I have been living as the Duchess of Riven for three months.  

   

The Virfain family manor in the capital is a beautiful, sprawling estate that is pretty much the same size as the princess' palace. The major difference is this place is staffed. That means the rooms are cleaned regularly, the furniture is looked after, repairs are seen to, no cobwebs or drafty corners. Elyon has a taste for minimalism, and their manor is decorated as such. There is no marble and gold gilding like in the palace. Instead, the manor is defined by a subtle elegance. Most of the rooms are furnished sparingly, the only exception being Elyon's study, but it is fairly obvious that the furnishings are of high quality. It reminds me a little of how, in my previous life, you often saw rich people walking around in Prada tracksuits, nonchalant about their own wealth.  

   

Everyone in the room the day I signed that contract moved into the duke's residence with me that afternoon. It was a small-scale exodus. We traveled in three carriages that all left separately so could not bring much luggage. For the last three months, Rakan and I have kept a low profile, refusing any invitations and staying within the grounds of the estate, meaning dresses and accessories haven't been all that necessary. Normally, it would be difficult to be confined in a single place, unable to leave, but it hasn't felt that way at all. The estate is so large that even with three months to explore it, there are corners of it I still haven't seen yet. Elyon gave me a personal tour that took three days, which Rakan refused to join. It has proven to be a relatively pointless endeavor considering I spend most of my time in three places; the library, my drawing room, and the training grounds.  

   

The biggest change since moving into Elyon's estate has been that a handful of us have begun to learn swordsmanship. The Virfain family have their own army, and their own knighthood, the Knights of Lyrium, named after the mountain range that marks the northern border of Riven. Not much is known about this knighthood outside of the north, as I was previously painfully aware, but most people from the north have a deep respect for the Knights of Lyrium. They are the main force that keeps the demons at bay and are made up of two groups, the red robes and the white robes. The red robes are normally magic practitioners, like Alvira, and the white robes are warriors. Two of those warriors, a pair of sisters called Yasmin and Amira, have been training me and the others in the art of the sword. The sisters themselves are a dichotomy. Both have dark, cool-toned skin, hazel eyes, and afro-textured hair, but that is where the similarities end. Yasmin, the elder sister, is short and petite, with rounded shoulders, large eyes, and soft features. She wears her hair in what I know as Bantu knots, and her eyes are often cold and sharp as if they can see right through you. Amira is tall and broad, with very angular shoulders and features, her hair kept in twists cropped at the jaw. She is a heavy-set woman with muscular arms and legs that look like they could crush a human skull. Yet her eyes are soft and welcoming, and she is friendly whereas her sister is strict.  

   

The two have been providing lessons to me, Evangeline, Sebastian, and a fresh recruit to Elyon's army, a young boy named Hassan. He is young, a year or two younger than Lyra, an orphan from the capital that Amira took under her wing. He has warm-toned, light brown skin, golden eyes, and long black hair kept in braids. Despite his circumstances, he is a boisterous child who gives the sisters a run for their money. The four of us have been taking lessons every morning for the past three months. My main goal is self-defense. When I spoke to Elyon, they agreed it would be better if I could protect myself under the current circumstances. I began lessons first with Hassan, and within two weeks Sebastian and Evangeline both demanded they join me. Since then, the four of us have trained together, with Amelinne and Elyon occasionally watching. Amelinne's visits have become more frequent over the past month. Her respect for the sisters was instantaneous, and she has told me she is keen to learn their training techniques to teach my knighthood when the time comes.  

   

'Your parry is weak, your grace. Firm up your stance.' Yasmin barks the words at me. I am currently sparing with Evangeline, sweating profusely in the early autumn heat. Despite the two weeks I have on her, Evangeline has taken to the sword like a duck to water. I, however, have taken to the sword like a lead balloon to water.  

   

Yasmin motions for us to restart the sparring match and so I take a few steps back from Evangeline, trying to remember how to position my feet. I can feel Yasmin's sword (thankfully sheathed) tapping against my knees.  

