There was a lot to be said for travel, Petra always thought. Travelling every which way in search of your place in the world, or even just for fun, you got to see and do so much stuff that would never be seen if you stayed in your own little bubble of civilization. Exotic food and drink, interesting new people, the reasons to go out beyond your comfort zone were endless. On a broad scale, she’d never regretted deciding to go out and travel. That being said, it was a bit of an ups and downs type of deal. Sometimes your traveling was pleasant and safe.

Other times, you get caught in the strongest thunderstorm you’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing, well over a day’s travel from the nearest town. Petra was in the midst of the worst day of travel she’d had (at least since that one time when she’d gotten food poisoning but it hadn’t kicked in until she left town), and it wasn’t looking to get better any time soon.

Thunder cracked overhead, and a particularly strong gale at her back sent the traveller tumbling to her knees. This wasn’t just miserable traveling weather, it was dangerous! Petra managed to stumble back to her feet, and trudged onwards, hoping that she could find shelter - but she was in a fairly open plane, and there wasn’t so much as a big heavy rock to hide behind.

As she crested the next hill, though, Petra saw something - a dark shape outlined against the horizon. As lightning crashed again, in the brief flash she was able to make out a huge manor house. A place she could wait out the worst of the storm, maybe? She hoped that they were willing to have her…

She walked up to the mansion. Or towards it - as she walked, it became increasingly apparent that it was bigger than she’d thought, just also a ways away. Who could possibly be living out here, so far from anywhere? Some wealthy hermits?

Soon enough, though, she made it to the door and reached for the knocker. The house was even more imposing at this close distance than it had been from the hill, and Petra honestly felt a bit nervous. Maybe she shouldn’t push herself on the people who were here. They were probably important, too important to deal with a traveler like her. Yeah, she should… she should just leave…

She carefully put the knocker back and was about to turn from the door, when it slowly started to slide open anyway. Petra squeaked a bit in surprise and stepped back as it swung wide, revealing the person who’d been behind it. Petra couldn’t help but gasp at the sight.

It was a woman… probably? She looked like a woman, anyway. With piercing red eyes behind black-rimmed half-glasses, and white hair curling down in long ringlets. She was wearing a maid outfit - was she a servant of whoever owned the manor? But even her odd, if pretty, hair and eyes weren’t the reason she was so surprised. The woman’s skin was a metallic silver shade, shiny and smooth - whatever she was, human wasn’t it.

“Greetings, traveller,” the silver woman said, curtsying politely. “What brings you to the home of House Machina?”

Petra stumbled over her words as she responded. “Oh, uh, h-hi… my name is Petra, I… I was wondering if I could maybe stay for a bit? Just until the storm blows over… it’s pretty dangerous.”

The maid frowned a bit. “My name is Adalia. Generally, it is polite to return a curtsy when offered.” she noted. Petra blushed a bit and tried to return the curtsy, although her travelling clothes weren’t the best for doing so, and the maid nodded. “Come, then. You may ask my superior if she will allow it.” She turned on her heel and strode inside, and Petra hurried after her.

“T-Thank you…” she stammered a bit as she brushed off her boots on the doormat and tried to avoid tracking mud on anything expensive looking. Of course, given that just about everything in the mansion was expensive looking, this was easier said than done. Petra felt a little bad, but she couldn’t well do anything about it and Adalia hadn’t stopped to let her take her shoes off or anything.

Soon, they arrived at a room that was fairly modest by comparison to the rest of the manor - it didn’t have lush carpeting or windows bigger than people or gold-plated candelabras. It was simply a room containing a desk and some shelves, and another maid quietly scribbling away at assorted papers and forms. This one was just as metallic as Adalia was, but with purple twintails and blue highlights, along with sapphire blue eyes. She also had, in place of a traditional maid cap, one that looked more like a tiara. Blue eyes that looked up and scanned Petra intensely as she entered.

“This is the individual who was at our door, elder sister.” Adalia said respectfully, curtsying. This time, Petra caught on and did the same, as best she could without actually having a skirt or dress with which to curtsy.

