Chamberlain Morris was already waiting for Valentina just outside the duke's study.

"If you will follow me, my lady." His measured steps led her first to a wide marble staircase. "The palace was built over several generations of Greystones. Each duke added his own wing, resulting in a fascinating mix of architectural styles. The remaining remnants of the original building are still in the Norothalan style, while the later buildings are in the early and modern Malandrine style."

"And everyone wanted to outdo their predecessor," Vyxara commented with amusement. "Humans and their eternal competition for greatness."

The Great Hall was the first stop on their tour. The huge room stretched over two floors, the ceiling supported by ornate columns. Essence-infused chandeliers cast their warm light on the tapestries on the walls.

"The hall was built by Duke Arminio after the Scorching," Morris explained. "Notice the Essence patterns in the pillars – they not only stabilize the building, but also regulate the temperature. I've been told they're a particularly interesting detail for Essence Weavers."

Valentina looked at the complex geometric patterns with fascination. "The work must have taken years."

"Seven years, to be precise. Master Weaver worked day and night." Morris pointed roughly in the direction where he thought the Essence patterns were. "The work is said to have cost 500 gallons of Distilled Essence."

Valentina's eyes bugged out. That was an absurd amount of distilled essence. Above all, an absurdly expensive amount. It was perhaps as much as was produced in all of Sommerland in the entire year.

"More," Vyxara said thoughtfully.

They passed through several reception rooms, each more magnificent than the last. In one, a musician was rehearsing on a lute and in another, servants were arranging fresh flowers.

The library made Valentina's heart beat faster. Row after row of books stretched up to the high ceiling. The smell of leather, parchment and ink lingered in the air.

"His Grace has a weakness for rare books," Morris remarked. "The collection on Essence Theory is particularly remarkable. His Grace has asked me to inform you that you may, of course, access it at any time."

"How generous of him," purred Vyxara. "He knows exactly how to lure an inquisitive young Weaver." Valentina didn't care. She was delighted at the opportunity.

An old librarian with round glasses bowed to them. "Master Ashworth," Morris introduced. "He knows every volume in this collection."

The covered corridor to the hospital was their next destination. "Master Wilford will show you the hospital in person tomorrow," Morris explained. "A brilliant man, but very direct in his manner, don't let that put you off."

They entered the gardens through a door surrounded by roses. The scent of flowers mingled with the spicy aroma of medicinal herbs from the hospital garden. Fountains rippled soothingly, their water features controlled by subtle essence patterns.

"The gardens are the Duchess's pride and joy," said Morris. "She personally oversees the selection of every plant." He pointed to a screened-off area. "That's where she grows rare medicinal plants for the hospital."

A young gardener, who was pruning roses, bowed hastily. Two aristocratic ladies sitting on a bench whispered behind their backs as Valentina walked past.

"They are already speculating why the duke has accommodated you in chambers so close to his own," Vyxara commented. "See how they're eyeing you? Like birds of prey sizing up their competition."

The tour took her back to the main building. Morris showed her shortcuts and hidden staircases, explained the best routes to different parts of the palace, spent hours explaining historical details and art knowledge. Valentina memorized everything as best she could, especially the paths.

They met other important members of the household: The strict housekeeper Madame Birch – Morris' wife, as it turned out -, the busy cellar master Master Wells, the resolute chef Madame Thimbel – Jenny's mother.

"Ah, Madame Thimbel," Valentina said with a warm smile and took hold of the cook's hands, not minding at all that they were a little wet from chopping vegetables. "Surely I must thank you for the delicious candied violets for breakfast? They were wonderful."

The chef was beaming. She was a sturdy woman with the same friendly face as her daughter. "Too kind, my lady. I hope Jenny is looking after you well? She's a bit overzealous sometimes..."

"Oh, she's a delight," Valentina assured her sincerely. "So helpful and attentive. You should be really proud of her."

Madame Thimbel's eyes grew moist. "That she is, my lady, she really is. A good girl, my Jenny." She hastily wiped her hands on her apron. "If you have a particular fondness for certain sweets, My Lady, just let me know."

Morris cleared his throat discreetly and they continued their tour.

"Very clever," praised Vyxara. "Making your maid's mother an ally is always clever. Especially when that mother controls the kitchen."

As they passed an open door, they heard muffled voices. A slender man in dark clothes was talking to someone in the shadows. He turned as they passed, his movements as smooth as a cat's.

"Master Lucian," Morris murmured. "The duke's personal Essence Weaver."

Lucian's sharp eyes scrutinized Valentina briefly before he nodded politely. Something about his gaze made her shiver.