   

'We have been through this many times, your grace. Knees bent, weight back.' I nod, looking at my feet, before I feel Yasmin's sword nipping at the back of my neck. 'Head up, your grace. You should know how to position your feet without looking at them.' I nod again, trying to prevent my face from going red. Normally, in these kinds of stories, characters like me get a shit tone of stat buffs. It seems fucking typical that the author nerfed Lyra to such an extent that she can't even learn how to wield a sword effectively.  

   

I take a moment, close my eyes, and position my feet as naturally as I can.  

   

'Good, begin.'  

   

At Yasmin's words, Evangeline comes charging at me. It's all I can do to parry her initial attack, the power of it throwing me off balance before she uses the force of my parry to swing her sword back around to attack me again. She gets me right in the side. Thank fuck we are using wooden swords, although I can already feel the bruise forming.  

   

'Good, Evangeline. Again.'  

   

'Are you okay, your grace?' Evangeline looks at me, down on one knee cradling my side. Then she turns to address Yasmin. 'Her grace needs to rest.'  

   

'Her grace will not be afforded such mercy on the battlefield.' Yasmin looks at me, her face stony, her eyes looking right through me, seeing all my weaknesses.  

   

'This is not a battlefield. She needs to rest.' There is an edge to Evangeline's words as she says this, a little something that is commanding, that dares Yasmin to contradict her. Eventually, Yasmin nods and walks towards Elyon and Amelinne, both of whom are standing at the edge of the training grounds watching intently, and Evangeline helps me up. The embarrassment is still strong no matter how many times this happens.  

  

‘Quiet, but fierce. I have never seen my sister back down so easily.’ Amira approaches us from the other side of the training ground, Hassan and Sebastian following closely behind. To further add to my embarrassment, Sebastian looks as if he has just come back from a gentle walk, his breathing only slightly laboured. Hassan is practically bouncing around Amira’s legs, eager to keep training but currently being ignored.   

  

‘It was not my intention to be rude,’ Evangeline bows as she says this, then looks towards me, ‘but it is pointless to push her grace beyond her limits.’ Amira chuckles at this.   

  

‘I would agree, but my sister would not. Yasmin believes that to build a soldier, you must first break them down.’ Evangeline frowns.   

  

‘To break anything runs the risk of not being able to fix it again.’ At this, Amira full on laughs. Her voice is like her sister's, melodious in nature, and her laugh is beautiful.   

  

‘You are graceful with both the sword and your words, my lady.’ Evangeline blushes at this and I can’t help but smile. With a sudden whip of her head, Amira grabs Hassan by the wrist and stops his bouncing immediately. He looks up at her questioningly and she returns the look with a smile. Then she turns to me. ‘Do not fret, your grace. My sister is tough because she senses potential.’ I laugh this time, awkwardly.   

  

‘She must have very keen senses to find potential in someone as bumbling as I.’ Amira shakes her head.   

  

‘If you had no potential, she would not teach you. Not even Elyon could make her.’ I frown a little at this, firstly because it seems entirely untrue that I am anything but hopeless with a sword. Secondly, hearing other people call Elyon by their name is still strange to me. Very few people in this estate use their titles. It is a northern custom, I have been told, but a custom I am struggling to get used to after months in the palace.   

  

‘Come, Hassan, you require a bath.’ Amira scoops up the child with a single arm. He doesn’t speak much but there is a clear love and admiration in his eyes when he looks at Amira. ‘Sebastian, I shall see you for training tomorrow.’ Amira leaves us, and shortly after so does Sebastian, saying he, too, needs to bathe before he can attend to his other duties. It’s just me and Evangeline left.   

   

I notice Evangeline’s hair is falling out of its braid and I motion for her to follow, sitting her down on a stool at the edge of the barracks and untying her hair. It's something I do for her and Elyon every morning. They both prefer braids although neither of them are very good at plaiting hair, and so they visit my drawing room every morning so I can provide this service.  

   

'It seems I am a better hair stylist than I am a swordsman.' Evangeline laughs, a sound that is becoming more common now and I find I very much enjoy hearing.  

   

'You have only been learning a short while, your grace.'  

