Following Zach's departure, the notion of rekindling a hobby had been occupying my thoughts.
In the bygone days of my hospital-bound existence, painting and reading stood as cherished pastimes. They were constants, comforting companions that I found difficult to relinquish. The yearning to let my hands dance across a canvas or sketch something, anything, had become insatiable.
Thus, I resolved to seek counsel from my reliable maid, Marie, on this matter.
Upon confiding in Marie about my yearning to start new hobbies, her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.
Eager to assist, she couldn't contain her zeal as she began to regale me with the spectrum of pastimes favored by noblewomen in the capital. From the intricacies of fashion design to the simplicity of painting, Marie delved into the myriad options with an almost fervent passion.
"For those enamored with fashion, Lady Isabella has been causing quite a stir with her gown designs. Rumor has it, she's even captured the attention of the royal couturier," she spilled the tea with a conspiratorial whisper, triggering a delightful storm of gossipy chaos among the noblewomen in the capital.
Oh, the sheer ecstasy of such scandalous tidbits! (I hate it!)
"But wait, there's more!" she continued, her eyes sparkling like a scandal monger about to drop the juiciest bomb. "The literary circles are all atwitter with Lady Victoria's grand soirée. Imagine – a book club gathering at her estate, and guess who's gracing the occasion? A commoner author! Can you believe it?" She emphasized the term "commoner" with an extended inflection, practically beaming with delight.
It was evident she had found a willing partner-in-gossip, and the relief on her face was palpable.
Now, while my attention had taken a detour to daydream land somewhere during Lady Isabella's gown saga, politeness obliged me to nod along until the grand finale of Marie's noblewomen chronicles.
Swiftly seizing the conversational reins, I skilfully steered us back to my true interest –acquiring basic art supplies.
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With breakfast officially in the rearview mirror, I executed a strategic retreat back to the fortress of solitude that is my room. The juice from the previous night was playing hopscotch in the recesses of my mind.
Armed with curiosity, I headed to the kitchen maestros to unravel the secrets of this liquid.
Lo and behold, the elixir's essence was none other than the exotic nectar of the Sundrop Sitrus—a fruit straight out of the fantasy playbook (literally!).
Enthusiastic about its sublime blend of mango and orange, I promptly issued a decree to the chefs: "More, please!"
Picture this: a delightful symphony of sweet mango and zesty orange, a dance of flavors that transcends the boundaries of ordinary fruit. It was the stuff of epicurean dreams, and I couldn't get enough of that mysterious yet utterly delectable elixir that had graced my taste buds the night before.
I swiftly dabbed the edges of my mouth, where an unintended drool had gathered.
Hehe more of that delectable Sundrop Sitrus juice was on its way, and the anticipation was nearly tangible.
Shortly afterward, Marie entered, holding a bag and a tray with a glass brimming with the yellow elixir—Sundrop Sitrus juice!
I nearly leaped out of my bed in excitement, restraining myself from activating [aerial grace], as I was not inclined towards such foolishness.
"Here, Milady," Marie gracefully presented the glass to me, a hint of satisfaction gleaming in her eyes at successfully fulfilling my desire.
With the finesse of a master thief, I practically snatched the glass from Marie's hands, losing myself in the ecstasy of each sip from the divine elixir.
Ah, the flavor, the delight!
Marie patiently waited as I relished every drop before unveiling the contents of the bag. To my sheer delight, a wooden box adorned with a myriad of pencil colors emerged.
By the goddess! Could I be blamed for wondering if I had transcended to heaven in the wake of such pleasures?
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I lounged by the window, letting my pencil pirouette across the notebook like a caffeinated ballerina. Sketching a pure azure bird with four pairs of wings.
A depiction of one of the major calamities introduced in the novel—the calamity of Thunder, Xurnet. In a pivotal time checkpoint, our protagonist princess stumbled upon an ancient ruin. Now, religious fine print explicitly stated, "Hands off the ruins!" But when your fan club consists of relentless enemies, rules tend to be more like suggestions.
Lo and behold, this wasn't your average ruin. Nope, it shouldn't even exist in the first place. Murals adorned the walls, a bird goddess playing peekaboo in the clouds while people below engaged in some serious prayer aerobics.
Bizarre inscriptions covered the place, but one thing was evident: it wasn't an ancient ruin but a trial, a sacred test.