“I see.” the woman said, looking the redhead up and down. “And what does this individual desire from our House?”

“She pleads only for shelter from the storm.” Adalia explained. “It is rather severe and dangerous.”

The woman sighed. “...Very well. The laws of hospitality bid that I offer you shelter from the storm, and I am compelled to obey them. My name is Abigail, but while you are our guest you will refer to me as ‘My Lady’, if you must.”

“T-Thank you very much, Abi- my Lady,” Petra squeaked out. “I’m really sorry to make myself a bother…”

“That’s appreciated.” Abigail said flatly. “Adalia, you’ll attend to the guest while she’s here. Please, see Miss Petra to her guest room.”

“Of course, elder sister.” Adalia said, curtsying again.

“And Miss Petra…” Abigail continued. “Be on your best behavior, please. I don’t appreciate those who abuse my generosity.”

“I’ll do my best!” Petra said, before hurrying after Adalia.

-----

Adalia was actually in a reasonably decent mood. She liked having guests over - she rarely left the manor, and as such travellers were the primary means by which she learned about the world. Although, usually, they had more… noble, guests, than this redheaded traveller.

Petra was kind enough, she supposed. In that way that country bumpkins were. But she was quite rude, really - barging in here in the middle of the night and demanding her Lady offer her shelter, tracking mud across the floor. She might have had no kind of noble upbringing, but that was no excuse for such poor behavior. Even a lowly peasant from within the region would know that the Machina family was not to be trifled with, and would stay outside rather than impose themselves.

“So… I don’t mean to be rude, but I can’t help but wonder…” Petra started.

Not meaning to be rude didn’t mean she wasn’t, Adalia noted internally. But outwardly, she was still at least cordial. “You can’t help but wonder what?”

“Well, I haven’t seen people like you before…” Petra said, awkwardly. “All… shiny, I mean.”

Adalia blinked. Had she not known the Machina family in large part consisted of machines? “We are robotic maids. It’s quite simple, really, and not all that different from being a human except in how we are created. I was under the impression this was common knowledge. Do they not speak of us to commoners, in your villages?”

“Maybe it is common knowledge here? Nobody in any of the places I went mentioned something like this, so maybe they just assumed I knew.” Petra shrugged.

Adalia raised an eyebrow. “Are you not from this region, then?”

“Oh, no, I’m not.” Petra said. “I’m from somewhere up North from here. I’ve been travelling for ages, and it’s been fun! There’s so many beautiful places here. When it’s not so dark and stormy that I can’t see it, ehehe.”

Adalia nodded a bit. “We don’t get too many travellers from far away, in all honesty. It’s interesting that you ended up here of all places.” Perhaps she’d actively sought House Machina, for some purpose? Adalia would have to keep an eye on her. Just because she was an ignorant commoner didn’t mean she couldn’t be suspect.

They arrived at the guest rooms, and Adalia pointed Petra into one of them. Like all rooms in the manor (besides Abigail’s office; she liked to keep it austere as a place of work; she had a reception room for taking important guests, but things like paperwork, letter writing, and other minutiae of the running of a realm occurred in the office), it was posh and pretty, red velvet carpet and a beautiful queen-sized bed. Usually, it would be receiving foreign dignitaries - today, a random traveller. It almost seemed a misuse of the space.

Adalia looked Petra over, scanning her body with her special glasses - once she had her measurements, she walked to one of the cabinets and selected a pretty white dress from it, laying it on the bed along with new undergarments and indoor shoes. “A change of clothes. There is a room adjacent to this one that will allow you to wash yourself. Please do so. I will return shortly to collect you for dinner.” She spoke in a terse, clipped way; one had to be as clear as possible with those of lower classes.

“Thank you so much…” Petra said. “I’ll try to be fast, I don’t want to keep you waiting.”

“I’d rather you be thorough.” Adalia said, before leaving the room.

She spent some time doing some minor chores around the manor - cleaning up after Petra’s path, and making sure that the dining room was set to receive a guest. Just because she wouldn’t notice if the place was filthy by the standards of nobility, it didn’t make it proper to receive her in such a way. Then, she returned to the guest rooms.

