Feather shook her head in protest at Kijani's compliment. The fair skinned girl did her best to help guide her mistress down the narrow stairway and towards the table, filled with food and drink. "Oh, I'm not lovely," she replied in her start-stop manner. In many ways, Feather's way of speaking was much akin to the automatons in the great city: fully intelligent and capable of doing their duties as directed but having to pause and search their tightly wound magnetic coils for proper responses to any given situation. "Stone says I am pretty. So does my Da and Mum. Only pretty isn't beautiful, Mistress. You're beautiful. I am pretty." Her maid stopped for a second to cock her head to one side in thought before boldly declaring, "I wish I had dark hair like yours, Mistress, all nice and tightly wound in strands like that. Only my Mum said that's for city girls, and I should stick to simple braids and buns like everyone else here."

Bringing forth a kettle held with the hem of her skirt, Feather poured a dark cup of tea out for Kijani. A plate of toasted bread and a pot of honey to sweet both quickly followed. "I could not find any butter," she admitted simply. "There is some bacon fat if you'd like that on your bread, though!"

At this, Victor entered from the porch, a broad axe hefted over one shoulder while his other hand gripped his cane tightly. The orchard's owner was dressed more simply than the day before, in worn leather trews and plain work short that might once have been some shade of white. Still, there were the boots. Sturdy, black, well cared for if older. His hair was slicked back with sweat despite the morning coolness, and smell of fresh cut wood followed him into the room. For a moment, there was the look of surprise on his face at seeing the two women in the house, as though he had forgotten about them. The look was quickly replaced by a grim settling and nod of acknowledgement as he turned to hang the axe upon the wall by the door. "Hope you slept well," he grumped as he sat across from her at the table. The expression on his face was clearly that of a man glad to be off of his feet as he stretched his one leg out to the side.

Before any reply could be made, Victor then did something quite unexpected for a man of his seeming nature. Bowing his head and closing his eyes, the ex-soldier grasped his hands before his face. Fingers interlocked, he muttered a short prayer of thanks in a hushed voice. 

After his obligations done, he proceeded to load a well worn wooden trencher with food. Without looking up, he address the younger girl. "Feather?" he said gently, "A little easier on the food, eh? There's three of us here, not thirteen. Thanks for the cooking, by the by. And the baking. And the dusting. And the sweeping. And the scrubbing. And the washing up." Victor shot Kijani a look as though to convey something to her by listing all the Feather had done that morning, and then he looked back to his plate. "I was out cutting wood in the back lots. Hauled it back just now. After breakfast, I'll stow it proper in the bins."

He looked a hefty swig of his own tea before glancing back at Kijani. "So, your ladyship. What plans did you have for the morning?"