The convoy drew closer to the Hiregrea Archducal Palace as the night grew darker.
From the carriage window, Reen could see the palace rising beyond the surrounding walls, its silhouette illuminated by the warm glow of lamps scattered throughout the grounds. The main building was tall and symmetrical, its imposing façade adorned with rows of windows and elaborate architectural details. Even in the darkness, its grandeur remained unmistakable.
Reen found herself somewhat pleased by the sight.
It was, after all, a palace. Though she had yet to grow accustomed to the circumstances in which she had found herself, she could not deny that the building possessed a certain beauty. There was something reassuring about its orderly appearance, from the balanced arrangement of its towers to the measured proportions of its exterior. It was a structure that seemed to have been designed with the deliberate intention of inspiring admiration.
Her gaze wandered beyond the main building.
Several other structures stood further away, some partially obscured by the darkness and others illuminated sufficiently for their outlines to be distinguished. Their sizes and designs varied, though they appeared to have been constructed in keeping with the palace itself.
Reen did not know what they were.
She could only assume that they formed part of the archducal estate. Given the apparent scale of the grounds, it would hardly have been surprising if the main palace constituted only a fraction of the entire property.
The carriage continued along the road.
As they approached the entrance, Reen caught sight of several knights stationed beside the gate. They stood in orderly formation, their postures straight and their attention directed towards the approaching convoy.
At first glance, there was little that distinguished them from the guards she might have expected to find at the entrance of a noble residence. A closer look, however, revealed certain peculiarities.
Their armour was exceptionally ornate, decorated with elaborate patterns that reflected the light of the lamps. Their helmets, too, were more elaborate than those of ordinary soldiers, with carefully fashioned crests and metallic embellishments. Yet it was not their ornamentation alone that caught Reen's attention.
Certain parts of their equipment shone with a peculiar lustre.
The light seemed to cling to the metal, lending it a brilliance that was difficult to attribute entirely to the lamps illuminating the entrance. Even from the brief glimpse afforded by the moving carriage, Reen could discern that there was something unusual about their equipment.
She watched them until the carriage passed through the gate.
Then, having lost sight of the knights, she turned her attention towards Ecrivain.
For most of the journey, the two of them had remained silent.
Neither had found much reason to speak. Reen had been occupied with observing her surroundings and attempting to familiarise herself with the unfamiliar world, whilst Ecrivain had occasionally offered an explanation when one seemed necessary. At other times, they had simply allowed the journey to pass without conversation.
There was no particular discomfort in the silence.
Reen was not especially inclined towards idle conversation, and Ecrivain did not appear to require constant attention. In that respect, they seemed to have reached an unspoken understanding.
Nevertheless, the sight of the knights had given Reen something to ask.
Those knights. They are not ordinary, are they?
Ecrivain turned her head towards her.
"They are not."
Her answer was immediate.
"In fact, Reen, you would do well to remember that very little of what you have seen here is ordinary."
Reen waited.
"The Hiregrea Archduchy is one of the most important aristocratic houses in the Taran Kingdom. Its position is second only to that of the royal family. The archduke himself is generally regarded as the most powerful man in the kingdom after the king."
Ecrivain paused briefly before continuing.
"Such a position naturally demands a degree of protection befitting its importance. The knights you saw at the gate are not merely ceremonial guards. Nor are the people accompanying you on this journey ordinary escorts."
Reen's gaze shifted towards the carriage door, behind which the faint sounds of movement could be heard.
"Every member of your convoy belongs to an elite force. They are individuals of considerable standing, each possessing the ability to wield powerful magic. Some hold ranks that would ordinarily place them in command of entire units."
Then the people who have been accompanying me this entire time are all highly capable individuals.
"Indeed. It would be unreasonable for the daughter of the archduke, and the crown prince's fiancée besides, to travel with an ordinary escort."
Reen considered this for a moment.
She had already suspected that the people accompanying her were not insignificant. The events preceding her arrival had provided sufficient evidence of that much. Still, hearing the matter explained so plainly gave her a clearer understanding of the circumstances.
The people surrounding her were not simply guards assigned to protect a noblewoman. They were individuals whose abilities and positions made them valuable in their own right.
And they had been entrusted with her safety.
It was an encouraging thought, though not an entirely comforting one. After all, the previous convoy had been ambushed despite the presence of such people. Whatever had happened on the road, it had been serious enough to put the life of the archduke's daughter in danger.
Reen returned her gaze to the window.
Before she could pursue the matter further, the carriage began to slow.
The wheels rolled over the paved road for several more moments before coming to a complete stop. Outside, she heard the muted sounds of the escorts dismounting and exchanging a few words.
A knock sounded against the carriage door.
"Your Highness, we have arrived."
The voice belonged to a woman.
