“Cleanliness, is a mandate of the Goddess, and a requirement of this fine establishment!” Said the woman at the front of the room. She was well dressed in a white button-down blouse and a light brown skirt, with a black belt to tie it together. She was young with brown hair bound behind her head in a loose bun. I recognized her, but for the life of me I couldn’t place her. We been awakened an hour early; I’d reluctantly dragged myself from my bunk and with Jen’s help, stumbled through my morning routine. It all resulted us, well, most of us, standing in a huge room beneath the servant’s quarters that I wasn’t even aware existed. The room was laid with white tile and wood paneled wall; at the front, a brief stage that looked as if it had been dragged in rather than built within the room. We stood in straight lines, hands folded behind our backs.

“If you are here,” The woman continued. “It is because you have been informed upon! Stand true and prepare for inspection!”

The girls around me suddenly stepped apart, one group to the left, one to the right, then forward, leaving adequate space between us for four other girls in servant gray to walk through the lines, clipboards in hand. Immediately, each girl laid her hands out in front, palms down. I looked around nervously and then laid my hands out likewise.

“What have you done to your hair?” One of the girls demanded of another. “It looks like a sponge!”

“Dirt on your arms,” Another girl said. “Clean it up!”

Finally, one of the girls stood in front of me, but glanced back to the woman on the stage who nodded before stepping down and making her way through the lines, finally standing in front of me. I looked up at her nervously, unsure of what to say. She was my height, and perhaps a bit more petite, but she was intimidating nonetheless.

“It’s been some time,” She said to me quietly. “You were ten years old, if memory serves me, and it does.”

“My Lady?” I asked, confused.

“I am Lady Myria Jenwise, Viscount of Klocby” She told me; my heart immediately skipped a beat. Of course I knew her, she had come to one of my father’s feasts, in a diplomatic fashion of course. The tension between Jocsby and Axock had been the prime matter at home for many years. “A strange situation indeed.”

“Yes My Lady,” I gulped; my throat immediately felt dry.

“Let us see your nails then, tarry not!”

I stood silently and nervously as she took my hand in hers, running her fingers over my nails and finally turning them over and running her fingers through the crevices. Finally, she stepped back and looked me over from head to toe.

“Your legs are bruised,” She noted.

“Yes, My Lady.”

“You will become accustomed, to women’s work,” She told me. I tensed; one more confirmation that this wouldn’t end anytime soon. There was no chance or hope that High Lady Jenwise would bestow mercy and move me to a more respectable position. “Who is your transitory preceptor?”

I blinked and cracked my lips, trying to think of an answer, or more accurately trying to figure out what that word even meant.

“I am, My Lady,” Jen said from behind me. I breathed a sigh of relief and momentarily relaxed my shoulders as I realized that she was there - I’d completely forgotten.

“Your work is satisfactory,” The Lady told her.

“I am honored, My lady,” Jen performed a slight curtsey.

“Do you scrub your backside with corrugate?!” An inspector screamed at a girl near the back of the formation. The Lady Myria blinked and then returned her attention to me.

“The First Girl laid instructions for you, this day past,” The Lady told me. “do you recall?”

“Yes, My Lady,” I said quickly, remembering the brief moment I’d spent held over Sheena’s desk, my arms pinned to it and my back pressed as she’d brought the switch down across my hands. The memory flashed before my eyes and I could feel the bruise on my left hand radiating as if it had just happened.

“Preceptor, you are familiar with the application of cosmetics, yes?” She directed her question to Jen; at the back of the formation I heard a girl screaming obscenities.

“Yes, My Lady,” Jen confirmed.

“It need not be extravagant, she is not nobility, after all. Contour her face and provide a natural aesthetic so that the masculine features are hidden. Teach her to do so without the aid of a mirror.”

“Yes, My Lady,” Jen said.

