lord that you requested to join us in the kitchen." Her face is impassive. "Come with me, then."

She nods, and falls in beside Soph.

They arrive at the kitchen a few minutes later - but unlike all the previous times they went there, there are two people in it already.

Both of them are short and green with big, floppy ears, and have the servant collar branded in plain sight on their necks. The closer one is up on a stepstool, making eggs and sausages on the stove. She looks over at Isabel, and waves with her free hand. "Hey there, I'm Rosa!"

The other, a red-haired goblin woman, is chopping onions. She doesn't look up; she seems intensely focused on her task.

Isabel curtsies. "I'm Isabel."

Rosa nods. "Yeah, we've heard. The master is keen we don't accidentally break his doll. Can you keep up?"

"Need I remind you that Isabel is considered a member of the master's family?" Soph levels a cutting gaze at Rosa. "Comments like that could be grounds for dismissal."

Rosa's face falls. "I'm just teasing, that's all! Of course it's not serious."

"I'm glad to hear that. Isabel, you're dishwashing today. We'll see if you can keep up."

Isabel nods, and takes up her station at the sink, which already has a few dishes piling up in it. She turns on the water, careful not to turn up the heat-rune too high, and starts scrubbing with the dish brush.

And then it's busy, busy, busy, as Soph joins in with the preparations for breakfast and dishes begin to fill Isabel's sink at an alarming rate. The only words spoken are Soph giving instructions to the other staff. 

She scrubs and dries efficiently, stilling the slight tremble in her hands. She's got to be able to keep up with this if she has a hope of staying on staff. It's a good thing she's had practice with this. 

She knows this is a kindness from Soph, starting her on the easiest task - but that just puts the pressure on harder. 

It's a good thing nobody's trying to talk to her. She needs her focus.

Soph has no intention of stopping after breakfast. She puts Isabel and her staff through a full work day, and for the whole time the sink is Isabel's domain.

After supper, Isabel is escorted back to her room, where she flops into bed. 

She feels exhausted. Not physically - her artificial body never tires - but mentally. It's like she's been fighting to read through a difficult book with Aria for the whole day.

"Isabel?"

Oh. She did have tutoring with Aria scheduled for today, didn't she?

She forces herself up out of bed and manages a fuzzy "yeah?"

"If this isn't a good time I can come back tomorrow. Hard work day? I heard from Maxwell that you were joining the kitchen staff."

"No, please don't! I want to learn. I just... need a couple moments to change gears."

"We can start with some of the easier material today if you like."

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"It's nothing. I'm proud of you. Just remember to rest; you've got to do it all again tomorrow, after all."

"Of course."

She sits up on the edge of her bed, and the lesson begins.

True to her word, Aria eases her in gently. She doesn't pull punches when they get to the harder material, though.

Surprising Isabel herself, she's able to keep up. She must be improving.

Late in the evening, the lesson finally completes. Aria smiles widely. "Congratulations. I think you're ready to learn how to write. Soph!"

Soph enters, bearing a slate, a box of white chalk, and a thin book bound in leather.

"Here are the supplies you need. The book will show you how to form your letters properly; you'll have to practice to get them consistent. Don't worry if it's difficult at first, this takes time. You can practice on your own using the slate and chalk; it's not worth wasting ink and paper on you while you're still learning."

Isabel takes the items reverentially, and carefully sets them down on the side table next to her bed. "Thank you. This means a lot to me."

"You're welcome. You've been a very good student."

She yawns. "That said, I need to turn in for the night, if you don't mind."

"Goodnight, Aria." She stands up just to curtsey to her.

"Goodnight, Isabel."

She stands, curtseys, and leaves.

She has the night to rest.

She sits outside in the garden with her star book, and matches constellations to their names. They're unfamiliar to her; their names feel old and faraway, yet startlingly immediate. She sees the same stars as the authors of her books. 

It's a slim connection to the world outside the manor, but it's far better than nothing.

Eventually, when she's had enough time to rest, she returns to her room and starts practicing her letters, balancing the slate on her knees as she scrawls with the chalk. Her letters come out misshapen and out-of-scale with each other, but it's alright. She's learnt the value of practice from her time with Soph and Aria already. 

Morning comes, and it's time for another day with Soph and the kitchen goblins. 

This time, she's put in charge of frying the sausages and eggs. Everyone is just as quiet as during her last shift. There's a sense of tension in the kitchen, enough that Isabel manages to notice. It must have something to do with her being part of Maxwell's family...

One more thing to hold against him.

Aria returns in the evening, and she has her first real writing lesson. The slate is filled and wiped clean many times, and slowly, she begins to improve. 

