Book 1: Chapter 6 - Dinner [Part 1]

At formal dinner parties, it should be made customary to seat the guest in the most fragile health nearest to the bathroom.

- from the diaries of Eloise de Laney.

Seraphina relished the ride back, feeling the confidence that came with mastering her first spell. The wind felt exhilarating in her hair, and she took a moment to admire the sky, painted in deep reds and oranges by the setting sun, as if it, too, celebrated her success. The air was clean, free from the pollutants of her world, making riding through the picturesque Duchy of Sariens quite a pleasant experience for her.

In contrast, the journey home was a somber one for Miriam, who wept quietly for most of the ride, clinging to her horse’s mane as they ambled along. Why she was so distraught, Seraphina couldn’t fathom. She had merely commanded the creature to act according to its nature. After all, Palisa Slugs were omnivores, their potent digestive acids capable of dissolving almost anything—a quality not unlike the slime-like Quiverings in the distant city of Al-Lazar, a high-level zone she would perhaps explore one day.

To be honest, it was one of the main reasons Seraphina had decided to keep her.

The young girl shook her head, dismissing that negative line of thought to focus on the enjoyable ride. The smooth, rolling gait of her palfrey made for a comfortable ride, sparing her the jarring bounce of a trot that could wear out a less-skilled rider. She patted the horse’s neck, content. Unlike human or monstrous companions, animals could always be trusted to behave true to their nature. Seraphina would not have to worry about an animal suddenly developing worthless qualms or moral convictions.

Thankfully, Corporal Frest chose to remain silent, only casting the occasional wary glance in her direction. Seraphina knew she had secured his loyalty with both a threat and a bit of silver.

Hopefully, the weasel of a man would grow to be worthy of her patronage.

*****

Seraphina resisted the urge to fidget, maintaining an air of serene ambivalence as she sat at the dinner table. She carefully sliced the meat on her plate, which was swimming in gravy and accompanied by a few token vegetables scattered like green afterthoughts.

"Ha! I swear, our Sera grows lovelier by the day—just like her beautiful mother. I’m truly blessed she takes after you more than me, I’ll say!" guffawed Duke Anatoli de Sariens, giving his lady wife’s knee a possessive squeeze.

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Anatoli, Lord of the Sariens Duchy, was a bear of a man almost two meters tall and almost that much as wide. Rumors suggested the de Sariens family had roots from the great frozen North, which would explain his towering size. Built like a mountain, he radiated a solidity, an air of invincibility. Despite his auburn hair being threaded with the first strands of his autumn’s silver, the man positively exuded youth and virility. Being clean-shaven, and going against the long-standing fashion of beards also lent much to his appearance of being of a younger age.

Her memories reminded her that the Duke was no stranger to violence, yet he was as gentle as a kitten when it came to the two women in his life—women he would gladly burn the world down for. She recalled sitting on his knee, listening to tales of distant lands. Anatoli had always shown unwavering love and time for his only daughter. His love was fierce, fiery, and profoundly protective.

Anaselena offered him a long-suffering smile. “How many times must I remind you to be a bit quieter at the dinner table, darling? It’s poor manners in front of the help…” she whispered gently.

The servants attending them fixed their gazes somewhere in the middle distance, politely ignoring the exchange.

“Ha! But tonight is a time for celebration and merriment! Our daughter is now a woman grown!” he proclaimed, raising a tankard of ale.

“Darling…” she murmured, not meeting his eyes. “We talked about this earlier. Girls can be sensitive about that…”

The effect on her husband was immediate; his exuberance faded, and a hint of melancholy softened his expression. It seemed her mother knew exactly which strings to pull.

Though Anatoli appeared robust, he had a particular vulnerability: alcohol. One tankard of ale or two glasses of fine wine were more than enough to usher him through all stages of drunkenness—though not necessarily in the usual or expected order.

“Little Sera’s all grown up now,” he blubbered, his voice slurred. “I remember when she could barely reach my knee!” He hiccupped, his eyes misting with unshed tears.

“And now… some bastard’s going to take her away from me. Won’t be having it… not while I breathe!” he declared, his mood shifting suddenly to one of dread and wrath.

Under the influence of drink, his emotions were as changeable as autumn skies.

Seraphina’s mother sighed, then slapped his broad, meaty shoulder. “It was your idea in the first place! One of those grand schemes you and your drinking buddy cooked up. The two of you decided to marry off my daughter…”

“Ah, woman! I love that fire in you,” he rumbled with a devilish grin. “Well then, we’d best make another so we aren’t too lonely when our darling Sera flies the coop!” He laughed heartily, rising to his feet and scooping his wife into his arms.

Anaselena shrieked in surprise, her laughter turning girlish as she was swept off her feet. “Dearest Toli! Not in front of Sera,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Seraphina’s expression remained neutral and impassive. She would not give this childish pair the satisfaction of a reaction.

“No, my love! It’s good that Sera sees the true love between a man and a woman!” he guffawed as he carried her out of the dining hall, singing a throaty, bawdy tune, while Anaselena playfully pretended to resist.

It was all too clear that the two were still very much in love.

Once they had left and the last echoes of her father’s song faded, Seraphina turned to a male servant, Desmond.

“You can serve dessert now,” she instructed in a deadpan voice.