The sun was beginning to set, its red light spilling in through the window and its open shades. Milana sat alone at her desk, for once with no bodyguard or maids around to disturb the silence. All that could be heard was the faint 'scritch scritch' of her quill on parchment as she updated logs and ledgers with the days happenings. Beside her left hand was a stack of papers with numbers that tabulated the number of injured and healthy people that had passed through the clinic over the last few days. Beds had been arranged as best they could be to fit as many of the critical care patients as possible, yet despite all her and her family's efforts there had already been three lives lost. A deep, shuddering sigh escaped Milana at that thought, and she glanced to the side where three half written missives sat awaiting her signature and final statements. Each of the deceased had been a citizen of the town for generations, and their family's were all ones that Milana had met at least once. Two of the dead had been the primary source of income for their family, while the 3rd was a window who now was leaving behind a daughter no older than 3. Each family of the dead was due a monetary sum to help support them as they gathered themselves together through this terrible time, but even as she ran the numbers again Milana knew that it simply wasn't enough.
Frustration began to well inside of the noble, and without realizing what she was doing she accidentally slipped and slid a streak of ink straight across the paper she had been working on. Snarling Milana snatched up the paper, crumbling it up between her shaking hands and thew it into the far corner of the study. She wanted to scream, to cry, to shout her fury to the Old Ones and Heaven and curse the name of the one who brought this plague upon her town. Gritting her teeth she instead took another piece of paper from the pile, and began to write once more.
Each line of the quill was just slightly off. Her hands quivered with a mixture of exhaustion and emotion, but she knew she couldn't stop yet. The damages to Loras were, in the grand scheme of things, minor. Two buildings had been burned to the ground, with several of the surrounding structures sustaining some damage as well. Milana made this note, scratching a few figures to estimate the total cost of repairs it would require. Most of those in the clinic were not in any real danager. Some would be mangled, or disfigured, but they would live. Their physical state, however, was the least of the concerns.
"How will we recover from this..." The shudder of her words held the truth of her feelings. Beneath the anger and sadness was the sharp stench of fear as Milana came to realize that Loras... Would fall. Westweald represented a significant portion of the small towns revenue. With them being outed as harbingers of these MONSTERS there was no way that their trade agreement would withstand.
From a drawer MIlana produced a clipboard which contained even more paper with figures, and these numbers Milana referred to as she continued her calculations. Subtracting the costs of repairs and property damage, including the payout to those families which required aid to sustain themselves short term, Loras had enough in its coffers to last until the middle of Spring without any aid. That was with heavy rationing and more than a small dose of optimism. Thankfully they had other trade agreements to fall back on, but those would not make up the difference in what they would be losing season by season.
"we can scrape by as we are... but what sort of life is that." the weight of her title began to weigh heavy on her shoulders now. Perhaps this was why the leaders of the Finla always looked so strained.
A knock at the door made Milana jump and almost spill the ink. Hastily she caught the small bottle, capping it and setting it aside before straightening her back and calling in her strongest voice, "Come in."
The door slowly opened, and the grey head of Edwin, her head butler, poked inside. Upon seeing his mistress the older man offered a genial smile and stepped fully into the room. It was then that she realized he was carrying a tray, upon which was a plate of food along with a pitcher and glass. He bowed slightly, keeping the tray perfectly balanced as he did, "Forgive me Lady Milana, but as the hour was growing late I took the liberty of asking the cook to prepare your dinner without your explicit request."
Blinking slowly Milana finally looked out the window, slightly shocked at how late it had become. She passed a hand through her disheveled hair, as if to try to comb the tangled locks back but all she managed was to make the strands of hair stick up in odd places where it had come free of her braid.
"Thank you, Edwin." Her voice was soft, matching the tired smile she gave the butler as he set the food in front of her and filled her glass with what looked like a red wine, "I had not realized how late it had become."
The smell of the food made the nobles stomach rumble loudly, but Milana was so tired she did not have the mind to even look embarrassed. Instead of eating, however, she took a sip from the cup and picked up another ledger and began skimming its contents. She continued to do this for some time, seconds passing into minutes until she realized that Edwin still stood next to her chair, unmoving and holding the tray behind his back.
"You can go Edwin. Get some rest. I know it has been a long day for you." Indeed, it had been Edwin who had organized the Manor to prepare it to accept patients from the clinic. He had personally helped move and carry the beds and sheets himself to ensure everything was done to his unwavering standards. At times Milana could only marvel at this old mans stamina and calm demeanor in this time of crisis.
Though he was dismissed Edwin did not leave. Instead he looked down at Milana with comforting expression. His eyes ran over the ledgers, papers and numbers that surrounded the lady of Terras Manor, and in a slow even voice he said simply, "You are doing very well Lady Milana. You have cared for Loras as a Noble should... But, I am afraid that now I must advice that you eat and get some rest yourself."
Irritation was what first entered Milana's mind at his words, and she opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by the butlers raised finger, "Sarah has already spoken with me, and I know what you will say." His cool blue eyes looked into Milana's with unerring patients and fortitude. The strength and compassion in those eyes made Milana's irritation deflate, and she slumped slightly in her chair before looking away.
For a long moment Milana did not say anything, but at last she asked barely above a whisper, "Was there nothing I could have done to prevent this?"
Silence, but this was broken by the calm voice of the butler once more, "Perhaps, but for now it is time to rest. There will be time to dwell on the decisions of the past in the morning."
