A small, satisfying click ended an hour of tinkering, and Leon grinned. The pistol just needed a round of polishing, a few tests at the firing range, and perhaps he could sell it for a bit of cash. Fit for a Corsican officer of the infantry line, or a cavalry officer atop a gallant horse. Not the sort of life Leon looked for, but he understood its appeal. Beyond the Burke Barony, and the Holy Britannian Empire, a few wars for the balance of power raged. Kirmana's independence was threatened by the Sultan of Antakya, which the Emperor and his allies were forced to counter in their personal capacity. Revolutionary sympathies and unrest eventually led to the fall of the northern highlands to republican armies, and the local Kingdom of Pralodeca was contemplating its own invasion to restore some form of monarchy there. In the words of Kaz, it was the age of a brave, new world. Some old orders were overturned, others were doubled down upon, but the more things changed, the more they remained the same. A king today may have been a minister of a ruling council the next, but they all had the same power and acted like it. Leon placed his unpolished pistol on the workshop table, and exited his little workshop. The noise of shifting furniture had long ceased outside, the end result being that of a nice arrangement of cages, animal-sized beds and food bowls of varying sizes. A tall, muscular, dark-skinned woman was asleep in a corner, lying horizontal on the floor. Kaz was tall, and even when she wasn't standing up, her height was immediately obvious. No one human was this tall, other than the one man Leon saw at a circus sideshow. He grinned, and waved at the sleeping woman. Kaz worked hard to arrange this, and she deserved some sleep. The party his sisters hosted would probably have been over at this point (and chances are, they were probably shagging some middling noble from another barony). Parties were noisy, sordid affairs of inbred men and women currying for favours, flaunting their privileges or wealth, or screwing the good-looking servants. "Nobles are weird people," Leon muttered. If the gods would listen to him at this moment, perhaps they would have shouted back: "Pot kettle mate!" He wandered around the mansion without purpose. It was just a few weeks since he came back to the seat of his noble bloodline, but Leon had never really familiarised himself with the place beyond the necessities. He knew where his workshop was, where his menagerie would be and his bedroom, but Leon never truly bothered himself with anything else. He even needed to ask Kaz where his father's quarters were, not that he would visit that place willingly. He passed by a few servants, most of whom were female and avoided looking at him straight in the face. (After the incident with Arthur the dragon, most servants got the hint.) Leon did not bother looking at them, either. As long as they didn't do anything to him, he was content to ignore them. As he passed by a door, he heard a crash and a loud squeak of a creature. A dragon. Arthur. Arthur was the size of a large domestic cat and acted quite a bit like one. Without the menagerie's cages, Arthur often contented himself with wandering around the mansion. "Arthur!" he shouted, hastily opening the door. The door led to the kitchen, and Arthur had his head in a bowl of what was presumably flour. His black scaled skin was covered with white powder. Arthur tossed the now-empty bowl of flour off his head and leapt to Leon's side, purring as he nuzzled against Leon's leg and dusted his trouser leg with dry flour. "Errr... sorry. He gets bored," Leon muttered sheepishly. His businessman sensibilities came before his supposedly noble attitude. His father once told him that the butler, or valet's job was to apologise for any faux pas towards the servants, unless that faux pas involved bastard children or murder.

