Ansburg was a hidden jewel in the crown of Carantania. A busy sea-port, it was the heart of trade in coffee and cocoa, those rare luxuries only the exceedingly rich outside their small nation could afford to indulge in. A ducal seat, too, the people were proud of their place in the hierarchy of the kingdom. Not all of them shared that pride in the ducal house, however. One family, in particular, had no reason to love the noble House of Ansburg, though it was kept quiet for the sake of appearances. And, indeed, in the wake of a terrible accident that had robbed them of two of their number, those around them felt it best not to mention the Duke and his family at all. After all, had the politics of the land been a little kinder, that awful loss might never have been felt at all.

There was no place in Ansburg where the loss of that tragedy was more greatly felt than at the house of a local coffee merchant. This coffee merchant, however, just happened to be the younger brother of the man who had died in that accident - a man who won the heart of the duke's daughter and stolen her away from her rightful place. It was not the brother who was so important to the duchy, however, as it was his children - a boy and a girl who had never met their grandfather and who were being raised by their uncle with love and affection.

"Miss Anna!"

The familiar cry of the housekeeper rang through the merchant's home, accompanied by the sound of small feet pattering on the stairs as the door opened to the office where the head of their sadly declined family worked.

A small girl with bouncing ringlets came barreling into view, a headless ragdoll waving in one hand, to throw herself into her uncle's arms. "Matty killed Gerdie!"

The uncle in question stifled a groan as the little girl thumped against him, taking him by surprise and jostling his arm so that ink splattered across the page he had been writing and he sigh in exasperation. He could not very well scold the child, who had been through enough already with the loss of both her parents at such a tender age. He was not known for being a soft man, but these children he was raising had found their way to his heart, whether he would admit it or not.

"What did Gerdie do to deserve such a punishment?" he asked, setting the pen down and turning in his chair to give the little girl his full attention. He took the doll from her hands, trying hard to bite back a laugh at the look of her.

It was just as well he didn't laugh, because the youngest member of his household was already in tears at the "death" of her favorite doll. The truth was that Gerdie lost her head on a regular basis, but it was rare that Anna could pinpoint whose fault it was. "She didn't do anything, it was Matty and his sword and he was poking her, and her head came off, and he won't give it back!"

His heart softened at the little girl's distress and he knew he was going to have to have a talk with her brother ....again. "And just where is the perpetrator now?" he asked, as he brushed the tears from her face with a gentle finger.

Sniffling, the little girl clambered up onto his lap, heedless of the work he was trying to focus on, to cuddle into him. The sound of footsteps heralded the arrival of the housekeeper, Hilde, breathless and red-faced, in the doorway.

"I'm so sorry, Master Kramer," she apologized. "The little miss is getting faster every day."

"No need, Hilde," Leo said, dismissing his housekeeper's apology as unnecessary. It had been a year since the tragic accident that had taken the children's parents, and in that time, he had become so attached to the children, it was almost like they were his own. They were, after all, the only blood relatives he had left, and his last remaining connection to the elder brother he had adored. "Could you fetch Matias for me?" he asked, sorry he had to ask the woman to go look for the boy when she was clearly out of breath, but his lap was currently occupied, preventing him from looking himself.

Hilde nodded wearily, smiling. "Yes, sir," she agreed, turning to make her way back upstairs. Though running around after the children was not precisely a part of her job, she had never begrudged it. At least they knew not to cause chaos when she was cooking.

On Leo's lap, little Anna was cuddling the remains of her dolly, still sniffing every now and then. "Is you goin' to poke him with a stick, Uncle Leo?"

"No, that wouldn't be right, but I am going to find out what happened and make him promise never to do it again," her uncle replied, hoping to find a fair solution to this recurring problem. Was the boy purposely being malicious, or had it just been an accident' "I'm sure Hilde can fix Gerdie," he added. He frowned a little as he glanced to the headless doll. It looked like it had seen far better days, but no matter how many new dolls he bought her, she steadfastly remained attached to this one.

Anna's mother had made this doll with her own hands, that was why Anna was so steadfastly loyal to her Gerdie. The doll was, quite simply, irreplaceable. And Matias' behavior was not generally malicious, but he had been a little more aggressive with his little sister in recent months.

