Book 2: Chapter 1 - New Horizons

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"He who yields at every new obstacle soon beholds only his own frailty. Yet the one who endures sows the seeds of true strength and a harvest of self-respect."

- A Quassian Aphorism.

 

Sipping fragrant tea on the gently rocking gondola—called a serenelle by the locals—was a delight Seraphina had never dreamed of in her old world. The vessel drifted along the watery avenues of the city, guided by the steady push of the batelier’s pole. Only her maid, Miriam, shared this private interlude, leaving Seraphina ample time to reflect on her precarious circumstances.

She let her gaze wander across the rippling water, then summoned an inward look at her Status—a stark reminder of the game world she now inhabited:

A silent narrative was etched into those numbers and levels, charting the evolution of her power. If her now distant memories held truth, she had helped create this very realm. The notion made her lips curl into a faint smile—did that grant her the standing of a goddess? The idea felt disturbingly plausible.

She dipped a finger into the canal’s cool water, tracing lazy circles as she let the thought linger. The gentle ripples reminded her she was all too real, no matter how surreal her circumstances. Then a timid voice cut through her reverie.

“What is on your mind, Lady Seraphina?” Miriam asked, her tone uncertain. The girl’s perpetual obliviousness to her mistress’s moods never failed to irk Seraphina.

“I was toying with the idea of tossing you overboard,” Seraphina replied, her voice dripping with chilled amusement. “I wanted to see if the salt water would suit you.”

Miriam blanched, her grip on the boat’s sides tightening until her knuckles whitened. Seraphina observed her maid’s panic with mild satisfaction before conceding a sigh.

“How simple can you be?” she said, rolling her eyes. “It was a jest, Miriam, and a childish one at that.”

Slowly, the tension in Miriam’s shoulders loosened, though a flicker of fear still danced behind her eyes. She knew her lady’s jesting could turn lethal on a whim.

Turning her attention to the passing canals, Seraphina gave voice to a petulant thought. “I do hope the Academy’s accommodations are superior to the prison-like rooms we’ve been forced to occupy.”

“But, milady,” Miriam protested softly, “you know how expensive lodging is in Meridian. Especially when trying to secure extra quarters for—”

“I said hope, Miriam,” Seraphina interrupted coldly. “Don’t tarnish the possibility with banal realism.”

Miriam’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, milady,” she managed in a subdued tone. “But… the Academy will expect you to share a room. It’s standard practice.”

“Share?” Seraphina’s eyes narrowed. “Surely they’d make an exception for one of my station.”

She paused, recalling the original storyline of this world. In The Maiden of the Wisterias, the “real” Seraphina de Sariens had indeed been forced into a shared room, her roommate chosen at random from a set of companions not selected by the heroine, Este Lize. The memory rankled, but she refused to let the same fated story confine her now.

The Academy did not indeed care about station, power, or wealth. These would not sway those in charge. It was a good thing that Seraphina knew what lever to use to move the stodgy old men in charge.

Resuming her serene façade, she let her gaze wander across the city’s gleaming waterways. Whatever the Academy demanded, she would decide how this part of her story unfolded.

“We will simply have to see about that, Miriam,” Seraphina stated fiercely.

Miriam kept quiet, knowing well enough to hold her tongue when her mistress was in one of her moods.

 

*****

 

The temporary accommodation Seraphina’s parents had arranged for her—what she privately dubbed her “prison”—was lavish by the standards of Meridian where every scrap of land came at a premium. Rented from a wealthy merchant at nearly five gold coins per month, it represented a small fortune spent on their beloved daughter’s comfort. Yet despite the circumstances, she couldn’t help but marvel at her surroundings.

The walls were clad in blue-veined marble imported from Quas, shimmering as though infused with water itself. Below her feet, the floors gleamed with nacre tiles laid in the Al-Lazarian fashion, their iridescent surfaces catching and scattering light into rainbow reflections. A pair of decorative columns flanked the main hall, crowned with gilded capitals carved in the shape of lotus blossoms, while an elegant frieze ran the length of the ceiling, depicting mythical creatures cavorting amid curling vines and stylized waves.

Frescos adorned the corridors, each panel vividly capturing scenes of legendary battles and tranquil garden vistas. Subtle layers of paint and delicate detailing gave the illusions a lifelike depth, prompting the eye to linger and study every flourish. And in the entranceway, a small fountain played host to a gentle, endless trickle of crystal water. Its basin was bordered by a mosaic of pearls and glass beads, forming a swirling pattern reminiscent of ocean currents.

The house also boasted a spacious study, kept meticulously neat by the servants. Its polished mahogany desk stood at the center, piled high with empty vellum pages, quills of varying sizes, and pots of shimmering inks harvested from exotic sea creatures. A large bay window opened to the cityscape beyond, letting in the natural light.

Adjoining this workspace was the crown jewel: a well-stocked private library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed tight with tomes lined the walls, each spine adorned with meticulous gold-leaf lettering. Seraphina’s initial exploration revealed that many of these volumes were concerned with the art of Geomancy, detailing the manipulation of ley lines and harnessing of elemental forces of the Earth. Next to those sat treatises on Herbalism, painstakingly illustrated with thousands of botanical drawings—some depicting plants found in the local markets, others rumored to grow only in hidden groves under moonlight.

