Baldur's Abbey - Chapter 2 - BMTillerBabe (2024)

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the old glass of the post office, casting golden rays that caught the floating specks of dust in the air.

A steady pattern of beeps and clicks sounded in the small space, coming from one of the tiny machines atop one of the many desks, and a quick hand jotted down symbols and signs in tandem; deciphering the morse code that was being sent between cities, across time itself to deliver its message.

The bright blue eyes pored over the paper, writing quickly and efficiently what she heard on a thin strip of paper. When the message of beeps and clicks began to repeat itself, she took to comparing her notes to the key ledger, picking out letters and phrases, and –

“Oh, my gods …” The woman uttered, her face paling as she almost dropped her pencil.

“What?” Her colleague said with a handful of mail in his hand, walking over. “What is it?”

The woman made no move, seemingly frozen on her chair as her friend walked over to her and peered over her shoulder to read what she’d decoded.

His own face drained of color.

“That … That’s impossible.”

But the woman just shook her head, feeling her panic rise and her heart falter in her chest.

With a heavy breath, the man yanked the paper from her hand, moving to grab his coat from the rack nearby; forgetting his job entirely.

“I’ll take this up immediately.” He declared before rushing out the door, leaving the woman shaking in her seat, staring after him.

No one else on the Sword Coast knew yet … except them.

And yet, the world just outside continued on as if nothing had happened.

~ * ~

Chapter 1 –

Tarsakh, 1492 DR.

The lavender-skinned Tiefling girl giggled as she ran through the servant’s bed halls, knocking on doors as their unofficial wake-up caller.

Her coconut-brown hair pulled taught into a ponytail bounced around her shoulders as she ran from door to door, pounding with her closed fist and calling out “6 AM! Time to get up!”

Behind one of the doors she rapped upon, was a small bedroom with two beds and two Tiefling women – grumbling as they stirred in their nice, warm sheets; having been yanked from their dreams and back into the harsh cold of reality.

One of the women, with black, curling ram-horns, released a sigh with her eyes scrunched tight as she yawned and sat up in her bed. She stretched her arms, calling out, “Thanks, Arabella!” and then turned to look at her companion who still seemed to be sleeping next to her. “Karlach,” She says groggily, wiping her glowing orange eyes, “it’s time to get up.”

The other Tiefling, Karlach, groaned loudly from under her blankets, rolling over with a heavy huff as she threw her pillow over her head.

“Five more minutes.” Her voice came out muffled before she sat up from the bed that was much too small for her large, oversized frame and sighed; running a red hand through her hair. Her chest glowed brightly with her Infernal Engine, seeming to beat in time with what should have been a heart.

“Y’know, once, just once, I’d like to sleep in ‘till I woke up of my own accord.” She shook her head with a smile as she stood to stretch; her arms easily brushing the ceilings of the maid servant’s rooms.

The other Tiefling, Nymessa, let out a chuckle as she threw off her own covers and stood to begin getting dressed for the day ahead.

“Then you’re in the wrong line of work, there, Hun.” She joked as she tossed Karlach a pile of clothes to put on.

Another day had dawned.

And it was time to get to work.


Not even fifteen minutes into the morning, and the well-oiled machine that was Baldur’s Abbey was already running at full steam.

As was such for a castle of this stature, filled to the brim with the helps and the maids that kept the Abbey alive and well taken care of.

Early in the morning as it was, the servants of the Abbey had very little time to see to their starting chores and eat breakfast before it was time to service the lords and ladies of the estate. There was always something to be done, and something to do, every minute of every day. This was the way it had been for years, and would probably be for many more – but it never bothered most of them. This was their way of life. It gave them purpose, gave them reason and contribution to their community, and kept the world spinning – albeit a small part of it.

A very small part, that in fact, was currently bustling busily around the kitchens of the lower floors, barking orders this way and that, whilst simultaneously cooking and cleaning and juggling any other mountain of tasks at the moment.

The dark-skinned Halfling brushed her short, neatly-trimmed coal-black hair from her eyes, wiping a small bit of sweat that had already begun to form from her running about.

But she wasn’t stressed, yet.

Because, if there was anyone who could keep up with the Abbey’s food demands, it was Nettie.

She passed a sack of fresh potatoes to one of the servants nearby, turning to grab a knife and begin peeling some carrots. “Peel those, and start chopping them. Small, now! Not those big clumps like last time!” She warned as she peeled and cut carrots with the skills of a cutlery master, scraping the orange vegetable into a pot filled with water as she pointed the tip of her knife towards the two boys that stood in the doorway.

“You boys! Take those,” She moved the point of her knife over until it rested on a set of ornate trays and burner candles, “up to the dining room, and get those candles lit so the trays will be hot for the food once I’m done with it!”

The two obeyed without question, filling their arms with the needed supplies before Nettie was running around to the other side of the kitchen to grab a sack of flour.

“Here, somebody, I need you to---” But she stopped short of finishing, tripping over something that had caught her ankle. Being small and dexterous, she didn’t fall flat to her face, but she did stumble a bit before righting herself. With furrowed brows, she looked around for what had caused her to trip, and saw a little purple tail swinging back and forth sticking out of the cooking hearth.

