The next morning :
"Well done, Alfred. I expect nothing less from you," Arya complemented him. "Your praise is greatly appreciated, Madam Arya. I executed your instructions diligently," Alfred responded with a polite smile as they strolled through the corridor. "Have the workers left? You did give them a hafty price for their work, right?" Arya ask, excitement evident in her tone. "The workers have completed their tasks, and in accordance with your directive, I provided each of them with an additional five silver coins as a token of appreciation," he response.
"That is wonderful to hear," she exclaims with radiance.
As Arya push open the ornate double doors, the air is tinged with a subtle scent of polished wood and fresh flowers. The renovated Duchess's office welcomes her with a harmonious blend of classic elegance and modern sophistication. As she walked inside, she felt a sense of setisfiction. Sunlight filters through large, gracefully draped windows, casting a warm glow on plush furnishings and intricate details. The walls, adorned with tasteful artwork, showcase a curated mix of contemporary and historical pieces. The polished hardwood floor beneath her feet carries her toward an imposing mahogany desk, neatly organized with papers and a vintage inkwell. The carpet under the table felt as a touch of lotus at her feet as it brushed against her skin. The room exudes an air of authority and refinement, a testament to the Duchess's taste and attention to detail.
"How is it, madam?" He ask politely.
Smilingly Arya nod in approval, "I appreciate your support Alfred."
She adds, "and is that a table full of paperwork I see?"
Slyly, the well-dressed man approached Arya, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Those need your approval, madam," he says, gesturing towards a stack of papers. "And those on the left side were meant for the duke, but since currently he is absencent, it falls on your shoulders." He took two steps back, his beaming smile accentuating the charm in his voice. "And I know, the way you are so perfect, you will do a wonderful job, my lady." With that, he swiftly retreated, leaving Arya standing there, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.
Arya muttered to herself, "Did he... did he just bury me in these mountains?" She watched in horror at the towering stacks of paperwork, each sheet seemingly a mountain of responsibility.
'Alfred, you traitor,' in her heart Arya crushed Alfred.
Arya's workspace, a battleground of paperwork, bore witness to her silent struggle. Alfred knock's intarupted her, "This is Alfred, madam," he announces, blissfully unaware of Arya's growing irritation. Yet no response came only the sound of pen scratching could be hear as Arya scribbles away. Alfred's persistent knocks resonated, each rap seemed to amplify her frustration. Her pen, transformed into a weapon fueled by irritation.
"COME. IN. ALFRED," she replies, her annoyance seeping through.
The door creaked open, and Alfred strolled in. To her dismay, Alfred's entrance is anything but demure. He appears as if he's undergone a morning resurrection, now brimming with vitality. Alfred stood there, wearing a perpetually radiant smile.
'Ahh... that smile on his face, that annoying smile. Ahh... It irks me so very much,' Arya lamented, her eyes narrowing as she observed Alfred's buoyant demeanor.
As Alfred continued to beam, seemingly impervious to Arya's vexation, she couldn't fathom how swiftly he had transitioned from a helpful assistant to a source of profound irritation and that too in the span of a mere hour.
His hands were full of papers, which was not good news for Arya. "What is it now, Alfred?" she spoke in a deep voice, brimming with irritation. This time, she didn't bother to conceal her frustration.
Alfred smiled broadly, relishing in poking at her irritation, "These are the papers for the approval of supplies, to be sent to the border." Placing them on the table, he handed her a letter in a red envelope. Her expression clearly conveyed, 'What is this now?'
"Ahem… it's a letter from the duke. They will return after four days, your grace," he said, maintaining his smile.
"A month supplies, huh?" she inquired.
"Yes, madam. The duke planned this before departing," he responded to her.
"Then do send," she said while reading the letter. Rising an eyebrow, she added, "and Butler, ask the villagers if they would work for the duchy. Mainly young maidens and boys. If so, recruit them according to their skills."
