The searing pain of knife tearing through flesh did not deter her.
Blood spurted and bloomed like roses in the lavender-scented water.
The tears flowed as her fragile body sank deeper.
Guilt accompanied a deep sense of peace as the last of her oxygen bubble floated to the top, too weak to muster the strength to crawl out.
"Aah! Aaaahhhh!!"
Aria woke up screaming and covered in cold sweat.
She yanked up her left sleeve, heart hammering but there was no blood: only old, horizontal scars.
Staggering out of bed to grab a jug of water on her nightstand, downing the cold water in greedy gulps.
A blinding pain pierced her skull, the jug loosened from her grip, shattering into a thousand pieces by her feet.
Aria clutched her head as more images invaded her mind.
"No. No! No!"
Fragmented memories rushed in with more clarity now.
In her fight with her, Isolde promised to whore her out if she didn't win the prince's affection. The mocking servants. The beating she received. Her father's indifference.
Years of despair and depression piled up. Her dragging her weak body to the kitchen. Hiding a stolen knife. Drawing herself a bath and slitting her wrist to die.
Her remembering Isolde's last words in at dinner: " no wonder the prince can't hear to look at you. Look at yourself–subken eyes, weak chin, a poverty-stricken mouse in silk rags. Who would want that?"
[Close your eyes and breathe]
Aria obeyed, forcing her breathing under control. " This isn't me. It wasn't me…"
When she opened her eyes, she felt calmer,r but the lingering pain was very much real.
The morning light shone through her curtains, turning the room golden.
Aria pressed her palms to her face, rubbing away her tears.
The original Aria deserved better–so did Ravensdale.
She would fix everything, build her retirement, no matter what.
She got up to dress but her chamber door burst wide open. Isolde and father stormed in.
[Oh-uh. Here comes trouble]
"You!"
Isolde's face was twisted in rage.
"Explain this!"
She threw down a letter addressed from the magistrates'office at her feet.
Aria stared at the paper dully, feeling more irritated by their rudeness.
"Twelve Thousand crowns!" Isolde shrieked like a banshee.
"Twelve Thousand crowns! Without a word to us?? How? You stole it didn't you? Or you sold yourself in an alley like the whore that you are!"
Without a word, Aria calmly picked up the now soaked exchequer receipt, shaking off the water.
Her father's eyes narrowed. "Isolde–your stepmother is right. Explain yourself, girl."
As far as reactions went, this was milder than she expected of them.
By the door, stood a flustered Jem standing, eyes desperately begging not to mention his involvement.
"If you must know, I earned it. Through my wit and work."
They both looked at each other, deciding whether to believe her.
"My method was a little unorthodox but I discovered some of my gifted jewelry as a kid and resold them at a value. You must believe me. There's no more hidden away."
"Liar!" Isolde advanced, seizing Aria by the arm.
"Search her rooms! If she could easily pay thousands, she must have more! Coins and jewelry!"
Aria yanked her arm free.
"There's nothing! But I have plans to fix our reputation."
They fell silent, wondering if she'd gone mad.
"I plan to restart the forge."
"Forge?" Her father nearly barked.
"No daughter of mine, no matter how disreputable, will lower herself to soot and hammers. It is unseemly!"
"Father, the servants are empty every day, and I am greeted by whispers of commoners who mock me to my face. We are neck-deep in debts you have accrued from women of ungodly virtues and gambling houses, I ask you, what is more unseemly?"
His eyes widened. Aria had never even dared to look him in the eye before.
He laughed coldly, in disbelief.
" You're unravelling, just like your mother. I will not have this."
He turned to a servant. "Lock thump the forge. And you, stay here. We will be visiting the extended family today. When you have calmed down, we will investigate your claims."
"What? She deserves to be starved and–"
"Look how rakish she is. Any lack of food and we'd be accused of killing her. Isolde. Let's go."
They stormed out, a furious isolde murmuring something about being cursed by the gods.
By noon, their carriage was already packed to the far away coastal village where they regularly hosted extended family members.
Aria watched it all happen from her window, heart full of bitter resentment but for her plans to keep moving she had to be sure her parents left Ravensdale.
Ravensdale was rowdy with the noise of servants slacking off.
Who could blame them? They hadn't been paid.
Aria closed her eyes, feeling refreshed at least.
[Ready?]
Aria nodded at the monitor, closing her eyes: "Basic Blacksmithing & Tool-making."
The sturdy book materialized with a pop! On her bed.
She picked up the grey volume–images of diagrams, diameters, tempering techniques, hammers, anvils flooded her head.
" Metal heat points, forging sequences, simple repairs…my goodness, this is incredible!"
The book faded into ash, and the system dinged
[Maximum book Absorption Completed!
24 hours cool down]
*************************************************
Navigating the public as a poorly dressed man was more beneficial than she thought. But she struggled with the crudely drawn map Jem had thrust into her hands earlier.
