Fall of Autumn, Week 5, Day 2

"She's not going to let you, you know," Gristle said as he slid me another cup of coffee.

"I don't know that. That is why I had Uriel's Governor give me the letter." I took a long sip of the warm drink, feeling the heat spread through my chest. It was nice when considering the chill in the air from the open window.

Gristle narrowed his eyes and tapped the letter in question. He had put it down on the table just a moment before. I twitched my nose.

"It's why I had Lord Uriel's Governor give me the letter," I re-stated.

Gristle continued narrowing his eyes.

"Young Lord Hyperion?" I said, half-asking and half-sure.

Gristle nodded, satisfied.

"Dining with Young Lord Hyperion, while an adequate etiquette partner in general, is not enough to satisfy your obligations to your etiquette lessons."

I frowned. "Why not?"

"For one, when it's just the two of you—you who is the daughter of the Duchess and he who is the son of the Marquess—the etiquette is different. You're both high-ranking nobles, even when considering the path of inheritance for both of you." Gristle lectured and I tried to pay attention, but it made my eyes glaze over.

"Lady Nora, please." Gristle sighed heavily. "This is why you need an etiquette instructor. Madame Apoplos wrote me a note to give her."

"She did?" I asked, skeptical. "Did you read it? Was she complaining about me?"

Gristle shot me a look. "Complaint is a strong word. She simply said the first thing that should be worked on is your greeting and goodbyes. It seems you were lax with the etiquette on them."

I groaned. "That's hardly fair. Everything I've learned is from a book—or Lina. And she was worse than a book."

"While I'm sure your Governess left much to be desired, that is no excuse. I've seen how you take in information, you know." Gristle narrowed his eyes. "You're rather bright, and you work hard. Etiquette should be simple enough for you."

"Simple, but annoying," I grumbled.

"That may be, but I beg you, my Lady. Do your best."

I tapped my nails on the table, the solidified shadow making a dull clack, and pressed my lips down into a frown.

"Fine. I will."

Because Gristle wasn't a person I wanted to disappoint. He was a relationship I wanted to grow. Someone I wanted to lean on. Someone dependable and kind and trustworthy. He was someone I was soul bound to, someone who had given their loyalty freely and without expectation.

Gristle nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Then, I believe it's time I go grab your next instructor. She's a diligent woman who will teach you well, I promise."

I looked back at Gristle's eyes, bright with excitement, and couldn't help but to ask, "How do you know?"

"Because she is my mother."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said that she is my mother. And she's taught etiquette to nobles in Fellan for longer than either of us have been alive. So, you are in good hands."

A smile broke across my face.

Gristle's mother.

"Awesome."

Gristle stood, picking up the remnants of our break, and his smile disappeared into a mischievous twitch. "Be careful, you haven't met her yet."

Until the very moment Gristle's mother walked into the room, I had not pieced together what I knew of the man. I knew he was young for a butler, no older than thirty-eight, that he had worked at the Dawn estate since his Awakening, and that he had a Skill called [Assassin's Guarantee]. What kind of woman could raise a child like that?

The kind of woman with a stick straight back and hair held so firmly atop her head that her features sharpened with the tension. Her fair skin and grey-peppered chestnut hair, paired with a well-fitted long-sleeved dress that went to her ankles and boots that went up past the hem, painted a picture of perfect elegance.

Her eyes, that same stormy grey as Gristle's, landed on me and I found myself wishing the man was still here. Her gaze was heavy with scrutiny and I found my back straightening in response. The easy feeling from chatting with Gristle evaporated and in its place was a rock settling into my stomach.

"Lady Dawn, it is a pleasure to meet the Fourth Light of Dawn," she greeted, a frown on her face as she sank into a curtsy.

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I swallowed. "Hello."

Gristle's mother held her curtsy for a long moment before I realized I'd left her hovering there, like I had with Madame Primrose. "Rise, Madame."

Finally, she rose. As she stood her movements remained controlled. Not a single muscle seemed to twitch without her consent.

"Very good, Lady Dawn," she said, the harsh tone of her voice in contrast with her words. "You did not make me wait overly long and you addressed me appropriately. In the future, you may call me Madame Griselda."

I nodded. "Please, call me Nora, Madame Griselda."

The older woman turned to the chalkboard, grabbed a piece of chalk, and began to write.

As she did, she spoke coldly.

"We will begin with appropriate forms of address for different social classes, as that appears to be the most pressing issue."

My stomach sank further. "I don't think that's—"

I stopped myself, but Madame Griselda picked up where I left off.

