In the afternoon, the lesson shifted.
"The household staff," the butler said, standing in the central hall. "There are seventy-four permanent members within the manor. Additional personnel are stationed in border keeps and outer villages."
He listed them precisely.
Knights. Servants. Cooks. Stable hands.
Roles. Numbers. Titles.
No authority.
"You will not be expected to manage them, my lady," he added flatly. "The chain of command is already established."
Aveline inclined her head. "Of course."
No instruction followed on leadership.
No mention of budgets, supply routes, or crisis management.
Only how many people would bow to her—and how few would listen.
By the third day, the pattern was clear.
She was taught where to stand during formal gatherings.
Which door to enter. Which to avoid.
What colors were acceptable for a Duchess of the North.
What gestures were considered proper.
She was not taught how to rule.
She was being taught how to exist.
At the end of her tour, the butler looked back at her, meeting her eye. He was rather aged, but stoic in his demeanor. It is not only the lords and the knights who have pride, it seems.
"That is it for today, my lady. Though it might seem a lot right now, please be assured that I do not expect you to remember it all. That would be unfair on you given your history. Instead, I hope that you at least remember the important parts."
His voice was insolent. Aveline did not grow up a noble lady, that was sure. She mingled with all kinds of people, and was raised by a commoner. But she was an owner of a business. She could tell when someone talked with respect and when someone looked to demean her. And the butler, unfortunately, was the latter.
"I see. Tell me, Gerald was it? What rank are you in this manor?"
"What rank, my lady?"
"Yes. It's like you recounted before. There are 74 personnel in this manner. There are people among those who are managing others. And then those who manage them and so on. So, what I'm asking is where in the management rank do you lie."
"My lady, perhaps you are unaware of what a butler does. I work under his lordship, the duke. As such, I work alongside the head maid and manage the entire staff of the manor. In simple terms, I would be quite a higher rank, if you prefer to use that term."
Aveline smiled, eyes emotionless. "I see. And what rank do you presume I would have?"
The butler looked at her questioningly. "You currently possess no rank, my lady. After your marriage, however, you will be the second highest rank."
His voice held a bit of reluctance. As if hating the idea of her being second. She smiled again.
"So higher than you. So tell me, Gerald." She stepped closer. "What makes you think you have the right to expect or hope for anything of me?"
Gone was the smile. Even in the modern world, there was no employee who would go out of their way to talk like that to their boss. It's the equivalent of going to the boss and saying "I want you to get your work done by the end of day today."
Besides, Aveline was new. So it was like saying that to your boss on his first day. And it wasn't about a strict rule of law or anything. It was about common respect. If the butler was respectful, she would be too. But he chose to antagonize her, so she will set it straight.
"My lady?" The butler spoke, completely taken aback.
"That's what you said right. You do not expect me to remember it all but you hope I will remember most of it. So tell me, what is your rank that you can set expectations of someone who is your higher?"
The butler was visibly shaken. He had thought her an inexperienced woman, one unaware of how the world works. There was no one who didn't know that she was completely alienated by her father. But the woman in front of her spoke with poise and the authority of a noble.
"My lady, I only meant-"
"I know what you meant. I do not care about whatever excuses you have to give. I will let it go today and see it as a rare mistake made by a nervous employee, rather than the audacity of an incompetent one, unaware of their station." She spoke and started walking, passing the butler. "I would advise you to remember that this is the first and final time."
Once she was in her room, she sighed and dropped to the sofa. It was just one day and one person. But she'll have to face this often. It's going to be tiring.
**************************
Caelum did not appear.
Not in the halls. Not in the training rooms. Not even in passing.
His absence was not explained.
It did not need to be. Your brother is a real piece of work, Alden. Part of Aveline expected to meet the young child that Alden would talk about, a leader. The other part was more realistic, telling her that trust is not earned through stories shared by doting siblings.
Aveline returned to her room each evening with the same quiet composure she carried through the lessons. She showed no frustration. Asked no questions.
She learned what they allowed her to learn.
And stored the rest away.
They believe ignorance will make me harmless, she thought one night, standing by the window as snow began to fall despite the season.
She almost smiled.