Reen waited as the door was opened from the outside. Standing beyond it was a young woman who appeared to be in her middle twenties. She wore a formal maid's dress, its dark fabric neatly arranged and its white apron fastened without a single apparent crease. Her chest-length black hair was gathered tidily, and her posture was as composed as her attire. Catching Reen's eyes were her crimson red eyes.
She bowed her head.
"Welcome home, Your Highness. I shall escort you to your chambers."
The manner in which she addressed Reen suggested that she was familiar with her, perhaps as a personal attendant. Reen, however, had no means of confirming the matter.
She merely nodded.
Then, with the maid's assistance, she stepped down from the carriage.
The night air was cooler than she had anticipated. It brushed against her face as she took in her surroundings, the warmth of the carriage giving way to the stillness of the palace grounds. Several attendants stood nearby, whilst the escorts had begun to disperse in an orderly fashion.
The palace looked even more imposing from the outside.
Its entrance was framed by tall columns, and the light spilling from the open doors illuminated the polished stone beneath her feet. Beyond them lay a spacious hall, where the ceiling rose several storeys above the floor. The interior was as refined as the exterior, with carefully arranged furnishings and decorative details that spoke of considerable wealth.
Reen did not linger to admire it.
The maid had already begun leading her inside, and Reen followed without protest.
Ecrivain, meanwhile, accompanied her.
The spirit moved alongside them with the same unhurried ease she had displayed throughout the journey. Though the surrounding attendants did not appear to pay her any particular attention, Reen had long since accepted that Ecrivain's presence was not something she needed to explain to anyone.
As they proceeded through the corridors, Reen directed her thoughts towards her companion.
I cannot feign memory loss now, can I?
Ecrivain glanced at her.
"No. I would advise against it."
Why?
"The medical personnel at the station have already examined you. They found nothing abnormal that would suggest an injury to your memory or any lingering effects from a concussion."
Reen continued walking, her expression unchanged.
"To claim otherwise now would be inconsistent with their findings. You would have to provide an explanation for the discrepancy, and any attempt to do so would only invite further scrutiny."
I see.
"There is also little reason to resort to such a measure in the first place."
Ecrivain's tone remained matter-of-fact.
"You are unfamiliar with this world, certainly, but you are not incapable of adapting to it. You have already demonstrated an ability to observe your surroundings, draw reasonable conclusions, and adjust your behaviour accordingly. I expect you will manage well enough."
Reen offered no immediate response.
She was not entirely convinced by Ecrivain's confidence. Adapting to a new world was one thing; convincing an entire household that she was the person they believed her to be was another.
Still, she had little reason to dispute the advice.
Feigning memory loss would undoubtedly create more problems than it solved. She would have to remember which memories she claimed to have lost, determine what information she was expected to know, and maintain the pretence whenever someone asked a question.
It was an unnecessary complication.
For the time being, it seemed more sensible to remain quiet and learn as much as she could.
The corridor eventually opened into a more secluded part of the palace. The decorations remained elaborate, though the atmosphere was quieter here, with fewer attendants moving about and the sounds of activity from the main halls gradually fading behind them.
The maid stopped before a set of double doors.
"Your Highness, these are your chambers."
She opened the doors and stepped aside.
Reen entered.
The room was spacious, furnished in a manner that balanced elegance with comfort. A large bed occupied the centre of the sleeping area, its canopy supported by slender posts and its covers arranged with meticulous care. Heavy curtains framed the windows, whilst several lamps provided a warm light that softened the shadows cast by the furniture.
There was also a dressing table, a wardrobe, and a small sitting area arranged near the windows. Everything appeared to have been prepared in advance, as though the room had been waiting for its occupant to return.
Reen looked around briefly.
It was a fine room. More than fine, in fact. By the standards of her former life, it would have been considered an extraordinary luxury.
Yet she felt little desire to examine it further.
"Your Highness, I shall have your dinner prepared shortly. His Grace has also been informed of your arrival and intends to dine with you this evening.
The maid's words drew Reen's attention back to her.
The archduke.
Her father.
The thought came with an unexpected degree of weight.
Reen maintained her composure, merely giving the maid a small nod to indicate that she had understood. The woman bowed in return, then withdrew from the room, leaving Reen to her own devices.
The doors closed behind her.
For a moment, she remained standing where she was.
Reen's gaze eventually settled upon a clock mounted on the wall.
Its design was unfamiliar, though not particularly complicated. The face was marked with Roman numerals, arranged in the same order she remembered from her former world. I, II, III, IV, V, and the remaining symbols followed the familiar circular arrangement.
At least, that was one less thing she needed to learn.
She studied the hands.
The shorter hand had passed VII, whilst the longer one rested upon II. It took her only a moment to interpret their positions.
