The occasional rustle of paper and the soft clink of tal on porcelain echoed through the otherwise silent dining hall of Freybrook mansion, the faint aroma of ink mingling with the lingering scent of freshly baked bread and tea.
Scarlett sat at the head of the long table, a ticulously arranged plate of half-eaten poached eggs, bread, and soup before her. To her right lood a tall, chaotic-yet-ordered stack of parchnt — letters from nobles and rchants, correspondence from the Rising Isle and other important factions, along with a sizable number of the reports and docunts she had intended to address the previous evening.
Standing discreetly by the wall, Garside maintained his usual composed presence. The old butler barely moved, his stillness a study in patience as he waited on Scarlett. The others who had joined her for breakfast had since excused themselves, leaving her alone with her work.
She let out a muted sigh as she set down a report. It would have been nice if she’d handled these yesterday, but her unexpected confrontation with Arnaud Astrey had disrupted her schedule and left her thoughts scattered.
The man had departed shortly after their exchange, though not before enduring a sharp scolding from his ‘darling’ daughter. Deservedly so, in Scarlett’s opinion. She hadn’t been above adding a few pointed truths of her own regarding their ‘dispute’, which likely contributed to the dismayed expression Arnaud wore as Allyssa yelled at him.
Petty? Undoubtedly. But that was her way of getting back at people. Although it wasn’t quite as satisfying seeing Allyssa try to apologise repeatedly for her father’s behaviour.
Scarlett took a spoonful of soup, then reached for a letter. After skimming its contents, she set it aside. “Garside,” she called, noting the butler’s subtle shift in posture from the corner of her eye. “I will draft a letter for Dean Godwin of Elystead Tower later. Ensure that it is sent to him.”
She needed to question him about Yamina Ward — what he knew of her supposed divinations, her current whereabouts, and any ties she might have to Beld Thylelion or Arnaud Astrey.
“Certainly, My Lady,” Garside replied smoothly, inclining his head.
Scarlett gave a slight nod at his reliability, her thoughts already shifting. She reached for the next letter but paused when her gaze landed on a glimr of red-black among the papers — a polished stone perched atop a stack. It could easily be mistaken for a paperweight, but she doubted that was its true purpose. It was an invite of sorts, if her suspicions were correct.
She had found it earlier this morning, not long after waking up. Not within the mansion itself—there likely weren’t many short of The Gentleman or Empress who could intrude so casually—but just outside its grounds, where the Loci had detected its presence and alerted her. After confirming it posed no danger, she had brought it inside.
At first, the stone’s faint magical resonance had triggered an aggressive response from the Loci, but the energy had since faded. Now, it seed little more than an ordinary object. Still, Scarlett was reasonably certain she knew who had left it.
It wasn’t an invitation she could act on imdiately, but she would try to once ti allowed. Though first, she’d need a word with Rosa.
She picked up another letter, eyes scanning the neat scrawl. By the ti she’d worked through most of the stacks, the morning light had shifted, and noon was approaching.
Scarlett leaned back in her chair, taking a mont to consider the day’s agenda. With the ultimatum delivered by Arnaud and Yamina’s interference, her plans had been thrown into a bit of disarray. She still needed ti to formulate a clear strategy — both for that and how she would spend the coming two weeks.
Her first priority was to gather intelligence on how much ti remained before Beld Thylelion opened. Unfortunately, determining anything for sure was going to be hard. The Hallowed Cabal might be the only ones who had accurate info, and she had no intention of alerting them to her interest.
For now, she had to operate under the assumption that she would be waiting for Arnaud to join her upcoming ‘expedition’. This wasn’t just because she valued the contributions of Shin and Allyssa, but also because she was hesitant to dismiss Yamina’s prediction entirely.
Delaying might complicate matters, but it wasn’t as though she had any shortage of tasks to fill the ti. There was a veritable deluge of work vying for her attention, and even if she cleared her current commitnts, there were still countless dungeons and forgotten secrets scattered across the empire for her to explore.
It felt like ages since she’d had the chance to take a simple trip—a day or two from Freybrook—to clear an ordinary, low-stakes dungeon and loot its treasures. Just her and her party. No looming threats. No heavy consequences. These days, even the simplest ventures seed burdened by sothing.
Granted, that was a problem many would envy. She wasn’t sure she had much right to complain, but a bit of quiet grumbling surely couldn’t hurt.
Still, her overcrowded schedule was almost entirely her own doing. She’d chosen to entangle herself with half the factions in the empire, while juggling preparations for both current and looming conflicts. Add her personal projects and training, and there wasn’t much room left for leisurely excursions.
Travelling wasn’t made any easier by the current restrictions on the Kilnstone, which was now largely reserved for military and relief operations. Not everyone could be an S-ranked Shielder who did as he pleased.