My heart began to race; my immediate reaction was to act disgusted and even resist, but there were so many reasons not to. These things, cosmetics, dresses, the way my hair was styled; they were things that I had wanted for the last two years, perhaps even more, but to act on those feelings would not only have been taboo, they were outright punishable. Now it was punishable not to do them and something about that excited me. I had been given freedom to be the person I felt I was inside; I was being compelled to. So why did I feel such apprehension? Why did my every instinct scream at me to resist? To fight back? By the time I had processed all of these thoughts, the lady had returned to the podium and the inspectors stood to the side.

“These girls will provide me with their findings,” She said, placing her hands on her hips. “You will work on your hygiene, you will make yourself presentable! The honor of Klocby Palace and House Jenwise are no laughing matter! Am I understood?”

“Yes Lady Myria!” We chanted in unison.

“Furthermore, an announcement! Your peers have no doubt received this news already, but due to your misconduct, you have missed much this morning! Hopefully not breakfast! In the next week, the palace will host an event for all Lords this side of the realm! They have traveled far to be here, and as they arrive it will be our duty to make them comfortable! The palace will be prepared! And I hope, girls, that your cleaning skills are not on par with your hygiene!”

“Yes Lady Myria!”

We filed out of the room and immediately dropped our composure as we entered the hall. The girls fled down the hall and up the stairs, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

“Come,” Jen instructed me, leading me away from the other girls and toward a different stairs that deposited us within the girl’s dormitory. “Would you believe that in the next year they finally plan to fix this place?”

“Fix it?” I looked around, trying to see something wrong with it.

“Yes, fix it,” She said, walking toward her bunk. “You cannot say to me with sincerity that you enjoy sleeping in a room where hundreds can watch you sleep!”

“In all honesty, Jen,” I said, exasperated. “I just took it to be part of the punishment.”

“You’re being punished are you?” She snickered. “Then why do you like it?”

“I…I don’t know if I like it,” I lied.

“Oh! That’s so then is it?” She turned to me and grinned. “Then why do you not protest? Why not refuse?”

“Jen, I would be sent to prison,” I pointed out to her incredulously.

“Mphm,” She said, folding her arms and maintaining her grin. I didn’t like it. “Do y’know, little Lyra, how many men would tarry in prison before they were seen in a dress?”

My jaw dropped and my cheeks burned. She looked back at me with an expression pure joy; it was probably the first time I’d ever seen her smile.

“You oughtn’t lie to me,” She lectured, tapping the tip of my nose with her index finger. “We’re girls, the both of us. I know another girl when I lay my eyes on her, and you, little Lyra, are a girl.”

I followed her wordlessly to her bumk, too stunned to protest or make any sort of idle conversation. She was right, and I had no ground to stand on. Back at her bunk, I saw a hard case, almost a tiny suitcase, but perhaps twelve inches in length and five deep. It was blue in color and secured with a gold clasp. Atop the case was a note that simply said: “For Jenise”.

“What is that?” I looked at the note in confusion.

“T’would be the cosmetics they sent for you,” She explained.

“Not that,” I corrected myself. “The name….on the case.”

“That’s my name?” She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“It is?”

“Yes, ‘tis!” She shook her head. “Whose name would it be otherways?”

“I…that’s not how it’s pronounced…at all,” I looked to her, utterly confounded. “It’s pronounced ‘Yan’, or ‘Yanise’.”

“Lyra, I’m Zlitian, do you see my skin? White as snow, it is to your eyes, no?”

“I…yes,” I suddenly felt very, very stupid.

“Sit down,” She snickered. “Pay close mind to how I do this, you’ll need to do for yourself soon.”

I tried my best to follow her every move as she used the cosmetics on my face; a thin layer of cream on the entirety of my face, followed by another, and then smaller touchups throughout. Finally, she used a wide brush to dust my face. When she was finished, she pulled a mirror from the case and held it up to my face. I gasped audibly as someone new stared back at me. A new person, but not a stranger.

