Lyra knocked softly on the door, the sound barely audible in the early morning hush. After a brief pause, she turned the handle and eased the door open. As she stepped into the room, a few other maids followed in her wake, their footsteps muted against the thick carpet.
They moved with practiced efficiency, preparing water for the lady's bath. The soft clinking of the water pitcher and the gentle splashing as they filled the tub were the only sounds breaking the silence. Once their work was done, they slipped out quietly, leaving Lyra and Giselle alone in the room.
The bedroom, dimly lit by the weak light filtering through the curtains, still held the lingering warmth of the night. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, illuminated as Lyra crossed to the window. She grasped the heavy velvet curtains and drew them back with a swift motion, flooding the room with the pale, golden light of early morning.
On the bed, Giselle stirred, her form barely visible under the mound of blankets. She groaned, squirming deeper into the covers as if trying to escape the intrusive brightness.
"Hey... wake up, it's already seven o'clock," Lyra chided gently, poking Giselle's back with her index finger. "We need to be on the road by morning, so you need to get ready."
A muffled grumble came from under the blanket, "Five more minutes..."
Lyra sighed and, with a swift tug, pulled the blanket away, revealing Giselle's disheveled hair and the faint smell of wine clinging to her. The young lady squinted at the sudden brightness, her face crumpled in a sleepy frown.
"Ugh... How much did you drink last night?" Lyra asked as she slipped an arm around Giselle's shoulders to help her sit up.
Giselle pouted and dragged herself out of bed, stumbling slowly toward the bathroom. "Please stop... The day before yesterday was the last day of the tour. I needed to celebrate, okay?"
"Yeah, with a party that lasted a full day and night. No wonder Mr. Rowan often nags at you," Lyra replied, following her with a concerned look. "You need to cut down on your drinking, Giselle."
"Hey! I don't do it that often. It's just because we were out of town," Giselle shot back, turning to face Lyra with her hands planted on her hips, though the effect was somewhat diminished by her disheveled appearance and the way her shoulders slumped with exhaustion.
Lyra shook her head, then moved to the side of the bathtub. She dipped her fingers into the water to test the temperature. Satisfied, she straightened and turned back to Giselle. "Alright, my lady, let me assist you with your bath."
Giselle rolled her eyes lazily but didn't resist as Lyra began to help her undress, guiding her into the steaming water. "Stop using that annoying term, Lyra."
"I have to get used to it. I am your personal maid, after all," Lyra said with a small, teasing smile as she picked up a sponge, dipping it into the water before beginning to gently scrub Giselle's back, the scent of lavender soap filling the air.
"Oh gosh, it's just the two of us here. Who's gonna care about etiquette?" Giselle muttered, her voice barely audible over the sound of water sloshing against the sides of the tub.
"Please watch your language, my lady," Lyra gently scolded, though her tone was more playful than stern.
"Ugh, what, are you a noble?" Giselle shot back, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Yeah, I am," Lyra quipped, half-joking as she continued her task.
***
Later, after ensuring everything was in order, Lyra stepped out into the courtyard, the crisp morning air biting at her cheeks as she walked briskly toward the main carriage. She inspected the luggage carefully, her gaze sweeping over each item to ensure nothing had been forgotten. Then, she approached Mr. Rowan, who was still doing his own thorough examinations.
"Everything is complete, sir," she reported.
Mr. Rowan, his brow furrowed in concentration, gave a brief nod. But when he noticed that Lyra hadn't moved away, he looked up, his expression questioning.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"May I follow along? I'll meet you and the others outside the gate," Lyra requested, needing his permission as he was actually the head of staff.
There were a few things she still needed to gather separately, and the idea of passing through the main gate made her uneasy.
Mr. Rowan gave her a suspicious look but eventually nodded. "We won't slow down, so make sure to catch up quickly," he instructed before turning back to his work.
* * *
Walking through the bustling market, Lyra bought some last-minute necessities that she hadn't had time to prepare earlier.
When she reached a familiar shop with a weathered door and chipped sign, just as she remembered, she pushed it open. The small bell above the door tinkled softly. The warm, herb-scented air inside enveloped her, and she was greeted by a cheerful voice from behind the counter. "Oh, Lyra, you're back."
Lyra had visited this shop several times to buy potions, but as usual, the green-haired owner was absent, leaving his employee to manage the place.
Pulling back the hood of her cloak, Lyra replied, "Yes, this is my last day here, so I need a new hair dye and some healing potions."
Her experience had taught her that after about thirty days, the color in her hair would fade rapidly, exposing her distinctive silver locks. She had only reapplied it two weeks ago, but it was better to be prepared than to panic later on.
"Oh, where are you headed?" the employee asked, his hands busy gathering the items Lyra had requested.
"I'll stop by the capital for a few days before continuing my journey to Aurelia. Is there another branch of this shop there?"
The employee nodded as he placed the items on the counter. "Oh yes, of course. You might even meet the boss. I've heard he's in that town now."
He quickly scribbled the address of the branch on a piece of paper and handed it to Lyra, who slipped it into her bag alongside her purchases.
"Thank you," Lyra said, handing over the payment before pulling her hood back up and stepping outside.
"Be careful on the road!" the man's voice called out, muffled slightly by the door closing behind Lyra.
As she walked toward the side gate, the sound of the market faded, replaced by the crunch of gravel underfoot and the occasional rustle of leaves in the morning breeze.
The guard at the gate barely glanced up as she passed, his attention focused on his conversation with a fellow guardsman, allowing her to slip through without any delay.
When she reached the spot where she had tethered her horse, Lyra gently stroked the animal's head, feeling the warmth of its coat under her gloved hand. "Hey there, ready for our long journey?"
She untied the rope that secured her horse to the tree and swung herself into the saddle with practiced ease. With a soft click of her tongue and a gentle nudge with her heels, she urged the horse forward, setting off at a brisk pace to catch up with Giselle's carriage.