“My lady, the academy isn’t so bad. It’s designed to be started around your age.”

Looking at my hands I stretched my fingers, “I’ve never wanted to learn swordsmanship.”

“Even though it’s called the swordsmanship academy, there are a few options.” Sir Harlen took a moment to compose his thoughts as we walked leisurely towards the main house, “Rather than a true ‘sword academy’ it would be more appropriate to call it a ‘combat academy’. They have lancers, axemen, swordsmen, archers, and even those that learned to use daggers. And everyone learns general melee. The goal is to get you tiered up by graduation and to unlock an uncommon or rare combat [Class].”

“Were you able to unlock a good class, Sir Harlen?”

Sir Harlen grinned, looking every bit the 18 year old he was, “Of course - but my specific class is one of the Order’s origin classes. I’d already pledged fealty to the Dawn family as a member of a vassal family, so Captain Rellar officially knighted me before I tiered up so I could accept it.”

I let my legs hang out the window as I stared up at Revel, the unchanging beauty of this world’s emerald moon - a comfort I’d grown to appreciate over the past year. As I thought about everything Sir Harlen told me, I felt a chill settle over my heart. I had no desire to learn to fight. I especially had no desire to kill. But despite that, this world was dangerous. Blight’s are not particularly strong monsters, yet it held my life in its grasp. To be honest, I would rather ignore the world than attend these lessons.

But what if I simply die on the next journey? What if Arlen’s death is in vain because I would rather lock the door and disappear?

I let out a long sigh and pulled the blanket wrapped around me closer. The nights in Fellan seemed colder somehow.

The Countess will be thrilled I will be getting out of bed, at least.

At least now I knew what I could expect from the Fellan Swordsmanship Academy when I started in a few weeks’ time. Although I was still lost when it came to the Magic Tower. I didn’t even know that there were Magic Towers until Sylvia had listed it the other day. It’s moments like these, where I can’t tell reality from fiction, that I regret living in ignorance. Objectively, I know that I am in the body of an eight-year-old. And how much is a child truly taught about how the world works?

But still… I can’t help but feel so empty whenever I think about the past.

“Sylvia?”

The door opened gently and I heard the soft padding of Sylvia walking in, “I’m here, my lady.”

“Tomorrow I need for you to arrange some things.”

“As you wish.”

As Sylvia was leaving I made my way into the bed. Just before closing the door, Sylvia tapped the ruby gem that was embedded into the wall by the doorframe. Covering myself with the comforter I stared at the ceiling, watching as the mana drained out of the lights and cast me into darkness.

After a few moments of staring into the void, I stretched my hand into the air above me, sensing more than seeing where it was as it swayed. Without even the light cast by Revel, the darkness seemed suffocating. Or, rather, the shadow.

[Shadow Manipulation]

I felt two things simultaneously. The first was the cold pull of mana from my stomach. The second was the thickening of the air. Suddenly, rather than the dark being a metaphorical fog, it began to solidify. I could feel tendrils brush against my bare arms, a soft caress on my cheek, and even a miasma when I took too deep of a breath. Initially, I felt my heart begin to beat faster. But a moment passed, then another, and my terror at the thought of being strangled was replaced by a feeling of comfort. The shadows weren’t quite alive, no, this was just a consequence of giving them my will.

Despite never learning magic in this world, I had gained two shadow [Skills] when I selected my [Class]. [Shadow Manipulation] and [Shadow Conjuration]. While they sounded similar, as they were given to me I had been granted insight into the meaning of these [Skills]. What good is a room filled with shadows that you cannot control? Or being limited to only casting in dimly lit rooms? And the usage of them, even after ignoring them for so long, came intuitively. Much like earlier, when I was shaping a small marble of shadow, the darkness felt like an extension of my own soul. The small orb of shadow had been easy -as if I was twitching my pinky. But this mass of darkness surrounding me felt like my lungs.

I knew the shadows were there, I could feel them breathe, but even when I forcefully take a breath with them I’m not sure how it produces oxygen. I tried to condense the shadows to only be above my outstretched hand, to fold in on itself like earlier. I felt the shadows pulse briefly, the incorporeal becoming solid as it brushed against my body, but a moment passed and it was back to being a slowly shifting miasma. Meanwhile, sweat had begun forming on my forehead and I felt the pull of mana from my stomach heat up. And then cut off. I tried to reconnect with the shadows, but the room returned to its natural state: lifeless darkness.

