Davis Fireheart stood near the stables, his coat half-buttoned, quietly preparing for his trip to Velmora City. A few servants scurried around him, double-checking luggage and tightening the straps on the horses. The scent of morning dew mixed with the faint tang of metal from his weapon.
While Davis prepared to leave, Isabella was helping with the housework alongside the other servants.
She had begun to enjoy her chores lately. There was a simple peace in sweeping the halls and folding freshly dried laundry. Her clumsiness had softened into something almost endearing, and the other servants had started to praise her gentle attention to detail.
Except, of course… for one particular skill.
She was awful at cooking.
"...Isabella! You can't hold the knife like that!"
"Hurry, stop her! She's gonna cut her hands at this rate!!"
—Smack!
"Oh my god, she chopped the chopping board!"
"The fire! Turn the fire off first!! Bring water—quick!!"
"Noooo! The potatoes turned black!!!"