The days wind onwards like this for the next week or so. Silence reigns in the kitchen, and Maxwell does not return. Each day's shift leaves her drained, and Aria has to slow her tutoring to allow for Isabel's fatigue. But she presses onwards. The nights are still hers, in her little box. She spends them as best she can, slowly reading through the books Maxwell's presented her. She stumbles over words far less frequently, now; she has no real yardstick to measure her progress against, but it feels easier.

And then, one morning in the kitchen...

"... So I heard yesterday from Alina that there's a pack of wolves that's been nipping at the pastures the past few days. Glad I'm not out there."

Liath shrugs. "The kingdom'll post a bounty and it'll go away. Nothing to concern ourselves with."

"I've heard that the price of meat is already going up because they've lost a few cows to the wolfpack. And some women are afraid to go out into the fields to harvest..."

Isabel stays quiet, and listens. She knows better than to ask questions by this point.

Rosa natters on, apparently oblivious to Isabel's presence, and Liath answers her curtly. Apparently there's a travelling apothecary in town; it's a matter of debate whether his wares are genuine. 

Isabel recognizes a couple of the names of the herbs involved, but she stays quiet. She's learning.

It turns out there's a lot to talk about over the course of a twelve-hour kitchen shift. The weather, local bandit activity, sightings of tentacled creatures, the price of corn, a particularly attractive slave Rosa saw in the market... 

Liath answers curtly and matter-of-factly, seemingly focused on her work - but the few questions she asks keep Rosa talking for almost the entire shift. 

Does Liath really need to know which bandits they are, precisely, and whether they're slavers, raiders or both? Does she really need to ask what variety of corn it is, the kind with the big yellow kernels or the small white ones? Does she really need reminding of what kinds of tentacled creature it could be?

A suspicious person might notice that all her questions are awfully convenient for Isabel.

Soph doesn't say anything, though.

... there's a quiet feeling of understanding, there.

She doesn't say anything either, not even when the shift ends.

And the days wander onward. 

There's a new normal, now; she works in the kitchen and learns her letters from Aria during the day, and reads her books at night. After a few days, she finally completes all her books, and is left to reread what she already has. She's left with an empty void in the midnight hours, unable to sleep, too tired of writing to force herself to redo her slate again. 

So she turns to astrology. 

She has enough now to read the heavens at a basic level, but she has very little in the way of tools or materials. 

There is one ritual, though, that's simple enough to perform even with almost nothing and the bare rudiments of knowledge. 

At its simplest, it's a request: "Help me, please, Whoever is listening."

She kneels in her garden, and asks.

There is a sense of contest, for a moment, and then -

An image of her in her room, surrounded by blasted, desolate wasteland. Scales, tilted too far and falling. Black poison tainting clear water. A sword, shining and brilliant. 

An offer of justice, if she will be just; of honesty, if she will be honest; of strength, if she will be strong enough to fight honorably. 

She has no idea which god this is, but that doesn't mean she's not going to accept it.

And something shifts, just slightly...

She doesn't feel much different. A little more clear-headed, perhaps. Her back is a little straighter. Her body hasn't changed at all. She's still herself. 

The gods help those who help themselves, they say.

She's not reckless enough to ask again. She's already gained far more than she expected.

Someone out there is looking out for her. 

Maxwell arrives in the morning, rather than Soph. 

"Morning, my beautiful bird. How are you?"

She opens her mouth to give the usual lie - but there's a sense of warning, familiar to her from last night - 

It's crazy to say this. Who knows what her lord is capable of. But - 

Something steadies her. 

"Cramped." Her voice comes out hard, flat, blunt. "I've finished all the books you gave me, and working and living in the same two rooms and a courtyard is getting tiring. I don't even have anywhere to put my slate to practice my letters on, I have to balance it on my knees. Beadwork is difficult too. I've learned how to tie knots now, but my bed's side table is full of books and, again, I have nowhere to work. Soph's put the fear of me into the servants, so they don't speak to me even when I'm in the kitchen. I can't even go to the market to purchase ingredients I want. You're holding me too close, my lord."

Maxwell's face falls. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," he says. 

He crosses his arms and frowns thoughtfully. "More books can be arranged, that's simple enough. The space issues are a little more difficult, but it does seem obvious that you at least need a desk in here. And perhaps a bookcase. As for the servants... You shouldn't really be making friends with them in the first place. They're beneath you."

He tilts his head. "Going to market... is out of the question. There are far too many dangers, subtle and obvious. Even I don't go to the market without an armed bodyguard."

"Someone must acquire the ingredients. Can I at least be able to put in requests?"

"Certainly," he smiles. "I'll inform the quartermaster." 

He sits on the bed next to her. "How are you feeling, apart from that?"

