"Sebas, I told you to hire the worst maids possible. I didn't know you already did." Cain sighed, sitting on his chair and looking at the twelve maids before him.
The maids paled as Sebas started wiping his sweat off. "Sorry, Lord Cain. They aren't to your liking, I see." He bowed. "Can you tell me your preferences so I can find others?"
"We…we can do better." One of the maids gasped, and Sebas glared at her to shut up.
"No! No! You got it wrong, Sebas." Cain waved his hand. "We're not firing any of them."
"I don't understand." Sebas looked at Cain, confused, as his eyes turned back toward the maids, inspecting them.
What ticked Cain off, he couldn't guess. The maids are hardworking, strong, and all decent in look. Even their contracts were brilliant. Any noble couldn't ask for better maids. It must be something else, their clothes, probably magic. They might be too weak with magic for him.