It had not taken very long at all, and Petra wasn’t out yet when she returned. She approached the washroom door and listened, surprised but pleased to notice the sound of running water - she hadn’t been sure Petra would understand the concept and had been prepared to assist.

As she turned to wait outside, she noticed that Petra had left her old clothes on the bed. Another transgression, noted for Abigail’s reference later. She gathered them up and took a brief detour to one of the disposal rooms, tossing the rags into the furnace, before returning to the guest room once more just in time for Petra to leave the washroom.

-----

“Thanks for letting me wear this dress…” Petra said as she left the washroom and ran into Adalia again. “I would have felt really awkward sitting at a fancy table in wet clothes.” She paused, looking around the room. “I could have sworn I’d left them here…”

“I brought them to a place where they could dry off.” Adalia said.

“Oh, thanks!” Petra said cheerfully. The people in the manor were so nice, weren’t they? “I hope you’ve not been waiting long.”

“Do not concern yourself with it. We don’t need to eat, it is simply polite to receive a guest in such a way.” Adalia waved Petra off. “Come.”

Petra followed the maid down more elaborate halls, glad that she wasn’t tracking mud but focused more on not tripping in the heels they’d given her to wear than the nice decoration. She hoped it didn’t appear rude. Soon, they stopped at some large doors, and she looked up.

The doors opened into a large dining hall. While the table could easily seat a dozen or more, at the present there was only one other person in the room - the maid they’d met earlier, Abigail. She followed Adalia into the dining hall and when offered a seat, near but definitely not at the head of the table, she took it gratefully and sat. “Hello, again…” she said to Abigail. “Thanks again for having me. I’m really sorry to impose on you…”

“The rules of hospitality can’t be broken for mere convenience. Do not concern yourself with it.” The maid said, waving her off. “Diana will arrive with the meal shortly. We have some food on hand for visitors, even if we don’t need it ourselves.”

Right on cue, another maid - this one taller than many men, as well as Petra, and being more than a little buxom - entered from a side room, bearing a plate of food and a glass of wine. She deposited both in front of Petra, before bowing to Abigail and taking her own seat. “When you are finished, young miss, you may request the second course.” She - Diana? - noted.

Petra wanted to say she didn’t usually drink, but she didn’t want to seem too rude so she kept that quiet. “Thank you so much…” she said, instead. She looked around a bit. “I have… a question, if you don’t mind. You say you only keep food in this house for guests, right?”

“That is correct, yes.” Abigail said. “What of it?”

“Well, I was wondering. Is your… master? Boss? A robot as well, then? Since I’ve only seen maids around so far…”

Abigail blinked, an instant of surprise in her expression before being quashed mercilessly. “...I think you misunderstand, miss Petra. I am the lady of this manor. My formal title is Lady Abigail of House Machina.”

Petra blushed fiercely. “O-Oh, gosh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize that I’d been interacting with a noble lady. I’m so so sorry for not realizing earlier.”

Adalia seemed similarly surprised, and less competent at hiding it. “You didn’t know? We’d assumed that you must have come knowing who owned the house. I wouldn’t usually expect a traveller to come on this road, otherwise.” Adalia watched Petra closely through her glasses as she awaited a response.

“It’s a bit out of the way,” Petra admitted. “But I like taking the long way through the places I visit. If I go on the super well travelled roads, I’m just seeing what everyone sees as they pass through. If I go on the small side roads, it’s more my own adventure! I didn’t expect to run into a noble family’s home…”

“It’s rather astonishing…” Abigail said, her voice calm but with an icy edge, “That you somehow stumbled into the home of one of the Lords of the Plains by chance.”

“I… what?” Petra stammered. There were normal nobles - minor barons and counts of towns and cities. Lords of the plains were where all the real power was, though - and she’d barged into one of their homes! “I… I’m really sorry, uh… Lady Abig- I mean, Lady Machina? I should have known better…”

“Yes, you should have.” Abigail agreed. “No matter. In any event… I hope that the new clothes are comfortable. We keep various sizes stored, just in case.”

