I felt a youthful exuberance, as if I were a child eagerly anticipating a long-awaited gift. To venture beyond the bounds of Highsummit Manor had always been an unattainable dream, and yet here I was, on the precipice of such an opportunity. We soon encountered Lady Orzwa, a woman of lovely demeanor, whose presence was both charming and delightful. Short of stature and pleasantly plump, her face bore the early traces of wrinkles, and her kindness was remarkable—perhaps intensified by the reality that she had never borne children of her own. Her generosity toward the young seemed boundless.

  Our steps led us to the stables, located at the western edge of the manor's grounds. It was my first visit there; I had only ever heard of it through Rascal's stories. The smell that met us was peculiar, unfamiliar to my senses, yet intriguing. The horses themselves were magnificent—frighteningly large creatures, yet possessing gentle eyes and calm dispositions. Princess expressed a desire to touch one, and a stable servant obligingly secured a white stallion for us to approach. The creature’s warmth and softness were unexpected—so noble, so majestic. I found myself enamored by them, the fear I had initially felt swiftly dissipating. The servant procured some cereal, and though neither Princess nor I would dare try, he demonstrated how he fed the animal by hand. It was a marvel to witness, this colossal beast eating with such delicacy, softly flapping its massive lips without harming the hand that fed it.

  We were then ushered into the stagecoach, with Princess being the last to enter. Lady Lunatora awaited us inside, having patiently endured our delay with the horses. She turned toward Princess as we were assisted into the vehicle, her expression sorrowful.

  “Aufelia…” she softly mouthed, expectant.

  “Good afternoon to you, Lady Lunatora. Thank you for your kind offer to allow us to accompany you,” Princess responded, her tone polite but cold, as she executed a curtsey within the cramped space of the carriage. She chose a seat opposite Lady Lunatora rather than beside her.

  “I’ll say! You have saved this old man a few days of waiting,” another passenger, unfamiliar to me, chimed in, seconding the sentiment. Lady Orzwa followed with her own pleasantries and expressions of gratitude.

  The carriage was spacious enough for the four of us. Each had a window, which suited me perfectly, as I longed to observe the world outside as we traveled. Princess, too, favored keeping her gaze fixed outward.

  The path from the stables was neatly carved into the dirt, leading to the paved road that took us past my father’s grand mansion. The gate, already open, marked the end of the familiar as we left behind the walls that had enclosed my entire life; I accelerated Princess’s pulse all by myself. The road quickly transitioned from stone to simple dirt as we began our descent down Mount Sert, the path spiraling downward.

  Inside the stagecoach, the atmosphere was agreeable. We were dressed warmly, in coats and more casual attire, the sun filtering in through the windows and adding to the comfort of our seats. The drivers, along with the guards riding ahead and behind us, engaged in cheerful conversation. Princess, however, chose to remain silent for the entire journey. Lady Lunatora, too, said little.

  Bernan appeared into view sooner than I had hoped. There was much to marvel at in nature after a lifetime spent admiring it only from the confines of my room or through the imperfect imitations of paintings and drawings. The reality was far more vivid, the trees, sky, grass, even the rocks, and occasional scurrying rodents, all leaping into view. Of course, Bernan itself was no less of an impressive sight to behold.

  A prosperous location, it lacked complete fortifications, save for the northern and western sides—the only directions from which an enemy might threaten, though no such attack had occurred in over a century. Under the careful management of Lord Duke Archiments’s skilled advisors, the town had flourished. Most of its streets were paved in stone, and though the buildings and quaint homes seemed diminutive compared to Highsummit Manor, they formed a cohesive whole that, together, created a city—a colossal entity that dwarfed even my ancestral home.

  People crowded the streets, going about their daily lives. Despite my anticipation, I was unprepared for the sight of so many. They wore plain, unadorned clothing, hundreds—no, thousands—of them, filling every space our eyes could reach. Their sheer number would have impeded our progress, were it not for the guard who rode ahead to clear a path.

  The passengers within the stagecoach fell into a silence, adopting dignified postures as if putting on a performance for the common folk who pointed and whispered as we passed. Commoners! These were not servants; they were ordinary commoners! Living their lives under the Cafligen family’s rule, contributing small portions of their earnings in exchange for protection and the privilege of residing on our lands. A part of me longed to leap from the coach and engage them in conversation, to learn about their lives firsthand.

  Yet, I struggled with geography in motion, and as we traversed the vastness of Bernan, I found myself disoriented, unsure of which part of the city we were heading toward. The immensity of the place made it difficult to discern our exact location within it.

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

  At last, we arrived at what I assumed to be the home of Lord Faringoth and his esteemed Lady. The house, though more substantial than the surrounding buildings, was a mere fraction of the size of Highsummit Manor. It stood behind a guarded gate, surrounded by gardens, with a tower and a path leading to the entrance. The architecture was of a more recent design, no more than fifty years old, with angular roofs, tall windows, and a predominantly wooden exterior painted a vibrant white.

  We were weary from the brief but bumpy journey and were graciously offered an opportunity to stay for prayers and supper by our hostess, Lady Orzwa. Princess requested time and space to freshen up before being introduced to Lord Faringoth.