A gentle smile replaced his proud one at the thought of her being a kind person. As he acknowledged her request, he couldn't help but think, 'As expected, you are too kind, madam.' The butler, with a sense of duty and admiration, set out to fulfill her instructions, knowing that her benevolence would extend beyond the castle walls.
Arya's face darkened as the butler left. "A kraken? Why now?" she muttered, clenching her teeth at the realization. Her fists landed heavily on the table, the butterfly effects sinking in.
"What could possibly be gained by awakening that monster? Moreover, how was it awakened before its time?" Arya's mind was tempestuous, grappling with the revelation of the sorceress.
'No, no, no... have to do something. But what? MISHAM,' she exclaimed, the tension in her voice mirroring the urgency of the situation.
With mischief dancing in her eyes, she brandished a paper adorned with a chaotic dance of black ink. A mischievous smirk adorned her lips. "Your move, oh cunning trickster of tales!"
She tapped the table bell, as the echoes of the bell's chime linger in the corridors, one of the servants at the door came in.
"Inform Misham to meet me at the back garden after lunch time," as she ordered, the servant bowed and left.
"The sorcerer has initiated her move; without the female lead, the balance will crumble," exhaling, she adds, "Von, I guess we weren't the only ones in a hurry."
"Defeating the kraken is beyond your league now, Arya. The difference between you and that monster is significant, and the sorcerer's presence adds more disadvantages for us. We cannot rush. The faster the female lead is summoned, the better chances we have of defeating that thing," Von's words carry the weight as she relates the urgency of the moment.
"Producing that amount of mana stone will take quite some time. Besides, he isn't ready yet; too much pressure could destroy his mana path," Arya pointed out Misham's shortcomings.
"You know, we do not have what we need the most, and it is time; for which you are asking for. Time is not on our side; you must hurry. The more time we give her, the stronger she gets," Von appealed to Arya. "We must train him; time is too precious for us to lose even a moment." Scrunching her brows in dejected voice she adds, "and it is not only Misham but also you, who needs to train. We do not have too much time Arya. Being soft at this moment will not pave the path, we must be strong and it falls upon you to embody that."
After lunch ; at the back garden :
The greenhouse garden exuded a distinct beauty, while this one embraced the architectural artistry, with its circular marvel floor designed specifically for tea time. The tail's cream and muddy-brown mix, resembling a chess board, effortlessly captivated the attention of the nobles.
As Arya approached the gazebo, she discovered Misham already waiting for her. Seeing her arrival, Misham stood up. A soft smile adorned Arya's face, causing Misham's ears to blush in shades of crimson. As she sat down, she gestured for Misham to join. "Bring us some refreshments," she ordered the servants. The maids left, leaving only Miya behind. "Miya, give us some room," Arya instructed, and Miya promptly obeyed. Arya snapped her fingers, casting a magical barrier. From the outside, it would appear as if they were having a normal conversation, while in reality, the main discussion would remain confined.
"I'll get straight to the point," her words carried the heavy burden of their reality. "What you did with the topaz stone the other day needs to become a frequent practice. With regularity, it will refine even further. You must practice every day without anyone's knowledge. I'll assist you, and the stone holds a value far beyond your imagination." She paused, posing before continuing, "A share of its profits will be delivered to you—quite a substantial amount. However, no one should know the origin of the stone or its provider, whether it's about you or me. You know nothing. Am I clear?"
Arya's words left Misham shocked; his breath caught in his throat. The silence hung heavily, akin to a sharp sword. Arya hesitated, realizing the weight of her revelation. She wished she could have spared him such pressure, but the urgency of time loomed like a sword at her forehead. Misham gulped, exhaling, fear evident in his eyes along with his trust in Arya. Nodding, he replied, bringing relief that mirrored Arya's sigh of relief.
Arya's smile, radiant and genuine as she says, "Great then. We'll start from tonight, after supper. Thank you, Misham," she expressed with such sincerity that Misham, taken aback, widen his eyes as found himself touched by the unexpected warmth in her dazzling smile.
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