   

'That is obvious when people watch me, and much less obvious when they watch you. I move as if I am stuck in the river, feet heavy and clothes waterlogged. You move as if you are the river.' The back of Evangeline's neck turns a slight shade of red. I have learned she is weak to compliments, and I find it endearing.  

   

'You flatter me, your grace.' I frown.  

   

'And you wound me, Evangeline. Did we not agree to use each other's names?' There is a moment of hesitation before Evangeline replies.  

   

'I believe we did, L-lyra.' I nod as she says this, feeling something warm spread through my chest at her words.  

   

'Perhaps you could give me some private lessons?' I finish off her braid, tying the end of it with a tie and a ribbon.  

   

'If it is private lessons you are looking for, that is something I can provide.' I turn to see Elyon approaching us from across the training ground. They are wearing the same outfit as the rest of us, trousers with a loose fitted skirt and a wrap around their top half, all in white. The clothing worn by most people on the estate is simple in nature, with very little embellishment or decoration. I find it suits my preference, and at the very least is comfier than a corset.  

   

'If I accept private lessons from you, Yasmin will take my hair as punishment.' Elyon smiles at my words, a small smile that is easy to miss if you aren’t familiar with it. It’s something I have had to get used to over the past three months. Elyon takes my hand and places a kiss on the back of it, their standard way of greeting me. It doesn't shake me like it used to. They give Evangeline a small bow and take a seat next to her.  

   

'What brings you here?' I ask. Elyon gestures to their hair, most of which has fallen loose from the various braids.  

   

'I was hoping I might benefit from your expertise.' Despite my rueful smile, I obediently begin to rework the braids in Elyon's hair.  

   

'I find it difficult to believe that neither of you are capable of completing a braid despite your long locks.' Elyon and Evangeline look at each other, but both ignore me. Instead, Elyon gives Evangeline a sideways glance, looking at her hands. 

   

'You have not been using the cream I gave you.' Elyon looks at me expectantly.  

   

'I can only remind her so many times. It must become her own responsibility one day.' Elyon frowns.  

   

'You should remember, Evangeline. You will ruin your hands.' Evangeline reshuffles her hands, gesturing with her head to Elyon's own calluses.  

   

'Like yours, your grace?' She smiles as she says this. 'Yasmin has spoken many times about the benefits of calluses for a sword wielder.' I take a second to look at my own hands, equally if not more callused.  

   

'Well, I dare say that calluses do not make a swordsman, or I would be the most talented here.'  

   

'So, neither of you use the cream I have given you.' I laugh at Elyon's words, or more at the tone in which they are said.  

   

'It seems unfair to expect us to use something you will not use yourself, your grace.' Evangeline says, pointing to Elyon's calluses again.   

   

'Alas, you are correct. But I believe we agreed that we would address each other using our names. Unless you would like me to return to using Lady Whitecrest?' I laugh at the expression that takes over Evangeline's face.  

   

'I have already scolded her once this morning,' I say to Elyon, 'perhaps you will let her off the hook this time?' Evangeline frowns.  

   

'You leave me in a difficult position, your graces. You are each the duke and duchess of this estate. It would be improper of me to refer to you using only your names and not your titles.'  

   

'Then you would be the only one, and dare I say you would be brazenly denying northern custom,' Elyon replies.  

   

'Sebastian still calls Lyra by her title.' I roll my eyes at Evangeline's words.  

   

'Sebastian is stubborn, but even he will come around.' I finish the last of Elyon's braids, touching their shoulder as I do. 'There, finished, good as new.'  

   

'Thank you, my dear.' I roll my eyes at Elyon's term of endearment. It is something Elyon insisted on for the sake of appearances, although I think they often take it a little too far. Used by anyone else the way they do it would come off as sarcastic. The only saving grace for Elyon is that I’m pretty sure they have no idea what sarcasm even is, let alone how to use it.   

   

'You shall have to use our names, Evangeline, or you will be insulting northern custom.’ Elyon opens their mouth to contradict what I have just said but I shake my head. 

