The maid opened the door and took a quick look down both ends of the hallway. After confirming they were alone, she went back inside and barred the door.

“All clear, Evelyn,” the maid said.

“Pardon?” Evelyn said in Parisian French.

While the tone was harsh, and her eyebrow was clocked and that impish smile confirmed it was part of the act. Nevertheless Evelyn moved her lips to say ‘Sorry’ and slapped her maid hard across the face.

“M-m-my apologies, m-m-mistress!”

Evelyn cupped one of her ears, before using her hand to make an all around signal. The maid nodded, and went for their bag.

The courtier walked out on the hall and shortly thereafter a long progression of rough two dozen staff walked in carrying in bags and that was followed by several pairs carrying steamer trunks. All of it was stacked neatly by the door, and every single one retreated from sight before either of the women could say anything.

With the last man done, the courtier lingered long enough to ensure there were no additional instructions. When it became clear they were ignoring him, he excused himself and closed the door behind him.

This concluded the first of what would be many training sessions. Maxwell, the night concierge, felt it was best to work up the night staff in dealing with difficult clients. This happened to be the same demographic who tend to decapitate waiters due to their tone.

“We are aware,” the maid said. “That being said, if my mistress were to discover that she was deceived…”

The rest was left unsaid to leave plenty to the imagination. While the power behind that threat was at war, in his element, they saw no need to volunteer that detail.

“Understood, my lady,” the courtier replied. “Permission—(to bring in your bags.)”

“Be quick about it,” the maid said.

“Is the lady displeased?” The courtier asked.

“She is,” the younger one said. “This room barely qualifies as furnished.”

The man tugged at his high collar and cleared his throat. Meanwhile only the maid looked at him, because her mistresses deemed him to be unimportant.

“This is the best room we have… for now,” the courtier said. “The hotel is still under—(construction).”

“We are aware,” the maid said. “That being said, if my mistress were to discover that she was deceived…”

The courtier opened the pristine white doors with gold trim leading into the suite on the fourth floor of what would be known as The Grand. When he moved out of the way a black haired beauty with fair skin and piercing green eyes walked inside. She wore a formal gown and corset, along with a jacket as they had just arrived.

Behind her there was a younger woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. While a child of the Normands, brimming with blue blood, the younger lass wore the simple dress of a maid.

The lady stopped in the middle of the room and motioned for her maid to approach. They exchanged a few words while the courtier looked on with a grin reminiscent of a man’s testicles being gradually squeezed in a vice.