Middenheim. It was wet, it was cold, it was uncultured and there were all together too many trees surrounding it. Plus there were a lot of beards. Scratchy and uncoth things beards. The kind of thing these Northern Barbarians wore just to spite their betters. The woman calling herself Eleanor de Abervillé presumptive heiress to the county of Coucernne lamented. The chambermaid that Oderik Rothbard, her current patron and suitor had provided her, entered with two other female servants, carrying the dress she was to wear to this evenings ball. 

Eleanor stood and moved to the center of the large central room which was the hub of her street. She stripped off her clothing till she stood naked before the servants. According to her patent of nobility, a very official looking document with many seals and much gold leaf, the de Abervillé had some Imperial marriage connections a few generations back. This, perhaps, went some way to explaining why the putative Countessa de Coucernne was buxom and broad hipped far beyond the slender frames more typical of Brettonian ladies. Perhaps too, this was the source of her luxuriant golden hair, rather than the darker hues more common in the heraldic kingdom far to the south of this mountain fastness. It could not be argued that Eleanor was beautiful, with a heart shaped face, fine cheekbones and large penetrating blue eyes that seemed to shine with the innocence and purity of maidenly virtue. 

The servants liked her, she tipped well and was easy to get along with if a little eccentric, that almost made up for her being a forginer in their eyes. The lead servant, a seamstress with the unlikely name of Hildberta, gave the naked woman an envious look and then set about her work. First a corset of white leather and whalebone was laced so tightly around Eleanor's waist that her eyes nearly popped when Hildberta and her assistants heaved on the laces. Then a silken shift was slid into place and carefully pinned down so as not to obstruct the slice of bosom which was to be displayed. Given Eleanor's natural resources in this area it was probably rather more than the dressmaker had imagined, but Brettonian's were a strange folk and allowed a little more leeway than a proper Imperial lady might enjoy. Next she put on her dress, a dark green velvet affair with green silk paneling of a slightly lighter shade stitched around the waist. Finally a cummerbund of fine gold chains was wrapped around her waist and pinned to the underside of her bodice with considerable difficulty. Finally her hair was teased and brushed into an elaborate crown braid which was then carefully adorned with white roses in the Brettonian fashion. The entire procedure took over three hours, the only silver lining be that Eleanor possessed a fine completion which needed nothing in terms of make up or powders that another woman might have needed. 

"You look quite stunning mademoiselle," Oderick said from the the doorway. Eleanor turned to smile at him. He was a handsome if slightly older man and a Knight Bachelor of the White Wolves, something declared by both his irritating beard and the impressive cloak of wolf fur he wore even over the doublet and hose more appropriate to the evenings festivities. In Reikland he would have been judged a boor for such crass references to his social station, but here everyone wanted to scrape acquaintance with Ulric somehow. 

"Thank you mousier," Eleanor replied in accented Reikspiel standing up as her servants scattered around her to curtsey to their lord. She crossed to Oderick and lay a hand fondly on his arm.

"No jewelry? I assure you all you have to do is ask..." Oderik trailed off as Eleanor squeezed his arm.

"No cherrie, I have vowed I shall not wear such finery until my dear papa is released from his awful prison," she told him. When Eleanor de Abervillé had appeared in Middenheim in the spring, she had told the tale of how her father, and elderly knight and current Count of Coucerne, had been captured by a rival and held for either ransom, or Eleanor's hand in marriage. She had fled Brettonnia to escape her fathers knights, who might think marrying her off was cheaper for them then paying the ransom and had been trying to raise money abroad ever since. Several noble families in Middenheim had quietly contributed gold to her cause, usually in exchange for a quite assurance that trade rights or a marriage alliance might be forth coming when her father was freed and able to confirm her his sole heiress. The revenues from a distant and prosperous Brettonian Fief were very attractive to the younger sons of a had scrabble land such as this, and Eleanor had been happy to quietly entertain offers from both great and small. Oderik was definitely among the great in that respect, and had showered her with hospitality and money in an attempt to help her win her fathers freedom.

"No word from his captors yet?" Oderik asked sympathetically.

"Non," Eleanor replied, "and vith ze vinter coming... I fear it will be spring before letters are able to get through." Oderik nodded trying to appear glum but clearly not too broken up about the prospect of several more months of the company of a beautiful woman, perhaps with a chance to claim a county in Brettonia when it was all done.

"Well my dear, we shall keep you comfortable and safe until then, never fear," he declared, taking her arm and turning towards the door. When there was no chance anyone could see it, Emmaline von Morganstern, child of a potter from the Altdorf Cheapside, grinned.