Nineteen ten. Seven minutes past seven would have been an entirely different arrangement; this was ten minutes past seven in the evening.
Reen shifted her gaze away from the clock.
The timekeeping system appeared to follow the same conventions as the one she had known.
She walked towards the bed and sat down upon its edge.
The mattress yielded beneath her weight. She placed her hands upon the covers, looking at the unfamiliar arrangement of the room without truly seeing it. The journey was over. She had arrived at the place where the princess was supposed to live, surrounded by people who believed her to be someone she was not.
And now she was expected to meet the archduke.
Her father.
Reen lay back upon the bed.
Above her, the ceiling stretched across the room in a smooth expanse of pale colour, its surface interrupted by subtle decorative mouldings. She stared at it for some time, scarcely moving.
What, precisely, was she supposed to do now?
The question had followed her ever since she awoke in this world, though until now she had managed to keep it at a distance. There had always been something else demanding her attention: the strange circumstances of her recovery, Ecrivain's explanations, the journey to the palace, or the need to understand the identity she had inherited.
Each matter had occupied her thoughts in turn, leaving little room for anything beyond the immediate problem.
Now, however, there was nothing to distract her.
She had reached the end of the journey, and the next step was no longer something she could postpone by attending to another task.
She would have to meet the archduke. She would have to speak with the people who knew the princess. She would have to learn how to conduct herself in a household that was not hers, under a name that belonged to someone else.
And, sooner or later, she would have to decide what she intended to do with the life she had been given.
The last thought unsettled her more than the others.
She had not asked for any of this.
Reen closed her eyes.
For several moments, she remained perfectly still, allowing her thoughts to drift without attempting to arrange them into anything coherent. Her mind moved from one concern to another, touching upon matters she had not yet resolved before withdrawing again.
Then, quite suddenly, something became painfully clear.
She was dead.
The realisation had been present from the beginning, of course. She knew that she had died in her former world and that she now inhabited the body of another person. She understood the facts well enough. She had even discussed them with Ecrivain, examining the circumstances with the same detached reasoning she might have applied to an unfamiliar problem.
But understanding a fact was not the same as accepting its full significance.
Until now, the knowledge had remained strangely distant, like information concerning an event that had happened to someone else.
She had died.
Her aunt had probably died as well.
Reen opened her eyes again, though her gaze remained fixed upon the ceiling.
The accident had been severe. She could remember enough of what had happened to understand that the chances of either of them surviving had been exceedingly slim. Even if she had somehow lived through the initial impact, there was little reason to believe her aunt could have done the same.
The conclusion was difficult to avoid.
Her aunt was gone.
And so was everything that had once constituted Reen's life.
The home she had known, the familiar streets, the ordinary routines she had once taken for granted—all of it lay beyond her reach. She could no longer return to the place where she had lived, nor could she visit the people she had known.
She would never see her aunt again.
For the first time since awakening in this world, Reen allowed herself to consider what that actually meant.
Her aunt had been a difficult person to live with. Their relationship had never been entirely harmonious, and as her aunt's behaviour had worsened, the strain between them had become increasingly difficult to ignore. There had been disagreements, frustrations, and moments when Reen had struggled to understand the woman she had once known.
Yet those difficulties had never erased the bond between them.
She had loved her aunt.
Not unconditionally, nor without reservation, but sincerely all the same.
The imperfections of their relationship did not make the affection any less real. If anything, the unresolved nature of it made the loss more difficult to bear. There had been things left unsaid, matters that might have been addressed given enough time, and possibilities that had seemed unremarkable precisely because she had assumed there would be more opportunities.
Now there would be none.
Reen's fingers curled slightly against the covers.
She could not return to her former world, even if she wished to. She could not visit her aunt's grave, if there was one. She could not know what had happened after the accident, nor could she confirm what she had already begun to suspect.
She could not even see her aunt's body one last time.
The thought settled within her with a terrible finality.
Something seemed to open inside her chest, leaving behind an emptiness she could neither name nor dismiss. It was not a physical wound, yet the sensation was painfully real. It pressed against her from within, deep and persistent, as though a part of her had been torn away without leaving anything behind to mark its absence.
Reen had no words for it.
She did not know how long she remained on the bed, staring at the ceiling as the thoughts continued to pass through her mind. Her emotions came in no orderly sequence. Grief gave way to disbelief, then to a quiet sense of helplessness, before grief returned once more.
She wanted to mourn.
She knew that much.
Yet no tears came.
Her face remained composed, her breathing steady. There was no sudden outburst, no trembling voice, nor any visible sign of the turmoil within her. Even as the weight of her loss became increasingly difficult to ignore, her expression barely changed.
It was not that she felt nothing.
Quite the opposite.
