I found myself once again en route to Hertel Manor—this time, on a very important mission: shopping. Dresses, shoes, bags, accessories—everything we could possibly need for the upcoming tea party. And not just any tea party. Thanks to Cece’s usual charm and strategic persistence, she somehow managed to convince her mother to host it on the very same day as the Sword Tournament. A bold move, honestly. Social maneuvering at its finest.

  To my surprise, I was actually looking forward to today’s trip. Aunt Elle, despite her whirlwind of a schedule, had carved out time to accompany us. That alone made the outing feel a touch more special.

  Oh, and fun trivia: Aunt Elle has been one of my most vocal supporters in the Great Corset Debate. When I insisted we could live corset-free, she backed me with fir. According to her, nothing is more beautiful—or more powerful—than a woman confidently funting her natural silhouette. She called it a revolutionary act of fashion. I called it the blessed right to breathe properly.

  As our carriage rolled down Rosendale Walk, I pressed closer to the window, soaking in the familiar scene. The famed noble district was alive with energy. Carriages lined the cobbled streets, while elegant shoppers flitted in and out of boutiques glowing softly with mplight. Every window dispyed this season’s test: gemstone hairpins, shimmering shawls, delicately embroidered gowns. It was clear I wasn’t the only one preparing for a whirlwind of tea parties, soirées, and subtle rivalries hidden behind polite smiles.

  As I admired the passing scenery, the carriage gradually slowed to a stop in front of Eri’s manor. The gates opened with quiet grandeur, and the familiar stone path curved toward the entrance, dappled in golden morning light.

  Jane and Cecil disembarked first, their movements practiced and graceful, before helping me down with practiced ease. One of our family’s knights offered a steady hand—part of the escort assigned to accompany me today in my parents’ absence.

  In their stead, I had been entrusted to the care of two of our finest: Sir Diego and Dame Jan. Sir Diego, ever the picture of restraint, rarely spoke unless necessary, his expression a permanent mask of quiet vigince—though Jane insisted he secretly adored the opera. Dame Jan, by contrast, was as sharp with her tongue as she was with her bde. She once sent a grown man sprawling for getting a little too familiar at a festival. No one dared test her twice.

  Both were Advanced-Ranked swordsmen, chosen not just for their skill, but for their unwavering loyalty. Their silent presence at my side was as reassuring as any fortress wall.

  At the base of the manor steps, Charley stood waiting—composed, courteous, and utterly unreadable as always. The Count’s trusted butler inclined his head with that signature poise, and I offered him a small, knowing smile in return. Whatever secrets he kept behind that poker face, he wore them well.

  However I can’t help but pity this dutiful butler, poor Charley. He’d probably weathered more of Eri’s chaos than most seasoned generals. Especially with her… let’s say, "enthusiastic" approach to pnning.

  With a slight bow, Charley motioned for us to follow him.

  “Miss Nia,” he began smoothly, “the young miss is currently visiting her pets in the insectarium. she said she’d join you shortly—or, if you wish, you may join her. However… she mentioned that Miss Raki is in a somewhat irritable state this morning. She’s preparing to molt.”

  “Miss Raki?” I echoed, blinking.

  “Yes, Miss. Miss Raki—her pet Arachmorra. A rather rare species of spider, found only in the dune-regions of Al-Mazir, a kingdom in the Western Continent. They are known for their temperamental—”

  “Alright, alright, I get it,” I interrupted with a ugh, waving a hand. “I swear, she has you delivering insect lectures now.”

  Sigh. He’s probably memorized every scientific detail in Eri’s bug encyclopedia just to accommodate his young miss whims.

  “Charley,” I said, trying not to grin, “you do know you can tell Eri when she’s being a bit much, right? No one will fault you for staging a quiet rebellion.”

  His expression didn’t budge, but I caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

  “I’ll wait here, thank you,” I added, making my way to the sitting room, where Jane and Cecil had already begun preparing tea.

  “Oh, by the way,” I said, turning back. “Is Rein awake yet? I brought him something.”

  The bribe book… in exchange for that stolen cake slice st time.

  “The young master typically wakes about two hours ter than now,” Charley replied. “But if you’d like, I can ask his nanny to wake him.”

  “There’s no need. Let him sleep—just thought I’d check.”

  “Understood, Miss. If you need anything, simply send word through your attendants. I’ll gdly assist,” he said with a polite bow before retreating.

  I nodded and turned back to the tea.

  Now alone with Jane and Cecil, I quietly basked in the peace of the moment. Tea and snacks were already arranged, though notably cking the usual array of sweets. Hmph. I suspect my mother warned Aunt Elle not to indulge me while I’m here.

  Terrifying woman, really.

  Not long after, Cece swept into the room, her face absolutely radiant with excitement. She practically glided to the seat across from me, helping herself to a cup of tea as if she owned the pce—because, honestly, with her confidence, she might as well have.

  “I already have so many ideas for the dresses we should wear to the tea party,” she decred, practically vibrating with energy.

  What followed was a passionate, borderline theatrical lecture on dress silhouettes, color palettes, fabric textures, accessory pairings—and, of course, what ensembles would be strategically perfect for certain social scenarios. (Yes, she had categorized them.)

  “Maybe we could all wear matching dresses?” I ventured, smiling hopefully as I set down my cup. “Same colors, same motif?”

  Cece blinked slowly, then gave me the fttest look imaginable..

  “Nia… you seriously have no fashion sense,” she said, deadpan. “Good thing your attendants are always around to help you pick out your clothes. If they weren’t—” She sighed, cut herself off, and gave me a look so knowing it didn’t need finishing.

  Before I could even muster a defense, the doors flew open.

  “NIA!!”

  Eri came bursting into the room like a whirlwind, her cheeks flushed, her dress streaked with dirt, and her hands thrown dramatically in the air.

  “Emergency!” she cried. “There’s an uprising in Emberhold!”

  She skidded to a stop when she spotted Cece already seated. “Oh! Cece, perfect—you’re here. We need your counsel.”

  Cece didn’t even flinch. She just gave Eri the same dry look she’d given me moments ago and let out a long, weary sigh.

  “You girls are a lot of work,” she muttered, sipping her tea like a battle-hardened veteran.

  With both Cece and Eri now assembled, I had a feeling the day was about to spiral—whether into fashion triumph or insect diplomacy, I wasn’t quite sure.

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