Medea Briar clutched her teacup, resting against the pillows of her four-poster bed. Her knuckles were white; childbirth had excited her ever-present infirmities. The medical runes inscribed on the four- poster she’d brought from home, as well as the magical precautions the House doctor had taken, helped alleviate the shivers somewhat, but they simply weren’t enough.

“Cherry. Turn up the heat for me, please?” she whispered. The yearly permafrost had yet to settle. Winter was by far the least favorite of Briar’s seasons - mostly because her shivers were always at their worst then.

But the graying maid was already near the corner of the room, channeling her magic through the thermostat’s receiver. Briar smiled; Cherry was the nanny that had been with her from birth - now her personal maid, as Duchess. She felt glad there was at least someone that knew her in the unfamiliar face.

Despite only having a first-circle spiritual core, Briar could easily sense the ether in the room vibrate - such was its smoothness She studied the phenomena in fascination; it was an expensive device, mostly due in part because the kingdom that exported them tended to be so secretive about their mechanisms. Even a comital House like the Claryryetts - the house that Briar was- had been from - had neither the finances nor political prestige to purchase one.

House Medea was one of the exceptions. Despite not being the largest, or even the martially powerful House in the Kingdom of Azer Luceras, what distinguished the Dukedom Briar would have to call home for the rest of her probably very short life was its influence.

The influence that came from being the place where the new world had begun, and the second-most popular pilgrimage site in the world.

Briar sighed, snuggling into her pillow. It, too, was the most finely embroidered thing she’d ever seen. She would almost shun the decadence if she wasn’t also aware that the Dukedom of Medea had the highest satisfaction index for civilian happiness among all of the vassal-states of the Kingdom of Azer Luceras.

Briar had been surprised upon first learning that fact, back when she was just another noble girl studying at the Therellian aristocrat’s academy in Canstein - the capital. Now, though, she knew why; this land was blessed by magic itself.

Well. To be more specific, it had been blessed by the progenitor of House Medea - its famous Ancestor. But it was really an academic difference when it came to classifying the Heroes by magnitude of their power.

Compared to her previous existence, life as the Duchess of Medea should have been paradise.

Briar scowled, biting her lip. Her fists clenched her quilt, and she felt her massive velvet blankets ripple like a periwinkle ocean.

Cherry coughed. “Is there something bothering you, my lady?”

Briar shook her head. “No. Thank you for the heat, Cherry. You really do know me well.”

The maid gave her a wry smile. Briar felt a pang echo in her heart as she watched wrinkles crease the woman’s face; time really has flung by, huh?

“Forgive my turn of phrase, but I think we both know well that there’s more to your current despondency than that, my lady,” scolded Cherry, frowning. “I’ve watched you grow up since birth. And I’ve had the opportunity to watch you for these past two weeks. What are you not telling me?”

She paused, staring at Briar. Then she sighed. “My lady. You dislike being here, do you not?”

Briar tucked her knees to her chest, bunching up her covers so that she could bury her face in them. Despite their volume, she still felt cold; it was as if the Hero of Storm himself had blown a deadly gust over her.

“What does it matter?” Briar shot. Bitterness colored her voice. “It was my choice. I said I love him. I told him I’d marry him. And I did. End of story.”

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“And you do not love him anymore. Not after what he did,” Cherry said.

“He-!” Briar suddenly shrieked. “He lied to me. He told me he was on my side. And then he-”

She sobbed. “He-!”

Cherry was at her side in an instant. Briar collapsed into the woman’s arms, chest heaving.

Though old, Cherry was still strong because of her Breaker physiology. She didn’t have any trouble calming Briar down.

“There, there,” Cherry whispered to her. She brushed Briar’s hair, which hung limp and spooled around her arms in ugly rivulets. “It’s not your fault. You were brave. You did what you could.”

Briar sniffled. “I know he tried his best. I understand why he- I know he was on orders from that child-King.”

“No one likes the King,” Cherry murmured in agreement.

Briar shook her head. “My father committed treason. The King might be an ass, but my family deserved it.”

And they had. In fact, because of her new husband’s efforts, House Claryryett had gotten off relatively lightly for such a horrendous crime.

“But my sister didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t deserve it,” Briar choked. “I still don’t understand why he-”

A blade. A silver crescent, stained with blood. The ancestral Claryryett mansion burning to the ground.

Her House, along with its five-hundred-year history, erased and partitioned into a collection of baronies.

The heads of her father and mother on the ground, staining the dirt red. Their headless bodies slumped on the guillotine, hands still clasped together.

Briar remembered, still shellshocked, the coroner later saying it took a second-ceiling guardsman to remove them.

Her Sister, on her knees, head bowed. Briar never got to see her face.

And him.

“I loved him,” Briar whispered. “I know that he tried. But I can’t forgive what he did.”

She felt Cherry’s sigh tickle her neck.

“And now, I’m stuck here,” muttered Briar.

Cherry gave her a sad smile. “At least the countryside is quite nice, my lady.”

The seconds ticked by. Briar sniffled, wiping her nose. “I’m sorry, Cherry. That was unbecoming of me. Thank you, though.”

The maid snorted. “I’m simply satisfied you finally decided to confront this, my lady. It’s not healthy to keep your emotions so repressed.”

“What is there to say? That’s all in the past.”

Cherry appraised her for a second, before shaking her head. “The incident may be more complex. After all, you have yet to confront Lord Haswalth about it, do you not?”

“I’m not talking to him.”

The maid sighed. “Very well, then. But what about your daughter?”

Briar blinked. “What?”

“Your daughter,” Cherry reminded, patiently. “Your newborn child. Two weeks old, now. Will you involve her in this?”

“I-” Briar paused, frowning. “No. If she wants to be with Haswalth, then she can do so on her own accord. But I won’t help her with that. Not now, anyway. Likely not for a long time, if ever.”

She shivered. It had only been four weeks since... it had happened.

It’s too much.

But...

Briar turned to Cherry, gaze sharp. “Besides, you know how my childhood was. I don’t want my daughter to go through anything like that.”

Cherry bowed. “That’s all I ask for, my lady.”

She smiled, and Briar couldn’t help but give one back.

“On the subject of your daughter,” said Cherry, “It has been around three hours, my lady. Daphne should be bringing her up right around now.”

Briar blinked, then winced. Right. I love my daughter, but Motherhood can be such a pain in the ass, sometimes.

“She’s quite the vivacious one, my daughter is,” Briar grumbled. “I thought she was going to rip my bosom off my chest the first time I tried to suckle her. She bites like a warrior.”

“That just means she’ll grow to be inquisitive and intelligent, my lady,” Cherry laughed. “Just like you were. I still remember you running off to sneak into guest lectures at Claryryett College. Ah, was that already ten years ago?”

Briar chuckled. “I-”

The door slammed open. Both Briar and Cherry turned, alarmed, to look at the entryway, where a red-faced girl dressed in House Medea’s pragmatically styled maid uniforms stood, panting, with sweat trickling down her face.

And there was something in her arms. Stained. With blood. “Duchess!” she shrieked. “It’s your daughter. She-”

Briar’s heart fell.