Fall of Autumn, Week 4, Day 8

As I powered through the monster manuals, the morning slipped away, and the light filtering in through the window grew stronger. As I tucked the booklets from the Sword Academy back into my bag, my eyes focused on what else I'd brought with me: the vibrant red Arithmetic book and the blue History and Military Strategy book. I'd only packed what I'd need for Firstday.

I looked to an ornamental clock hanging above the lounge entrance. I had a couple more hours until lunch. The remaining subjects' books were small compared to a full-length textbook, but the Arithmetic book was nearly thrice as long as a monster manual, and the History book was roughly the same—if not even longer.

Then again, the monster manuals were simply what had accumulated for the entirety of the month. Both Arithmetic and History were taught by private tutors, thus there was no class to catch up to. Supposedly, they would meet me where I was.

"Arithmetic will be… something," I grumbled.

I had, after all, utilized higher-order math for over a decade in elsewhere. Analytics and actuarial science have led me down many a mathematical rabbit hole. Granted, even then, most of my expertise was in econometrics and the practical application of said models. And though the specifics are still blurred in my mind, I remember turning away from actually building and monitoring the models in order to be the one analyzing and applying their theories. Eventually, I was the one in charge of acting on the forecasts.

Would it be better to complete the book today? Or should I take it at the pace the tutor, Primrose Apoplos, sets?

I hummed to myself before flipping through the Arithmetic book.

I knew two things immediately. One, 'Arithmetic' was much more narrow of a discipline than I had predicted —covering the four base functions and not much more. And two, I would not be sitting through hours of multiplication and division. Sure, for the usual eight-year-old, this may be an appropriate rate of learning, but I was not actually eight. It would be torture to listen to three hours of basic maths every week.

The only problem is that little Eunora was not particularly studious. She didn't slack off when her governess taught her, but absorbing that information was the problem.

I was, briefly, glad that Eunora had exhausted herself discussing the monster manuals earlier. It meant she wasn't here to attack me for what she perceived as an insult to her. Little Eunora was sweet, and lonely, and filled with a sense of inferiority that a child did not deserve. Honestly, she likely just needed a patient hand and a different explanation. A way to make the numbers relatable. Lina had also been in charge of five Dawn children, with the latest being the genius Theo and the youngest two barely into their preliminary education. My memories of Lina confirmed she hardly cared for Eunora's difficulties in learning, though, so my understanding ended there.

Yet another way little Eunora was set up for failure.

That left another question —if I outperformed what Eunora could do, what would be the consequences?

Immediate problem: the Countess would know. But would she care enough to piece it together? How much would it change her approach? Would she become more invested in my development? If she did become more invested, would that ruin my plans to sever ties with the Dawns?

I released a long sigh.

The real question is, why is she concerning herself with my development so much when Evelyn has a Rare Class of her own? Raphael said even he doesn't have as many classes as I do. He acted as if he was still heir apparent. Does he know Evelyn's Class? Or was it a secret even from him? Is it because of the unsavory nature of a [Young Lady of Monsters]?

I flicked my eyes around the room, looking for an answer from the soft purple hues.

"What is different about me?" I hummed.

My eyes settled on Noir's plush body.

There's that.

The Count thought I had a type of [Seamstress] Class. No matter the rank, he and the Countess wouldn't be bending over backward to facilitate my growth. However, the Fellan estate had changed my room and schedule after my Affirmation. So it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility that it was my Affirmation —and by default, my Divinity, that is the largest difference. As I ran through my mind, I looked for any memories regarding Evelyn's Affirmation but found none. Either little Eunora blocked it out, which was unlikely with how she was desperate for her sibling's attention, or it wasn't brought up to Eunora, due to her age or the Dawn's negligence. Still, I found myself unendingly curious about what, exactly, Captain Rellar reported before the events of Perry. And what Captain Limrick has reported since. But those were answers I wouldn't get just by dwelling. They required asking, possibly coercing, and definitely leaving the warmth of the room I'd settled in. So, instead, I went back to the Arithmetic book.

It was a slow process deciding what to do—weighing the consequences of my actions. Hide? Or thrive? Conceal? Or reveal? No matter how I framed the outcomes, there were so many negatives. No overwhelming positives.

But there was one thing I came to realize.

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Only one decision was permanent. You can never close Pandora's box, after all.

Decision: made, I thought to myself, skimming the first section of the book and firming my resolve. I'll play the part meant for little Eunora. And in the background, hidden by shadow, I'll grow on my own.

After several more minutes of preparing my faux mental decline, I switched to the history book.