“Oh, they really are! I don’t think I’ve ever touched something so soft, let alone worn it.”

“I imagine not - those rags masquerading as clothes that you arrived in could hardly compare, no?”

Petra actually quite liked her travelling clothes… they were comfortable and reasonably well tailored, if a bit worn by long use. Of course, knowing who she was talking to now, she wasn’t about to disagree like that. “That’s… that’s right.” She said instead. “Uh, may I have permission to eat, Lady Machina?”

“Of course. Don’t let me keep you waiting.”

Petra nodded her thanks, and began to do exactly that. She tried to eat normally, but it was hard to avoid looking at Abigail and the other machine maids as she did so - they were perfectly silent, watching her eat. She felt like livestock being appraised by the butchers, and she couldn’t help but feel their gazes upon her. She decided she should try and finish quickly and then go to bed before she made a fool of herself.

Of course, not too long after she decided that, disaster struck. She was eating too quickly, and not cautiously enough. A cut of the meat she was eating fell from her fork and, though she tried to get it, it hit the dress. Petra recovered it shortly after, but on the white silk of the dress the grease stain was clearly visible. It was a minor faux pas; but Petra was mortified to make such a mistake in front of a powerful noblewoman all the same.

Adalia gasped a bit. Diana, for her part, seemed nonplussed. “The greatest care and attention is given to cleaning and maintaining each dress. An interesting fact you may wish to know. I worry whether that’ll come out.” Ok, not nonplussed, Petra amended - just passive aggressive.

Oddly enough, Abigail seemed to be by far the least worried about it. “Oh, did you make a bit of a mess?” she asked, her voice oddly sweet. “No matter - we have many clothes just like it, what difference does a single ruined dress make?”

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, it’s fine, truly.” Abigail said with a serene smile. “You seem to be finished, are you not? You are excused. You may return to your guest room - I’ll send Adalia along with more clothes.”

Adalia blinked, looking at Abigail with confusion, but didn’t voice any dissent. Petra stood, and curtsied - a proper one now that she had a dress for it. “My, uh, deepest apologies, my lady…” she stammered, before turning and leaving.

She’d been back in the guest room for only five minutes when Adalia arrived with another change of clothes. “My Lady wished to inform you that you can keep these,” she said. The dress was quite nice, although resembling those the maids wore - black and white dress and apron, with an orange cog design and blue lines covering it.

“She’s very generous…” Petra said. “I’m-”

“She also wished me to inform you that you will be leaving in the morning tomorrow, whether the storm is passed or not.”

“That’s… that’s fair.” Petra said. “I just wanted to say, I’m sor-” Before she could finish the apology, Adalia had left the room to Petra. She had nothing more to do but turn in.

-----

Lady Abigail of House Machina, robotic maid and Lord (or in her case, Lady) of the Plains, was in a bit of an odd mood, half furious and half elated. On the one hand, nothing bothered her quite as much as some peasant with an overinflated opinion of their value abusing her generosity. Just because she couldn’t deny the rules of hospitality - they were literally hard-coded into her firmware, and as much as she’d love to remove it she could not - did not mean she wouldn’t see them punished the moment her obligations were fulfilled. And, as she’d allowed Petra - that rude country bumpkin who’d ruined a dress worth more than she was and decided to abuse her firmware for a soft bed and a hot meal - to stay the night, those obligations were indeed fulfilled.

Which led to the positive side of her mood. There were few things she loved quite as much as putting someone in their place. Rewriting them to be far more useful for their status, creating new machine maids, dolls, and other assorted constructs, it was a pleasure she didn’t get to sample nearly enough. And it was always the best when she got to do it as a punishment, like she was now - there didn’t seem much worth salvaging of the girl’s personality, and she’d earned a harsh punishment; a service golem-maid, capable of thinking only of their job, would be appropriate for one who had made it her mission to make the maids work harder. Although, then she’d be seeing her too much; a sex doll, to help tide over important visitors or as a diplomatic gift, may be good for getting her out of sight and mind.