Our princess had to endure four attempts, dying four times at the hands of the pursuers, before nailing the trial and summoning the Calamity.
The bird, now descending, bestowed upon our protagonist the rare gift of thunder magic.
The novel's portrayal of this moment was nothing short of breathtaking—the Calamity of Thunder, a sight that instantaneously conveyed its significance to the protagonist.
And oh, did I mention the goddess went full-on smite mode on the princess's pursuers? Ultimately clearing a checkpoint for her.
While meticulously working on the shadings of the azure bird, my thoughts momentarily shifted to the intricate lining of my family, the House of Shadowstep—a newly elevated noble lineage hailing from the countryside. Our noble standing had its genesis with my grandfather, a distinguished figure who earned his stripes in a war four decades past.
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In total, my siblings comprised four brothers and one sister, forming a unique and varied constellation.
The family roster unfolded thus:
Zach, the eldest scion and the designated heir to our house, stood at the mature age of twenty. Holding the prestigious rank of captain, he commanded a formidable force of over three hundred knights. Currently betrothed to the third daughter of a duke, he, like myself, was born on the day of the red comet.
Then there's Richard, the math genius of the family. At a spry eighteen, he was making his mark as a civil official apprentice. Rumor has it he's engaged to a count's daughter, so I guess his ambitions are grander than just solving equations. It's worth noting that Richard and Zach were the sole siblings born from the same mother as me.
But alas, our family's saga took a detour down the drama lane. Fiona, the eldest daughter and a mere sixteen, got hit with the scandal stick. She faced an unjust accusation of cheating—a political maneuver, perhaps, as she was only fourteen when she became engaged. The poor girl became an engagement casualty, stuck in our house, wearing a perpetual frown that could rival a widow's.
Next up, enter Alucard, the third son and a soldier with a touch of dishonor. Now, get this – he was all of fourteen when he decided to peace out of a battle. Sure, he wasn't the only one, but guess who got stuck with the "shame of desertion" badge? You got it, our dear Alucard. His military career's upward mobility? Yeah, not happening.
And then there's little Daniel, our family's resident cute factor at a whopping six years old. But hold on, he's got this mysterious aversion to hanging out with me. I mean, come on, kid, I'm practically the Picasso of siblings. Can't we at least have some adorable sibling bonding time without the melancholy vibes?
As per the script handed out by the novel gods (The author), my fate was all neatly packaged to involve me gracing the halls of the Royal Academy of Althemer in a couple of years. In a parallel universe where things were, you know, normal, I should've been just an average girl with average dreams.
But nope, fate threw me a curveball in the form of a connection with the second prince, and suddenly, I'm neck-deep in a plot so sinister it could give Shakespeare a run for his money.
Now, I, the unsuspecting villainess, was handed the golden ticket to carry out the ultimate taboo – assassinate both the heroine and the third prince. Like, who signed me up for this twisted version of a high school drama? Spoiler alert: it was the second prince.
And what did I get for being the dutiful pawn in this messed-up game? A one-way ticket to Betrayalville, where they not only cast me aside like yesterday's news but also managed to turn my family's fate into a tragedy that even the most dramatic novels would find over-the-top.
Regalwreck! Summing up Eli's impending fate in the royal family's clutches with one word is nothing short of comically tragic. Unless, of course, someone else has sneakily slipped into her shoes and had binge-watched the drama unfold in the novel.
Oh, hold onto your royal crowns, because guess what?
Anyways, my attention snapped back to reality as I put the finishing touches on the eight-winged azure bird. Taking a moment to ponder the creative process, I couldn't help but chuckle at the constraints of the era's pencil colors, fondly referred to as "pencil crayons" by Marie.
These bad boys had a core harder than my last breakup (Just using a figure of speech here!), and their color range was more conservative than a politician in election season.
The pigments lacked the oomph, and the colors were more on the "subdued" end of the spectrum. But hey, I revelled in the triumph of bringing this avian masterpiece to life on paper.
The Calamity of Thunder.
The sheer enormity of power permeating this world, coupled with the majestic presence of diverse creatures, hit me like a ton of awe bricks.
It dawned on me that I was sharing the same reality with these colossal beings, a revelation that never failed to send my heart on a sprint.
