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TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 15 (RAW)
🕑 Added 2025-02-27 13:15:21 +0000 UTCChapter 15 - Plans for the Future
A tree is known by its fruit; a man by his deeds. A good deed is never lost; he who sows courtesy reaps friendship, and he who plants kindness gathers love.
- Saint Basil.
Eloise perched on the edge of her now-plush bed, her glossy dark hair framing her pale, doll-like face. The soft glow of the evening light danced across the now-pastel-shaded wallpaper. Seraphina had gone to quite the trouble to make sure that their living conditions were somewhat improved.
“Oh, how was it? What did you think?” Eloise exclaimed, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. “I must say, the facilities are quite spectacular!” Her excitement was palpable as she turned bright, eager eyes on Seraphina, whose short blonde contrasted strikingly with her vivid green gaze.
Seraphina offered a warm, if slightly reserved, smile. She had spent most of the day being led around the sprawling campus by the Crown Prince himself and felt more than a little overwhelmed. “It was certainly impressive,” she replied diplomatically. “I’m glad you find everything to your liking.”
“Oh, yes! I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s classes!” Eloise said, clasping her hands together in excitement.
A gentle knock at the door drew their attention. Eloise rose, and when she opened it, Desdemona swept into the room with her usual dramatic flair. The proud, dark-haired girl gave a quick curtsy, her haughty nature on full display as she spoke. “Hello there, Sera! Who would have thought we’d be neighbors?” she greeted, a flash of satisfaction in her eyes. “I see you have done quite well with the place,” she continued, a flash of jealousy in her eyes as she looked around. “I’ve come bearing gifts.”
At Desdemona’s command, the door swung wider to admit Miriam, her braided pigtails swinging forlornly as she looked exhausted. She balanced a polished silver tray laden with delicate cups of tea and biscuits. The floral aroma wafted through the air, sweet yet exotic, like a secret carried on a gentle breeze. Despite being a student at the Academy in her own right, Miriam still seemed bound to servitude for those of higher station.
“It’s not much, just a bit of Safiran tea,” Desdemona announced with a triumphant smile, clearly relishing her role as benefactress.
Seraphina suppressed a slight sigh. The rare tea, imported from the distant island of Qis, was notoriously expensive—truly worth its weight in gold. Though she adored its unique flavor, she couldn’t help but bristle at the intrusion on her evening. She also noted how Desdemona had rather brazenly enlisted Miriam’s help, but she managed to rationalize it as simple hospitality toward a guest.
Still, Seraphina’s mind buzzed with all the tasks she had to juggle in the coming days, from maintaining her standing in the Academy to pursuing her more private “interests.” At least for this evening, she supposed, she would have to settle for indulgent tea and unexpected company.
“I have heard from a little bird that you’ve taken one of those red-eyed riffraff Hazagadami into your service,” Desdemona began, her voice dripping with scandal. “Tell me it isn’t true.”
Seraphina’s green eyes remained placid, though inwardly she bristled at the veiled insult to Ibn—and, by extension, herself. The flickering lamplight cast dancing shadows across the richly upholstered walls, but the young girl’s composure never wavered. She had no desire to spar verbally with Desdemona, yet she felt compelled to put her in her place.
“I am also thinking of taking a dog in as a pet,” Seraphina responded with a sweet, cool smile. “One that is forced to howl at the moon. You see, I am a collector of all things exotic and rare, Desdemona.”
Make of that what you will and chew on it like a toy, she reflected grimly. The insinuation hung in the air, tangible as a drawn blade.
For a moment, Desdemona’s dark eyes narrowed in confusion. A slight cough betrayed her sudden discomfort. “Ah, of course. It must have been a passing fancy,” she said, forcing a laugh to cover her social misstep. “You always did have a rather… eccentric side. I admit I’ve occasionally been forced to do odd things myself—to keep life varied and exciting, you know.”
