They stepped cautiously into the dimly lit quarters, the clinking of trays and muffled voices blending into an unfamiliar symphony.
The maids, clad in crisp uniforms, moved with a practiced grace, balancing trays laden with fine china and silverware, the reflections glinting under the flickering candlelight.
Some maids bustled about with brooms and rags, diligently scrubbing and dusting the nooks and crannies of the grand hall, while others took brief moments to converse in hushed tones, their laughter a soft undercurrent to the bustling activity.As Xenia and Lyra made their way through the quarters, they felt the weight of numerous eyes upon them.
The maids' glances, though fleeting, were piercing, filled with curiosity and a touch of disdain. It was as if Xenia and Lyra were draped in rags, their presence an oddity among the orderly routine of the household staff.
They exchanged puzzled looks, silently questioning the reason behind the scrutiny.