"But what if her head never comes back?" Anna asked him worriedly.

"Oh, I'm quite sure we will find Gerdie's head when we find your brother," Leo replied, with a reassuring smile, hiding his annoyance at the situation. Though it might have been amusing at first, he hated anything that caused her tender heart pain.

"I have Gerdie's head, Uncle," a young voice interrupted, that of the perpetrator of the crime - a boy no older than six.

Anna hastily hugged the rest of Gerdie to her chest, turning a pouting frown onto her brother, silently accusing him of that most terrible of crimes - dolly-cide.

Behind Matias, Hilde gently squeezed the boy's shoulder, encouraging him into the office. "Now you take that frown off your face, Miss Anna, and be sweet," she told the little girl. "There's no need for anger or tears when everything is being mended."

"Matias, I do not wish to punish you, lad, but this cannot continue. What do you have to say for yourself?" Leo asked, one arm around the little girl's waist to balance her on his lap while he looked to the boy for an explanation. He didn't want to take sides, and yet, he could not understand why the boy was being so cruel.

"I was only playing, Uncle. I didn't mean for Gerdie's head to come off," the boy explained, a guilty look on his face.

"You killed her!" Anna burst out, waving the decapitated dolly at her brother.

Behind the boy, Hilde had to look away hurriedly, biting her lips together to avoid showing a smile in the face of the little girl's righteous anger.

"She's not dead, Anna! She's just a doll!" Matias argued, clearing annoyed that his sister was so attached to the thing that she got upset every time something happened to it. Why was he always the bad guy, when all he'd been doing was playing"

"It may only be a doll, but that doll clearly means a lot to your sister," Leo reasoned. "How would you feel if she tore pages from your books?"

Matias frowned, looking and feeling guilty again. "But it's not the same thing," he argued quietly.

"It is!" Anna was not above inserting herself into a conversation, it seemed. "Mama gave me Gerdie, and Papa gave you your books, and Gerdie's mine!" Her lower lip was starting to wobble again, a sure sign of more tears on the way.

No one had ever really put it that way before, and even Matias looked like he was on the verge of tears, as much as he was trying to remain stoic.

"I think I may have a solution to the problem," Leo said, looking between the pair. "Anna, do you have another doll you are not so, er, attached to?"

Indignant eyes rose to her uncle's face, but even at four years old, Anna knew when not to push her luck. "Lots," she nodded, though in truth, she only had four or five dolls in total. None of them were as precious as the currently decapitated Gerdie, though.

"Is there one you wouldn't mind parting with?" he asked, more to the point, though he wasn't sure if this solution would work if Matias only enjoyed decapitating Gerdie to annoy his sister.

"I promise I won't kill Gerdie anymore, Anna," Matias told his sister, solemnly, after a moment's thought. After all, he really didn't want her tearing pages from his precious books.

The little girl considered this for a long moment. She tilted shy eyes toward her brother. "You c'n have Elsa, Matty," she offered, pressing her ragged doll to her mouth for a moment. "C'n I have Gerdie's head back?"

Matias withdrew a hand from behind his back and stepped forward to return the doll's severed head to his sister, looking as penitent as possible. "I'm sorry, Anna. I didn't mean to kill her," he said, holding out the doll's head to return it to his sister.

"A gentleman's promise is never broken, Matias. It's a matter of honor," Leo interjected with a serious look on his face. He had promised to care for his brother's children, like they were his own, and that was a promise he intended to keep.

One little hand took the head back to cuddle it close for a long moment, experimentally testing to see if it would somehow magically reattach itself. When this didn't happen, nonetheless Anna wriggled down from her uncle's lap to hug her brother. "M'sorry I shouted."

"I'm sorry, too," Matias repeated, returning his sister's hug. The boy had some repressed anger lurking inside him at his parents' deaths that would take some time to work out, but his sister was the last person in the world he wanted to hurt.

"Nevertheless, sir, there is little love lost between the ducal house and your own family," deVerne pointed out calmly. "Understandably so. The circumstances have been ....less than ideal for more than a decade now." He shifted a little in his seat. "I should add that Lady Esmerelda requested that I call back an hour after leaving you, in case you should have a reply to the letter you now hold in your hand. I am not privy to its contents."