“Disaster! It’s a disaster!” Lettie, the sweet-tempered maid Verity had met just that morning, was clinging to her for dear life. The maid’s hands were clenched about her arms as tears rolled down—honestly one would think she’d just witnessed a murder! With the practiced calm of an elder sister, Verity gently took Lettie’s hands in hers, giving them a light squeeze. “Calm down, Lettie. Tell me what happened.” Lettie sniffled. “It’s--it’s that monster of Master Leon’s! I managed to avoid it all day, but then it somehow got into the kitchen! We were in the middle of the final touches for dessert and now no one dares go inside! I’m sure all our work has been ruined, oh… oh this is so bad…” Yep, that was really bad. The multi-course dinner of the evening was well into the fourth dish, with the next course meant to be chocolate-crème parfaits. The footmen had mostly attended to the guests while the maids took over tray settings and the food itself, but now Verity felt bad for having left to fetch more bottles of wine—specifically the Burke vintage from 36 or so years ago. Not only had she failed to find it, but now chaos had erupted and everyone feared the worst. Just as Verity opened her mouth to express her condolences, Elena’s harpy-voice cut right through her spine. “You! Verity! What are you doing just standing there? It was your responsibility to take care of the beast!” “Yes, but—” “Get to the kitchen and get rid of it before we’re all fired!” “Right away, Ma’am.” Verity parted from Lettie with a handkerchief, picking up the long skirt of her uniform as she rushed past the glaring housekeeper. Thankfully, the kitchen was just down the hall (poor Lettie had been brave enough to at least keep vigil just outside). The scene that unfolded before her eyes when she opened the door was unexpectedly tame. There was the drake, yes, a frighteningly black, scaly creature with enormous eyes. It was occupied with a ball of dough (presumably the very stuff for the scones meant to be freshly fried that evening), and as Verity carefully crept towards the broom closet for something to fend it off with, it wandered right on over to a bowl of dry ingredients for more scone dough. A series of metallic and ceramic clattering echoed across the room as spoons, whisks, and bowls tumbled down with the drake; apparently it’d lost its footing. With a broom held firmly in both hands, Verity edged closer, not sure if she ought to be terrified or endeared. While the creature didn’t seem particularly threatening, she knew better than to compare it to a dog or cat. It could bite, perhaps spit acid, maybe spit fire… “Arthur!” An unfamiliar voice made Verity jump, and not unlike the drake, she wheeled around to look. Her mouth dropped open as the creature bounded over to the intruder and affectionately rubbed his leg. Perhaps it was more like a domestic pet after all. This must be the master. No one else would react like that. Verity stared for a moment, taking in the sight of the gentleman. With the way everyone had been going on about his servant and how he’d brought everything into an uproar, she’d expected someone a bit taller. This delicate little creature looked more like he’d just left the boys’ choir of a church. His manners were strangely gentle as well as he apologized. She knew how she ought to act. This was her first real meeting, so she ought to bow and introduce herself, perhaps apologize for not having looked after his pet more carefully. Unfortunately, that same thought triggered an annoyance that ignited something irritatingly hot in her chest. It wasn’t her fault that creature had been left to run rampant—she’d been called to help in the kitchen. If the host of the house couldn’t be bothered to reign things in for such a big event, then it was his fault for causing chaos and making Lettie cry! “My apologies, Master Leon.” Verity stooped down to pick up the bowl the drake had tossed aside, her countenance absurdly grave. “But ‘sorry’ isn’t going to replace the scones, now is it? Please remove that thing from the kitchen and be courteous enough to keep your beasts in check while the house has such esteemed company.”

Leon was taken aback, not even noticing Arthur clambering up his arm and perching himself on the young noble's shoulder. Almost every servant, beyond those who had to interact with the nobility in their official capacity, were cowed by their presence. Nobles were no different from any human, but reputation was a powerful factor. This girl herself had spirit, muscle and a bit of scruffiness as well. Leon had never seen her before, but he could not name any of the maids to save his life. "Who are you?" he asked, matter-of-factly, though his face showed how stunned he was by Verity's blunt attitude. Arthur purred once, then started pawing at Leon's face in an attempt to get attention. Leon looked up and down Verity. She dressed the part of the maid, yes, but there was something in the back of his mind that nagged at him. Something about this girl was off. "You're not from around here, are you?" Leon grinned internally as he asked that, finding a moment to scratch the chin of the attention-seeking dragon upon his shoulder.

Of all the nerve! It was Verity’s turn to be taken aback. Was the man accusing her of trespassing? If he was, he certainly didn’t look upset—no, those wide, soft eyes were full of surprise. How a man could have no qualms with a drake pawing at his head but stare at a maid like she was a ghost was well beyond her. “My name is Verity Lund. I was hired this morning to ‘Look after our tenacious and very troublesome master.’ You can go and speak to the housekeeper if you don’t believe me. While I haven’t visited the Burke estate before, my family has a steading some thirteen leagues or so away.” There was some bitterness in her tone, as if she resented the fact that the Burke family rarely seemed to even look at the people they taxed on a monthly basis. “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to fix this mess you’ve so graciously made.” Verity all-too-happily turned her back to the man and began sweeping up the flour on the floor. They’d just have to go without scones tonight, so the cupcakes that Lettie had come up with would just have to do. Thankfully, the frosted pastries were still untouched on one of the tables, each with a decadent cherry on top.