There was too much to feel, and none of it could be resolved by giving it an outward expression. Reen had always been a reserved person, accustomed to keeping her reactions to herself. Even in moments when her emotions ran deep, she rarely found it natural to display them openly.
Now, faced with a loss she could neither reverse nor properly comprehend, that same composure remained.
It offered her no comfort.
But it was all she had.
Gradually, the intensity of her thoughts began to subside. The grief did not disappear, nor did the emptiness within her chest lessen in any meaningful sense. She simply found herself able to breathe around it, to acknowledge its presence without being entirely consumed by it.
Eventually, Reen turned her head.
Ecrivain was sitting in a chair near the bed.
The spirit had apparently taken the seat at some point during Reen's silence. Her posture was relaxed, though her attention was directed towards Reen. She had said nothing throughout the entire episode, and there was no indication that she intended to interrupt it now.
Their eyes met.
Reen looked at her for a moment.
Ecrivain looked back.
The silence continued.
It was not particularly unusual for the two of them to remain quiet in each other's company. Nevertheless, this silence had a different quality from those that had accompanied them during the journey. There was no scenery to observe, no unfamiliar surroundings to examine, and no practical matter that required their immediate attention.
There was only the room, the fading sounds of the palace beyond its doors, and the knowledge of what Reen had lost.
Neither of them spoke.
Reen eventually shifted her gaze towards the ceiling once more. She had little inclination to explain what she was feeling, and she doubted that doing so would accomplish anything. Ecrivain, for her part, appeared content to wait.
Several more moments passed.
Then Reen turned her head towards the spirit again.
Have you finished processing the surroundings?
Ecrivain regarded her for another moment before answering.
"Yes. More or less."
Her response was accompanied by a slight adjustment of her posture, as though she had only now finished arranging her thoughts.
"This palace is equipped with a considerable degree of magical interference. Its purpose is to prevent unauthorised individuals from employing magic within its grounds, particularly those whose presence has not been recognised by the palace's own systems."
Reen remained silent, waiting for her to elaborate.
"Any attempt to introduce an irregular phenomenon into the premises would ordinarily be detected and suppressed. Depending on the nature of the interference, even certain forms of observation and information-gathering would be rendered difficult, if not entirely impossible."
Then your ability to observe the surroundings should have been affected as well.
"Under ordinary circumstances, yes."
Ecrivain's expression remained unchanged.
"Fortunately, the flower is not subject to the same limitations. Its existence and capabilities are far beyond what the interference was designed to detect. The systems here are intended to regulate magic within a certain range of established principles. The flower, however, operates on a level that renders such distinctions largely irrelevant."
Reen considered this in silence.
It was not the first time Ecrivain had alluded to the flower's exceptional nature. Nevertheless, hearing that it could circumvent the palace's magical defences without attracting attention was significant.
She had arrived in a place where magic was actively regulated, yet the one extraordinary element within her possession appeared to be beyond the reach of that regulation.
Whether that was fortunate or dangerous remained to be seen.
And the people here?
"I have found no immediate cause for suspicion among the personnel who have come into contact with you."
Ecrivain turned her gaze towards the door.
"In particular, the woman standing outside your chambers presents no apparent concern. She has been waiting there since your arrival, presumably to attend to any requests you might make."
Reen glanced towards the closed doors.
She had noticed the maid's attentiveness earlier, though she had given the matter little thought. The woman had conducted herself professionally, spoken when necessary, and withdrawn when her presence was no longer required.
There had been nothing unusual about her behaviour.
Still, Reen had no idea who she was.
What is her name?
Ecrivain fell silent.
For several seconds, she appeared to be concentrating on something beyond Reen's immediate perception. Her gaze drifted slightly, and the pause lasted long enough for Reen to wonder whether the question had encountered some unforeseen difficulty.
Then Ecrivain spoke.
"Camille Lefevre."
She delivered the name with the certainty of someone reading from an established record.
"She is twenty-eight years old, the youngest daughter of a baronial family. Among those familiar with her, she is regarded as a woman of considerable beauty and competence. She has served as your personal attendant since she was twenty-one, when you were eight years old."
Reen turned her attention back towards Ecrivain.
Seven years, then.
"Correct."
Ecrivain continued.
"Her appointment followed an occasion on which the archduchess took an interest in her. At least, that is the explanation the archduchess herself has given."
A faint pause followed.
"As far as the rest of this household is concerned, however, the circumstances were considerably less elaborate. The archduchess apparently found the process of carefully evaluating candidates for your personal attendant far too troublesome. She therefore granted Camille the position on a whim."
Reen remained still.
The explanation was unexpected, though not especially difficult to believe.
A woman of noble birth had been appointed to serve as the personal attendant of the archduke's daughter. The appointment had apparently required neither a lengthy selection process nor any particularly convincing demonstration of merit. Instead, it had been made according to the archduchess's personal inclination.