Scarlett’s eyes lingered on the nas written across the letters before her as she ntally catalogued others she needed to contact.
“Garside,” she said. “This afternoon, I will require you to send several additional letters. Beyond Dean Godwin, I will also be writing to Father Abraham, Duke Valentine, Beldon Tyndall, Lord Withersworth, Lord Montague, Sir Leon, and Warder Asheton of the Rising Isle.”
So of these individuals she had legitimate business with. Others were more for the sake of maintaining appearances and exchanging pleasantries.
She tilted her head slightly in thought. “And add Marchioness Thackeray of Wildscar as well.”
The marchioness was likely overwheld at the mont, given that Wildscar had beco one of the most embattled cities in the empire and that it lacked a Kilnstone. Reports ntioned near-daily monster incursions since the Tribe’s initial assault. And with the city’s proximity to the Unresting Steppes, there was surely no shortage of other threats.
But Scarlett thought it might be good to start establishing a connection with Thackeray now, as a precaution for the future. For one thing, she wanted to warn the woman of the inevitable attack that would co from beyond the Everdust Barrier, if she wasn’t already aware.
“Of course, My Lady,” Garside replied.
At his acknowledgent, Scarlett tapped a finger lightly against the polished table, her thoughts wandering to the actual contents of the letters she’d need to draft. It was tedious work, if you asked her, and among the more thankless parts of being a noble. Yet it was necessary, and she was decent at it, helped in part by experience carried over from her previous world.
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A faint shift—the subtle scratch of Garside adjusting his weight for the first ti—caught her attention, though she didn’t turn toward him.
“Will you be working through the entire day, My Lady?” he asked.
“Hmm?” she responded absentmindedly. “Yes, that will likely be the case.”
“May I suggest that you don’t?”
That made her pause. She blinked and lifted her head slightly with a mild frown. “Pardon?”
Garside stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression composed but tinged with sothing that felt strangely…personal.
“I believe it would benefit you, My Lady, to take so ti away from your work. Especially so soon after your taxing stay at the Rising Isle.”
Scarlett stared at him. Garside had never offered this kind of unsolicited advice before. “Why?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of her surprise.
The butler rely inclined his head, maintaining a steady but respectful tone. “While I understand that the empire’s condition demands much of us—and that you, My Lady, have willingly shouldered more responsibilities than most—I fear the constant strain will exact its toll. Even the most diligent require monts to recuperate.”
“I assure you, I am fine,” Scarlett said — maybe a touch too curt.
Garside remained in silence for a few seconds, watching her. “…Forgive , My Lady, but when was the last ti you allowed yourself to truly rest? I have observed your tireless earnestness and ambitions with no small amount of pride, but I must note that it has been well over half a year since I’ve seen you take ti for yourself.”
Scarlett gestured dryly towards the reports and letters on the table. “I put off half of this yesterday. I could argue that counts.”
The older man’s lips curved slightly, an almost imperceptible smile. “That is…one interpretation, My Lady. Though, if I may, I would point out that what you did instead involved magic training and sparring with an S-ranked Shielder.”
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “The latter was hardly sothing I planned.”
“Of course not, My Lady. But it speaks to a pattern I’ve observed in your habits of late. While so might view rigorous self-improvent as a form of leisure, I would humbly suggest otherwise.” He placed one hand lightly to his chest. “Given the burdens you carry—and the company you keep—I suspect genuine leisure no longer exists in your schedule.”
He motioned towards the table. “It is comndable that you’ve entrusted certain responsibilities to Lady Withersworth and others, but forgive if it seems that you have yet to run out of new ones to take on.”
Scarlett said nothing at first, her gaze drifting across the papers. He wasn’t wrong, she supposed. In a way. Ever since arriving in this world, it had always been one thing after another — problems to solve, dungeons to clear, alliances to maintain. She honestly couldn’t recall a single day where she hadn’t spent most of it working towards sothing. Her brief trips to Freyadow were the closest thing to a break, and even those… Well, Arlene wasn’t exactly one to let her stay idle for too long.
The old her—the ‘modern’ her—would’ve baulked at this level of constant productivity.
Garside’s gaze didn’t waver. “…Have you held onto any of your past hobbies this past year, My Lady? Sothing pursued purely for your own enjoynt?”
Scarlett considered it. “I have read so books.”
“I do not believe research texts on the Zuver and historical records qualify in this context, My Lady.”
Her lips pressed into a line. Practising her magic might’ve been the next closest thing, then, but she doubted the man would accept that either.
After a short silence, she brushed a strand of hair from her face and shook her head. “Whether I have a pasti or not is irrelevant to my duties. Even if I desired more freedom—and knew what to do with it—there is no ti for such indulgences. While there have been lulls in the past, the empire’s current situation demands my full attention. To spend ti on frivolities would be irresponsible.”
