I woke up, feeling oddly refreshed after all of the previous days' exertions. I stretched out till my muscles shook, and flopped back into my bedding for a moment, just enjoying the sound of birds outside, the soft sunlight, and the sounds of my roommates breathing in their sleep. It was the weekend for us, no classes, no training, nothing of the sort this morning.

  Sadly, I couldn't sleep in today. Weekends, though a reprieve from study and dungeoneering, were taken up by my secondary job. It was no less strenuous or harrowing. I slipped out of bed, and as quickly and quietly, grabbed my clothes and other necessities, put them in a bag I had set aside for my weekend tasks, and slipped out to do my daily hygiene rituals in the communal washroom.

  I tried to maintain these rituals every day as a sort of stabilizing element in my life. Brush teeth, comb hair, clean face, dress, tie up hair, and apply some cosmetics to hide any lingering tiredness in my face. Finally, I stared at my reflection and practiced my expressions. Warm smile, cool indifference, welcoming smile, glare of death, and so on. I tended to keep my expressions fairly neutral in my day-to-day life; however, for my weekend job, I needed to be very expressive both in my actions and words. It was a battlefield where the weapons were charm and presentation.

  Today, I would tread that battlefield once again. Today, I became a maid. A waitress maid.

  -

  I hurried along to the café I would be working at today, a little place called Atelier du Maiden. It was situated in what would be called in any other city a red light district, but one must understand that it wasn't THAT sort of café. Nothing of the sort! I would never work someplace like that. Unless I was desperate. Fortunately, I had never gotten to that point.

  The district, officially called The Flower District, colloquially called The Petals, was home to a great deal of entertainment-related businesses. Cafes, restaurants, bars, gambling dens, theatres, street musicians, and more called this place home. There were of course, some seedier establishments, but I made it a point not to get too close to those. It was far from the Dungeon School campus and tended to be priced too high for many of my fellows to ever stumble across it. It was the playground of the richer elements of Revenstahd, and there were many amongst the lower classes willing to use this to their advantage. I can't say I could blame them, and it was refreshing in its way.

  Nobles and the wealthy seemed content to backstab anyone and everyone to get ahead. The common folk helped each other take the nobles for all they were worth. The community of mutual understanding and a common foe of sorts made things easier to understand.

  Thankfully, the district was sparse this time of morning, it being a nightlife district and all. It gave me a chance to relax a bit, and being early had an added benefit. Early staff get a free breakfast, and for free breakfast, I would wake up before the gods.

  I slipped in through the staff entrance down one of the back alleys, and was greeted by the warm, delicious smells of the kitchen, the cooks already hard at work. I wasn't the only one of the waitstaff there, which didn't surprise me at all.

  "Morning, Astra!" A cheery human waved at me. She had bright green dyed hair and equally green eyes that always caught me off guard. You didn't typically see pigments like that naturally with humans. Astra was a pseudonym I had chosen when I started working here, which was standard practice. There was no shame in this job, I felt, but some employers disagreed, so we all chose false identities to protect ourselves. It was a shame, but it was how the world worked.

  "Good morning to you, Lily." I bowed my head in greeting as I put my bag away in the little nook in the staff area. I nodded acknowledgment to the other girls there. Holly, Spruce, Kalli, Mystra, and Fillia. Likely, this was going to most of the staff today. They were mostly humans, with Mystra being a Winter Elf, an enigmatic species of elf, with hair and skin white as snow, but with piercing pink irises in her eyes. She affected a cold demeanor as well, but I wasn't entirely sure it was genuine. She was there to play a character, just like the rest of us, and some patrons liked that in their waitresses.

  We sat and chit-chatted for a bit, inane small talk, but I had to admit it was a nice bit of normalcy. Dungeon School conversations tended to focus on studies, near misses, tall tales of adventurers. These girls talked about family, rumors, romance, and the like. Fillia was a bit too frank with her romance talk if I was to be honest, but she was, I suppose you could say, full of love. Still three partners in one night? Goodness gracious, I'd be exhausted.

  Eventually, our breakfast came, simple but hearty fare, and all conversation died down while we filled our stomachs. Depending on the ebb and flow of customers that day, we would have little idea when our next meal time would be, or even how much of a break we would be able to get.

  Eventually, our manager came in. She was an older woman, with short-cropped silver hair, stern eyes, but a warm expression on her face. She expected the best from us, but in turn, she paid incredibly well. I had only worked her a few weeks now, but she made me feel incredibly welcome.

  "Good morning, girls! Let's get right to business,s shall we? It's not likely to be too busy till afternoon. However, word on the street is that a few squadrons from the Knightly Orders will be passing through on their way up north. Hopefully they'll be staying long enough to unwind a bit, so if they do show up, do your best and get as many tips as you can while the getting is good, right?" We all chuckled along with her. Knights, especially young ones, were easy to coax a good tip out of if you were bubbly and cute. Time to turn my feminine wiles up a bit.

  She handed out assignments. Fillia would be at the bar, Lily at the door, and the rest of us handling orders. The kitchen didn't need any extra help today, thank goodness. On my first day, I had been stuck doing dishes, and it was the first time I had ever gotten my fingers pruned from washing. I smelled like dish soap for days.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  I had secretly hoped for bar duty, as the bartender would get to sit, and my muscles were still a bit sore from the past week. Nothing to do about it, just had to tough it out. One day, I'd get my chance.

  Since we still had some time till opening, we set about doing set up and cleaning, making sure all the decorations were in place. All the while, we were giggling and laughing and chatting.

  It felt nice. It felt normal. I loved what I was doing as a dungeoneer, but it felt good not to have to be a leader, not to worry about survival and combat, and most of all it felt nice to feel like a common person, the worries and schemes feeling even further away than ever.