Thirty seconds. I can bring to life a room of shadows for thirty seconds… but not control it.

“Hahhhhhh… I shouldn’t have over-done it.” I mumbled before lowering my hand and snuggling more thoroughly into the soft comforter. I closed my eyes and soon enough sleep overtook me.

I wouldn’t say the following days were lively, but they also weren’t lifeless unlike at the main estate. I made a point of getting out of bed at a mostly reasonable time, though I did shoo Yrua and Tely away at least once every morning. Dawn was too early to rise unless I was being forced to. Which would happen soon enough. And each morning I allowed the maids to help me bathe, and I actually did wear clothes that weren’t nightgowns. I even wore shoes. Each morning Sylvia would braid my hair in a new style, and while she hadn’t outwardly said it yet I knew she was getting tired of me immediately disturbing the delicate designs the instant she was finished.

If I said I regretted it, it would be a lie. It had become something of a contest between Sylvia and me to see how long the hairstyle would last. If it stayed fully intact when I leaped out of the window, it was a win for Sylvia. However, if it unraveled - or became ‘improper’ as the Countess would say, either immediately after the leap or within a few steps, it was my own win. Whether Sylvia knew we were playing such a game or not, I had a feeling she was silently protesting my acrobatics anyway. 3 times out of 5 her hairstyles became at least mildly disheveled -and thus, 3 out of 5 points went to me.

Several days I spent with Sylvia preparing for my upcoming courses. She did what I asked and called in a tailor to prep my exercise wear. It wasn’t that I hated the idea of wearing this world’s version of training wear -it’s just that it wasn’t particularly pleasing to look at or wear. Had it been one or the other, I probably would have relented. My brief time at the knight’s training grounds had reminded me that while magic had brought many advancements to this world it was still a medieval world at its heart. Despite the intricately designed dresses and noble wear my family had worn, the training outfits were essentially slightly tailored sacks. The pants were baggy not just in the wrong places but in all places and the tops were tunics tightened with a cloth wrap at the waist.

When Sylvia had brought the first set of training clothes, I’d resolved myself to give it a chance. And immediately stripped out of it.

Now, after several back-and-forth discussions with the tailor, a kindly middle-aged woman called Miss Turin, the woman had finally relented in sewing closer cropped pants and tighter tops. It was the equivalent of soccer joggers and running jackets with a thin short sleeve underneath. Unfortunately, zippers didn’t seem to be a thing here, so the jacket didn’t open aside from a small slit at the collar. Nonetheless, my discussions with Miss Turin had only force-activated [Tight Lips] twice -both times when I tried to bring up zippers and how they worked. I felt the Gods were a bit petty for that, but the “warning” sign got worse each time. The third time I thought about bringing up zippers I was able to catch myself before I was forced to have an hour-long migraine.

Surprisingly, the pushback from Miss Turin and Sylvia wasn’t regarding the tightness of the clothes -well, not in the sense I was expecting. They thought it would restrict my movements and give me a hard time, and they were adamant that tailored clothes during training were unnecessary anyway. I still had limited exposure to the world outside the Dawn estates, and what I saw within the walls of the mansion was far removed from the general society. Once Miss Turin had made the final prototype, she brought it to me for approval. As soon as I slid into it, I could feel my whole body relax.

“Miss Turin, you’ve outdone yourself.” I began stretching my arms across my body before bending my knees, “Did you change the fabric? I remember the last few sets have been stiff -but this one is flexing with me.”

Miss Turin clapped her hands together and smiled, “Indeed, my lady. The standard wear is made of inflexible fabric, which isn’t usually an issue as the clothing itself is loose. When we were talking last time, I had an idea. There is a type of arachnid that produces a web that is extremely light and flexible -and is easily dyed.”

I ran my fingers along the fabric again - she was right. I had originally only noticed the flexibility, but when I paid closer attention I could feel the difference in softness. The weight felt similar to silk, with the elastic of spandex. It was wonderful.

“... Spiders that can create webs like this are rare, aren’t they?” I sighed, look at Miss Turin -who had a sparkle in her eye.

“Undoubtedly.” I could feel my budget crying based on the excitement in her voice, “I’d say an additional gold per piece of clothing than what we’d previously discussed.”