It was an oddly casual decision for a position that had presumably granted Camille considerable access to the princess.
So she has been attending to the princess for seven years.
"Indeed. She should possess a considerable amount of knowledge concerning your habits, preferences, and daily affairs."
Reen looked towards the door once more.
That, at least, was worth remembering.
If Camille had served the princess for seven years, she would almost certainly be familiar with details that Reen herself had yet to learn. The woman's knowledge might prove useful, but it also presented a difficulty. Someone who had spent so long in the princess's company would be well placed to notice any inconsistencies in her behaviour.
Reen would have to be careful.
Not necessarily by pretending to be someone she was not, but by learning enough about the princess to avoid making unnecessary mistakes.
For a while, she said nothing.
Ecrivain seemed to understand that the conversation had reached its natural conclusion. She settled back into her chair, leaving Reen to consider the information she had received.
Beyond the door, Camille remained on duty.
And for the first time since arriving at the palace, Reen began to think that the person waiting outside her chambers might be one of the most important individuals she would have to understand.
The remaining time passed with little interruption.
Reen continued to direct her thoughts towards Ecrivain, asking her to examine whatever information could be obtained about the palace, its personnel, and the circumstances surrounding the princess's life. There were still many things she did not understand, and she had no intention of allowing the opportunity to gather information to go to waste.
Ecrivain, for her part, appeared willing to oblige.
Whenever Reen raised a question, the spirit would consider it before providing an answer. Some matters could be explained immediately, whilst others required a longer pause, during which Ecrivain seemed to be processing the information available to her through the flower.
Not every answer was complete. Ecrivain made it clear that her ability to perceive information was not equivalent to omniscience, and there were limits to what the flower could reveal. Nevertheless, the information she provided was considerably more than Reen could have obtained through observation alone.
By the time a knock sounded against the door, Reen had begun to form a rough understanding of her immediate circumstances.
"Your Highness?"
It was Camille's voice.
"Dinner is ready. His Grace is waiting for you."
Reen sat up from the bed.
"Very well."
The words came out quietly, almost by habit. She rose, straightened her clothing, and made her way towards the door.
Camille was waiting outside, her expression as composed as before. Upon seeing Reen emerge, she inclined her head and began leading the way.
Reen followed without asking any questions.
There would be time enough to learn more about the household later.
For now, she had a father to meet.
The dining room was considerably more intimate than Reen had anticipated.
Although the room was spacious, its furnishings had been arranged to accommodate a small gathering rather than a large banquet. A long table stood beneath the warm light of an elaborate chandelier, its polished surface reflecting the gleam of silverware and the carefully arranged dishes. Tall windows lined one side of the room, their darkened panes offering little beyond the faint reflections of the interior.
At the opposite end of the table sat a man.
He appeared to be in his middle years, with brown hair and light hazel eyes that bore a striking resemblance to Reen's own. His features were handsome, though not in a manner that seemed deliberately cultivated. Rather, there was a certain natural refinement to his appearance, complemented by the composed expression he wore as he waited for her arrival.
He did not appear impatient.
His attention shifted towards the doorway as Reen entered, and he regarded her with a quiet, measured gaze.
This was the archduke.
Her father.
Reen paused for no more than a moment before proceeding into the room.
Camille stepped forward and bowed to the man at the table.
"Your Grace."
The archduke acknowledged her with a slight nod.
Camille then moved to Reen's place and pulled out the chair for her. Reen sat down, allowing the maid to push the chair in before withdrawing a short distance from the table.
For a moment, father and daughter regarded one another across the table.
Then the archduke spoke.
"Good evening, Reen."
"Good evening, Father."
The response came naturally enough, though the title felt unfamiliar in a way that Reen could not entirely dismiss.
She had addressed no one as her father in this world before. Yet the man sitting opposite her was, by all accounts, precisely that. He had raised the princess for sixteen years, and the people around them would expect her to treat him accordingly.
There was no reason to make the matter complicated.
The archduke seemed satisfied with her greeting. He placed his hands together before him and lowered his gaze.
"Let us pray."
Reen followed suit.
The room grew quiet.
"Gracious Goddess, we offer our thanks for the mercy You have shown us this day. Our daughter, Reen, has been spared from the fate that might otherwise have befallen her. For this miracle, we are profoundly grateful."
His voice was steady, carrying through the room without the need for emphasis.
"May Your wisdom guide those who seek to bring harm upon her. May those who harbour such intentions be corrected before their malice is made manifest, and may those who have already acted upon them be brought to recognise the error of their ways."
He paused briefly.
"And may I, too, be forgiven for my own failure. I did not perceive the arrangements made by those who sought to harm my daughter. I failed to recognise the danger before it was upon her, and for that negligence, I must accept my share of the blame."
