Fall of Autumn, Week 5, Day 1

Noir toddled along behind me, running as fast as he could and throwing in a cartwheel here and there. Haze matched his speed, filled with Adventurer's enthusiasm, and Shade had somehow snuck around in front of me with Defender's protective nature.

Sylvie was glancing at the knit animals every so often, but I ignored the odd look on her face—and the way it caused my stomach to twist. My opinion of the woman was shifting, going from 'casual indifference' to 'perhaps she dislikes me and maybe I dislike her too.' Sylvie was, after all, a woman filled with apathy that came a bit too close to malevolence.

It was a problem for a different day, though. I was about to meet Primrose Apoplos. A woman of math and magic. Rune craft and arithmetic. It was a woman I could have been in elsewhere, had magic been more than a parlor trick like in ages past. Or current, for the world of Gargantua.

I turned a corner and found myself down a hallway with a half dozen archways on each side—all leading to a uniquely purposed room. Only one of which was occupied—a sitting room with pale orange furnishings and baby yellow accents. Set up across from the sofa was a table and chairs, as well as a rolling chalkboard.

In front of the board, was a woman with a particularly neat appearance. I couldn't make out a single crease in her clothes, nor was a single hair out of place. Her deep brown hair was pulled back into a tight bun atop her head and covered with a blue cloth that matched her dress —a simple thing with very few extra bits and bobs. Even the buttons were muted, a matte black that made them hard to see. The only thing that stood out about Primrose Apoplos was that her eyes were as silver as Sylvie's hair.

As I paused in the entryway, the woman looked up at the noise, and her mouth flattened into a line.

"Lady Dawn, it is a pleasure."

It didn't sound like she thought it was a pleasure, but I stepped inside the room anyway—and Sylvie and Juniper disappeared down the hallway as I did so.

"Miss Apoplos," I said grandly, with all the gravitas a child could muster. Which was to say: none. But I had enough help from [Otherworldly] that I wasn't entirely sure it mattered what I did or did not infuse into my words. "I go by Nora."

The woman nodded, "Lady Nora, then. And you can call me Madame Primrose."

I twitched my nose. The title was more formal than 'Miss,' but also allowed me to use her first name—less formal. I couldn't tell if she liked me or not. Was she just being polite? Was it actually her being rude? There was no way to know just yet.

Madame Primrose gestured for me to sit down at the sofa rather than the table, and as I climbed into the plush couch, I grabbed my animations and brought them to settle in with me. Tucking my feet underneath my body, I looked back at the woman. She had a dark eyebrow arched coolly.

"When do you begin etiquette courses again?" She asked lightly. I shifted in my seat, leaning further into the cushions.

"Tomorrow."

"Good, tell your instructor about today." Madame Primrose clapped her hands, and the smile that took over her severe expression lightened everything about her. "Now, let's talk the language of my people: mathematics."

I felt Noir and Haze lean into me, and my shoulders relaxed. I pulled out the vibrant red booklet containing the arithmetic lessons and held it out to the woman.

"I finished the pre-test."

Madame Primrose blinked, reaching out and taking the booklet filled with my notes. "Pre-test? I don't believe I wrote one out. It is perhaps from—"

As she flipped through the booklet, her voice trailed off. The further into the booklet she went, the faster she flipped. At some point, her silver eyes began glowing cool white.

"You did this," she said, peering up at me.

I didn't hear a question, but I answered anyway.

"I did."

Madame Primrose clicked her tongue, "Of course you did, I can see that." She pointed to her eyes as she spoke. "My question is, did you have help?"

I shook my head and, mimicking her, I pointed to my own head, "No, I didn't need it."

The lightness in her face, surprisingly, remained. "Very well. I will write some problems on the board and we will see how well you can do when put to the test. They will begin simple, grow harder as we go and—when answered incorrectly—grow easier before difficulty is increased again."

Turning to the chalkboard, she slid away one of the smaller books on the table with a huff, "Won't be needing that, then."

As she wrote, the rhythmic tapping of chalk on the board soothed my nerves. I knew I could do the math, but there was something about proving I could do the math that reminded me of elsewhere. It was as if I was back at the beginning of my career, before the models I'd built had altered the course of the company. In a way, that's exactly what was happening.

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The Dawns already had a genius—a child with an eidetic memory, that had a memory skill and a Skill. They didn't need a mathematician. It was a redundancy. Just like they didn't need a Sword Master or a Magician, they wanted a Proper Noble Lady. It was the last position open without stepping on any of the others' toes.

But I didn't care about that as much.

No, I was more worried about someone finding it odd. Odd that a girl who took months to understand even the most basic on concepts had suddenly been propelled through grade school arithmetic into higher-level mathematics.

Then again, I didn't care about that either. Not after today. Not after the realization that I needed to be impressive. I needed to be better than. No, I needed to be the best. The God of Nora would be no less.

