Book 1: Chapter 25 - Correction [Part 1]

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A good education can change anyone. A good teacher can change everything.

- Unknown.

The evening meal was a veritable feast as the castle prepared for some impromptu celebrations. Local craftsmen had been invited to process the animals, rendering meat from bones and preparing hides. A few townspeople had volunteered to help in exchange for a good meal of fresh forest meat. Indeed, the castle had taken on a most festive air.

Seraphina, seeing an opportunity, spent that time ingratiating herself with the local dignitaries and common folk. Her charm was almost magical, making everyone she spoke to feel that they were the center of the universe. But while people found her company delightful, the same could not be said for her. Her social batteries were swiftly draining as the evening wore on.

"Why did they have to invite half the town to what should have been a simple dinner?" muttered Seraphina to herself as she nibbled on another piece of meat.

Another problem with adolescence was her almost ridiculous appetite. She could eat anything, and it seemed to simply disappear. Was her stomach some sort of bottomless pit? Was this the true gift of the Old Ones?

The bard Haze Finleigh had been invited to join the celebrations, and he played his music, strumming his strings and lending an air of true wonder to the proceedings. Thankfully, no one had asked her yet to sing, which would have been really too much for her. Yet, at the same, time she was annoyed that no one had recognized her.

Next to her, Ibn fidgeted silently in his seat. Despite Seraphina's and Catherina’s efforts, the boy had yet to utter a word since she had taken him in. The young girl had initially thought that this was some form of childish rebellion, but she was forced to admit that it might be rooted in something deeper.

The young noblewoman spent some of her time instructing him in proper manners, including the correct use of cutlery. It had been difficult, but recently he no longer used the utensils to hack apart his food or as impromptu toys. However, his elbows were currently on the table, and a light smack on the head corrected that. He looked as if he was about to cry, but a stern look from the girl dissuaded him.

Ibn himself had mixed feelings toward the beautiful blonde girl. A swirl of emotions—half-forced adulation, honest respect for her Strength, deep-seated resentment, and his love for his departed mother—created a conflict within him. Strangely, this resulted in the boy almost worshipping her.

Eloise and Mili delighted in the music, clapping along to the raucous, bawdy tunes. The blonde girl watched them, shaking her head at how much they seemed to enjoy it—far too much, in her opinion.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

The true stars of the evening, however, were the Duchess and the Duke. They danced together under the watchful eyes of the gathered crowd, her father surprisingly light on his feet. What must it be like to live with a woman who can see the future? she wondered. The crowd erupted in applause as the couple finished their joyful performance. In response to this, her father ordered the cellars opened and drinks distributed to the people, a gesture that was met with roars of approval and unrestrained cheer.

Though the evening seemed perfect, Seraphina could not ignore the pang of annoyance simmering beneath her composure. Her parents had stolen much of her thunder. This was supposed to be her day.

*****

Preparing for an impromptu feast was one thing, but cleaning up afterward was quite another. Here and there, drunken revelers lay sprawled across the castle grounds. Seraphina, with the help of the grumbling men-at-arms who had not been allowed to join the festivities, took it upon herself to clear them out. Leaving them there would set a bad precedent—and offend her sense of order and aesthetics.

One such reveler was the boy Ibn, fast asleep with a tankard of beer cradled in his arms. It seemed some irresponsible lout had introduced him to the joys of the local vintages. A frown marred Seraphina’s otherwise flawless features. She worried over how to correct this budding flaw—there was already so much about him that needed fixing.

She ordered two guards to carry the boy back to the servants' quarters—gently, of course. With that chore crossed off her list, Seraphina allowed herself a moment to relax. Exhausted from the day’s trials, she decided to retire to her rooms. If she could find a servant, she would ask for a bath to be drawn. Washing her hair would have to wait until tomorrow—thankfully, short hair made maintenance a much simpler affair.

*****

Now, at last, she had time to focus on her next challenge: fixing the boy. Why on earth was Ibn mute? In the game, he had a lot of dialogue—voiced dialogue, no less. It defied everything she thought she knew. Had Este Lize, the heroine of the story, faced this kind of problem? If Seraphina did not know for certain that Ibn would grow into someone important, she might have been tempted to foist him back onto Este Lize. A quick delivery to the fortress-monastery where her rival currently resided, accompanied by a sharp note, would solve just about everything.

But of course, that was not an option. It would be like handing her opponent a loaded gun. No, Seraphina de Sariens would persevere. The honored role of educator, it seemed, was yet another role she would have to take on. Truly, the world never appreciated her sacrifices.

She summoned Ibn to the pantry near one of the dark, cluttered basements where odds and ends were stored. It was just time for brunch, and Seraphina had arranged a small table for herself and Eloise to enjoy a light meal. Like Seraphina, Eloise was seemingly always hungry. Well, they were growing girls—there was no helping it.

Ibn’s eyes widened at the spread of steaming pancakes, rolls, and freshly made jams and creams. His lips parted in overt hunger. Seraphina smiled and stood, taking him by the hand.

“Would you like some, Ibn?” she asked gently, her tone almost maternal.

Eloise, seated nearby, smirked knowingly. She had a fair idea of what Seraphina had planned for the boy. Corrective measures, if she remembered correctly. Swiftly, she schooled her expression into a warm smile that mirrored Seraphina’s own.

The two girls shared a private laugh, as if enjoying a joke only they understood. Meanwhile, Ibn stared longingly at the feast, his hands clenched at his sides in an impressive show of restraint.