As the sun rose low in the sky, casting long shadows across the Thornwell estate, Thurid made her way along the main path with deliberate steps. The crunch of her paws on the trodden snow punctuated the quiet of the morning. Sprawling fields behind the large manor ahead of her were coated in a layer of frost except where the crops grew, the ground there was kept warm by a combination of Biomancy and Pyromancy.

Thurid was the latest caretaker tasked with managing young Master Thornwell - a boy as temperamental as he was entitled, much like his father, Tiberius. Unlike the seasoned noble, however, the boy lacked any semblance of discretion or tact in his cruelty. It was Thurid’s unenviable role to temper his outbursts and the worst of his impulses, a duty she performed with a stoic sense of resignation.

Pausing behind an aged apple tree, its limbs gnarled from years of enduring the harsh climes of Uddegana, Thurid turned her gaze toward the mansion. There, she spied Tiberius pacing the balcony, his expression one of deep contemplation, no doubt awaiting the Augustus' arrival for another round of negotiations and a tour of their grounds. The noble’s position had shifted precariously with the regime change; his feigned alliance to the newly crowned Augustus was merely a survival tactic, preserving his estate and influence. Yet, the new leader’s stringent policies stifled the shady dealings Tiberius once found lucrative under the negligent reign of Taremin. Thurid had not been his first choice as a caretaker, but the Thornwells could not afford to draw any unwanted attention until Tiberius’s nobility in Seneca’s reign was secured. He needed a firm hand for his son Alard, and what better way to ensure it than with a grizzled, magic-suppressing, former knight hyena dogging his every move?

Thurid’s concerns were practical and immediate. This was her first honest job since Augustus Seneca took the throne. Taremin’s rule had been a lawless time, and as a hyena in a lion’s world, she had been limited to unsavory back alley work that sat in her belly like curdled milk; debt collection, paid muscle, and bounty hunting. A job on a noble’s estate was impossible to pass up and was her ticket back to a reputable society. She was perhaps the first hyena to set foot on this property, certainly, the first that her new ward, and most of the staff, had ever seen.

A cry of frustration broke the calm, emanating from the nearby stables housing the demesne’s plow horses. The Thornwells’ primary service to the realm was growing barley and distilling it into beer. Their beer stocked nearly all the taverns in the realm, and they kept a dozen plow horses to keep up with demand. Cutting Tiberius a knowing look, Thurid turned from the tree and retraced her steps back to where she had tasked Alard Thornwell with the stable boy’s chores. Alard was a wick of a boy, on the cusp of adulthood and tall, but not yet filled out. He resembled his father uncannily but had not quite grown his mane to the same fullness typical of male lions in their prime. He sullenly dragged a bale of hay across the barn, his posture slouched with humiliation and exertion.

Standing in the entryway of the stable, visible from the main path, Thurid’s tone was firm and unrelenting. “Every stall, Master Thornwell. Scrub them clean and refill the water troughs. You will also groom each horse.” The punishment was a direct consequence of an earlier incident where Alard had been caught tormenting the stable boy - a cream-furred lad of slight build but diligent work ethic. Alard had locked him in the tack room for so long that the poor boy had soiled himself before his absence was noticed.

“Father won’t like me out here doing servant work!” Alard sneered hatefully through his teeth as they grasped the twine that bound the hay. A horse nipped at him as he passed, as though doling its own punishment for not being the much quieter stable boy.

"Your father wants you out of his way while he negotiates with Augustus Seneca," Thurid replied evenly. “The better you perform these tasks, the sooner you may return to your usual pastimes.” Those pastimes, Thurid had observed, included stealing sips from his father’s brandy, harassing serving girls, and shirking his courtly training.

Seneca

(This post was last modified: Jun 17th, 11:57 PM by Thurid.)