Sensing the tension, Eloise cleared her throat and offered a bright smile. Her pale, doll-like face appeared especially delicate in the crystal lights. “Desdemona, this tea is really quite exquisite,” she ventured, striving to steer the conversation to calmer waters. “You really must tell me where you get it.”
Desdemona’s posture straightened at the praise, pride returning to her features. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly share too many details about my trade factor. He brings only the best from Qis,” she replied with a confident laugh. “But I’ll be sure to send you some from time to time!”
Seraphina took measured breaths to keep from blurting out the real name of Desdemona’s trading company. It would have been all too easy to expose her rival’s secrets. Instead, she watched with mild amusement as Eloise clapped her hands in delight.
“Oh really! You are simply the best of friends to have,” squealed Eloise, her dark hair swishing around her shoulders. Seraphina allowed herself a small, knowing smile. She knew her lady-in-waiting deserved a fair amount of credit for subtly coaxing Desdemona into amiability. Certainly, Seraphina could have taken the reins herself, but at the moment she was too mentally drained to bother.
Desdemona turned her attention back to Seraphina, a cajoling lilt in her voice. “Oh, Seraphina, do drink up. You’ve hardly touched your tea!”
A flicker of suspicion crossed Seraphina’s mind, but she dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. Poison seemed far too drastic for a mere show of one-upmanship—particularly in a place like this. Truth be told, Seraphina had already established the social hierarchy, the pecking order, between them, and humoring Desdemona’s gesture would cost her very little.
She lifted the delicate cup to her lips and took a sip. The taste was remarkable: complex floral notes mingled with an undercurrent of something sweet and rare. Miriam, despite her own weariness, had clearly outdone herself preparing it.
“As Eloise said, it’s truly delightful,” Seraphina declared, feigning a hint of surprise. “I really must have my father place an order with Cashe & Sons; I hear they specialize in teas like this.” She looked Desdemona in the eye, smiling with perfect manners. “Thank you, Desdemona. You’ve made this evening quite…memorable.”
Even through her carefully maintained poise, Desdemona nearly spilled her tea. Seraphina knew she could be vindictive when it served her—and evidently, Desdemona had just caught a glimpse of that edge.
Clearing her throat, Seraphina set down her cup and regarded the other girls with a benevolent smile, assuming her rightful place at the head of this little circle. “Now then,” she said, “tell me—what classes have you chosen for this year?”
***
Seraphina chose to take Mathematica, Basic Spell Theory, and a supplementary class in Weapons. She believed Mathematica would, as well as being easy, pair perfectly with Spell Theory, given that casting magic in their world required a series of precise mental calculations to reshape the physical realm through the vessel of Mana. Strengthening her mind with the discipline of Mathematica seemed a natural way to endure the mental strain such magic demanded.
Eloise, rather predictably, selected Alchemy alongside Basic Spell Theory. Meanwhile, Desdemona chose Classical History and Fine Arts—an apparent decision not to challenge Seraphina head-on. As for Miriam, no one bothered to ask what classes she had taken; she was simply considered too unimportant to warrant curiosity from the girls.
At last, Seraphina found a quiet moment to reflect. With Desdemon gone off with Miriam, she settled under the cold, blue glow of a Zajasite lamp, the hush of night broken only by Eloise’s gentle snoring. Slowly, she spread out the reports her maid and proxy had prepared, each sheet a testament to her ever-growing influence.
Her candy empire was thriving beyond her wildest imaginings. In a remarkably short time, the people of Aranthia had developed a ravenous sweet tooth, and Seraphina’s confections had become the talk of every crowded street and bustling market stall. Yet prosperity brought its own complications.
Word had spread among Aranthia’s poorest, many of them refugees from the Empire, that her orphanage offered food, shelter, and the promise of a learning trade—causing families to surrender their children in droves. Older orphans could be put to work almost immediately, but it was the abandoned infants, left wailing on stony orphanage steps, that caused Seraphina no end of worry.
After all, they would require years of care before they could contribute in any meaningful way and would have a significant effect on her bottom line. Miriam, in one of her notes, had advised that she refuse admittance of these creatures altogether. The monstrous Palisa Slug, despite her ability to ape humans, at times could show a lack of insight into the nature of man. A lack of strategic vision.