"Two stones….or are those poles?" She muttered, holding the map up to the light.
Aria was in search of a key vital to restarting the Ravensdale Forge: Old Tomas.
A retired blacksmith,whose family worked for generations in Ravensdale employ. Up until a few years ago.
Giving up, Aria asked a woman holding a basket of tomatoes for directions who blushed while pointing the way.
It took a few minutes but she found Old Tomas house as described.
A quaint, simple cabin made of Old bricks.
In front, sat Old Tomas on his porch, coughing and inhaling thick smoke from his pipe.
"Old Tomas?"
He looked up.
"What did I tell you about smoking?" Aria joked, unable to suppress her happiness.
Despite the original Aria having many bad memories of Ravensdale, old Tomas was a kind man who used to let her watch him forge.
Tomas stood to his feet, tipping his cap.
" And who are you?" He grunted, squinting.
He was a stocky, weathered old man in his sixties who only spoke when necessary.
Aria let her hood fall, and he rushed to his feet, surprised.
"M'lady? What brings you here? My, how you have grown."
The deep laugh lines around his kind brown eyes wrinkled. He pulled her into a bear hug, his large, rough arms patted her back.
"I see that despite that house, you have refused to break."
Despite herself, her throat tightened in emotion.
"I say! It is good to see you still breathing. I have come to ask you a rather risky favour. Hear me out. Please come back to work on the forge. I need guidance and it has been dead since you left."
His busy brows raised with wariness, rubbing a gnarled hand riddled with burn scars against his grey beard, thinking
" I know I let you watch me work, but I did it out of fondness but ladies don't smith. Least of all, a duchess," he added gruffly.
"This pauper duchess does, Old Tomas."
"Hmm…." He grunted.
Seeing her chance, she took it.
"Now let me explain what I want."
From her satchel, Aria brought out a paper detailed with drawings and scribbles.
His surprise was hard to contain as she explained foreign concepts and designs that made sense.
"This is a plan for farm tools–" Annealing, quenching, knowledge crisp from the book poured out in enthusiasm.
Old Tomas' eyes widened at the end of her explanation.
"By the gods, you are more experienced than my apprentices and these strange concepts of forging– I would like for you to go into more detail."
A proud smile twitched on Aria's face.
His excitement was apparent in his flushed cheeks. Despite his earlier reservations, Old tomas had already caved.
He slapped his hands together, enthused."Ha!Ha!Ha! Just when I thought I was going to live a dreary life till I died!"
He turned to the door, " Young Finn! Lad!"
A ruddy, thin boy appeared, eyes widening at their unexpected visitor.
"I accept on condition that he learns from me. Forges are not easy to establish."
" Of course, old tomas. I would like nothing more than to have the Bearra Family work again with House Ravensdale." She patted his back as he laughed heartily.
Under an hour, Finn saddled up two horses, armed with an authorization letter from Aria and headed towards Ravensdale.
She had more business to take care of before heading back.
Aria found her way to the common market, where the employment offices were filled with day and temporary workers.
They eyed her with suspicion and murmurings as she came close. Hollow, suspicious eyes followed her.
She steadied her nerves.
These people were debtors, landless farmers, and starving people. They couldn't afford to turn down paid work.
"Rooms, food, protection and shelter! I offer to the first twenty able-bodied men and women to accept!" Aria announced.
The crowd clamored around her immediately.
"From house Ravensdale."
" Ravensdale?"
" Last I heard, that house was on the brink of collapse!" Laughter echoed through the gathering crowd.
"That is not true! Everyone will be compensated for a fair day's work, and you shall sign a binding contract. You will lend your strength in farming!"
A weathered, muscled man in torn clothes l stepped forward. "You mean it? No tricks?"
"No tricks."
"Then pick me!"
"No, me!"
The crowd clamored around begging to be picked.
Aria selected the strongest-looking people from the crowd, handing out simple contracts to begin the next day.
Deal in hand, she arrived at Ravensdale in the evening.
Heat from the forge's entrance blew hot air across.
Inside, a roaring, hearty forge greeted her. Aria stopped at the repaired doorway.
"My lady!" Finn bowed low, brow and armpits coated in sweat. He was hammering into shape a lump of metal
Same as Old Tomas, clanging at strangely shaped, yellow-hot metal.
"Mind if I join you?"
Finn nodded and continued clanging at metal.
Aria remained, explaining to Old Tomas exactly how the tools should be shaped and what forms to take, enough to repair their large, unused farmland.
Tools piled: sickles, nails, plows, hoes much to her satisfaction.
Time passed quickly, and soon, it was midnight. Aria left them to catch some sleep.
But far away, a messenger Raven hooted by his window.
Prince Caspian rose from his desk in his private study to the bird, tapping against the glass.
Her retriever the bird, feeding it a handful of nuts.
Tied to its leg was a small paper from his planted spies.
As he read the letter, he frowned, incredulous.
"Farming?"