Seriously, just thinking about it could turn my daily musings into a cardio workout.
Seeking to temper such reflections, I closed the notebook containing the drawing, choosing to divert my attention (Because, you know, contemplating your existence alongside mythical monsters is all fun and games until your heart thinks it's auditioning for the next Olympic sprinting event.)
My small fingers caressed the surface of another leather-bound notebook, now dedicated to encapsulating the canon events of the novel.
It held a meticulous list of various organizations, characters, their personalities, power levels, and the hidden secrets that wove the intricate fabric of the story.
My repository extended up to the first five volumes, the limit of my pre-existing knowledge.
Numerous mysteries, unresolved plots, and ominous foreshadowing were captured within these pages.
Anticipation for the release of the sixth volume had been building, but fate had intervened, plunging me into the very narrative I had eagerly awaited.
Now, with my presence in the novel's pages, I grappled with the stark reality of incomplete information. My existence held the potential to unleash a colossal butterfly effect, altering the course of events in unforeseen ways.
Recognizing the gradual erosion of my old-world memories, I resolved to document everything diligently. I harboured a growing awareness that sooner or later, the details of my previous life would fade into obscurity.
The signs were already apparent, with fragments of my past slipping through the cracks of my recollection.
Writing down the events of the novel seemed like a logical step, a tether to my existence in this new reality.
Choosing English for my record-keeping felt like a strategic move, a safety net against prying eyes. After all, it was a language as alien to this world as UFO sightings. In contrast, our kingdom conversed in Verodian, a language I had unwittingly adopted due to Eli's memories residing within me. Initially, it was a linguistic tug-of-war as I habitually translated everything into English.
However, with time, this linguistic adaptation became more seamless.
Cracking open the notebook, I meticulously jotted down the additional details that unfurled during the Trial of Thunder arc in the novel.
My sketches aimed to capture the vivid descriptions, and I found myself playing detective, trying to connect the dots to understand the intricate workings of the Trial system.
In a daring act of rebellion against the narrative, I couldn't help but leave a cheeky note for my protagonist princess: "Sorry, sweetie, in this timeline, I'm the one summoning the sassy bird deity and snagging that power-up before you do."
With a timeline stretching two years before the novel officially kicks off, the unfamiliar and perilous nature of this world didn't faze me.
Instead, I embraced the challenge with an unyielding determination to face the future, armed to the teeth with preparation and power.
Move over, destiny – this villainess has some plot twists up her sleeve.
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Marie entered the room, announcing that it was time for our etiquette lessons.
Miss Deborah, our etiquette teacher, made her appearance twice a week to impart the finer points of manners and grace. I nodded in acknowledgment, setting aside my notebooks and art supplies, while Daniel, the youngest, seemed to be lost in his world of play, reluctantly acknowledging the impending lesson.
Miss Deborah, a woman of refined elegance, entered the room. An air of dignified poise. A presence that commanded attention.
She began the lesson with a warm smile.
"Good day, Lady Eli, young Master Daniel. Today, we shall focus on the art of conversation," she declared, her tone gentle yet firm.
As we settled into the lesson, Miss Deborah guided us through the nuances of polite discourse, emphasizing the importance of active listening and thoughtful responses.
Meanwhile, I couldn't help but notice Daniel's ninja-like skills at evading any form of interaction with me.
His gaze would do a disappearing act whenever our eyes met, and he seemed to be setting new records for the furthest mental retreat.
But this wasn't my first sibling tango. I anticipated his reluctance and decided it was time to unleash my secret weapon—cue the candy!
As the etiquette pearls of wisdom were being dropped, I sneakily produced a vibrant redberry candy from one of the hidden pockets of my gown (yes, I had those!). A sly grin played on my lips as I dangled the sweet temptation in front of Daniel, who, let's be real, couldn't resist the siren call of sugar.
"Craving a taste, Daniel?" I whispered, wiggling my eyebrows and extending the candy toward him.
His eyes widened with curiosity, and after a moment of contemplating the pros and cons of sibling interaction versus candy, he reached out to snatch the treat with the precision of a candy ninja.
Just to be safe, he gulped it down as if worried I might change my mind.
One strategic candy deployment later, and the battle against sibling standoffishness had been won – with a hint of sweetness, of course.
Baby steps.