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“Lucas, my boy, this is Harriet Maxim. She's going to be joining us for a while,” Master Brehm announces, nodding to the young woman by his side, “We don't have enough cadets to form a new cohort yet, so I was asked to take her in for a while. Keep an eye on her while I run some errands, would you? I have complete confidence in you, Lucas!”
With that, he pushes her a step forwards and marches out of the dorm. Harriet herself – a charming young woman in expensive clothes – looks around in a kind of daze before hurriedly bobbing her head in something like a bow. “Harriet please, just Harriet. I'm just... oh gosh, I'm excited to be here,” she begins, her words falling out in a rush, “I hope I'm not imposing!”
“Not at all,” you assure her, hoping to calm her down a little. It's pretty rare to see someone joining the academy at her age, but not unheard of. “So, ah, tell me about yourself,” you add, hoping to find something to hang a conversation on, “What were you doing before this?”
“Well, I was expecting to help with my father's business out west in Dacia, maybe even take over one day. He's in the silk trade, you see, and quite... um... successful,” she flushes a little, nervously tugging at the collar of her richly decorated blouse, “He didn't actually want me to come here, but I finally convinced him. Well, actually, I just told him I was doing it anyway. So, um, I might be disowned now? I don't actually know yet.”
Oh dear. “Dacia, you say?” you repeat, catching onto the name of the wealthy port city, “Johannes is from Dacia as well, I think, I'm certain that he mentioned his parents working there. You'll meet him sooner or later, I'm sure.”
“How delightful!” Harriet remarks, her eyes widening, “I wonder if I know his parents at all. I've met a lot of the families. You know, through the business.”
“No, ah, I think they were... dock workers,” you explain awkwardly, “You probably didn't meet them.”
“Oh,” a pause, “Probably not, then.”
-
Eager for the opportunity to escape, Harriet carries her suitcases into the spare room – her room, now – and busies herself with unpacking. You wait for her to finish, listening to the various crashes and yelps of alarm as you try to think if you own anything fragile. When she finally emerges with a sheepish grin, you gesture for the empty seat opposite you.
“So,” you begin, spreading your hands in an expansive gesture, “What do you know about all this?”
“All... this?” she repeats, looking at the dormitory around her, “Exorcist business, you mean. Well, um, I know about the Accord – people shouldn't mess around with the spirit world, basically, and spirits shouldn't mess around with our world. That way, everyone stays happy and business stays good. Close enough?”
“Close enough,” you sigh. She's got a lot to learn.
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