I ran my hands along my sleeves once more and let out a light groan, “Fine. Make me six sets. Make it in colors of twilight, and embroider edges of the joggers and the jacket as usual.”

To be honest, I wasn’t actually sure what my budget was -or what the value of a gold piece equated to. But while Sylvia had widened her eyes slightly at the initial cost, her face was indifferent when I said six sets. And Sylvia did know my budget and the value of a piece of gold.

“Of course, my lady,” Miss Turin had on a smile that only merchants can have, “I’ll have them ready before you enter the Academy.”

I changed out of the white outfit and back into a red-violet and white accented outfit, “Can you dye this outfit with a red-violet ombre on the bottoms of each piece? Embroidery in the darkest shade?”

Miss Turin paused, looked briefly at Sylvia, and seemed to come to a decision, “I’ll add in this one at cost, my lady. If not to thank you for the design, then to thank you for allowing me to dress you in it.”

Now I had a merchant’s smile, “What nonsense, we already came to an agreement on design royalties -but I’ll graciously accept anyway, Miss Turin. Goodwill be met with goodwill, so I look forward to your work in the future.”

With that, Miss Turin excused herself and I sunk into the couch. Sylvia immediately poured me a glass of iced tea, with two extra sugar cubes, “What do you think of it Sylvia?”

Sylvia handed me the glass and stepped back, “What use is my opinion after the fact?”

I felt my mouth quirk, “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were offended.”

I took a deep drink of the cold liquid. Divine. It must have been rose tea, as it was both sweet and fragrant as I drank.

“My lady, you have been in Fellan for two weeks.” While Sylvia’s face remained stoic, I understood.

“Ah,” I gave her a smile, “I don’t know better. So was offense the right guess?”

Sylvia tilted her head, “I wouldn’t say that. Rather, it would’ve been practical. You’ve spent a large portion of your budget.”

“A large portion?”

“A very large portion.”

I groaned, “Sylvia, why didn’t you say something?”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Don’t smile at that!” I gasped, “It’s the first time you smile and it’s at my squandered fortune!”

I could see Sylvia force her mouth into a straight line, and I took great offense at the struggle it seemed to be, “Apologies, my lady.”

“Sylvia.” As if she could feel the gravity in my voice, any hint of amusement faded. She went back to the stoic maid I’d come to expect.

“How much is a gold coin worth?”

Frozen, Sylvia just blinked. Then she looked at me with a strange expression.

“Nevermind.” I huffed and went back to drinking my iced tea, “I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”

After a beat, Sylvia sighed, “The governance classes will help. A gold to me is worth more than a gold to you. To me, it is the better half of two months’ work, but to you, it could be anything. The most mundane of things I own can be enhanced in both magic and material and sold to a noble for one gold.”

“So… how much of my budget do I have left?”

“I’d say a little under two-thirds -maybe closer to half. The Countess renews it every season.”

Running through the math in my head, I felt [Quick Calculation] activate, “Hmm, that means my budget is a bit under 30 gold a season?”

Sylvia raised an eyebrow, “28.”

“And we’re not even two months through spring yet.” I let out a small sigh, “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t need much else.”

“If you don’t custom order your uniform for the Magic Tower, the Countess has picked one out. And she’s pre-approved specific courses for both the Tower and your personal instructors at the manor.”

“I suppose that is to say if I want autonomy, the Countess wants me to pay for it.”

Sylvia’s silence was all the affirmation I needed.

“Very well, has she alluded to anything else?”

“...”

“I’d prefer a harsh truth over getting caught unaware.”

“The Countess has said that all things procured with your personal budget are yours.” Sylvia paused before reluctantly continuing, “The implication seemed to be that anything bought by the Dawn estate would remain… property of the Dawn estate.”

While Sylvia seemed to think this was some grievous offense, even if she was simply the messenger, I saw it differently. My mother was actually being quite generous.

“That’s fantastic news.” I took another drink and stretched my legs out on the couch, “For all her indifference, I suppose I am still her child. Even if she has exiled me to the West.”

“Wait,” I looked up at Sylvia, “Go catch Miss Turin and order six uniforms in the same color scheme as the training outfits. Am I right to assume it’ll be a cloak, blouse, and trousers?”

“Correct. Or a skirt.”

“3 trousers, closely tailored, and 3 skirts of knee-length. All should be high-waisted. Budget of 50 silver per outfit.”

“As you wish, I’ll return shortly.”