8th of Searing, 120 AV
Milana was awake, but her eyes remained closed as she listened to the sounds of the morning preparations in the Terras Manor. Upstairs she heard the footsteps of her brother Kuvar, an early riser, likely on his second pot of coffee and his third book of the morning. His steps were distinct, quick but quiet as if he were trying his best to go unnoticed even in his own home. In the sitting room outside her bedroom door, Milana could hear Sarah shuffling about, preparing the space for Milana when she came in to help her dress. Out beyond the sitting room the activity in the main hall of the Manor was just beginning to take place. The volunteers would be arranging the chairs in the Grand Hall in preparation for lessons later that afternoon after the children of Losar had finished their morning chores. There were other sounds and smells wafted from the slow baking bread in the kitchen to mix with the scent of fresh brew coffee and antiseptic. That last scent made Milana's nose wrinkle, and at last, she opened her eyes to stare up at the ceiling.
She didn't want to move. There was tiredness that rested behind her eyes that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. It was a heaviness, a feeling that welled from her core and threatened to lock her limbs in place and suffocate her with its weight. She really, truly, wished to just lay there in bed as she, unconsciously, attempted to move her leg just the littlest bit and received no response. The woman couldn't even sign anymore, as all of that fight had flown from her long ago now. Squeezing her eyes shut as tight as possible Milana raised one arm to her forehead, the weight of the limp like there were chains binding it to the plush mattress. She breathed in once, letting the air out slowly through her nose as she arched her back and felt a slight pop in her spine with the stretch. The slight movement seemed to give some measure of energy, for then she brought her other arm and raised it over her head in another back-arching stretch. These stretches continued for roughly a minute before, at last, Milana felt the weight in her mind and body fall away just enough that she could set herself up into a sitting position.
Like clockwork, Sarah walked through the door, a tray in hand baring a teapot and a single cup. The handmaid set these down on the table next to the bed before heading to the wardrobe, opening up the well crafted wooden doors before saying absently over her shoulder, "What would my lady like to wear today?"
A small smile touched Milana's lips as she leaned her weight on one hand, looking over Sarah's shoulder at the clothes within, "As usual Sarah, I leave that to you. And call me Milana."
"Of course Lady Milana." the girl said. Milana made to protest, but stopped herself when Sarah turned with a dress in hand and a sly smile on her face, "The Old One's know what the Lady would do if she were left to pick out her own clothing."
Sarah set the clothing on the bed, walking out of the room and returning with a pail of warm water and a washcloth. Milana eyed the clothing with absent-minded interest, noting that the handmaid had chosen green for her again today.
"I'm not that bad," she made to protest but was cut off by Sarah's deft hands quickly undoing the ties of her nightgown and assisting Milana in its removal.
"Not at all," Sarah said as she worked, "In fact, I would say you are comparable to that Master Dillinger you are always with."
The sideways jab made Milana wince, but she couldn't find the words to deny what the woman said. The simple truth was her time with the old man was doing wonders for her education, but as for her appearance and overall hygiene? Well, one could not bathe AND work on an artificing project...right?
The maid's hands were quick and deft, firm but gentle as she systematically cleaned Milana from head to toe. Before, when she had first lost her ability to move from the waist down, Milana had found the thought of being washed and dressed by another utterly appalling. It made her feel like a child, and worse, and invalid. Over time, however, the noble was forced to accept the truth of her new reality. There were things she simply could not do alone, not anymore.
A weight was beginning to settle in her chest once more when Sarah finally finished, swiftly pulling the new dress over her master's head and adjusting the straps and ties before handing her a small cup of hot tea. Milana's thin fingers wrapped around the cup, the warmth of the liquid within almost painful on her perpetually cold fingers. Closing her eyes, the smell of the tea wafted up to her nose and filled her lungs with the scent of fresh herbs and berries, and after the first sip, a bitter heat washed through her core and swatted away the settling darkness that had begun to cling. Milana sighed and looked down in the slightly green-tinted water.
"Sheral Blue?" Milana asked?
"Indeed. The leaves were prepared fresh this morning by Erma. She said to ensure you take at least two cups before the afternoon."
"Hmm," The noble closed her she's again, sipping slowly as the maid worked on her hair. The feeling of the brush gliding through her wavy locks was comforting, well at least until they found a snag, and Sarah was forced to work that area out. The woman's deft fingers then began to twine the locks into an intricate braid that looped up and around, shortening her locks so that they fell to her shoulder blades instead of to the small of her back. Just as they were finishing there was a knock at the door.
