Only after I typed it did I realize that last chapter could be looked at as a notice for me discontinuing the story. I mean, the chapter name was "Bye" and the first line says the chapter is a notice, if someone does not care to read after that and see what I was talking about...

No reviews, but that's okay, none of my stories got any for this last round of updates. Ehh~.

Ctb, It's nice to see you beat it without any need for repeats. The first time I played, I failed on the last week. =S. I had enough in the middle of the week, but then people kept coming in to SELL things. I ended that week with something like four hundred thirty thousand...something like that...It's been a long time since I played...and I can't remedy that unless I buy the game again. * Sigh *

In other news, The other day I had an idea that filled a hole I have been wrestling with a long time. Now the story has no foreseeable loop-holes...of course, it also means that these next few chapters I cannot. Make. A. Mistake. It is a severe understatement to say these chapters are vital and instrumental to the story development.

~C.F Winchester

~Lemongrass Stains: Recette's Annual.

Chapter Thirteen Slice Two: Horse

Recette watched my luggage get plied higher and higher as wait men rushed back and forth with my bags from my room to be loaded unto a pack horse. She tilted her head to the side as she did so, her face a polite mask of a smile. I wondered what she was thinking. All of this stuff I had packed for a trip that was supposed to last me a week. I needed to spread my luggage between two horses, because we needed to travel with speed, we were not renting a carriage to go with it. Just four horses, two for riding and two for my junk.

Recette had all she had packed for herself on her body...and she was leaving her home for at least a month... or in truth; most likely forever. I detected no jealousy however, which was the usual response of a serve maid or some other person of lesser income I might be with...

I detected nothing of anything to be once again honest...Her eyes seemed to travel on each piece of luggage as if taking stock...and she didn't protest when three wait men threw, one after the other, bags at her. She simply blinked as she caught them. For the first time, she looked confused, but I had a very bad feeling I knew what was going on...

"Oi, serve maid, put those bags on your lady's personal horse will you?"

Oh boy. Recette's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and I feared for the man's life. I mean, if they had mistaken ME for a serve maid, he probably wouldn't have ears anymore from yelling...however, Recette stopped me with a look. She tossed all three bags back at him, and he failed to catch them, instead getting all in the gut and bowling over.

"I'm sorry; but I am not the serve maid. I'm armed escort.'

She said it so smoothly that if seemed it had been planned. Then again, what WAS I planning to say to explain her existence? One of the other serve men picked up a bag from the speakers chest, but the third seemed to be wise and laughed.

"Someone as weedy as you an escort? Please! Don't make me laugh! What kind of protection could YOU provide?"

Her head tilted tot he other side now. She gave him a small smile.

"I'm not hired to chat."

"No, seriously. What kind of protection-"

"This kind."

About three seconds passed. I swear that's all the time that took place, but she was already turned towards me and taking her place back where she had been. The server's hat fell from his head in three pieces, and his coat's sleeves had been...err...tailored. She slid her blade back into her sheath with a definitive sound as she turned back forwards, and the man was left standing there shivering. I doubt he could have seen it, heck I didn't see what happened...but unlike me, he was wearing those clothes, so he probably felt it. He took a hurried bow and three buttons fell off his coat. I held back the urge to laugh. He scooped up a bag and hurried off without a word. I turned to her as the last one recovered enough to scurry off with his bag.

"Your story told me you were fast, but...I'm sorry...it's..."

She stopped me with a hand.

"I know. This is a high class part of town. Anyone not wearing a million pix on their neck alone is a servant, and I should be the one who says sorry...but I knew from looking at them that talking was not going to be much use..."

She looked after the last one, who had vanished through the door, as we were standing inside the inn.

"They've spent too much time being taken advantage of by the rich. They will exercise whatever power they have whenever they can. They need to feel powerful too, otherwise they lose the will to continue...but I'm not the one they should be lashing out on..."

I shivered a little at the implications of that. The poor, the taken advantage of...they needed a place to rebel, and at each other was only so satisfying...soon they'd direct that anger and injustice at the right place...and the soft rich wouldn't know what hit them, and unfortunately...

I was one of the rich.

I followed her out of the door, and she stopped to stare at the horses. Her eyes traced the lines of their muscles. She seemed a little apprehensive. I looked at her questioningly. She turned to me and whispered under her breath to me.

"I thought you said you bought horses!"

My confusion deepened.

"These are horses..."

"Horses are smaller! They don't have this much muscle! What are these things?!"

"...They are horses. Are you sure you've seen a horse before...?"

She looked at me as if to ask me if I were serious. I was about to retort when I realized something.

"Have you ever ridden a horse before?"

Her face again showed that rare, fleeting apprehensive look. Her mouth twisted into something I can only describe as an S. A squiggling worm like shape.

"No, I haven't, but I've driven them on a good cart before."

"Those were probably donkeys."

"...Donkeys?"

I didn't have time to answer, the rest of the bags were tossed on and the reigns were handed to me. So, this was the first snag, Recette had never ridden a horse, and had just proven she had never even seen a real one. I sighed. Leave it to the lower class to up-sale their goods. Selling Donkeys as Horses. Ugh. If I could find the one who did this I could give them a good yelling. I turned to Recette.

"If you're serious about pretending to be a Dale's Lady come that fete, you'll need to know how to ride. Just about any noble and noble's daughter knows how to ride. Get up on one."

Recette looked up at the animal, then back at me She took a few steps back and took a few steps forwards for speed before jumping. She landed on the horse.

Of course, she promptly fell back off when it bucked, but the animal was well trained enough not to bolt. It was reigned in, but it was not going to let Recette get away. It kicked out at her and she ducked under it's kick, so it flicked its tail in her eyes and then kicked back again. The girl managed to roll and jump up away from it, eying it. She gulped, and I smiled before I realized I was not supposed to be happy she didn't know this. It would slow us down. I sighed.

"Look; that's not how you get on a horse."

She looked at me, sheepish, and for once, I could see the little girl she once was.

"Aww...I guessed that much thanks..."

Dancing, Horse Riding, and Proper Etiquette. This will be a fun week.

+~E~+

Another short one.

~Finalage