They had mistaken silence for weakness.
**********
With her lessons ending before midday and no further duties assigned to her, Aveline found herself with an excess of time.
It unsettled her.
In the South, every hour had been accounted for—meetings held behind false names, ledgers reviewed at night, plans layered upon plans. Here, she was expected to wait. To exist between meals and fittings, between instructions that demanded nothing of her mind.
After the fourth day, she stopped enduring it.
She asked a maid for directions to the training grounds.
The woman hesitated. "My lady… those are reserved for the knights."
"Reserved is a strong word, wouldn't you say?," Aveline replied calmly. "Don't worry. It's not like I'm going there to reserve it for myself."
*********************
The training grounds lay beyond the inner courtyard, bordered by thick stone walls designed to block northern winds. The air carried the sound of steel striking steel—measured, disciplined, relentless.
Several knights slowed when they noticed her.
Their surprise was poorly hidden.
Before she could step further, a voice halted her.
"My lady," one of the instructors said, approaching with a stiff bow. "A duchess has no need to burden herself enough to come all the way out here."
Aveline met his gaze without flinching. "Perhaps not, but I am no duchess. Not yet at least."
He frowned. "Then all the more reason you shouldn't be here. Not yet at least."
Well would you look at that. Aveline had spent so long in a boss role, that it had been some time that someone had spoken to her with such hostility. But she needed to remind herself. She was not Evora here. She was Aveline Faylinn.
She did not raise her voice. Perhaps you are right. I seem to have disturbed your training."
Her words were careful. She was a noble. The soon to be lady of the house. While she understood that she shouldn't push them too much, as she was an outsider that they assumed was a spy out to harm them, she was still higher in standing. She didn't apologize. Her words still held some control. Asking them to carry on indicated that she was instructing them to, as if to tell them that she was the one who is allowing them to continue training.
The pause that followed was heavy, but the instructor smirked and turned around to continue their training.
"Although" Aveline spoke and the knight stopped in his track, looking back over his shoulder at Aveline.
"This is the first time I came here and met you gentlemen."
The knight did not respond, but kept staring at her.
"I wonder… how long does it take for knights to greet their lady?"
The knight's eyes widened. It was true. When Aveline came in, none of them had addressed her and greeted her as such.
The knights had their pride, but they weren't stupid. The rules of their world were clear. Even if they didn't like the new lady of the house, they had to respect her.
"I apologize for not recognizing you and greeting you properly my Lady. I hope you can accept my apology and overlook our mistakes."
Aveline smiled. Liar. "What is your name, sir..?"
"Kalyx, my lady."
"Sir Kalyx, you seem to be pretty skilled in the sword. I've heard many stories about the knights of the North, fighting to keep their borders safe. But as good of a swordsman you are, you are no where nearly as good a liar."
"My Lady?"
"Failed to greet me right. But did you fail to recognize me? I do not believe so. Don't you think."
The knight, Kalyx, stared at her in confusion before realization dawned on him. He had addressed her as a duchess when he basically told her to leave.
This was a problem. In his rush to show hostility to the cursed spy sent from the east, he made a mistake worthy enough to humiliate his Lord's name. He did not care what people would say about him, but if the spy sent word back to the East, people would mock the Northern Lord and say he did not know how to train his people.
Kalyx immediately dropped to one knee, head bowed. " I apologize, my lady. I will accept any punishment you and the Lord deem fit."
Aveline was taken aback. For one, she did not accept the knight to so readily apologize and accept punishment. However, at the same time, the Knight was also adamant that the only person permitted to punish him was the lord. Would you look at that? She smiled.
"Get up, Sir Kalyx. I did not point that out in order to get you punished."
The knight looked up at her.
"I am the soon to be lady of the house. It is my job to point out and fix mistakes so that they aren't repeated in front of anyone that is not of the North. And that is simply what I did. Next time, keep in mind that how you conduct yourself is how the world will view the North and the Lord."
"With that being said, I will forget this incident ever happened. I'll take my leave now."
She smiled and started walking back, not even waiting for his response. That, in of itself, was a message. She did not need to wait for his approval of his words or his permission to leave. She insisted that it was her job to correct their mistakes.