His head remained bowed.
"Grant us the wisdom to discern the truth, the strength to protect those entrusted to our care, and the judgement to prevent such a calamity from occurring again. May Your grace continue to watch over this household."
He concluded the prayer.
"Amen."
Reen followed quietly.
"Amen."
For a brief moment, neither of them moved.
The prayer had been delivered without any conspicuous display of emotion. Nevertheless, the archduke's words had been clear enough. He was grateful that his daughter had survived, but his relief had not erased the sense of responsibility he felt for what had happened.
He believed that he had failed to protect her.
Whether that belief was justified remained another matter.
Reen lowered her hands and looked towards the table.
The food had been arranged with considerable care. There were several dishes, each presented in its own serving vessel, along with a plate set before her and a glass of water positioned within easy reach. The aroma was pleasant enough, and the appearance of the meal suggested that every effort had been made to prepare something worthy of the occasion.
Yet Reen felt no particular desire to eat.
She looked at the food for a moment longer.
Then she picked up her spoon.
The first mouthful was a small one. She placed it in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed.
The taste barely registered.
She took another.
It was an action she had learned to perform long before arriving in this world.
In her previous life, eating had not always been a simple matter. Because of her struggles, there had been periods when she found it exceedingly difficult to bring herself to consume enough food, regardless of whether she understood the necessity of doing so. The problem had persisted until its consequences became impossible to ignore.
Her body had begun to weaken.
Her aunt had noticed.
Worried by Reen's deteriorating condition, she had eventually taken matters into her own hands, insisting that Reen eat even when she found the prospect intolerable. The attempts had not been particularly successful at first. There had been repeated failures, and the process of learning to eat without resistance had been neither immediate nor pleasant.
But repetition had gradually made a difference.
Reen had learned to swallow despite the absence of appetite, to continue even when the food seemed to possess no taste, and to treat eating as a necessary task rather than something that depended upon how she felt.
It had not resolved every difficulty she had faced.
Nevertheless, it had allowed her to maintain herself.
Now, in a world where she had been given a different body and an entirely different set of circumstances, the habit remained.
She took another spoonful.
The food was warm. Its texture was agreeable, and its flavour was probably quite good. Reen could recognise these things in an abstract sense, but they did little to stir her appetite.
Still, she continued eating.
Across the table, the archduke watched her for a short while before speaking.
"I must admit, Reen, that I was deeply relieved to hear of your survival."
Reen raised her gaze.
"For a time, I was uncertain whether you would recover at all. The circumstances surrounding the attack were grave, and the reports I received were far from reassuring."
He set down his cutlery.
"How are you feeling now? Are you experiencing any discomfort? Has the medical staff found anything that requires further attention?"
Reen considered the questions briefly.
She could hardly explain the true nature of her circumstances. Nor did she have any reason to believe that the princess's body was suffering from a condition that would justify further concern.
"No, Father. I feel well."
The archduke studied her face for a moment, perhaps attempting to determine whether she was understating her condition.
"That is good to hear."
His expression softened slightly.
"You have been through a great deal. If you find yourself feeling unwell at any point, you need only inform your attendants. There is no reason for you to endure unnecessary discomfort."
Reen gave a small nod.
The archduke then resumed his meal.
"Your younger brother, Warren, would ordinarily have joined us for dinner. Unfortunately, he had already fallen asleep by the time I received confirmation that you would be returning tonight."
He paused to take a drink.
"He has been informed of your recovery, of course. I expect he will be eager to see you tomorrow."
Warren. My younger brother.
Reen made a mental note of the name.
She had known that the princess had a younger brother, but she had yet to meet him. His absence was understandable enough, given the hour, though it meant that she would have another unfamiliar person to account for in the coming days.
The archduke continued speaking.
"Now, concerning the attack."
His tone became more serious.
"I have no intention of allowing a similar incident to occur again. The failure of your previous escort has demonstrated that additional precautions are necessary, regardless of their standing or abilities."
He folded his hands on the table.
"Accordingly, your personal guard will be replaced. I have made arrangements for one of the kingdom's most capable practitioners of magic to take up the position."
Reen's spoon stopped briefly above her plate.
One of the kingdom's most capable magic practitioners.
The phrasing was not insignificant. A person of such standing would presumably possess considerable ability, and assigning them to a single individual's protection suggested that the archduke regarded the threat against his daughter as a matter of exceptional importance.
Or perhaps he simply did not intend to risk another failure.
"The arrangement has been made through my efforts and with the king's approval," the archduke added. "You may therefore rest assured that this individual has been selected with the utmost care."
Reen resumed eating.
The king is involved as well.
That was worth remembering.
