Morningstar

[CH. 0043] - The Cut

Sunlight bore down mercilessly as Adamastor Tagus trudged up the gravel path leading to Morningstar Estate. He gripped his suitcase handle like a lifeline, feeling the sting of sweat tracing its way down his neck and spine. Each step seemed to add weight to his fear that he'd walk through those grand gates as a human puddle, disheveling his carefully chosen suit.

He halted at the open wrought-iron gate. She was there, leaning elegantly against a counter just past the entrance. Golden hair meticulously rolled up, her red lips wrapped around a long cigar, and she exhaled as if summoning him into her realm.

"Hi, good morning, I'm Adamastor Tagus. I'm--" He fumbled his words while extending a hand toward her, stepping into the shadow of the estate.

"You're the butler boy I hired," she interrupted, locking her eyes on his. "Pretty boy, I see. How old are you, cutie pie?"

"Twenty-one, ma'am," Adamastor pulled his hand back, unsure of what protocol had been broken.

She arched an eyebrow. "And do you have any inkling about estate management? Inn-keeping, pantry inventory, asset allocation, and so on, and so on?"

"Are you the owner, if I may ask?"

Her eyes performed a swift assessment of him, head to toe and back again. "Rosemary Morningstar, owner and operator. Did anyone fill you in on the nature of the Morningstar business here?"

"Not exactly, no."

Rosemary circled around the counter, her heels clicking on the polished floor. "Morningstar is a magical trade centre. People offer their magic. I offer my services. Simple. But I can't manage both the estate and the magic business alone. I need dedication, loyalty, and someone who's... open-minded."

Adamastor felt like he was standing at the edge of a torrential river, each of Rosemary's words a rush of water threatening to sweep him away. She had a rapid-fire way of talking, no buffer or filter, and he struggled to keep up.

Adamastor opened his mouth to speak but was cut short.

"You listen, you don't think. We welcome all sorts here. I couldn't care less if they've got tails, hooves, horns, or fangs. Just follow the rules, don't break anything, and don't kill anyone. Simple, right?"

He blinked, trying to keep up with the torrent of words. "Yes, I--"

"Good grief, can you complete a sentence? We have a few guests at the moment—off-season, mind you. Room 32 has a particularly special guest with a unique diet. Don't even think about snooping or passing judgment. Cross me, and I'll kick your pretty boy ass straight back to wherever you crawled out from."

Summoning his courage, Adamastor rattled off, "I will do my utmost to be of service and adhere to your guidelines."

She took a long drag from her cigar and exhaled a stream of smoke that seemed to mingle with her words. "You learn fast; I like that."

He watched as she tapped the ash off her cigar, her eyes never leaving his. "You're still here, so I'm assuming you're up for the job. The work starts now. The cleaning crew arrives at six tomorrow, the kitchen gets deliveries every Thursday, and room 28 needs their bill by eight sharp."

He scrambled to memorize it all. "Got it, cleaning crew, kitchen deliveries, and 28 bill."

Rosemary grinned as if she were pleased that he wasn't sinking in the current of her words. "Good. There are files in the office—inventory lists, account books, and guest information. Familiarize yourself with them tonight."