Elowen chose a floral gown that day- soft blues and rose- colored petals gracing the hem with modest elegance. It clung to her form delicately and fell just above her ankles. She wore shoes slightly higher than the usual, their burgundy leather catching the morning light. She glanced once at her reflection, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear,
"Looking great Elowen... Such beauty for an assistant." Marianne taunted, showing that graceful smile and beautiful set of white teeth.
"Thanks the seas we don't have school shoes on today..." Maeryn laughed, stepping into the room. Elowen smiled at their taunting and stepped out for the Lord's mansion.
The coach ride felt less daunting than before. She was becoming accustomed to the strange rhythm of the personalities at the mansion, even if work was full of chaos and cryptic orders.
When she arrived at the Manor's gates, she was greeted by the Butler Tomas, who bowed politely before guiding her inside. Lord Julian awaited her in his study.
"You look like a garden bed, Wildflower," he said without looking up from his papers, his tone dry.
"Good morning to you too, Lord Thundercloud." She said the last word in a whisper.
He smirked and finally glanced at her, one brow raised. "You have three tasks today. First, copywrite this parchment. I expect no errors. Second, oversee the arrangement of the new portraits and instruct the housekeepers where they should go. Third…"
He stood, pacing briefly before adding, "Study the arrangement of my room. Learn it. It changes next week. I expect your input."
He left without another word, sweeping out his coat flaring behind him. Elowen took parchment and got to work. Her handwriting, fluid and precise, filled the page beautifully. Then came the portraits- tall, imposing oil paintings of Julian through years, along with ancestors who shared his cutting cheekbones and unreadable eyes.
The housekeepers barely spoke to her. Spreading messages and gossips by grimace and eye contacts across the room. When she asked where the old Lord's portrait should hang, one replied, "As high as your pride."
"And that is?"
"You figure it out, new girl."
Elowen offered a tight- lipped smile and walked away. She passed instructions anyway, careful and calculated. As she examined Julian's room, she noticed every detail- the position of his books, the symmetry of his wardrobe, the exact angle his boots faced on the rack. Dark hues dominated: deep grays, wine blacks, muted navy- all cold but unnervingly neat.
By lunch time, her stomach protested.
A maid brought in a tray but stared her down with a scowl.
"Thought he'd have a mistress with class."
Elowen blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You prance around here like you belong." The half vampire maid said.
Elowen smiled sweetly. "Funny, I could say the same for you. Only difference is, I don't carry soup with jealousy seasoned in."
The maid froze. Around them, a few nearby servants giggled.
Julian, meanwhile, had left for Secretariat that morning. The air in Eldhollow was crisp. His boots echoed in the marble halls as he entered the building. Noel and Johnnie were already waiting.
"Morning, my Lord," said Noel. "There's been talk again about Greystone Docks. Illegal goods and possible Blackstone fragments being smuggled in."
Johnnie added, "And more strange sightings at the pier. This time, two witnesses say they saw sea- bound shadows moving unnaturally."
Julian leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. "Start interviewing the port officers. And question the night guards on latrol. Greystone has grown too quiet for my liking."
Moments later, Julian left his office and was greeted by two figures. Pureblood Lords. Lord Maxwell Carrickwore and Lord Rhey Blackmoor.
"Julian," Lord Maxwell greeted, his voice warm. He looked barely thirty, though Julian knew the man was over seven centuries old. His fair hair was combed neatly, and his long coat bore the crest of Lochanmere.
"Lord Carrickwore, Lord Blackmoor," Julian replied with a polite nod. Lord Carrickwore, taller and paler, had a cold grace about him. His eyes, dark as raves, held a sharp calculation. Though he was almost as twice Julian's age, he looked no older than forty.
"Your region is buzzing," Rhey said. "We hear whispers from Greystone."
"The smuggling case is been followed," Julian said. "We hear whispers from Greystone."
"The smuggling case is been followed," Julian said. "We suspect more than illicit goods."
"Rhys Glenshade has sent the bill for national search," Maxwell added, his tone serious.
Julian nodded. "The bill has been approved. The search will begin around Eldhollow and move outward."
"It remains confidential," Rhey said firmly. "Starting from Roseburry down to Greystone."
Julian folded his arms. "Using the element of surprise."
Maxwell looked towards the east windows. "Though… it seems this search is oddly personal to Detective Rhys."
He said, arching his brow like he could sense what danger lay underneath.
Julian arched a brow. "What a wild interest."
They all stood silently for a moment, the weight of what was to come hanging thick between them. They were Lords of districts but they could perceive foul play underneath this proposed search.
Julian's mind, however, was already back at the mansion… and to a certain witty human who had managed to shake the staff to their core with just a few sharp words.
He couldn't wait to go back to his amusement...
A new source of entertainment in his damned immortality.