I told myself I would take everything the Dawns offered, forge myself like one forges a blade. And then I would ruin their investment. I would leave them all behind. I would disappear into the wind, and they will think nothing more of the middle daughter of the Dawns.

As Madame Primrose stepped away from the board, there were four questions written in perfect script. All of them were word problems, and none of them asked for adjustments of more than three or four items in either direction.

"Take your time, Lady Nora." The sweetness in her voice was sickly, and it didn't take an adult in a child's body to understand what was happening: these problems were neither the easiest in the book nor ones little Eunora should be able to answer.

With an offended huff, I simply said, "Four Nyre fruits. Seven Witherblooms. One silver coin. Three changelings."

Madame Primrose froze, turning robotically back to the chalkboard and back to me. She didn't hesitate, and instead tapped the chalkboard—clearing the writing—before beginning writing once again.

It was a long minute, that mostly consisted of me petting Shade's back, before Madame Primrose turned back around to reveal a single question. This one consisted of three different transactions and a fourth sentence that had nothing to do with the rest.

Honestly, even without [Quick Calculation], the answer was obvious.

"Eleven, um, Whassel fruits?" I paused, looking at Madame Primrose curiously, "Is that how you say it?"

The edge of the woman's smile twitched. "Yes, it is."

The following hour continued along the same vein. Every question was a word problem and each got more convoluted as we went. At one point, I found myself shocked that [Quick Calculation] recognized it as a math problem at all.

There were no equations, not until the very end.

She wrote a simple thing. Something I was sure I wasn't even supposed to understand.

2 + X = 5

Though, technically, it was simpler than the word problems, the format was so different that I knew it had to be taught later on in the educational process. I watched as Madame Primrose's eyes sharpened. I gave a feral smile in response.

"Three."

She didn't even pause, simply writing another line.

4 + 2X = 14

"Five."

She wrote another line.

(4 + 2X) * 2 = 28

I laughed, an overdramatic thing, but I couldn't help it. It felt like a stage play. As if I were an actress, playing a part. An heiress, putting a peasant in her place. In a way, that was exactly what was happening. Always and forever, every time I opened my eyes, I was pretending to be someone I had never been. But I was only being who I was.

"Five, Madame Primrose."

There was nothing for me to feel particularly proud of, but there was something to be said for an adult trying to make a child feel lesser and being unable to. One day, Madame Primrose would feel that very way—lesser. But alas, today was not that day.

Gently tapping the board one last time, she cleared the equation.

"That's all for today, Lady Nora."

I paused, watching the woman grab her books—three thin things—and give a small bow.

I waited for her to raise her head, but she remained lowered. I fought back a sigh. If she was going to hold me to actual etiquette, I'd need to learn what exactly was happening.

"Did I get it right, then?" I said instead of what I was sure should have been 'rise' or 'dismissed' or something equally as annoying.

"You did, my Lady." Was her reply.

I nodded, though Madame Primrose was not looking at me. "Great. I'll see you Third Day."

Then, I grabbed my animations and placed them down on the ground. Madame Primrose took this for the end of a conversation she knew I didn't know the rules to and stood up straight.

"Have a nice evening, Lady Nora. I will be back."

I looked back at Madame Primrose, surprised at the ominous way she phrased her goodbye and hoping to catch a glimpse of her expression, but she was already turning down the hallway and out of sight. I could hear the sharp clacking of her shoes on hardwood as she made her way through the manor.

I looked down at my animations.

"I can't tell if that went moderately well or extremely poorly," I mused to myself and to the three knit animals I'd commanded to follow me around.

"Who cares? Let's play!" Noir chirped.

"We should check out the barracks again, or one of the wings of the manor we haven't been to yet." Haze threw out.

"If we do, we should practice more. Nora needs a dagger Skill!" Shade huffed.

I snorted at the three of them.

"I wish we could do any of those things."

Peering at the chalkboard wistfully, I sighed, "Unfortunately, we have another class before we're free for the night."

"Quite right, Lady Nora."

I jumped as Gristle appeared out of nowhere. I frowned as I looked up at the man. I hadn't heard him approach. But he was holding a tray with two cups of a dark brown liquid and a plate of plain cookies.

"Is that–?" I asked, leadingly, as I bore holes into the tray with my stare.

"Coffee, my Lady?"

I pulled my gaze up to meet Gristle's and he had a half-smile on his face as he placed the tray on the table, sitting and waving for me to do the same. I nodded at his question, taking my own seat across from him.

"Of course not, Lady Nora," Gristle said indulgently. "It is evening, and you are a child. Who would serve you a coffee?"

I sagged in disappointment. Tea then.

Grabbing the drink, I took a testing sip—and a wide smile broke out across my face.

"Gristle, I think you're my favorite."

The man laughed heartily, "I've been told you give out that compliment to anyone who gives you caffeine."

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