The bucket slipped from York's fingers, water splashing across the stone floor of the tower's upper hall, soaking his boots and sending the empty pail clattering noisily against the wall. For that brief moment, the only sound was the ringing of metal and his heart thrumming in his ears. York was frozen. Slowly, he looked up in tense hesitation.
Across the room, Valeria lounged upon a velvet chaise positioned beside a tall arched window. Late afternoon sunlight poured through the glass, painting golden highlights across her dark hair. One long leg hung lazily over the armrest's edge while a thick tome rested open in her lap. A thin trail of smoke drifted upward from the pipe between her fingers like a devil's tail as it returned to the dirt. She hadn't even flinched - that was somehow worse.

York swallowed. "My apologies." He said softly.

Valeria turned a page with one of her finely manicured finger. Nothing, no reaction, no acknowledgement. There was just that quiet rustle of parchment. York quickly grabbed a nearby rag and dropped to one knee, mopping up the spreading puddle before it could reach the expensive carpets or the finely crafted magic circle. His shoulders ached from carrying water all morning up circles of stairs, bucket after bucket. His hands were blistered from chopping firewood the day before and before that had been cleaning the greenhouse. Even before that was repairing the fence and then - "Three months."

York stopped with the rag clenched in his fist. Slowly, he looked up again. Valeria hadn't even lifted her eyes from her book.

"W-What?" He asked, voice trembling.

"Three. Months," she repeated calmly. "Added to your apprenticeship." The words hit him harder than any punch could at this moment.

"What?" He repeated again, his brain trying to process the horrible news.

This time, she did glance up. Golden eyes met his and amusement flickered there. "You damaged property."

"It was a bucket!" He cried with indignation!

"It was my bucket." She took another leisurely puff from her pip, the smell of sweet herbs drifted through the room.

York stared at her and then his jaw tightened. "You cannot be serious."

"Oh, but I am." She turned another page. "As outlined in Clause Twenty-Seven, subsection four, apprentices are financially liable for damage incurred through negligence."

"It slipped." He excused but that didn't matter.

"Neg-li-gence." She repeated slowly, making …