Furen suddenly felt really stupid, and added a sentence:
"Sorry, I don't doubt your honesty. So... which of you lives closest to 34, rue Corson? Tell me how long it takes you to get to the villa."
Ashley, Connie, and Newmay announced their respective travel times: half an hour, one hour, and forty-five minutes. Of course, this was the time it took them to get to Corson Street after finishing their previous job.
Thinking of these young women forced to run from place to place every day to clean, he then demanded:
"And how long does it take you to get home from my house? Honestly, I don't want such charming young ladies making such tiring trips back and forth."
Those words, so saccharine they made him feel like a chicken in a chair, weren't accidental. Furen simply wanted to experience the country's customs. But after speaking, he realized it wasn't a cultural experience… it was more like something a "Faceless One" would do. And doing it himself, he felt nothing but profound unease.
The three maids gave similar times: about an hour each. Furen calculated in his head: Ashley and Newmay wouldn't get home until ten o'clock at night, Connie around seven. A life like that allowed them to earn a little more than laborers working with their own two hands, but it didn't really lift them out of poverty. The thought made Furen sigh.
But he didn't have the power to change that. And not even a god could truly change it. For gods were merely humans or beings endowed with immense power. It wasn't their mission to save humanity from misery. Furen wasn't the type to try to do the impossible; he simply sighed.
Furen then stood up and declared:
"Well, it's a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Ashley."
Seeing the two other young women stand up and greet him, Furen did not ignore them and extended his hand to them:
"Sorry to have made you come for nothing. Take this, it's a small tip."
He gave them the equivalent of a week's salary. As he watched them leave, he discreetly observed Ashley's reaction out of the corner of his eye. She didn't seem greedy or impatient, which made him nod inwardly.
He turned towards her:
"So, my dear cleaning lady, let's go sign the contract. For the rest of the formalities, I'm counting on you, Miss Zoé."
Following the company's well-established procedures, all the steps were completed quickly. Furen had finally found an employee capable of taking care of his home.
Contracts signed, payment made. Furen checked the time: it was almost 1:30. Ashley still had to go to another family's house for a favor. Even though he was dying to get rid of the mountain of clothes he'd accumulated at home immediately, he had to resist the urge.
Before leaving, he said to her:
"If possible, I would like to take advantage of the services of a cleaning lady from the Kinghanston Neighbourhood Improvement Society starting this evening. Let's begin today."
Ashley seemed to expect it. She replied:
"Very well, sir. Will you be home around six o'clock? If you're not there yet, could you leave me a spare key? You can trust my honesty."
Furen couldn't help but smile. Clearly, the young woman hadn't forgotten his unflattering comment from yesterday. He reassured her:
"I trust you. I'm the one who wasted your time, so accept this as an apology."
He gave him a little more than two weeks' salary, then added:
"The extra money is to compensate you for this busy day. I hope this appointment hasn't disrupted your afternoon's work. Here's the key. I might be back a little late."
He took the key to his front door off his keyring and handed it to her. Seeing Ashley's hesitant expression, he added, "Don't worry, I have my own way in. I hope our collaboration will be satisfactory."
Ashley took the key and, seeing that this gentleman had already planned everything, replied, "Very well. I won't disappoint you."
"See you soon then," said Furen, walking away.
After leaving Ashley, he hailed a carriage and went, as always, to the National Library in Trier.
But inwardly, he grumbled:
"It's not that I want to go! Who would want to be in the same place every day, even worse than school? But until I've digested the Apprentice potion, until I've gathered the necessary knowledge... I have no choice."
But reality set in: if he wanted to speed up the digestion of the potion, he had to study. So, despite his reluctance, Furen returned to his familiar book: A Condensed History of Ancient and Modern Philosophy. He also went up to the fourth floor to study the feysac and the old feysac.
Language was the foundation of everything. Even though Feysac, Royenne (runic), Intisien, and later Feynapotter all shared a common origin, their differences were immense. Like modern Western European languages: stemming from the same root, but having become very different over time. Some retained their original features, others changed their grammar, and still others were almost unrecognizable.
So if modern languages already gave you a headache, ancient ones like Old Feysac, Draconic, Elven were even worse.
Languages were definitely not Furen's strong suit. This time, however, it didn't worry him too much: the Apprentice potion not only granted him the power to "Open Doors," but also a slight improvement in his memory. Not on par with Scholars or Readers, certainly, but among the twenty-two potions, the Apprentice did indeed possess a talent for memorization.
Pleased with this, Furen returned home around seven o'clock. He walked faster than usual and calculated that he would arrive around eight. He could then check if his new housekeeper was trustworthy and if his house had been properly cleaned.
(End of chapter)