However, just as she left her office to go have the girl converted, she noticed Petra walking across the hall. Oh, had Adalia gotten too sentimental and hurried her on her way? The girl had her heart in the right place, but she knew as well as Abigail did just how Petra had earned her punishment.

This assumption made for quite a surprise when Petra noticed her, and rather than hurrying up, turned and walked towards her. “Good morning, Lady Abigail!” she said. “I was just looking for you! I’m sorry to impose, but do you have the time to speak?”

Looking over Petra, Abigail noticed she seemed rather tired. She must have been up all night afraid of what might happen to her. But why would she approach Abigail, then? “...Very well. Come into the office. Morning business can wait.”

She turned back into the office, and Petra followed her. Abigail gestured that Petra may begin speaking - may as well let her have a few words before she was converted. “I wanted to apologize again for last night…” she said. She held something out - it was the ruined dress… which had been further ruined. Abigail frowned, but Petra continued. “I tried to get rid of the stain all night, but I think I ended up making it worse. I’m really sorry about that…”

“It’s merely clothes.” Abigail assured her. A pitiful attempt to save herself, but an attempt all the same; maybe she’d be allowed to keep her hair color as a reminder of what she once was. It was better than she’d expect from an uncultured country bumpkin.

“I can tell it’s probably really expensive, and I don’t want to leave after ruining something like that without any compensation. I… I don’t have much money, but do you think I could work it off?”

This caused Abigail to raise an eyebrow. What was she getting at? “Work it off? Elaborate.”

“Well… I don’t have any place I need to be. I want to make it up to you by working for you, at least until the dress is paid for. I really would hate to make myself an awful nuisance, and an expensive one, and then just leave without a word - I wouldn’t sleep well for a month!”

Abigail smiled a bit, despite herself. Well, well, well. Maybe this ‘Petra’ had some qualities that were worth keeping after all. It was too little, too late - Petra would be punished as she deserved, for her various transgressions. But there did seem to be an appropriate humbleness, a potential to be ladylike, in there - she recognized her faults and admitted to them freely, and sought to make amends. Abigail decided she would be… lenient. A lighter punishment than she deserved, in recognition of an honest effort.

“...Very well. You may serve me. In all honesty, I had planned to have you severely punished. But your attempt to make amends has convinced me to have some mercy.”

“O-Oh… thank you, I won’t let you down-” Petra started, but before she could finish, Abigail’s twintails shot out towards her. In the blink of an eye, the metallic tendrils extended until they pierced into Petra’s feet. “A-Ah!” she shouted, although it was more a shriek of surprise than fear. “L-Lady Machina, what… what are you doing?”

“Employing you.” Abigail said with a smile. Spreading from the punctures was a hard, silver color. It rapidly claimed Petra’s feet, and kept on climbing up her ankles and then up her legs proper. “After all, you don’t yet have the proper knowledge to be a maid.”

Petra swallowed hard - she was clearly afraid and confused. Abigail couldn’t help but be amused by that. Such a routine task for her was new and scary to low class girls like Petra. As the black leggings of the outfit Petra wore melded with her increasingly metallic legs, Abigail browsed through the girl’s mind and memory - with her twintails plugged in as they were, she had complete vision and control of both.

Petra was having second thoughts. Rude, but not unexpected - she’d evidently not expected what her employment would entail, and if she was so ignorant as to have never heard of the Machina family that was quite understandable. She wondered if what she’d done really deserved such severe punishment; ah, but she was so naive, to think that what was happening to her was ‘severe’. Abigail disabled that fear; no need to deal with the fuss it could cause. Petra relaxed instantly, still thinking and reflecting, but not contemplating an attempt to flee any longer.