  

‘It is not my intention to insult anyone...’ Evangeline begins, somewhat panicked, when she catches sight of my face and realises I am joking. She pouts a little.   

  

‘I think it unfair when you tease me so, your grace.’ I laugh, knowing that this time she is using my title on purpose.     

   

'How could you accuse me of such a thing? In fact, to prove myself, I shall leave Elyon here so I can personally escort you to afternoon tea.' I walk to Evangeline's side and offer her my arm, which she accepts. We both look back at Elyon, but they are not the kind of person to play along with such a joke. Instead, they simply watch us leave. Yasmin will not be best pleased that training is over early, but that will be a problem for tomorrow.  

   

*  

Afternoon tea has become somewhat of a ritual in the Virfain household. It is normally me, Elyon, Alvira, Evangeline, Rakan, Lord Aster, Amelinne and Sebastian. It began as a way for me and Rakan to keep in touch with one another, seeing if the king or Prince Hayden had reached out to either of us, discussing methods we could use to keep each other safe. It has grown from there and now functions as a kind of daily check-in. Today, Amelinne is not here, having stayed behind with Yasmin and Amira to sharpen up her own skills without the rest of us holding her back.  

  

‘Any news from the palace?’ Elyon addresses this question to Lord Aster. As both me and Rakan have been advised to stay inside the estate, Lord Aster is the only high-ranking individual amongst us left who is still active in social circles. He is also a useful tool, his history as a prolific information-gathering flirt meaning he has a whole host of skills that are now particularly useful to us.   

  

‘The queen met with Duke Rasiel again recently. There are several rumours circulating as to why, the most believable one involving Rasiel’s sister.’ I frown.   

  

‘You mean Lady Eleanor Rasiel?’ Lord Aster nods at my question.   

  

‘Yes. The rumour suggests the two were discussing her marriage prospects.’  

  

‘It seems my mother is particularly invested in the Rasiel family.’ Rakan is looking into his teacup as he says these words. Almost unconsciously, Lord Aster reaches over and takes Rakan’s hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth across his knuckles. Everyone has become very used to these small displays of affection.   

  

‘I simply cannot understand why the king and queen are so intent on forming such a close bond with the Rasiel family.’ I say, picking up my own teacup and taking a sip, feeling my brain twist in on itself as it usually does when I am trying to remember the original story. I’ve been in this world for five months now, almost half a year. The longer I am here, the more my previous memories fade. After all this time, I’m very glad that I had the foresight to write down at least the basic plot on that first day in my drawing room. But I cannot remember anything specific about the Rasiel family, nor about their connection to the imperial family. Either I am missing something extremely important or, more likely, the author simply didn’t include it. This second scenario is troubling. Even if the author didn’t include a reason within the original webcomic, that doesn’t mean that there isn’t one in this now very real world. Too many times has the author left me high and dry with nothing while the world filled itself in around me. I look at Rakan and Lord Aster, a prime example of that very fact.   

  

‘It is very common knowledge in the west that the Rasiel family is closely connected to the imperial family.’ I nod my head at Evangeline’s words. With Evangeline being from the west herself, she has been an invaluable source of knowledge. There are many stories and rumours that only a local would know, but it is difficult to know how true they are. Yet without her, none of us would have known that there was any sort of connection between Giddeon and the imperial family.   

  

‘What I find difficult to understand is the lack of public information available about the Rasiel family,’ Alvira ponders out loud. She is the only one here who doesn’t drink tea and instead drinks lemonade (something I find strange yet oddly hysterical). ‘I assumed only the north was allowed to be so secretive, what with Elyon being a Grand Duke.’  

  

This was news to me when I found out two months ago and makes a lot of sense. With Elyon’s station being so high, they are beyond reproach, even for the royal family. But what Alvira says is true. There is a lot of information about the west bopping about, stats about their military, folk tales and customs, information about geography and terrain. However, there is almost no information on the Rasiel family itself. I never realised this when I was looking into the families before, mostly because I wasn’t interested in knowing more about Giddeon. All I wanted was to poke holes in his military strategy, not know about the history of his family. This time I curse myself and the author, myself for not being more thorough with my research from the get-go, the author for not giving me the edge transmigrators normally have in these situations. But no, from what I read of the original webcomic (and although I didn’t read all of it, I read a lot), there is no mention of Giddeon’s backstory or family at all.   