Wordlessly, Leon backed up and out of the kitchen his drake had so ungracefully wandered about. He glared at Arthur (who was looking around from his perched position with cat-like interest, none-the-wiser to his master's displeasure) before his eyes lit up with a gleeful realisation. This Verity had spirit, but her role, in her own words, was to: 'look after our tenacious and very troublesome master.' He could just fire her, and everything would go back to normal. With a grin and a little scratch to the tiny dragon's chin, Leon made his way back to his little corner of the estate. Maids and other servants, normally only cowed enough to avoid his gaze, gave him a wider berth throughout the hallways of the mansion. Leon glanced towards the ever-ignorant Arthur, who just looked towards his master for a moment and chirped. He chirped back, and allowed himself a little grin. He should bring out Arthur more. Kaz was still sleeping when he came back. Plucking the dragon off his shoulder, Leon placed the little beast in its cage and gently clanked the door shut. Arthur sniffed the ground of the cage for a moment, and contented himself to stare placidly at a bowl of water. Leon had insisted that the cage Arthur was housed in be brought back, despite its size and the cost of transportation. However, familiar environments allowed the adorable little monster to calm down. He would accompany the beast, but Leon had to go back to making the next pistol. That, at least, was a little better than the tiresome affairs of nobles.

With the dragon finally out of the kitchen, things more or less went back to normal. The scones were a little late in coming, but there were still plenty of other desserts to occupy the guests with—creamy custards, blueberry Danishes, and of course, the daintily frosted cupcakes that had somehow escaped the invading dragon’s attention. These were brought out tray by tray as the footmen took them out for the guests, and the maids were able to take a breath of relief. Well, at least most of them. Verity was still cleaning up after them, wiping off flour dusted countertops, sweeping away crumbs, and washing the dishes. So many pastries meant lots of annoyingly stubborn pans, so half of them were soaking as she worked on the dirty plates from dinner. It promised to be a long, long night with all the stacks of porcelain awaiting her, but it wasn’t hard work, and her mind was free to wander. At least it was until the housekeeper’s voice was barking in her ear again. “Verity! You neglected the young master’s meal, didn’t you! Drop those dishes right now and prepare a plate for him before the food gets any colder!” Verity cringed, feeling like she was being blamed for yet another chore that’d been ignored in favor of the other work she’d been tasked to. How was she supposed to know exactly when to stop and switch between kitchen duties and the eclectic master’s needs? Ah well, I’ll forgive her for tonight. It’s been stressful with so many guests. If the master is accustomed to being so irresponsible, though, I don’t think it should matter if his dinner is late. Serves him right for the trouble his pet caused. Even so, Verity did leave the dishes in favor of preparing a plate. When Lettie saw the poor maid slapping on food on a plate, she scurried over to help. As it turned out, the food apparently had to look nice, too. The pair of maids re-heated the roasted chicken in the oven for a minute or so, then set a healthy amount of roasted rosemary potatoes next to it. They added a bed of Brussel sprouts with chestnuts, then some sautéed mushrooms with butter and garlic to complete the dish. There also was a strange order to setting the tray. “The placemat goes first, of course.” Lettie set down a lacey white cloth, flattening it ever-so-carefully across the tray. “Then you fold the napkin in half and place it on the left side. The plate has to go in the center, overlapping the right side of the napkin just a bit. Then we put the dinner fork on the left—not quite touching the plate, then the salad fork next to it…” The whole process was a little too complicated the first time around, but it sort-of made sense. With a tray laden with dinner, forks, a small dessert plate, and a goblet topped with wine, Verity finally stepped out of the kitchen. The halls were still busy with the footmen going back and forth between the party and the kitchen, but things quieted down almost immediately after she passed the ballroom. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting of the rest of the house, but some part of her had expected to hear the growls of a dragon. It wasn’t hard to find her master—she had Lettie’s instructions, after all. The kind maid had also informed her about the master’s ‘bodyguard,’ some strange, frightening woman she was urged not to speak to or make any threatening gestures towards. After the dragon incident, she honestly wasn’t that surprised, though she had no idea how a tiny little thing like him could have gained the respect of such a frightening woman. The door was ajar when she arrived, so she stepped in without asking permission. She was met by a truly strange sight: there was an assortment of cages, a strange workshop-like setup along the opposing wall, and oddly enough, a woman sleeping in the corner of the room. On the floor. Verity perked up a brow, but decided not to question the master’s bizarre tastes: she just wanted to deliver the dinner and finish her work for the evening. “Master Burkes: your dinner.” Verity approached from behind, lightly setting the immaculately prepared meal on the table where he worked.