"Come in." Milana called, but the door was already opening. A tall man, well dressed in professional hunter leathers stepped through the door, his scared face fixed in a perpetually stern expression.
Sarah cast a disapproving glare at the man, pausing in her work to wipe her hands on her apron before collecting the cup from Milana's hands, "Strous, I have told you before to wait until the lady calls for you. It is quite indecent for you to simply walk in. What if Lady Milana were still bathing?"
The words made Milana's cheeks redden slightly, and she looked down at her now empty fingers. Strass, however, seemed unperturbed. He eyed Milana before locking his gaze with Sarah's and shrugged, "You are impeccable Ms. Sarah. I knew there was no risk, as you were caring for Milana today."
"Lady Milana." Sarah corrected, but stepped aside, her expression having softened somewhat.
When Strous turned his hard gaze on Milana once more she glanced away, hiding the blush as she waved him over. He came, and with a level of care and gentleness, one might not expect for someone of his appearance he picked the girl up and held her as one would a child. Wordlessly he turned, carrying his lady out of the bedroom and into the main sitting area where her prison awaited. The wheelchair was a thing of elegance. Soft sloping angles of polished wood, on the back and arms, carved the crest of the Terras Kinship. The wheels were sturdy wood as well, large enough that Milana could grasp them and push herself for short distances. Straus eased her into the chair, fixing the straps at the waist and helping Milana adjust her clothing so that it settled in place properly. With that the morning routine was complete. Sarah came out a short time later, carrying a freshly refilled cup and handing it to Milana to sip on while she began her day.
Without needing instruction Strous moved behind the wheelchair and began pushing Milana out of her quarters. She sipped idly as she glanced over one shoulder out the window as she passed, "It looks to be a beautiful day today. What appointments do I have this morning?"
"A meeting with Dave Harolt, near the east gate. He wants to discuss raising import taxes to help pay for new equipment for the guard."
Milana grimaced and lowered the cup, "Again? We've already discussed this topic. We cannot raise the import tax any higher or we risk the caravans diverting their routes to bypass Loras." The response she received was a grunt, and Milana sighed, "What else?"
"Your Aunt has left in the middle of the night once more, but she said to inform you she would return before long." That was unusual, and Milana waved her hand for Strous to continue, "Finally, your father has asked you for lunch this afternoon. I took the liberty of accepting."
Biting her lip she tried to mask her expression from her companion, but it was likely he could sense her discomfort. It had been weeks since Milana and her father had last spoken, and the last talk had not been exactly... loving. He was focused on the clinic, and she on the estates and the town of Loras. As such their needs at times clashed, but so far it had not been enough to cause more than a bout of silent treatment on both sides. They were approaching the door, but as they neared Edwin, the older butler, beat them there and held the door open with one hand. He was a man that had fully succumbed to grey in both hair and beard, though is substantial mustache was still quite thick and colored with streaks of black.
"My lady," Edwin said and Strous paused before exiting the entryway. Confused, it took a moment for Milana to notice the letter in the butler's other hand. The older man extended the envelope with a short bow, "It comes from Alfos, from an Elinor Barnell."
"Barnell?" Milana asked, curious as she accepted the letter and opened it. She scanned the lines, and a small smile touched her lips when she back at Strous, "Cancel the meeting with Dave. If he insists on complaining tell him to come to the manner and we can discuss this further." Her eyes moved to Edwin, who still held his bow, "Edwin, please prepare the guest bedroom for visitors. They should arrive in a few day's time." She paused before folding the letter and handing it back to Strous, "My father does not need to know of this visit. I will inform him myself in due time."
"Yes my lady." the man straightened and closed the door once more, "Shall I have Jena prepare some recipes from the Southern region?"
"Yes, and send Pamila to the bakery and have them prepare a special dessert for the occasion."
"As you wish."
When Edwin moved away Strous walked around to stand beside Milana's wheelchair, looking down at his master with a raised eyebrow. He did not say anything, but Milana could feel the question in those eyes even without words.
"There is an opportunity here for Loras. It has been some time since a Barnell has visited this small town, and to be visited by the son of the family is especially advantageous. We would do well to ensure he enjoys his stay here."