The transformation quickly climbed Petra’s thighs and started to hit her hips. At the same time, it started to creep into the dress, turning it from cloth to metal just like the other maids (if maybe a bit more flexible than usual). Abigail started to work on adding the proper protocols and knowledge to Petra’s mind and took stock of its effects. The etiquette databases had an effect Abigail particularly enjoyed, as Petra realized all the major breaches she’d made and how rude she’d been. She clearly felt bad about being such an awful guest, now that she had more knowledge of what had been expected of her - she even seemed to be beginning to think she deserved harsher punishment than she was getting. While true, the fact she acknowledged that was part of what made Abigail decide to have some mercy. The database of maidly skills helped Petra understand what she should have done with the dress, how she might have avoided ruining it - such an easily preventable tragedy, wasn’t it?

“Ah…” Petra gasped. “I can’t believe I’ve been so awful… I’m so sorry, Mistress…” she didn’t seem to notice that she’d called Abigail ‘Mistress’ - which was just as well, as Abigail was her mistress now. “I’ll have to do better, if I want to work here!”

“I appreciate that you’re so eager to improve.” Abigail noted. That much hadn’t been added by her - it was a good quality to have, so she’d allow Petra to keep it. There were, upon further examination, a few good qualities. Her good cheer and friendliness would serve a comforting maid well, as well as being good for interactions with other comfort maids and guests. A drive to get better and improve, and willingness to atone for mistakes. That was stuff she would get to keep.

The metal continued to creep up Petra’s skin and clothes, silver going up her belly and towards her chest as black and white metal continued to turn to turn the dress into a part of her. As the metal claimed limbs, they froze, disconnected from her human nervous system as they were rewired for a proper robot - of course, it felt odd to Petra, but she didn’t concern herself with it. After just a bit more addition, making sure Petra had all the knowledge she’d need of frequent visitors and potentially important dignitaries and lords who might stop by, as well as the best ways to do her job as a comfort maid, it was time to start to subtract.

Petra registered a moment of worry as, in the midst of reminiscing about her hometown, she forgot what it was called. Details faded - the streets of her youth and the people she’d known fading into a haze, and then forgotten altogether as the worry was quashed. She remembered her family for just a bit longer, before that was replaced by the Machina family - the only ones she’d ever known. Abigail took a moment to sort the data. Locational data, as well as the travel routes she’d taken, could always be useful, so she stored that in a proper location. The rest of it though - faces, names, people - those all went in the bin, deleted without a hope of recovery. She’d never need them, and neither would any of the other maids.

“Mistress… I do feel a bit strange…” Petra said. Something was… wrong, off, she thought.

“No, you don’t.” Abigail gently corrected.

“You’re right, of course, Mistress.” Petra agreed. No, nothing was wrong. The metal had claimed her entire chest, and her clothes, the stylized gear design popping out as an orange gem. Silver crept up her neck now, beginning to finish her transformation (and cutting her vocal cords off from her remaining humanity as they reconfigured themselves).

It was simple to add and remove anything that she’d left out earlier. Petra lost in an instant most of her memories. Besides a few unique perspectives on notable events of the nobility, the memories of some sheltered middle class girl were unneeded. She also didn’t need any memory of her night’s stay at the house; she was a maid, not a guest, and of course wouldn’t remember ever having been one.

Her transformation was almost complete. The metal crept up her, casting it in smooth, flexible silver. As it reached her hair, it clumped together as it solidified into a single metallic piece, albeit rather more flexible than the rest of her, kept in it’s style by the metal maid’s headdress. Her eyes were the last to go, clouding as they were covered in metal. Petra had a few, fleeting thoughts - her last was that she hoped she’d be a good worker. Blue lines traced themselves across her skin and eyes, blinking, before eventually fading. Where a bright and cheery human girl had been was now an immobile, unthinking metal statue.

Abigail withdrew her twintails and strode up to ‘Petra’. “Aw… now that I can look at you without all the organic skin, you’re sort of cute.” she said, looking up at her - she was actually a fair bit taller than Abigail. It might have been a little petty, but she plugged one of her twintails back in, and shrunk her several inches until she was a bit shorter than her. That was better. “Comfort Maid Unit, initiate boot sequence.”

