They had provided<a class="postlink" href="https://creativefreedomrpg.com/viewtopic.php?f=20&amp;t=47797#p315670">Lorna Shaw</a>a room within the western wing of Greenmoor palace.<br/><br/>On the very<span style="font-style: italic">opposite</span>side of the palace from where resided the king and his queen.<br/><br/>That would have been odd, given she was the daughter of a marquess; a rank amongst the peerage exceeded only by a duke.  But, once one knew the circumstance of her being here, it was quite easily understood.  For although Lorna was a guest in name, she was in fact something else.<br/><br/>And she was on sufferance in this place.<br/><br/>She found the room adequate, in any case.   Most tastefully appointed, and with a rather splendid view of Greenmoor's sprawling, encompassing, gardens.   Plainly, the lord-king had wished not only to avoid trouble, but also to provide a peaceful, serene environment where she might focus on her pious assignment, free of distraction.<br/><br/>Presently, she was doing just that.   She dipped the quill within the ink well again, put it to a blank sheet of parchment, and began to copy from the open bible in front of her:<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I fear that when I come again my God may humble me before you, and I may have to mourn over many of those who sinned earlier and have not repented of the impurity, sexual immorality, and sensuality that they have practiced.</span><br/><br/>As the other tedious passages before it, this one too she must copy seven times.    She sighed faintly, exasperatedly, and began doing so.<br/><br/>It wasn't that she was an irreligious woman --  no.   But this faith was not hers.    In private, she practiced another. It was one secret, among others, that she guarded<span style="font-style: italic">very</span>closely.<br/><br/>This activity -- a part of her prescribed<span style="font-style: italic">penance</span>-- was merely a means to an end, like so many other things.    She'd lost at the last hand of cards.   And needed to ensure the next hand she was dealt, was as favorable as was possible...<br/><br/>Abruptly, Lorna ceased her scribing.<span style="font-style: italic">Someone at the door...</span><br/><br/>Surely, the prospective servant she had been told they would send.   Well and good.   She needed one.   Arising from the desk where she'd been seated, she made her way over to the door.  She was dressed not in the fine and stylish apparel that was her norm, but rather in the modest, pale blue gown, deemed suitable for her activity.    She was likewise devoid of the expensive jewelry with which she typically accessorized.  Almost like a servant herself, in aspect.   This didn't bother her a great deal.  While she loved beautiful things,  her sense of her self wasn't founded on trappings.<br/><br/>She opened and cracked the door:    "Yes?"