[center][h3][color=ed1c24]Aziza[/color][/h3][/center]
The bed looked perfect. The sheets were clean, the beautiful scent of the solution used when washing them slowly filled the small room. The towels on the bed were arranged into intricate shapes, other accessories for the guests placed carefully on their designated spots. The girl checked everything one more time and then pulled a clean rag from under her apron to clean the last specks of dust off the furniture in the room.

An old man peeked into the room through the open door. “Is everything ready?” He scanned the room and his frown slowly turned into a smile. “Perfect as always, Parull. Are the other rooms in your section ready as well?”

[color=ed1c24]“Of course, sir,”[/color] girl answered, her head bowed down politely.

Man rubbed his hands together. “Perfect. The guests will be arriving shortly and by the attendance it seems we will need every room available. I wanted to ask you to help the other maids with their duties, but I just remembered we will probably have to get more vials of thalea oil. One of the traders downtown should have some. Would you be so kind to run and get them Parull?”

The girl smiled. [color=ed1c24]“Whatever you need, sir.”[/color]

Aziza quickly scuttled through the palace halls, looking at the floor, unnoticed amongst dozens of other servants rushing after their errands. How easy was it to become invisible. She didn’t even have to sleep with that old supervisor to get the job, as workforce was scarce before the big festival. Frankly, she was relieved she didn’t have to go and help the other girls. Blending in and pretending to be one of them wasn’t hard, but their stupid chatting and gossiping and dreaming about being married to this noble or another one bored Aziza to death and made her want to kill someone. She wished there was something she could do, but hadn’t received any new orders yet, so she had to maintain her cover of sweet Parull, a bit silly but hardworking middle-class girl, who dreams of having a career as a palace servant.

One defiant string of hair escaped the braid again and Aziza pulled it behind her ear, reminding herself that she must dye the hair again soon. Her natural platinum color always started to shine through after few days, no matter what kind of dye she used on them. Current dark tone made her look like some of her ancestors were Freyja and the rest something indistinguishable, a mixture very common amongst the lower classes. A bit of powder made her complexion look darker, but the most important aspect was the invisibility. When no one can see you, no one will be suspicious about you.

She made her way through the crowds on the streets onto the market, stopping at one stall to buy a piece of pastry. While taking small bites she managed to extract a tiny piece of paper hidden inside without anyone noticing. The eyes of most people were glued to a group of artists in the center of the market, juggling with knives, axes and other sharp objects. Aziza sneered at two pickpockets weaving through the crowd and cutting unsuspecting people’s pouches open. She peeked into the note.

[center][i]“King and queen arriving soon. Collect information and wait for new orders.”[/i][/center]

Had anyone been watching her face while she read the text, they would probably turn around and run off scared. For a split second, the true Aziza appeared on Parull’s face and a quick growl escaped her mouth. Immediately regaining her self-control, she smiled again, all signs of anger disappearing without a trace. The note didn’t tell her anything new. She already knew the Primfira royalty was arriving to the festival, after all that was no secret. No new orders. Again. She sighed.

One of the pickpockets got closer to her, pretending to look on someone else. Putting on her best naive smile, she turned to “accidentally” bump into him. [color=ed1c24]“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,”[/color] she said with an apologetic smile. The thief looked into her eyes and what he saw made him try to back off, panic appearing in his eyes. Aziza pulled him closer, twisting his wrist, the tiny blade hidden in man’s sleeve quickly changing the owner and disappearing in his stomach. The thief gasped for air, putting his hands over the wound while his shirt started to turn bright red. [color=ed1c24]“So sorry,”[/color] Aziza mumbled with a wide grin and disappeared in the crowd.