  Despite Fermina’s assurances, we had brought along a few personal items. Princess’s faithful hand mirror was a constant companion, and we had packed a change of clothes—one being comfortable clothing for travel, and the other a more formal yellow Arbinian-style dress with the distinctive round shoulders. Lady Orzwa, rather than having a maid assist us, kindly offered to help with our hair and attire herself; we gladly accepted.

  “Just wait until my husband sees you! He’ll be charmed,” Lady Orzwa chirped as she hummed a tune, delicately applying eye makeup after washing our face and braiding our hair. “He doesn’t know yet that he is to be painted today, mind you. Warlio will be so surprised that you’re so young! But I am sure he will not refuse. He will be so proud; we will have a painting to commemorate his return. Warlio has already received word of our arrival and will join us for supper just before the prayer. You are so slender and pretty! Have you been told that? I like to tell people that I was quite a looker when I was younger, but I will not make a fool out of myself; I never looked nearly as good as you do, Aufelia.”

  It was the privilege of the Lady to call Princess by her given name alone. On nobility, it would only occur between friends similar in age, close family, and to address those of a lower station. Lady Orzwa was not attempting to remind Princess of her place as an inferior, merely being warm and motherly, and Princess rather liked it.

  We rejoined the other guests in the living room, where tea and lively conversation awaited us. Our company consisted of Princess, Lady Orzwa, Lady Lunatora, and the elderly gentleman who had earlier expressed his gratitude for the ride, Lord Zajardo of Zinrar. He could not stop remarking on his fortune in being surrounded by such lovely Ladies. Though he mostly allowed the conversation to progress without his input, he became particularly animated when the topic of an upcoming wedding caught his interest. He even changed seats to be closer to Lady Orzwa, engaging her in a spirited debate, which left the two younger women uninvolved.

  “You are still angry,” Lady Lunatora declared, not asking. Her voice was soft and apologetic.

  Around Princess’s age, Tirrha Lunatora was a comely young woman with curly blonde hair, adorned in luxurious silken garments that made Princess’s attire seem almost inadequate in comparison. Soon to be granted land of her own, even at her young age, Tirrha Lunatora had always struck me as a good-hearted soul, and I could not fathom what had caused her to incur Princess’s displeasure. I had a feeling I was about to find out.

  “I humbly thank you for allowing me to accompany you on your trip. It’s deeply appreciated,” Princess adopted a polite but cold and uncaring tone whenever speaking to the young Lady.

  “I don’t know how else to say I’m sorry, Aufelia.” Lady Lunatora stared at her knees under her dress, holding both hands together. “What would you have me do that I have not already done? I have tried to repair the damage. Whatever stupid things I said, I talked to anyone who could have listened. I rescinded it all.”

  “Did you also make them un-see how you poured your drink over me, tore my dress, and pushed me to the floor?” Princess’s voice turned even colder. I could feel her latent fury. She refused to look in Lady Lunatora’s direction. “Oh, wait. You can’t. Your brother and his stupid friends still point and laugh at me whenever I am close. I know what they say behind my back.”

  Lady Lunatora grimaced in pain. “Gurrow can be… mean-spirited, but I can’t speak for him, only for myself. I know it’s not an excuse, but I… felt humiliated. When people started clapping and laughing, I just… lost it. I have come to terms with it. Do you want to hear me say it? Fine. I admit it. I am no match for you; I don’t even know how in the world I dared to think I was. Of course everyone watching would pick you over me. You deserved it.”

  “Tirrha…” Princess’s tone changed at once. She was now gentler and affable. “It isn’t like that. You can’t mean that.”

  “I do. I admit it. It was my complete and utter defeat.”

  “W-what does that even change, now? Where does that leave us? Do you think I’m so vain that I’m happy to hear you say it? All I know is I trusted you, and you… exposed me; the things you said… No. That trust is lost, Tirrha. It will never come back.”

  “It doesn’t mean I will stop trying,” Lady Lunatora asserted. “You are my friend, and I will not give up until I right that wrong. I have not touched wine since that day, you know? That was all for you. I am doing my best to make amends to you, kitten.”

  I was not expecting anyone other than me to have a nickname for Princess.

  “Don’t even try,” Princess was not surprised, however. “The best you can do right now is let us go our different ways in peace. That is all I am willing to offer.”

  “Perhaps. We’ll see; my door and heart are always open to you, Aufelia. I hope you are wrong. I am still glad to have seen you again and discussed this. I truly wish you the best of luck.”

  Lady Lunatora rose from her seat, addressed the room, excused herself, and declared she could not stay due to a previous arrangement she had forgotten and just remembered. Lady Orzwa insisted, but no words would convince the young Lady, adamant in her position.

  She was thanked again for the ride in comfort, even by Princess, and the saddened beauty departed with only a coachman and a guard to accompany her.

  “Don’t even think about it. I am serious, Dubart. I don’t want to speak about this,” Princess stopped me after I had said but a few preemptive words using the polished shine of the floor beneath.

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