“Oh, for the love of – Arabella! What are you doing down there?” Nettie huffed, thrusting her hands to her hips, and staring down at the girl who was currently on her knees with her head stuffed into the bottom of the stove pulling out handfuls of soot and ash. Her lavender tail wiggled about behind her, the scaley, ridged skin of it curling around the edge of the countertop, not realizing that it had essentially created a tripwire of sorts.

Arabella stared at Nettie as she pulled herself out of the hearth to look up at her from her position on the stone ground, dusting her hands on her apron.

“Sorry!” She exclaimed.

“Are you about done making that fire yet?”

“Yes, Nettie!” The girl grinned, letting out a quick sneeze from the soot on her nose.

Nettie smiled, giving her a chuckle as she stepped over the girl, casting a quick spell to clean the soot from the end of Arabella’s nose.

“And have you laid out the servant hall’s breakfast dishware and cutlery?” Nettie asked as she continued her previous task of grabbing a sack of flour and carrying it back to the main countertop to measure out spoonsful amidst the hustle and bustle of the kitchen.

“Yes, Nettie!” Arabella chimed again with a smile, clearly proud of herself.

“Oh, my my, would you look at that – a wonder from Silvanus himself!” The Halfling chided, and when Arabella stuck her tongue out at her, she laughed. She enjoyed their banter. “And the bedroom fires?”

“All lit, Miss Nettie!”

“Good. Now, go on, then! Take your things and get started on the fires on the ground floor! We won’t need ya back here until it’s time to eat!”

Arabella merely nodded and grabbed her bucket of tools, basket of wood, and her flint and steel before racing through the kitchen with a new goal fresh in mind.

“And for Silvanus’ sake, girl! No running through the house!” Nettie called after her, shaking her head with a smile.

But Arabella pretended she didn’t hear that last order. She just let out a mischievous giggle, and ran away to complete her next task.

Somehow it never ceased to amaze her, as she scampered through the many hallways of the Abbey – at just how much the world around her could change through something as simple as a doorway. It was like another world entirely, compared to the one that sat just below a few planks of wood and slats of steel.

Arabella wondered absently to herself if she would ever live amongst the greats and their riches. Weirder things had happened … right?


Suit polished, hair slicked and shoulders back, the lead Footman, Aradin, carried himself with an elegance and grace that had been hard learned through years of training, and no small amount of self-respect.

His gait was steady, focused; his white gloves brighter than a patch of fresh snow; not a speck of his appearance was out of place, and he took pride in it.

Even if his tight cinnamon curls could be a little unruly at times.

Aradin carried an ornate, decorated bronze tray with him as he made his way through the many halls, his beady, scrutinizing eyes looking over the others’ work, inspecting it, as if he had the authority to do so; or correct the things he saw fit.

Wouldn’t be long until that’s actually the case, he mused with a satisfied, prideful smirk.

But, alas. That day was not today. And, currently, he was making his morning rounds through the first floor of the Abbey, gathering any left-over drink glasses from the small party the Wincott family had held the night before to take them to the dishwasher downstairs.

But, something was … missing.

Something was …

Realization dawned on him with a sneer, and he looked to the maid closest to him who’d been dusting off one of the many busts of royals long since passed. “Any sign of Mattis?” He demanded.

That stupid f*ck was nowhere to be seen all morning. Probably off in some corner wasting precious time, like usual. Like the filthy foul-blood he was. Aradin still never understood why the lord of the estate – hells, even the head Butler – had been okay with hiring such … creatures. In his own opinion, he thought they only served to bring the atmosphere of Baldur’s Abbey down to a level of degeneracy and venality that had otherwise been non-existent before. Why hire such underlings, when there mere presence was disgusting and off-putting to everyone here?

Not to mention, if he had been head butler – hells, if he was lord himself of the Abbey, he would never have –

“No, Aradin.” The maid simply replied before running off and finishing whatever chore she was currently on, pulling him back into the present.

Aradin simply rolled his eyes with a heavy scoff and marched away, careful to balance the many empty glasses on his tray.

I have to do everything my godsdamn self, don’t I?

He had a good idea of where the foolish Tiefling boy was, and began to make his way down the halls and into the grandiose dining room of the castle.

Sure enough, he found the person he’d been looking for.

The short, red-skinned Tiefling boy named Mattis was currently standing on his very tip-toes on the edge of one of the many lavish dining chairs, trying to reach a rather pronounced crinkle in the otherwise pristine ivory tablecloth.

“Where have you been all morning?” Aradin snapped as way of ‘hello’ as he marched into the dining room, gathering any empty glasses he found.

“Good morning to you, too, then.” Mattis grunted out of his lungs before straightening his body upright and admiring his handiwork. His brows furrowed as he watched Aradin merely walk past him as if the man had more important things to do than speak with him. “I’m not late, am I, chump?” He tried to joke.

Wrong move.

Aradin released a low growl as he marched from the room, heading towards the library to finish his rounds. “You’re late if I say you’re late.”

Mattis merely stuck his forked tongue out at the man’s retreading back, jerking the corner of the tablecloth down and into place, irritatedly.

Prick, he thought to himself.



Baldur's Abbey - Chapter 2 - BMTillerBabe (2024)
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