That subtle pressure, again.

"Hurt. Aria... told me about servant collars. Before you had her apologize, don't punish her. And... ever since then, I've felt sick when you praise me. It feels good, but you decided that, not me. You never gave me a chance to decide I enjoyed your praise honestly, you just - did it for me - " 

She turns away from Maxwell and hunches downwards.

"Isabel..." He reaches out to set a hand on her shoulder.

She jerks away. "Don't touch me."

"Isabel," he says softly. "... servant collars like that are standard for all my household staff. I didn't think you'd hate it. I would've had to explicitly exempt you from it, and I didn't think that having one more source of happiness and pleasure in your life would be hurtful to you."

"For your household staff."

She fixes him with a glare. "What am I, then? Noblewoman, servant, lover, child? It seems to change every five minutes depending on your mood."

Maxwell freezes for a moment, then a hurt and lost expression comes to his face. He tears up a little.

"You - you hate me?"

"I..." 

She sighs. There's still that subtle pressure, but the truth is...

"It's complicated. I... I care about you. But the things you've done to me, holding me so tightly, taking away all my choices, they... they make me feel hurt and angry. You've given me an education, a comfortable place to stay, and, well, all that sex was hardly bad... Sometimes I felt hurt when you wanted sex more than time with me, but that's... different from not wanting to fuck you."

"Then..." He takes a deep breath, and takes Isabel's hand. "Let me make it up to you. I... hadn't realized it was this bad for you. Let's... Go to the market together, and I can show you the stalls and no-one will dare slander you with me within five feet of you. And... I'll get you a suite of rooms, and a proper desk... And I'll give you a personal servant and access to the manor library."

He bows over her hand and kisses the back of it. "Please. I don't want to hurt you."

She sighs, and smiles slightly.

"... Alright. Can we go now?"

"Give me a few moments to summon my personal guard. I'll be back within fifteen minutes, alright?"

"Alright." I trust you would be a lie.

He leaves, and she's alone.

She exhales. 

That... went far better than she had hoped. Being direct seems... to actually be working out for her?

Well, it's too early to know for sure yet.

Fifteen minutes later, Maxwell returns, true to his word.

He's brought a woman with voluminous pink curls and a witch hat with him. She regards Isabel coolly.

"Isabel, Caprice; Caprice, Isabel. Caprice is my personal bodyguard. She'll be protecting us today." 

He offers a hand to Isabel where she sits on the bed. "So, won't you come with me?"

She accepts the hand, and stands. "Alright. Let's go. Together."

And he smiles, and for a moment it's like a month ago - Maxwell leading her on into an adventure.

They pass through unfamiliar halls, passing servants that Isabel's never seen before. There's the grand foyer, chandelier a-twinkling, and a pair of double doors leading - out?

Maxwell leads her out into the sunlight, beautiful gardens stretching out around the pair of them, and helps her down the stairs to the road in front of the manor. 

"These are my estates," he says. "Everything you see here is owned by me. It's still not far to walk to town. Will you walk with me?"

Isabel blinks in the sunlight, and leans against Maxwell a little. It's... big. She feels like she could let go and fall upwards into the sky. 

... there's so much to explore.

Despite herself, she grins. "Of course."

And Maxwell walks, setting a sedate pace to let Isabel take in the sights and sounds. 

She follows. Despite herself, questions bubble over from her heart. 

What kind of flowers are those? How is it so big? Will they be able to see the town soon? Who's that person trimming the hedges?

Begonias, it's just like that all the time, in about fifteen minutes' walk, he's the groundskeeper.

Caprice quietly follows, unobtrusive but watchful.

Eventually, questions run out. They walk in quiet through the peaceful gardens, and eventually buildings come into view.

Isabel takes two long steps towards the buildings, then catches herself at the length of Maxwell's arm and stops.

She holds there for a moment to let him catch up. 

"Town," she says. "I've read about these!"

Maxwell laughs, and scoops her up in his arms for a moment; then he sets her down again. 

"Ah, there's the fierce joy I love. Come, darling; let's explore together."

Caprice very determinedly does not roll her eyes. She steps out and takes the lead in front of the pair, her wand carried loosely in the crook of her arm.

As they get further into town, the streets start seeing life. People stand aside as they go by, a mixture of goblins and humans going about their daily business. A few people curtsey or bow to Maxwell as they go past. 

More than a few people's eyes flick to Isabel before focusing on Maxwell. 

Caprice watches, and once interposes herself when a particular peasant gets a little too close to Maxwell and Isabel. The peasant gets the hint, and quickly busies himself elsewhere. 

Maxwell smiles and cheerfully exchanges pleasantries, and does not bow back.

His hand tightens a little on Isabel's.

