Dairihill, Steward of Castle Anvil
As it turned out, Dairihill was no old fuddy duddy court functionary, but a surprisingly young wood elf to be put in charge of the day-to-day of Castle Anvil. As was typical of her kind, she had a very square chin, but the long autumn-leaf brown hair that framed her face muted it somewhat, and combined with her good height, from a distance she might have been mistaken for an altmer. Her most striking feature was her exotic eyes -- whereas typically the iris and sclera have a highly contrasted colour, hers were dark brown and black, respectively, and I like to fondly think of her as having "midnight eyes". If she weren't so ready with her smile, she could have come off rather sinister.
Dairihill evidently held Carahil in high regard because although she was quick to say there were no openings at the castle at this time, she was also slightly embarrassed. Perhaps she had felt put on at short notice to find something for me as a favour to her friend. I quickly put her at ease and insinuated my own agenda: No, I wasn't looking for a job, I explained. Carahil just wanted me to meet you. I was at the moment not specifically assigned any duties at the Mages Guild and she thought I might be of service to Anvil. And had word reached her about Carahil arranging for the Gold Road murderer to be finally apprehended? No? Well!
With Carahil as a mutual friend and topic of conversation, we settled into easy conversation, which I soon nudged toward asking about her own duties. There was much to admire in the way she kept things orderly and on a tight budget, and I didn't have to work hard at all to slip her genuine compliments. In many ways her hand on the tiller was much like Carahil's management of the Mage's Guild -- orderly and efficient -- though slightly more challenging. My tour of the Castle showed it to be in good repair, but not as lavish or luxurious as those in other capitals. For example, the servant's quarters were more or less just a step up from hovels, thanks to proper beds. Dairihill had made sure that the public and entertaining areas were well appointed and on-par with the Countess's peers.
It was nearly lunchtime, and I still hadn't quite gotten to where I wanted to be with her (no, not a bed -- an opening for me to slide a firm and sure recommendation for Carahil and the Mages Guild) so I did my best to extend our meeting to lunch. Happily, I had buttered her up enough and she though she had to delegate a bit, foisting off a daunting list on the nearest servant, a hapless maid by the name of Beatrice, she was free to go.
Conversation turned to my exploits and with some initial apprehension I noted that although I exaggerated none of it, she lapped up every word with that sort of wistful longing for excitement one wouldn't oneself dare. I pursued this curiousity and instead gently nudged her for exciting moments in her Stewardship of Castle Anvil. She stammered, embarrassed at first, then anxious to please me with some juicy tidbit.
Now I was at a crossroads, or at least my conscience was. Here was a sweet, innocent girl who was about to say something she shouldn't. Surely there are all manner of confidential things about the Castle or the government of Anvil. If only to present herself and not-a-total-loser with no excitement in her life, Dairihill was, I felt certain, about to reveal some compromising secret that could get her fired. Or worse.
In short, blackmail material.
Should I let her continue? Will she regret it? And how would she handle that regret -- or handle ensuring my silence?
Things could get dicey.
I hesistated, and then it was too late.
"Well, there IS something... Not even the Countess knows this..." Dairihill confided. Her dark eyes widened with excitement and nervousness and that barely restrained joy that comes from finally being able to voice a secret. "Actually, let me show you."
Dairihill evidently held Carahil in high regard because although she was quick to say there were no openings at the castle at this time, she was also slightly embarrassed. Perhaps she had felt put on at short notice to find something for me as a favour to her friend. I quickly put her at ease and insinuated my own agenda: No, I wasn't looking for a job, I explained. Carahil just wanted me to meet you. I was at the moment not specifically assigned any duties at the Mages Guild and she thought I might be of service to Anvil. And had word reached her about Carahil arranging for the Gold Road murderer to be finally apprehended? No? Well!
With Carahil as a mutual friend and topic of conversation, we settled into easy conversation, which I soon nudged toward asking about her own duties. There was much to admire in the way she kept things orderly and on a tight budget, and I didn't have to work hard at all to slip her genuine compliments. In many ways her hand on the tiller was much like Carahil's management of the Mage's Guild -- orderly and efficient -- though slightly more challenging. My tour of the Castle showed it to be in good repair, but not as lavish or luxurious as those in other capitals. For example, the servant's quarters were more or less just a step up from hovels, thanks to proper beds. Dairihill had made sure that the public and entertaining areas were well appointed and on-par with the Countess's peers.
It was nearly lunchtime, and I still hadn't quite gotten to where I wanted to be with her (no, not a bed -- an opening for me to slide a firm and sure recommendation for Carahil and the Mages Guild) so I did my best to extend our meeting to lunch. Happily, I had buttered her up enough and she though she had to delegate a bit, foisting off a daunting list on the nearest servant, a hapless maid by the name of Beatrice, she was free to go.
Conversation turned to my exploits and with some initial apprehension I noted that although I exaggerated none of it, she lapped up every word with that sort of wistful longing for excitement one wouldn't oneself dare. I pursued this curiousity and instead gently nudged her for exciting moments in her Stewardship of Castle Anvil. She stammered, embarrassed at first, then anxious to please me with some juicy tidbit.
Now I was at a crossroads, or at least my conscience was. Here was a sweet, innocent girl who was about to say something she shouldn't. Surely there are all manner of confidential things about the Castle or the government of Anvil. If only to present herself and not-a-total-loser with no excitement in her life, Dairihill was, I felt certain, about to reveal some compromising secret that could get her fired. Or worse.
In short, blackmail material.
Should I let her continue? Will she regret it? And how would she handle that regret -- or handle ensuring my silence?
Things could get dicey.
I hesistated, and then it was too late.
"Well, there IS something... Not even the Countess knows this..." Dairihill confided. Her dark eyes widened with excitement and nervousness and that barely restrained joy that comes from finally being able to voice a secret. "Actually, let me show you."
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