The day passed in a blur of chores and shifting gazes. Assigned window duty under the watchful eyes of Emily's mother, Annabell, the head maid—a kind but firm woman whose authority commanded respect—Valerie kept her focus. There was a reason Annabell ruled the servants with both compassion and unyielding discipline.
Sweat soaked into her clothes by day's end, breath coming in sharp gasps that brought fresh embarrassment. This frail new body was no match for the endurance she once possessed. Lucas and Rose must be laughing now, she mused darkly, at least those bastards are rotting in hell.
With a quick swipe, she wiped her face and steadied her breathing. Like the others, she bathed at night in the servants' washroom. The water was cold, the routine familiar, but the grime and the memories stubbornly clung.
Emerging refreshed but wary, she followed Emily to a small room where the bunk beds stood—she was to share with Emily. The curious eyes of the other maids brushed over her, but Valerie gave no thought to them, curling up quietly and waiting for sleep to claim her.
Morning came early. Valerie lay staring at the ceiling of the top bunk, silence wrapping the room. As dawn bled softly into the sky, Emily began to stir.
"Morning," Valerie greeted softly.
Emily was surprised to hear her voice so early. "You're up," she said, blinking sleep from her eyes.
Valerie nodded. "Good. There's much to do." She noticed the other servants only washed faces in the morning—twice-bathing was a luxury reserved for nobles. Hygiene was a small mercy she would have to earn.
After a modest breakfast in the servant hall, Vrim the butler summoned her discreetly to a smaller study. There, waiting, was a man whose presence seemed almost... otherworldly. Human—yet not entirely. His eyes held an inscrutable depth, something just beyond her grasp.
"This is your tutor," Vrim said curtly. "He will oversee your education. Give him your full attention, or you risk being returned. We don't harbor useless goods."
Valerie met the tutor's cold gaze with a flicker of suspicion. If I didn't know better, I'd think I offended you in a past life, she thought wryly.
The tutor, who introduced himself simply as Lorcan, gave instructions before turning to face his student.
"Well, it's nice to meet you," Valerie said with a hint of surprise in her clear voice.
Lorcan nodded, setting a leather-bound volume before her. "My name is Lorcan. I will educate you in the seven classics of etiquette for a lady and instruct you in standards of speech and finance—skills you will need as your master's personal aid."
As he spoke, Valerie took a seat and began flipping through the pages, absorbing the weight of tradition and expectation.
"You do not sit unless I tell you to," Lorcan instructed sharply.
Valerie raised an eyebrow. "I am not your slave—I am your student. Here, we adhere ourselves to decorum. Outside... we shall see. I would appreciate it if you would be polite when speaking to a lady. If not, I can enlighten you on that too. Isn't that part of the seven classics you're about to teach me?"
Lorcan's frown deepened, clearly unaccustomed to such defiance. The tension crackled between them, but Valerie had made her point with measured politeness.
"Let's begin," Lorcan said at last, his voice steady, and the lesson truly started. Here is a draft of the dialogue for the seven classics lesson followed by a continuation of the scene to develop the chapter further. The seven classics are tied to the Seven Kings and their realms, reflecting etiquette, speech, and finance skills that Valeri must learn:
Lorcan's Lesson on the Seven Classics
Lorcan opened the heavy leather-bound book with deliberate care, the embossed crest of the Seven Kingdoms catching the light.
"The first classic," he began, "is the Crown of Courtesy—born from the steadfast realm of King Alderyn Stormveil, shrouded ever in storms. It teaches respect, humility, and the art of measured speech. To command true respect, one must master listening with patience and wield silence as a shield."
Valeri traced the embossed letters with her finger. "Respect and silence. Potent weapons."
Lorcan nodded. "The second classic, The Ledger of Loyalty, hails from King Vaelor Duskbane's dominion—the feared conqueror, breaker of twilight. This classic embodies trust and discretion, essential in finance and alliances. Loyalty, earned and balanced, is a currency more valuable than gold."
"Trust as currency," murmured Valeri, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"The third, The Veil of Valor, echoes through King Draven Blackspire's lands—where fire and ash shape a ruthless strength. Valor is not mere courage on the battlefield but in speech and action. To stand firm when all waver is true power."
Valeri smirked faintly. "Courage to speak and to act. A familiar path."
"The fourth, The Thread of Truth, comes from King Kaelith Ravenshadow's secretive realm—the master of spies and secrets. Honesty is fragile, but necessary. Those who weave skillful lies are fools dancing on thin ice."