There were good reasons for Leo's ambivalence toward the ducal house, and he wasn't sure exactly what the duke's reasons were for waiting so long to make amends. It was clearly too late to reconcile with his daughter, but it was not too late for her children. Leo ran his fingers against the parchment in his hands, considering. It seemed he was not expected to read it in his caller's presence, at least. "Then you'll not be staying for coffee?" he asked, refusing to let the man see how all of this was affecting him.

The lawyer shook his head kindly. "No, Master Kramer," he assured the merchant in a quiet tone. "I do not feel it would be a kindness to inflict my presence on you any longer than is entirely necessary." He rose to his feet. "With your permission, I will call back in one hour. Please, do not feel obligated to have a reply to give me. It is merely a precaution in the event you choose to write in answer."

"Very well," Leo replied, moving to his feet with the man, out of both courtesy and respect. "I shall try to have an answer for you, then," he replied, moving the letter to his left hand and offering his right. "Thank you, Master deVerne."

"Thank you for seeing me, Master Kramer." deVerne's hand enveloped his for a brief moment before he drew back. "Do not trouble yourself to escort me to the door, I shall show myself out."

Leo mumbled a reply, not bothering to argue. If he was only being given an hour to both read a letter and reach a decision, he was going to need every minute of that hour. Once the man was gone, he sat himself back down in the chair, broke the seal on the parchment, and unfolded the letter to read what Lady Esmerelda had to say.

The note was short, but written in a clear hand, with no ridiculous flourishes as he might have expected from a noblewoman.

My dear Leopold, I hope you do not object to my addressing you in so familiar a manner. Avila wrote often of you, and with such affection, that I feel I almost know you without ever having met. Please, do not fear that the children will be taken from you. You have done more for them than myself or my father can possibly say. Indeed, we barely deserve the attention you may give this letter. Allow me to assure you that our invitation is an invitation only; you may decline, if you see fit. Alternatively, if you desire it, I will visit you in Ansburg myself, so that you may ask of me any question you wish in the familiarity of your own home. I know it has been a long time, and we do not deserve any kindness from you, but we should very much like to meet the children of Ernst and Avila Kramer. I will not lay an obligation upon you. I shall forever be an aunt to Matias and Anna, if you will allow it. Your brother's sister, Esmerelda.

Leo read the letter carefully, and then read it again to make sure he understand her meaning. He set the parchment in his lap with a sigh and a frown. He wasn't sure it was appropriate for an unmarried woman - noble or not - to visit his home unescorted, though perhaps he was misunderstanding her meaning or assuming incorrectly. What he needed to consider here before he gave deVerne his reply was the children. Would it be better for him to take them there, or for her to meet them here, in this place they called home" Their lives had all been disrupted this past year, and he didn't like the idea of further disrupting what little peace they'd gained over these last months. Things were finally returning to normal, and the children were finally coming back out of their shells after losing both their parents. Did he really want to worry them further by a trip they might interpret as him trying to get rid of them' No, it would be better for everyone if she came here, even if it was seen by some as improper.

With that in mind, he moved to his desk and took out a fresh sheet of parchment upon which to pen his reply. Lady Esmerelda ...

As he wrote, Hilde brought him coffee, taking the letters already written to be handed to the courier when he came by later. She didn't comment on the visit, or the fact that their visitor had not stayed for refreshment. She'd been housekeeper to the Kramers for almost ten years; she knew Leo's moods almost as well as he did.

Seemingly lost in thought, he barely acknowledged the coffee, only opening his mouth once his housekeeper had reached the door. "Hilde, you should know I have invited the Lady Esmerelda to visit us here in Ansburg. I am not sure precisely when she will be visiting, but I do not think it will be soon. Can you make all the necessary arrangements so that we can give her a proper welcome?"

To her credit, Hilde did not immediately demand to know if he had lost his mind. She turned slowly back to him, her expression carefully neutral. "How long would you expect this visit to last, sir?" she asked cautiously. "Hosting a noblewoman for more than a single day will require taking on more staff for the duration of her visit."