The attack had apparently been serious enough to warrant the attention of the royal family. Considering the princess's position as the crown prince's fiancée, this was not entirely surprising. Nevertheless, it indicated that her protection was now a matter extending beyond the immediate concerns of the archducal household.
The archduke seemed to have more to say.
"Furthermore, this individual will serve as your instructor in magic."
Reen looked up.
The man regarded her calmly.
"I have heard that you have recently awakened your magical abilities. If that is the case, then it is imperative that you receive proper instruction. Raw talent, however considerable, is of little use without the discipline required to control it."
He spoke as though the matter had already been settled.
"Your new guard will be responsible for both your safety and your training. Given the circumstances, I believe this arrangement to be the most appropriate course of action."
Reen remained silent for a moment.
She had expected that the princess's position would bring with it certain obligations, but she had not anticipated that her magical abilities would become an immediate concern. The archduke's words suggested that the princess's awakening was already known within the household, and that arrangements had been made in response.
It was another matter she would have to understand.
For the present, however, there was little reason to object.
"Understood, Father."
The archduke gave a slight nod.
"Good. You need not concern yourself with the details tonight. You should concentrate on recovering your strength. There will be ample time to discuss your training once your new guard has arrived."
Reen lowered her gaze to her plate.
She took another spoonful, swallowed, and continued with the meal.
Across the table, her father resumed eating as well.
For a while, the conversation subsided, leaving only the quiet sounds of cutlery against porcelain and the occasional movement of an attendant at the edge of the room.
Reen did not find the silence uncomfortable.
If anything, she was relieved by it.
There were already too many unfamiliar matters demanding her attention. She had a new family, a new identity, a kingdom she barely understood, and a magical system whose principles she had yet to learn. Now she would also have a personal guard who was expected to teach her magic.
The dinner came to an end without further discussion of the attack.
By then, Reen had managed to consume a sufficient portion of the meal, though she could hardly claim to have enjoyed it. The archduke, for his part, made no comment on her appetite. He seemed content merely to have her seated across from him, alive and well enough to share a meal.
When the attendants began clearing the table, he set down his napkin and looked towards her.
"You should rest early tonight, Reen. You have endured enough for one day."
Reen inclined her head.
"Good night, Father."
"Good night."
He paused, his gaze lingering upon her for a moment longer than before.
"Your mother would have been relieved to know that you survived."
Reen said nothing.
The archduke lowered his eyes briefly.
"It is a matter of considerable grief to me that I couldn't even attend her funeral."
His voice remained composed, though the words carried a weight that had not been present during the rest of the conversation.
"I had hoped to return sooner. Unfortunately, circumstances have made that impossible."
He did not elaborate, and Reen had no intention of pressing him for an explanation.
She merely acknowledged his words with a slight nod.
The archduke seemed to accept this. After exchanging a final farewell, he left the dining room, accompanied by his attendants.
Reen remained where she was for a moment.
Her mother.
The princess's mother, at least.
It was another person whose relationship with her she could neither understand nor properly account for. She knew almost nothing about the archduchess, beyond what Ecrivain had told her earlier. Now she had learned that the woman was dead, and that even her funeral had taken place—or would take place—without her husband in attendance.
There were undoubtedly reasons for that.
Reen simply did not know them.
And, for the time being, she had no particular desire to investigate the matter.
She was already occupied with enough uncertainties.
By the time Reen returned to her chambers, the night had grown considerably quieter.
Camille attended to her personal needs with practised efficiency, helping her prepare for bed and ensuring that everything required for the night had been arranged. Reen offered little conversation throughout the process. Whenever the maid asked a question, she answered briefly, and when no answer was necessary, she remained silent.
Camille appeared accustomed to this manner of conduct.
She did not attempt to prolong their exchanges, nor did she seem troubled by Reen's lack of conversation. Instead, she completed her duties without unnecessary delay, occasionally informing Reen of some minor matter concerning the following morning.
Once everything had been prepared, she bowed.
"Please rest well, Your Highness. If you require anything during the night, you need only call for me."
Reen nodded.
"Thank you, Camille."
The maid's expression softened by a fraction.
"It is my duty, Your Highness."
She withdrew soon afterwards, closing the door quietly behind her.
Reen was left alone with Ecrivain.
Or, at least, alone with the one person in the palace with whom she could speak without having to concern herself with the possibility of revealing her ignorance.
She settled beneath the covers and stared at the ceiling for a short while.
The day had been exhausting, though not quite in the manner she had expected. There had been no strenuous physical activity on her part, and her body did not appear to be suffering from any lingering effects of the journey. Nevertheless, the sheer quantity of information she had received was enough to leave her feeling mentally fatigued.
She had learned about the archducal household, the kingdom's political hierarchy, the circumstances of the attack, and the existence of magical interference within the palace.
She had also met the man who was, by all accounts, her father.