Valeri arched an eyebrow. "Truth above cunning, then?"
Lorcan's lips twitched in a smile. "In time, you will learn the intricate dance between both."
Pointing further, "The fifth classic, The Shield of Silence, is a doctrine of discretion from King Tharion Ironfang's relentless rule. Knowing what not to say—and when to say nothing at all—is armor in a world of shade and danger."
Valeri's lips tightened. "Silence as armor. I have worn such armor long before."
"The sixth, The Scepter of Speech," Lorcan said as he gestured toward delicate script, "originates from King Oryndel Starborne, a visionary who claims descent from the heavens. His realm treasures eloquence, persuasive dialogue, and the weight that well-chosen words carry in influence."
"Words—both weapons and shields," Valeri said thoughtfully.
"And lastly," Lorcan closed the book with finality, "The Dance of Debt and Dominion—a financial doctrine from King Malrik Bloodcrown's treacherous lands. His throne was bought with betrayal, and so understanding wealth and power's manipulation is vital. Control the purse strings, and kingdoms fall or rise."
Valeri's gaze hardened. "Knowledge itself is a throne."
Lorcan regarded her quietly. "Master these classics, and you wield power surpassing that of many born to royal blood."
Leaning back, Valeri absorbed the gravity of the moment. "I assume these lessons are not merely scholarly, but survival tools."
Lorcan inclined his head. "Indeed. Your role will demand cunning, resilience, and razor wit. Your master's trust will be earned with your intelligence and poise."
As Lorcan gathered his books, Valeri's mind raced.
This fragile body may be young and bruised, but my mind is reborn. These teachings are not just knowledge—they are my key to strength, power, and at last, freedom.
Lorcan's parting glance carried an unspoken respect beneath his usual stern guise.
"Tomorrow we begin anew with the Crown of Courtesy. Prepare yourself."
As the morning light filled the study, Lorcan opened the heavy volume again and looked up at Valeri. "Today, we will explore the first classic—the Crown of Courtesy."
He spoke with measured gravity. "This tenet teaches the art of respect, measured speech, and the power of silence. From King Alaric's realm, where diplomacy reigns supreme, the well-placed word and graceful restraint have toppled enemies and saved lives."
Valeri listened as Lorcan described the delicate balance of knowing when to speak and when to hold one's tongue.
"Silence," he said, "is as much a tool as the sword."
When the lesson ended, she was dismissed to her chores, mind buzzing with the weight of new knowledge.
Outside, Emily awaited her in the servants' hall. "You're learning fast," Emily smiled. "It's not just about manners here. The Seven Kingdoms are a tangle of power, nobility, and secrets. Our master's villa stands right in the no-man's land between them all. Dangerous, but a place to hide if you play it right."
Valeri nodded thoughtfully, eyes scanning the other servants bustling nearby.
Suddenly, the familiar sharp voice cut through. "Watch where you're going, sla—"
Valeri turned sharply to see Wendy—the maid she had bumped into—staring daggers at her.
"You again?" Valeri replied coolly. "whats with you and calling people slaves, or else its just me Were you raised by fools who forgot manners? I suggest you learn the rules here before you throw stones."
Wendy's face flushed red, but her glare darkened. "This isn't over. Next time, I'll make your stay here a living hell."
Valeri smirked, brushing past her with Emily by her side.
"Looking forward to it," she quipped. Emily's amused expression was the only witness to the exchange as they left.
"Give it your best, sweetheart," valeri shouted after her.
Later at dinner, Emily invited Valeri to join an empty table. The great hall was filled with the murmur of servants eating, but Valeri felt two intense gazes upon her. Then she noticed the slow drawing out of chairs near her.
A tall woman with sharp eyes and a softer one with gentle hands took seats.
"How can we help you?" Valeri said, looking up.
"We were hoping to join you, if you don't mind." The sharper woman smiled slightly.
"Do as you please. I don't own this place," Valeri answered, her tone light but confident.
Introductions followed. The sharp-eyed woman was Maelis, a kitchen maid known for her quick wit, and the gentle one, Liora, who tended the garden with a quiet grace.
As they ate simple yet hearty food, another kind of nourishment filled the air—small talk about the household, whispers of gossip, and tentative bonds forming.
After dinner, the ladies retired together to the servants' quarters. Across the hall, Valerie noticed where Maelis and Liora's bunks were. They exchanged good nights and blew out their candles.