My stomach loudly announced that it didn’t care about my empty pockets, so I dismounted Burlap and led her to what appeared to be a lack-luster tavern. Perhaps I could request a scrap of bread and some water. If I volunteered to scrub a few pots, they may even serve me some stew. I tied off the mare and approached the entrance. The sign above the door was almost too weathered to read, but I could still barely make out the establishment’s name.
The Godmother’s Brew
I stepped through the doors, and the smell of stale alcohol instantly hit my face. For a moment, I considered turning back out the doors, but a pair of eyes had already locked onto me the moment I entered. A young woman—not much older than me—stood behind the bar. Her dark hair was tied behind her head with a bright red scarf, and her intense stare locked me in place from across the room. The rest of the tavern was loosely packed with a few drunken guests, none of which appeared to be very reputable. I suppose I wasn’t one to judge reputation as they probably held more dignity than I did at this point.
As I stepped further into the room, the barmaid continued to eye me down as I calmly approached her counter. My roaring stomach convinced me to stay inside, despite my mind telling me that this was a terrible idea. I decided to let my stomach win the debate and pulled up a chair in front of the counter.
“Never seen ya ‘round here before,” the barmaid said frankly. “The names’ Camille, can I get ya something, girlie?” She gave me a less than discreet stare as she noticed my bare toes.
I ignored her judgmental gaze. “Actually, I was hoping I could request something small to eat. I don’t have any money, but I would be happy to work off my meal.” I looked at her hopefully and she raised an eyebrow.
“A penniless noble? Now that’s a first.” I gave her a puzzled look, unsure of how she knew my status, and she gestured at my simple attire. “Ya may not dress like the rest of the fancy folk, but the fabric yer wearing still comes from the capital’s dress makers. I must say, though, I’m not accustomed to serving guests without shoes.” I felt my face grow red as she eyed my exposed feet once more.
I was too well-dressed to be accepted by the slums and too underdressed to be recognized by the nobles. Sapphira had made me give up all my more embellished dresses for the girls. The ones I had now were the ones my father had bought me when he was still around. Only just the plain ones remained. Typically, I wasn’t embarrassed about my plain dress or lack of footwear, but being called out made me feel a tad shyer than usual. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t actually own any shoes suitable for outdoors.”
The girl stared at me with a perplexed look. “No money, no shoes, and no one to keep ya from wandering into my bar. Girlie, it sounds like ya need more than just a meal. Tell ya what, I made too much soup for this meager crowd, anyway. How about I pour ya a bowl and you can entertain me with yer drama. These drunk fellas don’t provide as much entertainment as you’d think.” She scoffed in the direction of the grimy men who littered the tables, and a few gave her a humored smile in return.
“That would be wonderful, thank you. I promise to entertain you with as many stories as you please regarding my horrid stepfamily.”
“Stepfamily?” Camille poked her head out from behind the kitchen doorway. “Dang, am I glad you visited. This is just the juicy gossip I was missing out on.” She hurried back to the counter and placed my bowl atop the sticky wooden surface.
It took a lot less time than I had imagined to spill my life’s story. Camille listened with rapt attention, reacting dramatically to the evil-doings of Sapphira and the girls. Only a few times did she have to step away to pour a beer or serve another bowl of soup. The tavern was pretty quiet, with only a few presumed regulars passing through. Once my bowl was empty and my tale had been told, Camille sank into a chair across from me.
“Yikes, girlie. You’ve got it worse than I do.” She gestured around the tavern. “I inherited this dump after my deadbeat father walked out on me. The place has so many debts piled up on it, I’m sure we’ll be closing soon, but at least my ma looks out for me. I always thought nobles were a little up on their high horse, but stealing money from the crown that’s meant to support an orphaned child…? I think you could use something a little stronger to drink, girlie.” She snorted playfully, but I wasn’t certain her offer was empty.
“Well, perhaps I can help you manage your tavern after my name is officially dragged through the mud.” I sighed, petting my fingers against the sticky, uneven surface of the bar top. “Once news spreads about my absurd application, I’m certain not even an establishment like your own would hire me. Oh, no offense!” I darted my eyes up to the girl, searching her face for any resentment.
She laughed. “None taken! And I’d hire ya on, though I couldn’t pay ya anything other than meals, but hey! There’s worse options.” She chortled a little longer as she whipped a rag out from her brown-corseted bodice, brushing crumbs carelessly onto the floor.