“Jen…” I began to speak, but my lower lip began to tremble as I tried to hold back tears. “I…”

“My father,” She said. “He always said to me that people are a lot different on the inside than they are the out. Mayhaps they’re kind, or they’re compassionate, but they keep it buried deep down so’s people don’t take advantage of them. Sometimes a person spends so long keepin’ themselves buried, that bringing the inside to the out is a task that even the Goddess can’t do. It’s your day I ‘spose to find yourself.”

There were no words; nothing I could have said would have been adequate. In that moment I dropped all of my inhibitions, all of my ‘male’ conditioning, everything that I had been guarding to keep up the facade, and hugged her. I practically lept across the bunk and wrapped my arms around her. She returned the hug, drawing me close to her. For a moment all was right with the world; all of my problems melted away in that one single moment as the warmth of her body enraptured my very being.

“It’s okay, little Lyra,” She patted my back. “You’re just doing some growing is all.”

She allowed me to sit there for a few moments with my face buried in her shoulder before drawing away and placing her had against my cheek. She smiled and nodded. “You’ll do well, Lyra, things will be okay.”

“Thank you,” I smiled. For the first time, I actually felt like Lyra, like I wasn’t just someone who was pretending. “So I…do you use cosmetics a lot? You did so well on my face.”

“Ah, no, I would say not,” She shook her head. “My father owns a farm in Zlitia, out in the border territory, I’m afraid I spent my days tending to the fields. There’s not much opportunity for service thereabouts.”

“Wait, you wanted to do this?” I frowned and shook my head. “Why? Why would you want to serve others? Why wouldn’t you want to serve yourself?”

“Different people experience fulfillment in many different ways,” She explained. “‘sides, the pay is good.”

“You’re paid for this?”

“Of course,” She rolled her eyes. “Y’can’t ‘spect people to work for nothing. Of course, I know well how it works in Axock.”

“I think I like it better here,” I sighed.

“It would be as well if you did.”

I offered nothing but a soft exhale as my thoughts wandered to home where my father was likely taking his morning meal to be followed by extensive reports on the state of the kingdom, and the realm. I wondered if his thoughts would be with me, or if they would remain with Robin and the rest of Axock. I had not heard word from him in the days since I’d arrived here at Klocby but in many ways, that wasn’t unusual. He did tend to become lost in his work. It was just as well, perhaps; how would he feel if he caught wind of what I was doing here? What were the chances that he’d taken word of it already?

“Is all well?” Sheena asked. I looked away from Jen to see her standing a few bunks away, looking at the two of us.

“‘Tis fine,” Jen assured her. “I painted her face, how do you find it?”

Sheena approached me slowly, squinting and discerning as she inspected Jen’s handiwork. She laid her hand on my cheek and turned my head, checking each side, and then finally stood back.

“How do you feel, Lyra?” She asked me. Jen scooted back on the mattress and watched me closely.

“It’s okay,” I told her, looking down almost immediately. As soon as I did, I felt her hand beneath my chin, tilting my head upward until my eyes met hers.

“Lyra, what do you fear?” She asked me softly. I didn’t have an answer for that, at least not one that I could vocalize. “Is it then, that you have been taught to discard your feelings for the things you love the most so that they will not be taken from you?”

My face went red as the truth of her words hurt me; it was the very first time anyone had vocalized that sentiment and it hurt.

“It is only us here,” She said to me. Her voice was soft and comforting but it carried an authority that I couldn’t deny. The softness in her eyes and the gentle but commanding tone of her voice made it feel as if her and I were the only ones in the room. “so, be true to yourself, this time, and every time after. No one will judge, no one will take your happiness.”

“I…I like it,” I admitted at the level of a whisper.

“Do you.”

“Thank you for helping me,” It was all I could manage to say. I wanted to shout, to laugh, to jump for joy, but for the moment, this was the best I could do. A look of understanding crossed her face and she lowered her hand.