Nestled between these were arcane volumes on Alchemy, brimming with formulas, distilling potions, and the harnessing of certain ethereal essences. Many of these Alchemical texts were lavishly illustrated with intricate diagrams of glass retorts, coils of tubing, and otherworldly symbols—each hinting at secrets best explored in a dedicated laboratory. Seraphina, of course, knew the true secret of Alchemy, that the recipes and potions were ultimately just another form for a chant of a spell. A potion was nothing more than a form of magic captured in liquid.

Interspersed among these scholarly works were weighty religious texts chronicling the miracles and teachings of the Divines, complete with elaborate illuminations. Whether one sought knowledge of the arcane, the mortal, or the divine, the library offered a tantalizing gateway into deeper mysteries—one that invited both dedicated study and unhurried exploration alike.

Her mother had prepared well for her daughter, and almost against her will, Seraphina’s curiosity led her to spend a lot of time there with her lady-in-waiting and budding Geomancer and Alchemist, Eloise. Pride also made her absorb as much knowledge as possible, wanting to eke out whatever advantage she could get before the start of the term. Not to mention, the study had made for a fantastic place to write out her instructions and keep a track of her burgeoning candy venture in the capital.

And this in itself was not without its own reward. Her intelligence had actually gone up by a whole two points due to her academic desire. Her mind felt sharper, and more importantly her maximum Mana had increased by one point. Just one more point and she would be able to cast Heal three times consecutively.

Her mother had found a prison that suited her well. But like any, it would not contain her spirit for too long. However, Frest, or Sir Frest now she supposed, had been surprisingly adamant in following her parent's orders. She simply was not allowed outside the city of Meridian.

This, of course as well as being a great source of annoyance no matter the interests of the lively city, was an extreme inconvenience. Her mother, despite her gift of foresight, could not know everything. There were things in this world that were hidden to even Anaselena, but not ironically to Seraphina.

However, this in a way forced her to consider doing something rather unpleasant.

The young noblewoman sighed as she was lost in the forest of her own plans and worries. Then there was the issue of the private tutor that her mother had also made arrangements for. Her first lessons would begin tomorrow, so she wanted to get this task out of the way so she would be in a better frame of mind.

“Call Sir Frest if you would, Milly,” Seraphina commanded as she dipped her pen into a pot of ink.

“At once, milady,” the maid answered, bowing slightly before she rushed off to do her mistress’ bidding.

Miriam, as always, was still very useful. One of the few people around her that actually listened to her without too much complaining.

Frest soon entered in civilian attire, looking distinctly middle-class in his choice of clothes. The newly-minted Knight dressed in the practical yet refined fashion favored by the people of Meridian. He wore a fitted doublet of warm brown wool that buttoned snugly up the front, its shoulders padded just enough to lend structure without appearing ostentatious. Beneath this was a blue undershirt that showed through the slashed sleeves—an understated nod to current style trends. His breeches matched the undershirt’s hue, tucked neatly into well-worn leather boots. A simple belt of braided cords cinched his waist, and subtle embroidery at the cuffs offered the only real ornamentation.

Seraphina noted how much more presentable Frest had become since his elevation to the Knighthood. Shockingly, he now shaved regularly, which smoothed away some of his roguish aura. At a cursory glance, she mused, he might even pass as a proper Knight. She was loathe to admit, but he had cleaned up well.

“How may I serve you today, Lady Seraphina?” he greeted, doing his best to mimic the formal speech of a true Knight. To Seraphina’s ears, it was almost comical.

Setting her pen aside for the moment, Seraphina propped her forehead in one hand. She had to make use of the tools at her disposal.

“I have business to attend to beyond these walls, and you will escort me,” she said, steepling her fingers with an impish grin.

“You must pardon me, milady, but I have orders from your good lady mother—”

“Oh, will you stop, Sir Frest? Just talk normally for once!” Seraphina snapped irately.

Frest looked as if he had been slapped. “But… it was you who told me to speak better so I’d represent you properly. I clearly remember—”

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you talking back to me, Frest?”

“What if you wanted to leave the city, milady? I—I’d have to stop you, just as your mother commanded,” he said hesitantly. “Lady Seraphina, the Duchess herself, promised that she would kill me. And, she just… knows things.”

Seraphina smirked. “Do you know the difference between my mother and me? She might kill you someday, but I can end your life right now.” Her sweet smile belied the cold threat behind her words.

Sweat beaded on Frest’s brow as he was forced to review his priorities. “Understood, milady. Clear as crystal.”

Satisfied that he had finally understood his place, Seraphina relented in a rare moment of mercy.

“You’ll be glad to know I’m not planning a trip outside the city limits,” she added, running a hand through her short blonde hair. “I’m more interested in what lies beneath Meridian.”

For a fleeting moment, relief shone on Frest’s face. Then he seemed to recall just how dangerous the girl before him truly was—and any sense of ease quickly faded.