Garside simply inclined his head again. “Naturally, you are correct, My Lady.”
Scarlett eyed him, her brows lightly furrowed as a strange silence settled between them. She wasn’t used to this dynamic. Garside rarely strayed from his role as the ever-loyal and unobtrusive servant. Over ti, she had co to accept that as the norm. For him to almost chide her like this… It felt odd. Frustrating, even.
But…there was a sincerity to it that she couldn’t entirely dismiss.
Pushing her chair back, she stood and began gathering the papers. “Prepare to have the letters sent within the hour,” she said. “Also, send word to the official overseeing the Empyreal Barrier site surveys that I will be available to et this afternoon.”
Among the letters she’d received, several had pertained to that matter. Those tasked with selecting suitable locations for the pylons had—as expected—expressed a keen interest in her estate. Lady Withersworth had sohow managed to delay their inspection while Scarlett was away, but it had to be dealt with eventually.
“I will see to it that the letters are prepared,” Garside replied, back to his usual professionalism. After a brief pause, though, he added, “If I may, however…”
Scarlett glanced at him.
“Perhaps, just this once, you might consider taking the afternoon off,” he said, eting her gaze. “I am sure the official could wait for just one more day. And if not, I would gladly handle the matter in your stead — along with anything else I can assist you with.”
She studied him in silence for several monts before speaking. “While I recognise your concern is sincere, it is wholly unnecessary,” she replied bluntly. “Your care is appreciated, but the reality is that you lack enough of an understanding of what I do — or why I must do it. You do not know the forces I contend with, nor the consequences should I fail. And I cannot explain them.”
She expected Garside to lower his head in deference again, but he continued to hold her gaze. Understanding coloured his deanour, and there was no challenge present in his expression, but there was a certain quiet firmness.
“I know, My Lady,” he said. “I know your burdens are far beyond my comprehension. You have changed greatly in these past months — that is undeniable. But I have served you and your family nearly your entire life.”
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed slightly at his words.
“You may think the person you have beco is beyond the understanding of those who knew you before,” he continued. “And to a degree, that is true. You have grown remarkably capable and steadfast. You have risen to challenges most would never dare approach. But I am not blind. I see the world you are navigating — the figures you are dealing with, and glimpses of the stakes you are balancing. Dragons. Arch wizards. Masked assailants in the night… I do not presu to ddle in the magnitude of your affairs. My role is to serve, as it always has been. But even so…”
He hesitated, fingers brushing his well-grood moustache, choosing his words with care. “I would like to see you spend just a small part of your ti on sothing that is purely for yourself. Sothing that brings you joy.”
Scarlett regarded him for a long mont. Finally, she sighed. “You understand that taking one afternoon off will not change anything, yes?”
Garside inclined his head. “I do, My Lady. But I believe the principle has so value.”
Another mont of quiet stretched between them. Scarlett’s gaze drifted towards the dining hall door. “…To be quite frank, I do not even know what I would do.”
She genuinely hadn’t even considered it before. It’s easy to just let an afternoon slip by without getting anything done, but consciously trying to use that ti to relax? That was an entirely different thing altogether.
Did she have sothing to read? Surely, the mansion’s library had to hold sothing.
Garside seed to sense her train of thought. “Might I suggest,” he began, “revisiting one of your old pastis?”
She turned back to him. “Such as?”
“A short outing to the city, perhaps? Browsing the boutiques, or attending a performance by one of the local troupes. I believe the Feybrook Players were among your favourites.”
The original Scarlett liked theatre? That was…unexpected.
She did consider the suggestion, then shook her head. “No, I think not. The empire is in the midst of a crisis. I doubt many boutiques or theatres are open during the day, let alone drawing crowds.”
“Even in tis of great uncertainty, people seek a semblance of normalcy,” Garside said. “The world does not cease entirely because of the tragedies that unfold. Nor do those who bring joy to others simply abandon their craft. Many perforrs—troupes such as the Feybrook Players—continue their work precisely because it brings comfort in difficult tis. I suspect Miss Hale can confirm this, if you wish.”
Scarlett considered him for a bit longer, then gave a reluctant nod. “Very well. If you can arrange it, then I will spare an afternoon. No more. It might be…interesting.”
A flicker of earnest warmth touched Garside’s wizened features before he returned to his usual composure. He gave a small bow. “As you wish, My Lady. I’ll make the arrangents at once.”
He paused. “One final suggestion, if I may.”
Scarlett gestured for him to continue.
“It may not quite fit my earlier recomndation to relax,” he said carefully, “but it might be worthwhile to bring soone whose company you trust. Perhaps Miss Hale, and…possibly young Lady Evelyne.”
Scarlett frowned at him, though she quickly schooled her expression. “…We will see.”
With that, she turned and walked towards the exit, not sure what to expect from the afternoon ahead.
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