"He's dangerous," warned Vyxara. "Look at how he casually manipulates the Schate Essence around him. We couldn't even see who he was talking to – in broad daylight! A master of the scholarly art, indeed."

The tour ended outside Valentina's chambers. "Dinner will be served in two hours," Morris informed her. "Jenny will get you ready in good time. His Grace prefers punctuality."

When Morris took his leave with a precise bow, Valentina's head was full of impressions. The palace was an absolute labyrinth and she hoped she would be able to find her way around.

"And that was just the superficial tour," Vyxara remarked. "Just wait until you really get to know this place. The really exciting conversations certainly don't take place in the Great Hall."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Valentina stepped out onto her balcony and let her gaze wander over the gardens. The setting sun bathed everything in warm light, making the windows of the hospital shimmer like gold.

In two hours' time, she would be presented to the Duke's inner circle. The thought made her stomach flutter. She had to freshen up, fix her hair, prepare herself for an evening of subtle power games.

"Don't worry," Vyxara purred. "You're a quick learner. And you've got me."

~

The private dining room was smaller than the Great Hall, but no less impressive. A long table of polished wood dominated the room, set with the finest silver tableware and silver cutlery.

The Duke rose with a smile as Valentina entered. "Ah, there's our winner! Come and sit with me." He pointed to the seat on his right.

"The place of honor," Vyxara murmured in her thoughts. "Look at the looks on the others' faces, see who reacts in what way."

Indeed, those already present were watching her attentively. The Duchess sat to the left of her husband, elegant as ever in lavender-grey silk. Her son Lorenzo, whom Valentina knew briefly from university, nodded politely to her. He had inherited his mother's green eyes, combined with his father's dark hair.

Lady Hazel, the younger sister, looked at Valentina with barely concealed displeasure. Hazel was a stunning beauty with her father's brown hair and her mother's green eyes. Slender and graceful, she radiated her mother's natural elegance – not her dignity, though. Where the Duchess was cool and controlled, Hazel's eyes blazed with a barely restrained temperament.

"Ah," smiled the duke, "but you already know each other, don't you, Lorenzo? From university?" He turned to his daughter. "Valentina is a close friend of Lady Innogen Ashbourne. You remember her, Hazel? The daughter of the Marquess of Timberpine."

"Indeed," Lorenzo nodded politely. "Valentina and I have met occasionally in the library."

"Lady Innogen is a remarkable young lady," the duke continued as he swirled his wine glass. "She would make an excellent match for Lorenzo. The Marquess and I have already had... well, shall we say, had discussions about the future. Only after her training at Bridgewater, of course."

Valentina thought of the many conversations with her friend, of Innogen's frustration at the plans others were making for her life. How often had she listened to her friend talk about her own dreams and wishes, which didn't fit in at all with her family's ideas?

"Hazel, my dear," the duke turned to his daughter, "I don't think you've greeted Valentina properly yet?"

"Welcome to Dusktown," Hazel pressed out between her teeth, her smile as thin as ice in spring. The Duchess gave Hazel a warning look.

Vyxara giggled in her thoughts, but Valentina didn't feel like giggling. Fortunately, she had already been warned by Jenny, otherwise this open display of hostility would have affected her even more than it already did.

Frowning, the Duke turned instead to an already familiar face on the other side of the table. "May I introduce?" The duke made a sweeping gesture. "Master Lucian Blackreed, my personal Essence Weaver and esteemed advisor."

The slender man, whom Valentina had seen before, bowed slightly. Up close, his face was even more fascinating – sharp features, piercing gray eyes, and the first strands of gray showing in his dark hair at his temples.

"And here, my oldest friend, Master Gregory Bloomfield."

A tall, athletic, middle-aged man stood up with a flourish. Despite his age, his hair was still full and dark, with only a few silver threads running through it. His eyes flashed vividly as he took Valentina's hand and breathed a perfect kiss on it.

"Delightful," he announced in a sonorous voice. "Simply delightful. Cosimo, you old fox, you weren't exaggerating."

The first course was served – a clear soup with artfully carved vegetables. The conversation rippled along politely at first, mainly about the weather and the latest theater performances in the city.

"Is it true," Master Lucian suddenly asked in his quiet, precise voice, "that you used a completely new shield pattern in the competition?"

"Oh yes, tell him about it," Lorenzo urged enthusiastically. "You really showed off Faustus Boarfend."

Valentina blushed slightly. "That wasn't my intention. I just wanted to-"

"Nonsense," Bloomfield interrupted good-naturedly. "If the young Boarfend is even half the pompous prig that old Boarfend – that whoremonger – is, then it serves him right."