  

I sigh.   

  

‘Perhaps we can leave such conversations until later.’ Evangeline takes my hand as she says this, a habit of hers that has only increased in frequency in the last couple of months.   

  

‘You are right, Evangeline.’ As Elyon agrees with Evangeline, Sebastian leaves the table to brew another pot of tea. It took a long time to convince him to join us at the table, but he is still more often than not silent.   

  

‘Juke and I will be hunting later if you would like to join, sister.’ Rakan’s statement is such a sudden topic change that it takes me a moment to register what he is saying. When it clicks, I cannot help but smile, almost laugh even.   

  

‘You, brother, will be hunting?’ Rakan frowns.  

  

‘You find it so unbelievable that I would take part in such a sport?’   

  

‘I find it unbelievable that you would take part in any sport.’ Rakan looks away from me, towards Sebastian on the other side of the drawing room moving cups and pots around.   

  

‘I enjoy outdoor pursuits.’ I am trying very hard not to laugh, because that would be incredibly mean.  

  

‘But I have never seen you enjoy the outdoors, brother, let alone outdoor pursuits.’ And then I remember that there is someone at the table who is particularly fond of hunting. I look at Lord Aster, who is trying very hard not to laugh himself, looking at Rakan with that unique look of mirth and adoration reserved only for my brother. ‘Ah, I see. Perhaps it would be unwise of me to join considering your current party.’ Rakan shoots me a very pointed look.   

  

‘I could not possibly understand what you mean.’ But before I can respond, Lord Aster takes Rakan’s hand and places a chaste kiss on the back of it.   

  

‘Do not pay her grace any attention, my love. She merely intends to tease you.’ And with these words, Rakan immediately softens. There is a smile on his face that is reserved only for Lord Aster.   

  

‘Quite.’ Rakan takes a sip of his tea with his free hand, lacing his fingers through Lord Aster’s with his other. Everyone else at the table barely notices. This is par for the course with Lord Aster and my brother now, and it’s not uncommon for me to tease him, or both of them for that matter. It makes me laugh now, thinking back on my first few weeks in this world and how suspicious I was of Lord Aster. Looking at the two of them together, it’s ridiculous I never noticed their affection for one another earlier.   

  

Sebastian rejoins the table with a freshly brewed pot of tea that he places in the middle of the table. Then he comes to stand next to me.   

  

‘Your grace, you’ll be late for your morning meeting if we don’t leave now.’ I check the small pocket watch I keep around my neck, a gift from Rakan after he snuck out to the night market with Lord Aster.   

  

‘You’re quite right, Sebastian.’ I get up to leave. Before I leave, Elyon takes my hand and places a kiss on the back of it. Another performance, this one more recent and a little disconcerting. There is no one here to perform for, but they still insist.   

  

‘Do not forget our meeting this afternoon, dear.’ I nod at Elyon.   

  

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ I give a smile to everyone around the table, giving Evangeline’s hand a squeeze.   

  

Then I meet Alvira’s gaze. We also have a meeting, but later this evening. I never did go to counseling in my old life, but it seems I have fallen into it in this new world. No one else knows, although I suspect Elyon knows something but is respecting my privacy and the boundaries that come with the northern practice of medicinal magic. Alvira seems fascinated with me, seems convinced there is a disconnect between my body and what she calls my ‘soul’ or my ‘core’, depending on her mood or the day. Funnily enough, she’s kinda right. And speaking to her is helpful. I’ve had only three attacks in the last three months. So, I keep doing the meetings. I let her examine me with magic, and then we talk. Sometimes Sebastian is there. Sometimes he isn’t. He’s the only one who knows. It’s comforting having someone who can at least try and understand.   

  

With a small nod to Alvira, a promise that I will be there for our meeting later, I wave goodbye to the table.   

  

Time to chat with my least favourite person.