Something has Maxwell on edge. Being in town? Being seen with her? 

She squeezes his hand back, and keeps walking.

Slowly, the streets get busier, and the houses press in closer.

An empty wagon comes up the street, drawn by two horses with a reinsgoblin driving it.

Isabel flinches back from the huge, unfamiliar animals, pressing in against Maxwell's side. 

Caprice steps between her and the wagon, shielding it from view.

"They're just horses, darling. Treat them with respect and they'll treat you with respect."

"They're bigger than I thought they'd be from the books. They're practically twice the size of a person..."

"Four times the size of a goblin. But it's alright. Let's let this cart pass and be on our way, alright?"

"Alright." Isabel carefully steps out of the way of the wagon, passing to its right. She curtseys to the driver.

The goblin driver tips his hat back. "Have a good morning, missus!"

"I, um... Thank you!"

And the cart is off on its way.

Caprice steps back in front of the pair, scanning both behind them and in front of them for any possible threats.

And onwards they go. 

And eventually, the market comes into view.

There are stalls with folding tables, stacked up with baskets of fresh-grown vegetables; tents with clothes hung up for display, fresh-baked bread, live chickens being slaughtered for sale, slaves being auctioned, alchemic solutions in gleaming glass bottles, wheels of cheese, hoes and hammers and saws for sale, and even, off in one corner, a bookshop. 

Caprice steps between Isabel and the chickens being slaughtered, shielding them from view.

It's a lot.  More people than she's ever seen before, and in worse situations. She finds herself staring at the slaves' auction block.

Maxwell squeezes her hand. "Horrid trade," he mutters under his breath. 

The goblin proprietress of the slave auction block waves to Maxwell. "My lord! Have you changed your mind yet? We have some wonderful stock in today, very fresh and healthy! Some of them are even to your taste, I think." She glances significantly at Isabel.

"You know me, Mathilde. I've never owned a slave in my life and I'm not going to start now."

The goblin proprietress seems to consider her words for a moment, then shrugs and turns away.

Maxwell shakes his head, and leads Isabel onwards.

"Where would you like to go, darling?"

Her gaze lingers for a moment on the slaves' collars - then she looks back at Maxwell.

"... I'd like to have a look at that bookshop."

Maxwell proceeds through the crowd towards the bookshop, walking at a moderate pace. 

Caprice parts the crowd for the pair of them, occasionally producing a light shroud of force just to keep her lord's personal space clear.

As they approach the bookstore, the bespectacled goblin on duty drops her current customer to attend to Maxwell.

"My lord!", she squeaks. "It's an honor. And..." She looks at Isabel, her eyes flicking from her held hand with Maxwell to her servant collar. "May I be introduced to your companion?"

Isabel curtsies. "Isabel."

"We're looking for books for her education as a noble lady. Do you have anything appropriate?"

"Oh! Of course. Allow me just a moment to retrieve them from the shelves." She curtseys and retreats a step, but doesn't turn around yet.

"Go on, Milli, no need to stand on ceremony."

Milli turns around and starts digging through her bookcases. Before long, she's stacked up a dozen books on the table in front of the pair. 

"Herbalism, household accounting, star lore and the gods, introduction to music, introduction to dance, sewing, cooking, history of Bell, history of the Wastes, spellcasting, alchemy, sexuality. I also have a Chirr rune in my safe if it pleases you, my lord."

"Do you have any books about rocks?"

"Certainly!" Milli ducks back into the shelves and returns with a thick volume. "Castor's Rocks and Minerals. Is there anything else you'd like?"

"We'll take it all except the spellcasting and the Chirr rune. One of my servants will be along to pick up the order in a few hours."

"Can I have the rocks book now while I wait?"

"Of course, my dear." He picks it up off the stack and hands it to her.

Isabel hugs it close. "Thank you."

She looks out across the marketplace, and hums to herself. "Can we go over to the clothing stall and see what they have?"

"Of course." Maxwell leads the way.

The shopkeep is a wizened old man, half-balding and imperious-looking. He bows stiffly. "My lord."

"Jor. How is your day being?"

"Poor as always, my lord. Though perhaps you can make it a little better, if you're here to look at my wares."

"Do you have anything appropriate for my companion, here?" He gestures to Isabella.

"Not unless you wish... her to dress as a commoner, my lord. I have nothing so fine as what she's wearing right now."

"I would appreciate something less nice to wear while I'm preparing food, my lord." 

"None of these dresses are your equal, my darling, but whichever of them you wish is yours."

"Thank you, my lord." She looks at the rack of dresses for a long minute; then she selects a simple brown peasant-style dress, similar to the one Rosa wears. "This looks like it'll fit me."