  If Dungeon School didn't pan out, I'd be half tempted to do this forever. Only half, though. I usually changed my mind once customers started coming in. Any job was a good job till customers became part of the equation.

  After things had gotten settled as for cleaning and decorating, we all went to change into our work uniform.

  It was not something I would ever wear intentionally. Atelier Du Maiden was what they called a maid cafe, though the uniform's connection to actual maid uniforms was tenuous. For one thing, it was much shorter in the skirt, the top showed up much more décolletage than I was comfortable with in my own attire. On top of all that, stockings with garters showing, along with an absolutely absurd amount of lace, made for a pretty picture, I suppose, for those who were into that sort of thing.

  The whole idea of the cafe, I suppose, was to give patrons a taste of having pretty servants wait on them. I could understand the appeal, though my tastes were a bit more subdued. I liked a pretty lass as much as anyone, but if anyone back home had servants dress like this, the scandal would have been monumental, often career-ending at best.

  Reality and dreams were eternal enemies, I suppose.

  We all checked each other's outfits, much like how my roommates and I checked our gear, and the more veteran girls helped me adjust my stockings and garters. Spruce, one of the longest-time workers there, taught me a few tricks to moving around in the outfit to keep my underwear from being on display.

  "Though, I'll be honest, if you do show, you tend to get better tips. The lecherous ones tend to have better coin, sad to say." She said as she adjusted my leggings for me. I blushed at the thought of anyone looking at me that way, though I supposed it was part of the experience. One day I'd have to get over my hang-ups about this, but it wasn't going to be today.

  -

  The day began simply enough. Many of our regulars showed up early, a mix of your usual types for this sort of establishment. Socially awkward men who enjoyed the fantasy of young women waiting on them, some older lechers who started drinking too early to be healthy, and my particular favorites were a group of young ladies who seemed to enjoy the idea of being waited on.

  I always liked them, not only because they asked for me specifically, which meant I was less likely to be flirted with, though it had happened a few times, which I found flattering to be honest, but they tipped me well.

  The day proceeded thus for several hours, with a few breaks here and there, which was a blessing. Being on my feet in the fancy shoes which were part of the outfit was a nightmare on my poor ankles, but I toughed it out, thinking of it as stamina training for dungeons. Whatever it took to keep me from complaining too much. These girls worked hard, and so would I.

  The smells from all the food and drinks made me hungry, though. It was all sorts of rich, sweet pastries and cakes, along with a few savory dishes, which almost made me want to drool. I wouldn't mind tastes from the drinks, too. Some of the alcohol being served was rare and delicious. I hadn't had a taste of truly high-quality booze since I left Burgotova, and part of me missed that little bit of decadence from my old life.

  Eventually, our regulars went home,e and the difficult part of the shift began. Our regulars, as rowdy as they could get, understood that we had certain rules. Flirting was fine, but no pressuring a waitress for stuff outside work, no getting too personal, and most importantly, no touching the maids.

  Luckily, most got the picture after a stern warning, and we had little trouble for the night. Until the members of the Orders came in.

  Knights were difficult people at the best of times, but this was to be expected. Their training had taught them that might makes right, and that they were the gods' gift to the concept of warfare, and everyone should be glad that a knight graced you with their presence. The instillation of a superiority complex was part of the training.

  This was likely to make them think they were invincible and thus more likely to do "brave" things in battle, such as single-handedly trying to fight dragons or something. I always felt it was idiotic, but what did I know? I was an exiled noblewoman working at a maid café.

  I just had to grin and bear their insufferable attitude a few more hours, and then the café would close and I could go home. All the drunken flirting and near misses with hands were making me jumpy, which in turn was making me very tired and irritated. It was getting increasingly hard to keep my charming smile on my face. I just had to remember the money, keep my mind on the money, all that money to spend on food and clothes and new equipment and-

  My mental mantra was broken as I felt a hand on my backside, under the skirt. At first, I thought it was an accident till I felt the squeeze. My body moved all on its own, guided entirely from muscle memory and enhanced by rage and indignation.

  I grabbed the offending hand, twisted it straight, eliciting a cry of alarm from the offending cur, and with one quick movement, I drove my other fist into their elbow, bending their arm in the opposite direction to where it should have been. They screamed and I saw them draw a dagger, which I grabbed from their grip in one smooth motion, and drove it through their hand into the table, and without thinking uttered a spell.

  "Like Nails of Ice from Forbidden Lands, Bind ye now this offending hand!" Which then caused the bloody blade to shine and magically bond itself to the table, a little trick I had learned to control the movements of foes. I had never used it on a Mortal before, but then I also had never had anyone grab my rear end before.

  The next thing I knew, patrons were fleeing, and the offenders' friends were on their feet, daggers drawn. The manager had ushered the other girls into the back, and I found myself staring down at least five opponents.

  It was then that my mind took in the entire situation. Counting the one whose arm I had just broken and then nailed to the table, his five companions, armed with daggers, and then one who hadn't stood yet behind them, I was outnumbered for sure. Then I realized I had made an even deeper mistake. They all wore uniforms of a Knightly Order. The Order of the Obsidian Gauntlet, no less. An infamous group amongst the orders for their combat prowess, and more importantly, their cruelty. They were summoned to faraway battlefields to end conflicts as quickly as possible, often brutally.

  This fight was even less in my favor now.

  The seated figure stood and approached, putting his hands on several knights' shoulders.

  "Let's all calm down for a moment, gents. I don't want this evening's fun to get too rambunctious now. Unless of course, the lady wants it to be."

  He looked at me and smiled, making my skin crawl. This would not end well for somebody, and it was likely to be me.

  It was then the town guard burst through the door, and shouted for us all to put our hands up. Amongst them was the guard captain herself. This was the first time I was glad to see them.