“No, no, no. You simply aren’t what I’m looking for.” The man discarded yet another young woman as she stood before him on that platform and said her line. He had a very specific quota to meet- namely a girl that could fit the description of the lost ’princess’. He’d been at this task for a few days now and it was looking rather bleak. At this rate he would never get his hands on that money.

“What’s wrong with me?”

“Your eyes are the wrong color, your hair is too shabby, your voice rattles window panes.” He said, perhaps unnecessarily harsh to get rid of her quick so he could move onto the next. “I am looking for a girl with the air of a princess. THAT is not you.” He assured her with a bitter smile and got to his feet. “I’m going to get some air.” Really- he was just growing impatient. How difficult was it to find a suitable fake?

Honestly… it wasn’t like the young man was likely to even recognize his sister after all this time- even if she was RIGHT under his nose. Several years was plenty of time to forget a person. If she hadn’t come back yet she was probably dead or had no desire to return. The whole search was foolish, he only wished to use it to his advantage.

He needed to clear his head. He stepped away from the rear entrance of the warehouse and started down the crowded streets of a lively city. Digging in his pockets for a light, cigarette pinned between his teeth, when he ran headlong into someone. With a snarl of frustration he staggered back a step, the cig falling from his mouth. 

He looked to the hazard that was a woman. With her creamy skin and golden hair she looked remarkably like a certain child age progressed several years. His demeanor immediately changed as he saw an opportunity. “My apologies!” He took her by the elbow to help her back to her feet. “Are you alright?”

---
Finnegan heaved a pretty heavy sigh, dragging his hands at his face and sinking forward against the desk. Yet another set of falsified ‘princesses’ showed up at the manor that day. It was so frustrating and they had some serious gall to come forward when they doubtlessly KNEW they weren’t Anatasia. What compelled them to be so daft? To think they could fool him.

He KNEW his sister. 

He sighed again. “You keep sighing like that and you will soon deflate like a balloon.”

“I tire of this search Malon. Why doesn’t my sister come home?”

The maid pursed her lips, knowing there was no good answer for the young man. She could only imagine the worse. “I don’t wish to step out of line Sir Finnegan-”

“Please Malon, no titles.” His voice was weary and rightfully so, he had told her this time and again.

“Yes, of course. Well you dear boy, perhaps you have not yet found your sister because she CAN’T be found.” He groaned and slumped backwards at her words instead, complaining about riddles. “You are a smart, intuitive, brilliant leader of this company but I fear that you are chasing something that merely can’t be found.”

He sat up “I will admit that none of these girls are my sister and maybe she doesn’t wish to return but I will not tolerate talk of Anatasia being dead. She is too good a person to fall to such a fate.”

The woman sealed her lips, she would not remind him that could be said about the rest of his family and now they lay cold and dead- food for maggots. He got to his feet. “Either way I’m fed up with these pompous girls, pretending to be someone they are not…” He grumbled as he left the room, leaving the maid to stand their silently. Still thinking of his parents and older sibling. Such a horrible tragedy that she HOPED hadn’t befallen his dear sweet sister.