This was all to make the people of the North realize her position. She was not a guest. Although unwelcomed, she was the Lady of the house, and one that will demand respect, if not loyalty.
***********************
Fortunately, Aveline soon found another area to train. It was a small ground in the corner of the building. Away from prying eyes. She had asked Tomas to bring her a training sword and was ready to do some basic training, a daily habit she had gotten into ever since she met Alden.
The weight of the training sword was familiar.
Not comforting—but known.
Aveline stepped aside, as Tomas stood at the side, and began with the basics Alden had drilled into her years ago.
Feet shoulder-width apart.
Knees loose, never locked.
Spine straight, shoulders relaxed.
She breathed in slowly, grounding herself.
Her first swing was controlled. Deliberate.
Not powerful.
Not showy.
But correct.
The second followed.
Then the third.
The rhythm returned to her, carried by muscle memory rather than thought. Each movement flowed into the next—cut, recover, step, pivot.
She noticed Tomas staring at her. "Wanna spar?" She asked.
"With me, my lady?"
"Do you see anyone here?"
Tomas came towards her, eyes unsure. "I've sparred before you know." Aveline reassured him.
"But you're a mage, my lady. Plus, I don't wanna be the one responsible for hurting you by mistake. Aaron and Lina will kill me, if your brother doesn't get to my throat first." He visibly shuddered at the thought.
"Well I might not be able to do any enhancements, but I know how to wield a sword. Besides, I've found ways to circumvent the enhancement issue. Besides," She said while raising her sword, "It's more likely that you'll be the one getting hurt."
Tomas smirked in response. He may not be the strongest knight, but he knew he was strong and talented.
He raised his sword—brief, respectful—and Tomas moved first.
His body vanished in a blur.
Aveline's eyes sharpened.
She drove mana downward, not into her muscles, but beneath her feet. The sigil bloomed invisibly against the stone—gaderian mægen, under me standan, burst and bear—and the ground seemed to recoil.
She shot sideways.
Tomas's strike sliced through where she had been a heartbeat earlier. Gravel sprayed as Aveline slid, pivoted, and redirected the lingering mana forward. Her next step was unnaturally long, her stride snapping like stretched wire.
"So that's how you're cheating," Tomas muttered, grinning.
She didn't answer. She didn't have to. Tomas realized what Aveline was doing. She was basically simply gathering small spurs of mana beneath her feet and having them burst. The mana not only covered her feet in a layer, but the burst gave her a speed boost. It was a technique that she came up with after Alden left. A technique that allowed her to at least copy what speed enhancement would do for knights.
She released another burst—shorter, sharper—and closed the distance in an instant. Tomas barely managed to parry, wooden blades cracking together with a dull thud. He retreated, speed enhancement flaring instinctively.
Aveline followed—not faster, but predictive.
She guided mana into the air itself, thinning resistance around her shoulders and arms. Her sword felt lighter. Her swing sharper.
Tomas ducked, spun, and countered low.
Aveline leapt.
Mana detonated beneath her heels, sending her upward just enough to clear the strike. She twisted midair, landed poorly—and smiled as she rolled, letting the momentum carry her into a rising slash.
Wood met wood.
The impact jolted both of them back.
They froze.
Tomas exhaled slowly, lowering his sword. "You're not enhancing yourself."
"No," Aveline said, steadying her breath. "I'm enhancing everything else."
Silence settled over the courtyard, broken only by the wind.
Tomas laughed under his breath. "If they knew what you were doing, the knights would riot."
"They won't," she replied simply.
She straightened, adjusting her grip, eyes calm and focused.
"Again," Aveline said.
And in the forgotten corner of the Eryndale manor, where no one bothered to look, steel-less blades danced—guided not by strength alone, but by intent, precision, and a mind that refused to be bound by rules never meant to contain her.
********************
By the time the bells rang for the afternoon meal, Aveline lowered her sword and exhaled slowly.
Her hands were trembling—not from weakness, but restraint.
She returned the blade to Tomas and started walking back to her room, Tomas following her..
The Duchess of the North might not need a sword.
But Aveline Faylinn had never relied on what she was allowed to need.