"I think not. One more mouth to feed, more or less. If she does not wish to stay here, I'm sure there are plenty of inns to her liking, and if she wishes, she can bring her own staff. I do not wish to upset the children or the household any more than is needed," he reasoned, knowing what he was asking was probably not very proper, but if she wanted to really see how the children lived, this was the best way to do it. She would see that they were not only well cared for, but happy here.

Hilde stared at him for a long moment, adjusting her view of things. She knew better than to argue with her master; Leo had clearly made up his mind on this matter, and to be honest, she was curious to see how the lady would react to their informal little house. "May we take on a cook for the duration of her visit?" she asked, lowering her hopes. "I cannot feed a household and keep control of the children, and keep the place clean and tidy enough for a visitor by myself, sir."

"Of course," he replied. "You may hire whatever help you think you might need," he replied, now that she'd put it that way. He paused a moment, frowning. She had never complained of being overworked, but he had expected a lot of her after his brother's death. "Do you need more help, Hilde" You need only ask. I'm sure we could afford to hire a maid or ....or a nanny, if you prefer."

"Oh, Goddess bless you, sir, I'm happy in my work," she assured him. "An extra pair of hands during a noblewoman's visit is all I need ....unless you are unhappy with my service?" She looked uncertainly at him. "I try my best to keep on top of everything, and my boy does a good deal to help me."

"Of course not, Hilde. I am very happy with your service. Please, I trust you to make the right decisions. Do whatever you think best," he told her, offering a reassuring smile. He had always tried to be a fair employer, and while he wasn't exactly rich, he had never been stingy with her paycheck.

The housekeeper smiled. "Thank you, sir." She bobbed a curtsy, more out of habit than anything. "When will the lady be visiting" Are you setting a date for her, or waiting for a reply?"

"No, I will let you know when I've received her reply," he told her. He might dare to be a little presumptuous when it came to their living arrangements, but he wouldn't dare dictate to the Lady when she should visit or how long she should stay. Hopefully, it wouldn't take long for them to receive a reply.

"Thank you, sir." Hilde nodded to him. "I'm just about to put dinner on the stove. We'll be eating in about an hour." She never failed to tell him in advance of when he was expected to eat with the family, that was for sure.

"Thank you, Hilde," he replied, with a polite smile. An hour might just give him enough time to wrap up his work for the day, so he could spend some time with the children before they retired.

Quite what Lady Esmerelda would make of their little household was beyond any of them to guess, but the immediate concern was to broach the subject of a grandfather who had never acknowledged them, and an aunt who had finally broken her imposed silence, to the children who looked to him. Where better to do that than at the dinner table" With the newly-mended Gerdie in pride of place on her lap, Anna was in high spirits again, applying herself to her portion of stew and dumplings with enthusiasm, if not precise accuracy.

It was a delicate subject to broach, sensitive even, especially given the fact that the children were so young and that they had lost their parents in the not-too-distant past. They certainly knew who their parents had been, but likely didn't understand why they had never met their grandfather or aunt. How could they understand at such a tender age, and more importantly, how could Leo explain it to them without hurting them further" As for Matias, he was eagerly digging into his stew and dumplings and enthusiastically slurping his gravy.

Leo frowned faintly, picking at his stew as he tried to decide just how to broach the subject and share the news. "Matty, can you please not slurp?" he asked, as gently as he could, despite his irritation.

The little boy looked up from his stew, the expression on his face one of mingled surprise and apology. "Sorry, Uncle," he obediently replied.

Wide-eyed at the unexpected reminder of table manners, Anna put her spoon down for a moment, lifting her doll safely onto the chair next to her so she could scooch closer to the table. Little hands didn't stand much of a chance at being neat when eating, but if Uncle Leo was going to be telling people off for slurping, then she was going to at least try not to cover herself in gravy for once.

Leo watched as the children tried to eat their supper neatly and with as little noise as possible and sighed. This wasn't their fault, and he didn't want them to think that it was. He folded his napkin and set it aside, along with his spoon, steepling his hands in front of him as he looked from one to the other. "I have some news, children," he started.

Mouth full and eyes wide, Anna chewed sloppily as she put her spoon down, looking across the table to her brother as her fingers grabbed at her own napkin. "Is Mrs. Tanny comin' back?" she asked warily. "She was a horribibble lady."