"Gregory," the Duchess warned gently. "Not in front of Hazel."

"I'm not a child anymore, Mother," Hazel protested. "I'm eighteen."

"Then behave like it," Lorenzo murmured to his sister.

"Actually," Valentina replied to Master Lucian, "it wasn't a new pattern, but an Amplifying Incantation."

Lucian's eyebrows raised with interest. "Is that so? Would you share it with me?"

"I'm sorry," Valentina said with a polite smile. "But I promised not to pass it on."

An appreciative smile flitted across Lucian's thin lips. "Very clever. I see you've internalized the less obvious lessons of Bridgewater University." He inclined his head slightly. "Tell me, does Professor Veilford still charge extra for his best techniques?"

"You know Professor Veilford?" Valentina asked in surprise. "Yes, his private courses are... not cheap."

"I like him," purred Vyxara. "A man who understands the reality of the situation."

The next course was served – roast quail in wine sauce – and the conversation turned to the economic difficulties in the kingdom.

"The merchants from the west are complaining about losses due to goblin raids," reported Master Lucian. "And in the east, I'm hearing about problems with the harvest."

"The excessive rain is a problem for the farmers," nodded the duke. "What do you think, Valentina? You're from the area, aren't you?"

Valentina chose her words carefully. "The situation is indeed worrying, Your Grace. In my home village, we recently had to..."

"Oh please," Hazel interrupted pointedly, "spare us the peasant stories at dinner."

"Hazel!" The Duchess's voice was as sharp as a whip lash.

"Excuse me, Mother." Hazel lowered her eyes, but her expression remained rebellious.

"The little snake has poison," Vyxara commented with amusement. "But it's still too inexperienced to use it effectively."

"If I remember correctly, you developed a remarkable water purification technique for the Competition," Lorenzo tactfully changed the subject. "That could be a tremendous help for the farmers. I'd like to know more about it."

They spent the next few minutes in a lively discussion about the details of the pattern and how the Vanderlieu spiral had been used in it. Lorenzo proved to be an astute conversationalist with impressive expertise.

"You really must tell Master Wilford about this," Master Lucian intervened. "He's been looking for a way to improve the hospital's water supply for a long time. He has a strange theory about small creatures in the water causing illness."

"Speaking of the hospital," Bloomfield said between bites of quail, "have you heard about the spectacular case in Coldby? A man was literally slashed from head to toe by a Strîzgeizel and survived thanks to a new kind of cure."

The conversation turned to medical topics. Valentina noticed how the duke kept glancing at her furtively when he thought no one would notice.

"The Duchess notices," Vyxara warned. "See how she holds her fork a little tighter."

The main course – tender veal in herb sauce – was cleared away and dessert was served, candied fruit and a lot of cream.

"You must know," Bloomfield told us, his mouth full of dessert, "Cosimo and I were real rascals in our youth. Once, when we were out hunting..."

"Oh no," Lorenzo groaned playfully. "Which one is it this time? The story about the boar, or the story about how you fought the bear for honey?"

"Shut up, cheeky boy," grinned Bloomfield. "That was long before your time. Well, we met this drunken bear who had been eating the fermented fruit in the forest..."

While Bloomfield told his story, Valentina watched the others at the table. Master Lucian listened politely, but his eyes kept wandering around the room, registering every movement, every reaction. The Duchess sipped her wine elegantly, her face a mask of polite attention. Lorenzo grinned at the familiar story while Hazel played boredly with her fork.

"Look closely," Vyxara murmured. "This is a lesson in court politics. Bloomfield is playing the jovial friend and likable idiot, but he hasn't been the duke's closest confidant for decades for nothing. Lucian records every detail for future reference. The Duchess oversees everything with the precision of a beekeeper. And the duke's children... well, they have grown up in this game of masks."

The story ended in general laughter. The duke raised his glass. "To old friends and new faces!"

As the servants cleared away the dessert, Valentina felt the wine slowly going to her head, feeling full and, despite her latent tension, quite at ease.

"Watch out," Vyxara suddenly warned. "Lady Hazel has that look..."

"So?" Hazel, who had obviously had a good drink of wine herself, leaned over to Valentina and her mocking voice suddenly cut through the mirthful laughter at Bloomfield's last story. "Are you my father's new mattress..." She giggled maliciously. "Oh, I beg your pardon, I misspoke. I meant mistress, of course."

An icy silence fell over the table. The duke gave his daughter a scathing look, while the duchess drew in a sharp breath.

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