“This,” She said, using her hand to indicate the entirety of the dorm, or perhaps the manse. “is a place of work. But, it is also a place of joy, a place of happiness, and sometimes sorrow. We are not in Axock. The servants do not wear iron collars, and they do not sleep behind locked doors. Our hands are not severed for minor indiscretions, we do not feel sorrow in our work. Do you understand?”

I nodded silently, almost too embarrassed to speak and feeling more timid than I had in my entire life. Days before I had come here with a sense of arrogance, knowing that my noble blood placed me above her and every other servant here whether they knew it or now, but now, as she stood over me and spoke her gentle words, I understood that I was Lyra, and Lyra was no one. My shell had been cracked and all that I was now, or ever was in the past was lying on the floor, exposed for all to see.

“I know who you are,” She told me. “And I know who you were. Who do you want to be, Lyra? The son of a tyrant who tortures and maims at his whim, set on the same path as your father, or do you want to be Lyra?”

She was asking me to abandon my entire idenity, to become something new, but who was that?

“You need not answer now,” She smiled. “Only know that your options are open. Jen, take her to the dining hall to assist with the preparations. Be happy today, Lyra. Do not borrow the worries of tomorrow.”

“Yes, First Girl,” I said as Jen gestured for me to stand and follow her.

I walked alongside Jen away from the dorm, up the stairs, and through the hexagon until we crossed the skybridge. Just beyond the glass, the city of Klocby stretched out to the wall. Overhead, massive dirigibles cris crossed the airspace above the city, leaving the walls behind, docking at one of the many spires tucked within the winding and varied metropolis of slate roofs and gothic architecture.

“Here we are,” Jen pointed to a door ahead. We passed through a small kitchen area and then emerged into a large open space filled with round tables and oak chairs. “This is the presentation room, ‘tis rarely used.”

“Tis true,” Elric said, as he walked through spaces between the tables, carrying a tray of empty crystal champagne flutes. “But the High Lady has called a sumit, and our days are sure to be filled.”

“A summit?” Jen gasped. “Surely not!”

“With many of the High Lords and Ladies in attendance,” Elric confirmed. “I suspect it is to do with the Hybra. In any case, off to work with you two.”

As Elric left us, another girl in gray strode over from across the room.

“And what’s this?” She demanded. “A summit has been called and ye stand about like it’s a holiday! My merciful Goddess is that Lyra?”

“It is, Preceptor,” Jen said. The girl stepped closer and looked me over, then shrugged.

“Well, pretty or not,” The girl said. “there is aught to be done around here. You, girl, what have you been doing all day?”

She suddenly pulled me away, toward the back of the hall where several other servants were milling about, scrubbing the heavy oak tables, sweeping the floors, placing arrangements. Jen didn’t try to stop her; I craned my neck back, horrified to be seaprated from her but I watched her turn and walk toward a different task.

“Come come,” The girl said to me. “My name is Penya, but you may call me Preceptor Bacchus. We’ll start you out on the fireplace, why there must be an inch of soot on the grate!”

She was exaggerating about the amount of soot, but even so, after a few minutes of scrubbing with a wire pad, my arm began to ache and my knees hurt from the kneeling against the brick apron that preceded the fireplace. Nonetheless, I continued to scrub, stealing glances at the rest of the room. I watched Sheena enter from the kitchen with Kayla and leave through another door while dozens of servants hustled to complete various tasks. I was just one among many but I still felt as if I stood out more than I should. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed High Lady Jenwise and her Myria enter through a side door. The High Lady pointed to a tapestry and began to explain something to Myria. I sighed, remember that just over a week ago I could have been this woman’s equal. Just as I turned back to my task, the silence was broken by the sound of the main doors slamming open, and a male servant in black dashed breathlessly to the center of the room.

“High Lady Jenwise!” He gasped. “The Baron Sycronus of Foport Minor wishes an audience with you! It is urgent, my Lady!”