The blue book contained six distinct sections. The first section outlined the period of time before the Queendom, when nomadic tribes shared the mountainous lands. The second section detailed the skirmishes that would occur between the tribes, including specific battles and tactics used by the nomads. There were some written accounts, but they were few and far between, with most of the accounts being transcribed from oral retellings or pulled from the void by a [Historian]. The third section covered the founding of the Queendom, which was hardly a queendom at all at first. It was established by a zealous religious order from across the continent that established their headquarters atop the mountainous region they believed to be the core of Oberon's corpse. It was aptly named as such. The fourth section detailed the methods of strategically selecting lands, what makes an area suitable for a temporary stronghold, and methods of defending such structures. The fifth section covered the expansion of Oberon, which mainly consisted of converting nomadic tribes —or, failing that, dominating the tribes and forcibly integrating them into the religious order. Said in much kinder terms, but I read between the lines. The sixth section analyzed specific battles between the nomads and the infantile Queendom.

It was… reminiscent of certain powers from elsewhere.

But in elsewhere, such territorial wars were a thing of the distant past. They were so distant, in fact, that they were barely more than footnotes in the early chapters of our history books. It had been thousands of years since the last territorial expansion in elsewhere. Locked in Domes, connected by a complicated and precarious system of subterranean tunnels, with no access to the border over which those of the past had fought for, there was little benefit to drawing such lines in the sand.

The concept of military strategy against a humanoid enemy was unsettling. In elsewhere, the tactics of the nomads and the Queendom would be useless. Here, however, the possibility of defeating an enemy by starving them was not only viable but a well-documented strategy.

I did my best to take in the information but found myself revolted by the actions of the Queendom and the nomads. It was an odd thing to learn of atrocities in such cold and clinical terms. The book was clearly biased towards the Queendom, for obvious reasons, and the events of the passages took place long before the Dawn family had materialized some eight hundred years after the official evolution of the Queendom of Maeve. Memories of Lina lecturing on the origins of the Dawn name flitted through my mind.

Tales of Divine children, born of forbidden unions, with their souls shoved into mundane bodies. It was the same origin as many other noble houses of Maeve. One such bunch of children were born to a Sun God and a War God, though the two classifications are not mutually exclusive. They took up the name of Dawn and claimed their birthright as those of Divine blood. They became the Noble House of Dawn, untitled and unlanded. It was a short millennia before they found themselves at the pinnacle of the Queendom, with lands vaster and vaults deeper than the other Ducal Houses, according to the Dawn house itself.

I snorted at the memory of Lina, for once focused wholly on Eunora, pridefully telling tales of the Dawn's excellence –as if she was directly responsible for the acts of a house she was unrelated to. It was short-lived, though, because half an hour into her lecture, Eunora had asked how the Dawns were granted their Dukedom. Lina had glowered, forcing out an explanation of the Nemoan Travesties. The anger of the Divine that was meant for the Duchy of Nemo. The Nemoan Travesties occur roughly every 50 Solar Years/100 Lunar Years, and though the cause is not technically proven, it is often linked to the Dukedom in the North.

Lina had barely touched on the subject when she snapped her mouth shut and ended the history lesson, fire behind her eyes. And then Eunora was forced to practice riding until her body ached. Once she had climbed off the steed, Eunora was shaking with every step —barely able to stand properly. That was when Lina chose to go through etiquette lessons.

Every time Eunora had shaken a teacup, she found herself with a switch landing across her forced-open palms. Tears pricked her eyes, and she reflexively squeezed her hands. I could feel her full body flinch. Across from her, Lina looked pleased.

I took a shuddered breath, pulling myself out of the memory forcefully by pressing my uninjured hands to my eyes. Even months after the fact, after adjusting to the reality of this world, I found the reality of Eunora's life pre-Awakening jarring.

How could no one notice? How could they let her suffer alone? How could they turn their head away from a child who just wanted to be loved? How-how-how—

Out of nowhere, a sob burst out of me.

Perhaps not out of nowhere.

The memories of Eunora were less distinct than they had been when they had played throughout my dreams like a poorly directed film. And I felt the weight of the integrated memories. Undoubtedly, it had something to do with [Eternal Communion] growing in strength. Eunora of [Eternal Communion] was a distinct being from myself. She had lived a life. And while I hesitate to call it a 'whole' life, it was longer than mine in elsewhere. Decades longer. But little Eunora? She was a part of me. The part that still found it hard to speak up, to be perceived. She clung to scraps of affection the Dawns would throw her way, making it impossible to destroy the lingering attachments that survived our integration. With every step I take toward who I was, I take a side-step nearer to who little Eunore could have been.

And so, I wept for the memories of a child with stinging palms, blood beading to the surface in thin lines. I curled my legs into my chest, clinging to my own skin for dear life. Mourning her loss. Somehow, not a thought of my loss slipped in.

Then?

Then, I wiped my eyes and pulled out the final item in my bag—a non-descript notebook, lacking any sort of markings or particularly strong colors, filled with blank pages.

I began to write.

Every monster made its way onto the pages, with hardly recognizable recreations of their diagrams, every law of arithmetic, every battle listed, every strategic deconstruction, it all made its way into the notebook. My handwriting scaled down but still legible, using every ounce of my 56 Dexterity.

I barely noticed when Sylvie and Juniper delivered my lunch to me.

Or when they took it away, untouched, hours later.

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