It was difficult to say which of these matters would prove the most troublesome.
After a moment's consideration, Reen turned her attention towards Ecrivain, who had settled herself nearby.
Isthere a library in this palace?
Ecrivain looked towards her.
"Certainly. The archducal residence possesses a substantial collection of books. There should be more than enough material for you to familiarise yourself with the history of this world, its customs, and its general principles."
Reen considered the suggestion.
A library would be useful. In fact, it might be one of the few places where she could acquire information without having to rely entirely upon Ecrivain's explanations or risk asking questions that the princess ought to have known the answers to.
Books would allow her to learn at her own pace, and, more importantly, to distinguish between what was common knowledge and what required further investigation.
It seemed an obvious course of action.
"Reading would be a sensible use of your time," Ecrivain continued. "You are unfamiliar with this world, and there is a considerable amount you ought to learn. A proper understanding of its history and institutions would help you avoid unnecessary mistakes."
Reen gave a small nod.
Then I shall visit the library tomorrow.
"That would be advisable."
Ecrivain paused.
"However, there is one matter you should consider first."
Reen turned her eyes towards her.
"Can you even read the language?"
For the first time that evening, Reen hesitated.
The question was perfectly reasonable.
She had been speaking with Ecrivain since awakening in this world, and everyone she had encountered had communicated with her without any apparent difficulty. The archduke, Camille, the medical personnel, and the various attendants had all spoken in a language she understood.
Yet she had given little thought to what that implied.
Reen had simply accepted the conversations as they came, concentrating on their contents rather than the language itself.
Now that Ecrivain had raised the issue, she began to examine the matter more carefully.
As far as I can tell, we have been speaking French.
"Indeed."
Then the language is either French itself or something that has developed from it.
Ecrivain regarded her without comment, allowing her to continue.
Reen shifted slightly beneath the covers, her thoughts gradually taking on a more definite direction.
If the language was identical to French, then there would be no difficulty whatsoever. She could read, write, and understand it without any additional effort.
If, on the other hand, it had developed along similar linguistic lines, the situation would be somewhat more complicated. Changes in vocabulary, grammar, pronunciation, and writing conventions could all present obstacles. Even a language closely related to French might differ enough to make certain texts difficult to decipher.
Nevertheless, such a problem would hardly be insurmountable.
Reen was familiar with the principles of language acquisition, and she had no reason to believe that the language spoken in this world would be entirely beyond her comprehension if it shared sufficient similarities with French.
If it is the latter, I should be able to learn and decipher it within a day.
She paused briefly, considering the possibility.
It shouldn't be too difficult.
Ecrivain remained silent for several seconds.
Then, to Reen's slight surprise, the spirit's expression shifted into one of faint amusement.
"Well, that should not pose much of a problem. Spending an entire day in the library would hardly be conspicuous, considering that it is already one of the princess's habits."
Reen turned her gaze towards her.
She frequents the library?
"Quite often, as a matter of fact. You need not worry about attracting attention merely by spending your time reading."
Ecrivain paused, her amusement lingering.
"Even during the seven days preceding her mother's funeral, the princess spent her time in the library."
Reen said nothing.
Seven days before the funeral.
The detail was rather specific, and its timing was difficult to overlook. The archduchess had died, and her daughter had apparently spent the days leading up to the funeral immersed in books.
There were several possible explanations for such behaviour. Perhaps the princess had always preferred solitude. Perhaps reading had been a means of occupying herself during a difficult period. Or perhaps there were circumstances Reen had yet to learn about.
Was she particularly fond of reading?
"That would be a reasonable assessment."
Ecrivain settled back into her seat.
"Though I would not presume to say that I understand every aspect of her character. A person's habits may be observed with relative ease, but their reasons for maintaining them are not always so apparent."
Reen acknowledged the distinction.
It was useful to know that the library would provide a convenient means of familiarising herself with the world without drawing undue attention. More importantly, the princess's established habits offered her a degree of freedom. She would not have to invent an excuse for spending hours among books, nor would she need to explain why she preferred reading to socialising.
For someone who knew so little about the life she had inherited, that was a considerable advantage.
Then there should be no difficulty.
"Precisely."
Ecrivain's expression returned to its usual composure.
"You may begin tomorrow. It would be wise to familiarise yourself with the language before attempting to study anything more complicated. Once that is settled, you can proceed to the history of the kingdom, its political structure, and whatever else you deem necessary."
Reen looked towards the ceiling.
Tomorrow, then.
There was still much to consider, but at least she had a place to begin. She could learn the language, study the kingdom, and gradually assemble an understanding of the world into which she had been thrown.
It was a more manageable prospect than attempting to comprehend everything at once.
For now, she would sleep.
She closed her eyes, allowing the silence of the chambers to settle around her.
The day had been long enough.