"—necessary, my Lady?" She paused her writing, then turned back to me. "I disagree. Had you told me to call you Eunora, it would not have been an issue. However, you directed me to address you as Nora. Were I not your instructor, I would be obligated to comply and breach etiquette everytime I did so. Thus, were another member of the Dawn to witness such things, it would be I, not you, that would be subject to reprimand."

I paled at her words.

"It is my understanding that you prefer to go by your nickname under all circumstances, however, I will be educating you why such things are not to be allowed. Both for your reputation and others."

I sat down on the sofa, stretching out my hands to center myself. I focused on the way the muscles in my fingers ached at the force, on the tension around my joints, at the slight pain. Then I took a deep breath and brought my legs up and under me.

"Madame, I typically only request I am called without a title for close members of staff. And even then, only when out of earshot of others."

"That is worse, my Lady." Madame Griselda turned and continued writing.

When she stepped back, there was a neatly drawn table on the board.

In the first column, she had labeled it commoners. Then, she had a wider column labeled nobles. In the final column, she had a column labeled royals.

She tapped the very bottom of the list of royal titles: Queen, King, Princess/Prince, Royal Consorts, Grand Dukes/Duchesses.

"These are the only people who can freely call your first name or nickname without your consent. Without your title. There are less than thirty of them in the Queendom." Madame Griselda circled the title at the top of the noble column. "Dukes, Duchesses, and their children are the only ones permitted to call your first name with your title without your consent, or your nickname and title with your consent. These are also the ones who can use your nickname without your title if you permit it."

Tapping the noble titles of Marquess/Marchioness and Count/Countess, she said, "These are the noble titles who can only call your first name or nickname with your consent. These nobles may never drop your title when you are in circumstances where etiquette must be observed. This excludes the Crown Academies."

Then, she violently crossed out every other noble title and commoner title.

"These are the list of people who cannot call you by your nickname under any circumstances without breaching etiquette."

I stared at the board blankly, before taking a deep breath and standing. I went up to the board, tapping the base and erasing the words. Then, I held out my hand to Madame Griselda. She seemed to understand what I was going for and handed me the chalk.

I wrote a single word in all caps, then underlined and circled it. After a moment, I added a second underline.

NORA.

"This is the only name I will ever go by. The only title I need is my name. The only reason I do not command it, I do not demand it, I do not insist upon it, is out of consideration for others—people like you, Madame Griselda, who care more about how I am perceived than how I feel."

Then I sat back down, moving slowly, every step controlled just as she had been. When I looked back at Madame Griselda, expecting another lecture or a frown or—something. I was instead met with a wide smile that reminded me of Gristle, right before he told me our soul bond was illegal. It was as if I'd walked into a trap.

"My Lady, I believe you have learned your second lesson," she said. Then, she drew a triangle under my name and quickly jotted down some letters, clearly meant to symbolize nobles and merchants and commoners.

"The true rules of etiquette are not defined by what are in a book. They are not confined within age-old traditions. They have no basis in what an instructor tells you." Madame Griselda turned back to me, her steely eyes meeting my own blue. "The true rules of etiquette are defined by what you have the power to enforce."

She tapped the board roughly, leaving a jagged dot of chalk. I leaned forward, taken in by her strong voice. The voice of someone who was sure of what she was saying.

"If you want to be called Nora, with or without a title, you have enough status to command it. To will it to be so. But you don't possess the power to enforce it should someone confront you about it. You are a Light in the Dark, but not the Heir of Dawn. A Countess, yet unlanded. And you are a child, not yet at majority. You need more social capital, more physical power, more status, if you wish to disregard etiquette entirely."

I stared at Madame Griselda, enraptured by her voice, and nodded severely.

"Until then, you will learn what I teach. And outside of our lessons, you can disregard it. But you will know what you are throwing away. You will know the consequences, and you will learn the kind of power you need to not worry about any of it. When we do our weekly events, you will perform etiquette to my satisfaction or you will do it again. And again. And again. You must know the rules, be capable of perfectly performing them, before you can truly break them." Madama Griselda paused. "If you remain uneducated, you are not breaking anything. You are simply ignorant. And that is unacceptable."

I clenched my fists. "All right. Then, what do I need to know? What must I know and what can I cast away? What can I get rid of now and what can I toss later?"

Madame Griselda's grin grew, showing too much teeth. It was a feral thing. A thing of a predator looking at its prey. It sent a shiver down my spine as I thought of Gristle as a freshly Awakened child. Suddenly, I understood.

Madame Griselda was the mother of a boy who became an [Assassin]. And it was not an accident.

When she spoke next, it was more subdued, more quietly happy than impassioned and accusatory. It was much like how my mother in elsewhere would talk to me. It wasn't quite warm, but in no world was it the cold voice of Mallorica casting me away.

"Let's begin."

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