Category: Resident Evil Village

Rating: M

Couples: -

Warnings: AU, mention of torture, Blood

Chapter: 22

Copyright: Characters & places © By Capcom, Plot & OC´s © by me

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"My Lady?" She knocked softly on the door to the Lady Dimitrescu's bedroom.

"Enter." The Lady of the castle had started working again, but tiring easily still, she had ordered her desk moved into her bedroom so she could rest as necessary.

"The paperwork you requested, My Lady." The maid slipped into the room, making sure to not disturb the pile of papers she was carrying.

"Put it there." A hand vaguely gestured to the right, so she decided to put it on the corner of the desk on that side.

"Is there anything you need, My Lady?" She ducked her head lightly, not risking a glance that could offend the taller woman. Things had improved for the servants after the abduction of their lady, but insults should still be prevented at all costs.

"Ereina is hungry, bring her some leftovers."

"Yes, My Lady." Bowing, she left the room quietly. That had certainly proven an unexpected upside as well; the youngest of the Mistresses had not much of a discerning palate and aside from a few instances, her elders were more than content to just let her have leftovers, be it of their own dinner or the meals of their servants.

The biggest change however was their direct treatment of said servants. The triplets seemed more than content to just entertain their new sibling and the one time, early on, that Cassandra had been carving up a maid in the hallway - from what she had heard, the foolish girl had been speaking a bit too positively about the Lady's ordeal with a bit too much gleeful speculation about what had happened to her - Bela had appeared and called her sister off. After a whispered debate none of the maids had been privy to, that had signaled the end of the sisters' outright violence against the humans in the castle. She was pretty certain they were still hunting humans outside of the castle, but that was of little concern to her.

She hadn't asked - and would never ask, she had braincells, thank you very much - but she was pretty certain it had something to do with their mother. It had happened shortly after the older Dimitrescu had woken from her coma and the hallway had been near enough to her bedchambers that she could feasibly have heard the maid's screams.

Sliding through the half-opened door to a servant-corridor, she started making her way down to the kitchens. She nearly slipped on the stairs at one point, feeling something like mildew underfoot and only barely catching herself on the guardrail. Great, who-ever had the job of cleaning these had certainly not been doing it. She would have to tell the Madam, hoping it wouldn't end up with her having to do it.

The door to the kitchen creaked when she opened it, but that was a known factor and in fact, intentionally designed that way so the head-cook with her rooms nearby would know if someone entered it while she was not in.

"The Lady has send for leftovers." She informed the older matron, the oldest of the servants currently employed in the castle.

"Ah, yes." Despite her age, she still moved quickly and efficiently, likely brought on by decades of catering and surviving under the Dimitrescu-family. "Here." She reappeared from the depths of the kitchen with a pot. "And here's a scoop, in case the Lady thinks it too much."

She shuddered at the prospect. She had had to feed the young baby once and it had been disgusting. Praying to Mother Miranda that this time she wouldn't need to, she headed back upstairs, taking a different servant-stairs to the right floor. It would mean a longer walk in the hallways, but she did not want to run the risk of falling on the stairs while carrying a whole pot of... something or other. It still smelled good, despite being at least a day old.

Moving through the luxurious hallways, she got some sympathetic glances from her colleagues. Everyone had at least once fed the youngest Mistress by now, so they all knew the unenviable task ahead of the unfortunate soul that moved through the castle with a large pot of leftovers. Sadly, none of them were sympathetic enough to offer to take the task of her hands, which to be fair she probably also would not have done.

Blessedly, at least none of them had puked yet. Mother knew what the Dimitrescu Matriarch would do if that happened.

Putting down the large pot so she had a free hand, she knocked on the door. "My Lady?"

There was no answer. Had the Lady tired and gone to bed in the short time she had been to the kitchen? Was she supposed to come back later or to just... go in and feed the youngest Mistress? This certainly had not been covered in any of the lessons about proper castle-etiquette she had received when arriving here. Nor had she heard of any others having a similar occurence.

"Lady Dimitrescu?" She reached for the doorknob, intending to just peek in and make a judgement call based on what she saw. But the door - even the doorknob - would not budge. Hesitantly, she rested her ear against the door to listen for sounds in the room, but also could not make out anything.

Perhaps it was nothing, perhaps the Lady had truly decided to rest and had locked the door for privacy. But no, doorknobs still turned when they were locked. This one was being held.

Now concerned, she decided that worry was the better option, leaving the pot and scoop and rushing down the hallway to warn the Mistresses.