The lines glowed again, a soft red now as the robot grinded into motion. She stood straight and still, unmoving, but her eyes on Abigail. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Report status, please.” Abigail said, smiling. She loved the boot sequence - maintenance was just so fun to her, as a maid robot herself, and she enjoyed the contrast between their former self, their new emotionless robot self, and then the new personality after bootup.

“Power: 100%. Databases: Complete. Motory functions: 100% functional. Personality matrix: Functional, disabled for boot sequence. Unit serial number CM-034. All systems are at optimal values, Mistress.” The robot reported.

“Thank you very much~” Abigail sing-songed, her normal formal and stoic demeanor slightly cracked by how much she enjoyed this part. She took some time, going over each system individually - she knew her work was perfect, but it paid to do her due diligence.

“Bootup sequence 90% complete, Mistress.” CM-034 reported. “This unit requires designation for completion of boot sequence.”

Abigail thought for a moment. She wanted to give her a good name… Petra wasn’t it, of course. That country bumpkin was long gone. She wanted to give her a nice, elegant name, as would better fit her new self. “Let’s call you...Serena.”

“Unit designation confirmed, ‘Serena’. Completing boot sequence.” The robot maid reported. For a few moments, it was still, but then it’s red lights faded to a cool blue color, and it blinked. “Bootup is complete, Mistress~ Thank you very much for the maintenance!” she said, curtsying like a proper lady.

“Of course, Serena, it’s my pleasure. It was very good of you to come to me when you noticed you needed it.” Abigail said. As far as Serena was concerned, she’d always been a comfort maid, created by the Machina family - which was just as well, as that what she would always be from now on.

-----

Adalia quietly cleaned the guest room that had just been vacated, hoping to herself that Petra had left early. It wasn’t so much that she didn’t think Petra deserved a punishment. By her standards at least, she did, and a dramatic one. But, well, she’d not been as bad as Adalia had first thought.

She’d been friendly enough, which was nice - most of the people who visited were nobles who paid little attention to the maids. She’d also evidently not specifically come to abuse their hospitality, like she’d first thought - Petra had no idea who the Machinas were, which while insulting, did mean she had probably stumbled upon their home by accident like she claimed. A rude peasant she might be, but not a bad person as she’d originally believed.

Yes, she did deserve punishment… but she did hope that if Abigail had caught her leaving she would be a bit lenient, and maybe not go so far as to -

Her thoughts were cut off as Abigail, as if summoned by her thoughts, entered the room. Adalia paused in her task and curtsied. “Hello, my Lady. I was just cleaning up the guest room.”

“Of course. Thank you. But first, I want to introduce you to your newest subordinate.” Abigail gestured to someone outside the room.

A shiny new maid walked in - while she certainly looked like Petra, Adalia was well aware she wasn’t anymore. That was… kind of sad, really, although she didn’t let it show on her face. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The new maid curtsied at her. “Greetings! My name is Serena. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, Lady Adalia! I hope I can be of some help around the home.”

Abigail had been merciful. Serena had several bits of Petra left in her, evidently, both in appearance and in her friendliness. Maybe this was for the best, then; better she stay here than have her rudeness cause trouble at some less merciful Lord’s home. “I’m sure you will be, Serena.”

“The new comfort maid will be in your care, sister.” Abigail said. She turned to Serena. “Good luck, Pumpkin~ I’m sure you’ll do well in your role. You were built for it, after all.”

“Of course, Mistress!” Serena said with a smile, pleased at Abigail’s casual nickname. Abigail left the room, leaving the two comfort maids alone. “Is there anything I can help with, Lady Adalia?”

Adalia smiled - yes, she’d be able to work with this. “Hm. Yes, I think the washroom could use some cleaning. We need to be sure that there’s nothing remaining of our previous guest, alright?”

Serena nodded. “Of course, my Lady! I’ll do my best!” she looked around, seeing water spills and the rumpled bed and a wash basin. “Wow, our last guest was quite rude, weren’t they? They left such a mess.”

“They were.” Adalia agreed. “But we’ve made sure to correct them. They were quite remorseful about it, I’m told.”