Which is why, Seraphina supposed, it was she that was at the top. Everybody had their role, and Seraphina’s role was one of leadership.
True, these infants represented a significant investment on her part, but the potential return was even greater. After all, they could begin working at a younger age and, quite literally, owe the company their lives. It was a cradle-to-grave system.
Overall, she fancied herself a force for good. After all, these children were fed, clothed, and taught to stand on their own feet—benefits they would never have known in the slums of Aranthia. As she reached the final page of the reports, she allowed herself a small, knowing smile. The complex financial maneuvering she employed to dodge the King’s tax—taking out an enormous nominal-interest loan against her own thriving company—proved that the rules shielding the ultra-rich in her last world applied here, too. And Seraphina fully intended to use every last one of them to shape her growing empire.
As for Ibn, Seraphina longed for him to truly enjoy life at the Academy. She envisioned him thriving not only in martial prowess but also in the subtleties of intellect. As her Page, he would be placed under the tutelage of eager, younger student teachers who were themselves learning how to instruct rather than the “real” professors of the Academy. Three days each week, Ibn would immerse himself in their lessons, gaining a solid foundation in rhetoric, history, the arcane arts—anything Seraphina deemed vital for shaping a well-rounded man.
In the original game, Ibn had seemed tragically one-dimensional, far too enamored of his sword and no less fervent in his devotion to the protagonist. Seraphina intended to remedy that by giving him a broader perspective: a mind as keen as any blade he might wield. After all, Seraphina could not always be by his side to defend him from the likes of Desdemona, who was ever eager to tear down anyone she deemed an obstacle.
Of course, Seraphina did not intend to neglect the martial side of Ibn’s upbringing. She fully expected him to embark on weekly journeys into dungeons—“Trials,” they were called. On other days, she intended for him to gather exotic ingredients from dangerous creatures for Eloise’s potions and experiments. Seraphina thought this would do wonders for shaping Ibn's character, and the sooner he could earn his Mantis Mark, the better.
Amidst these carefully laid plans, Seraphina realized she had nearly forgotten a festering “problem” back home. Part of the Aranthian forests—within the domain of the de Sariens Duchy—was overrun by a band of mystical squatters: the Fae. These evil creatures had occupied a large swath of the woodland which they guarded with potent illusions. In the game’s lore, they were allegedly protecting humanity from the release of some ancient menace. Seraphina, however, could not bring herself to care about their “sacred duty.” She had loathed that particular region of The Maiden of the Wisterias, for it effectively stripped players of a great amount agency. The area was designed as a “safe-zone” with its tedious “mini-games” and enforced pacifism. In her many playthroughs, she had found it maddening.
Not to mention that they did not pay taxes to her father.
Now, finally in a position of power in this world, the young girl was determined to exact her revenge. She began drafting a missive to Bronzegate Hold, a grim and stoic dwarven settlement renowned for its mercenaries and ironclad warriors. It wasn’t enough to simply write the letter—she would need to have it translated by one of Meridian’s scholars proficient in the dwarven tongue. If anyone could rid her land of those pestilent Fae, it would be the dwarves, whose axes and runic arts had long been their bane.
Seraphina could already picture them marching through the gnarled, ancient oaks, forging a path with steel and fire. The thought sent a thrill through her. She felt certain the dwarves could be persuaded to do it for very little coin, perhaps even free of charge, if she dangled the right enticement before them. She had encountered their kind before: fierce, proud, and with a keen nose for profit—or a chance to settle old grudges.
Besides, she mused, there might be all kinds of alchemical uses for pixie wings—Eloise would be thrilled to experiment with such rare ingredients. Seraphina allowed a slow, predatory smile to curl her lips as she dipped her quill once more. Yes, with a bit of charm, the dwarves would happily scour the forest of its unwelcome tenants, leaving Seraphina’s family domain pure at last.