“I may end up taking you up on that offer,” I said, my gaze following her swishing rag. “Unless I can somehow undo what Sapphira has planted, I’m going to be grateful for any meal I can acquire.” I looked up to Camille who had paused, as if lost in a thought. “Everything alright?”
She matched my gaze, still frozen with her hand clutching the rag, an unidentifiable expression masking her green eyes. “Say, there’s an idea…” She stood a little straighter, tucking the rag back into her bodice. “Why don’t ya do that then? Undo what she’s done?” She leaned forward on the counter, drawing nearer.
I arched my brow. “Undo what she’s done? How could I possibly do that?” I asked cynically. “The application has already been submitted. It likely hasn’t been reviewed yet, since no gossip has been spread about me, but it’s only a matter of time. It’s not as if I can walk into the palace and ask for it back.”
A slow smile crept across the young lady’s face. “But... what if ya could?” A gleam of mischief sparkled in her eyes, and I was growing fascinated by her apparent plan.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, what if ya could take back yer application?” Her tone brightened as a new smile dawned her rounded features. “Not only that, but what if ya could replace it with yer actual application instead! Oh! I have just had the most brilliant idea!” She hopped excitedly behind the counter, and I simply stared at her in confusion.
“Would you care to enlighten me with this brilliant idea of yours?” I asked a little more impatiently than I had meant to, but I was getting nowhere thus far.
“It’s simple, girlie.” She pulled up her stool and seated herself across from me. “There’s that fancy ball happening tomorrow night, right? All ya gotta do is go to the ball, dance with the prince for a bit, and then sneak off into the royal offices. If ya can locate the housekeeper’s office, then I’m certain ya can find the applications along with it. Then all ya’d have to do is switch out the letters, and then dance the rest of the night away! Abra-cadabra, yer reputation is saved, and ya might even get yer dream job! Not to mention that if ya rise up in society, ya could earn enough social influence to bring yer stepmother’s misuse of the crown’s funds to light. What do ya think!?” She threw her arms up in the air with an extravagant flair.
I stared at her agape. “Sneak into the royal offices? Are you mad?” I asked earnestly, but she didn’t seem fazed by the dilemma. “If I’m caught, I could get thrown into prison... not to mention my stepfamily will be at the ball. She would stuff me in the dungeon herself if I turned up, not to mention I don’t even have a proper ball gown.” I had expected Camille to show at least a sliver of concern at my list of problems, but her smile only grew wider.
“I think I can help you with that.” Her mischievous glint reappeared in her eyes just before she dashed back into the kitchen.
I remained where I was, still feeling bewildered by her suggestion, but admittedly, there was a part of me that wished it were possible. If I could swap out my application, I would have a chance at a real life again. Not only that, but I might even get to fulfill my dreams of running a flower shop. If my reputation was spared, I could also agree to meet my garden friend… Would he still want to meet me? As my thoughts carried on, Camille returned to the counter with a large wooden crate in her hands. She sat the box down in front of me with a heavy thump, sending dust particles flying through the air. I coughed the cloud out of my lungs as Camille placed her hands inside the crate, digging around for something.
“People leave stuff around here all the time, so I started collecting a bit of a lost-and-found if you will.” She pulled out a few odd trinkets, books, and cloaks as she continued to search deeper. “A few weeks back, a gentleman with silver streaks in his hair stopped by for lunch. He left his bag and never returned for it, so I’ve held onto his belongings.” Her eyes widened as she pulled out the bulging shoulder bag that had been shoved to the bottom of the crate. “He must have been a peddler of some kind; it only makes sense considering what he was carrying on him. Here, have a look.”
She passed the bag over to me and my arm nearly buckled from the weight. Something far too large for a shoulder bag had been condensed to fit inside. The moment I unlatched the leather buckle across the top, it burst open. I stared at the contents in confusion. Why would a mage carry this around?
Poking out the top of the bag was a lavender satin ball gown. As I tugged the rest of the fabric out of the bag, the skirt exploded to its full size. It was completely strapless and had a simple lace overlay across the bodice. The skirt was plain, but was terribly wrinkled after being compressed. Upon closer inspection, the bodice also possessed a couple of unidentifiable stains, and the skirt had a decent-sized rip, slitting the back. As I held up the gown, Camille continued to smile brightly, as if this worn-out gown was the solution to all my problems.
“It’s lovely, Camille, but how does this solve the problem of being recognized by my family?” I placed the gown back on the counter and she bundled it up into her arms.