Authors Note: Wow! What an early post! Its barely past lunchtime! What's the special occasion? I'm glad you asked random citizen. Yesterday was my sisters birthday, and this is her present! An extra chapter today. One right now, and one around the usual time I post. Happy Birthday Sis!

"Your highness." Whitaran nodded to her respectfully as Snow approached him.

"Lord Whitaran" Snow greeted him, unsure if he was really a Lord, but erring on the side of caution. He certainly behaved like one. "Your swordsmanship is impressive."

Whitaran quirked an eyebrow. "Thank you, your highness. I did not see you watching."

Snow smiled, "My room has an excellent view." She gestured back toward the house generally.

"I see." He eyed her warily, and Snow realized that he knew she was about to ask him for something. I guess he really is nobility.

"I have often admired the art of the sword," Snow began, watching him carefully, "but have never had a chance to gain any knowledge of it." Snow was pretty sure Whitaran already knew what she was going to ask – as he had furrowed his brow and was critically sizing her up. Nonetheless, it was best to set terms of a contract out explicitly – especially when fae were involved. "I was wondering if you would provide me the service of giving me some basic instruction in it in return for something you wish help with?"

There was a moment of silence as Whitaran continued to size her up, and then, "I would enjoy such an opportunity to teach an eager student the blade." He smiled and continued, "And there is a task I absolutely despise – are you capable with arithmetic?"

Snow informed him that she was – though her education had been lacking in both magic and swordplay, it had been fairly thorough everywhere else.

"Well then, lets start with that today, and tomorrow we will begin working with the sword – after all, there is not much time left today to do so."

Seeing his reasoning, Snow followed him back into the house, and into the room next door to the office she had spoken to Navormal in. It appeared much like its neighbor, with obvious office properties. The main difference was that this office appeared far more used than Navormal's. There was a ledger out on the desk, papers in an inbox, and a few fingers of an amber liquid in a tumbler on the desk. The open wall was adorned with hundreds of pressed flowers. A small reading nook was tucked into the bookshelves with a cozy armchair and a book lying open. It was by no means disorderly, but the clear personality exuded made Navormal's office feel sterile by comparison.

Whitaran waved her over to the desk and indicated that she should sit at it. Snow did, hesitantly. It felt a bit like an invasion of privacy, but clearly Whitaran wanted her there, so she tried to ignore the feeling.

Whitaran leaned over the desk and pointed at a small jumbled stack of paper scraps, each of which had a minimum of three words written on it, but there were several with much more. "I am responsible for keeping track of expenses incurred by the Seelie fae in the surrounding areas. Just write the name of the person here in column one, what it was for in column two, and the cost in column three. If you are unsure about something, go ahead and ask me." With that, he settled himself in the reading nook, and picked up the book that had been waiting invitingly on the table.

Snow began on the ledger. She was familiar with them, as evidentially keeping track of expenses was something that her father deemed it important for her to learn. Her familiarity warned her it was going to be rather boring. And it was a bit repetitive, but also surprisingly intriguing. Evidentially, a fae by the name of Ailish had payed "2 dreams" for something called "Everlight". That she had no idea what had been bought was frustrating, but the fact that somehow the payment was a dream was interesting.

As she continued down the ledger, she found that some people did appear to pay with money – though not a kind she recognized – others payed in something else, such as years, songs, promises, cumhachd, hope, and once, most intriguingly in "three true lies" for "services rendered"

Whitaran tapped her on the shoulder. Snow nearly jumped, she had been surprisingly engrossed. He looked amused, "I believe it is time for lunch."