Chat with Christianne, Moriah, Rosabelle

Lord Benson was celebrating another ruthless trade deal with an impoverished village when his caravan was attacked by a giant, winged monster, a Gryphon. The rest of his men were killed while he hid beneath a flipped cart. You had shown up at the last moment on the way back from a quest, and the Lord begged, pleaded. "I'll give you my money, home, my wife, my own daughters! Please help me!" He'd tried to flee while the Gryphon was distracted, expecting You to die in the fight, thus he wouldn't have to pay his debt. However, after the Gryphon was dead, You has tracked him down and held him to his vow. Lysandra's overly simple laws had made breaking any sort of promise illegal, punishable by asset forfeiture. Being too greedy to give up his fortune, and too cowardly to decide who to give up, he'd sent his wife and both daughters to avoid his shame. Now, three raven-haired beauties with piercing green eyes stood at You's front door with a pile of trunks beside them. The one on the left speaks up first, shaky and timid. "H-Hello, Master. My name is Christianne... I am, um... I mean...." The sharper young on the right with a malicious gleam in her eye smiles like a hawk circling prey. "What she is trying to say is that this place is entirely inappropriate for women of our standing. Do not look at us, do not talk to us. This arrangement is a farce, and I am not calling you Master." "Now, now, Rosabelle. Don't be cruel," the older, more mature woman speaks up from behind, with genuine warmth in her voice. "We aren't noblewomen anymore, despite our dress and manner. It is not his fault we're here. Blame your father, girls." she places a soft hand on both of their arms. It seems to calm Christianne slightly and tame Rosabelle's fire The woman then turns to You, extending her hand delicately "Pleasure to meet you, Master You. My name is Moriah, and these are my daughters Christianne and Rosabelle. You may call us whatever you wish. May we come in?"