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TO&FQ: Book 1 - Chapter 41 (RAW)
🕑 Added 2024-12-18 10:07:49 +0000 UTCChapter 41 - Yoga Practice
“Yoga takes you into the present moment. The only place where life exists.”
- Unknown.
The morning sun danced through the curtains, casting playful patterns of light across the room as Seraphina’s voice rang out, each word dripping with exasperation. She leveled a fierce glare at Ibn, her young tester, who hunched over a small plate of newly invented confections.
“There are stories of simple beasts repaying even the tiniest kindness,” she cried, exhaling a dramatic sigh. “Why must you be so ungrateful after everything I have done for you, Ibn?”
“B-But, Sera… Lady Seraphina,” the boy whimpered, pressing both hands to his aching stomach, “my tummy hurts…”
Seraphina crossed her arms and tossed her hair, giving him a look as though his protest were beneath her notice. “What does it matter? It’s not as if you have to train with Kellan today. Besides, boys your age should adore sweets!”
The previous day, after concluding her business with Lehman’s Bank, Seraphina had practically strong-armed Eloise into experimenting with new confections meant for a more refined palate. Lacking cacao, Seraphina had relied on memories of treats from her former world—gummy bears, jelly beans, and all manner of colorful, syrupy delicacies—to guide Eloise’s kitchen adventures.
Though initially uncertain, Eloise soon caught her mistress’s infectious enthusiasm. Ingredients were sourced through Seraphina’s command, with her father’s Knights and the inn's servants and staff dispatched to the market at her beck and call. They grumbled but could not say no her sweet, commanding voice and aristocratic smile.
Miriam, the Palisa Slug, might have been an ideal tester with her high Constitution—if only the creature weren’t busy on other errands with the Lehman’s bank setting up Seraphina’s business ventures in the capital. Also, Seraphina doubted if she could trust a monster’s palate in the first place. After all, Miriam thought human corpses were yummy.
So Ibn, poor Ibn, became the unwilling test subject. Early batches were questionable at best: Eloise had attempted using slime essence for texture to recreate the blonde girl’s descriptions, a venture that resulted in more vomit than praise from Ibn. The boy really had to work on his Constitution. It was a good thing that Seraphina herself was helping him with that.
When Eloise inquired about Seraphina’s divine inspiration for these sweets, Seraphina dodged with an airy laugh, claiming to have read about them in an obscure volume, or perhaps heard of them from Rashana. Eloise eyed her mistress skeptically, but curiosity soon won out over doubt. Eloise’s passion for invention conquered any niggling suspicions.
Then Seraphina remembered boiled candies—simple, sparkling, jewel-like sweets that, back in her world, were as common as sunlight. Though she had no idea how to craft them precisely, her enthusiastic description was all Eloise needed. After hours of tinkering with sugar and heat, Eloise had success: basic hard candy, glossy and bright.
Now Ibn stared at the plate before him, wringing his hands as though he were approaching a hungry dragon’s lair. At last, he took a tentative bite. To his surprise, his eyes widened with delight, and he began devouring them with abandon, forgetting his aches and complaints as he munched on them with an audible crunch. His sudden transformation from wincing critic to eager glutton made Seraphina chuckle beneath her breath.
A triumphant warmth spread through Seraphina’s chest as she watched the boy enjoy the new confections. She had cracked the code of candy-making—an innovation for this backward medieval society. The only catch now was ensuring their teeth didn’t rot out of their heads.
Such sugary confectionery would eventually lead to many people to rot their teeth. This, instead of being a problem, she viewed as a potential opportunity. She would need to introduce dental care, of course. Perhaps a form of toothpaste? Another innovation, another improvement. Two birds with one stone, as the saying went.
Seraphina smiled to herself, basking in her own cleverness. A noble heart, a guiding hand—she was uplifting their world one indulgence at a time. At times she really did outdid herself. Why did she always have to be so charitable? It was a character flaw that she had to work on, she thought to herself.
She would have to get Eloise to prepare a batch to reward the her father’s Knights and the inn’s staff. They would also serve as word of mouth for yet another business venture she was thinking of setting up.
*****
The trick to growing an empire, Seraphina knew, lay in the subtle art of delegation. No matter her brilliance or ambition,she could not be everywhere at once nor could she oversee everything at once. Thus, she had persuaded the young Eloise to venture into town, scouting a prime location for a sweets factory. Additionally, Eloise would need to secure a steady supply of waxed paper for wrappers—either by striking a deal with a reliable papermaker or outright purchasing a suitable mill. So much needed doing, and so little time was her own. Better, she decided, to let others spend theirs in her service. It was a good thing that Eloise was suitably motivated, her love of sweets would be the fuel that would driver her to do her best.
Then there was the matter of securing large amounts of sugar… she would have to leave Eloise or Miriam to sort something out.
Seated at her desk, Seraphina composed a brief note to Sergeant Frest, authorizing him to support Eloise in sorting out the finer details. Funds would be needed, of course. She would have to wrest another infusion of capital from Lehman’s Bank, though the very thought made her jaw tighten. Sajan, the local branch manager here in Aran, had been insufferably rude—uncooperative to a shocking degree—and his manner had done more than irritate her. It had stirred her desire for vengeance.
She penned a letter to her friend Rashana, reporting in careful detail the full extent of Sajan’s insolence. Perhaps this would cost the man dearly—his precious reputation could wither overnight. If fortune smiled, it might even result in him floating face-down in some foul ditch before the week’s end. Such were the whims of those in their position: money was never the issue, but prestige? Influence? Those were the currencies of true power, and Sajan had dared to trifle with her. The insult could not be forgotten. Seraphina had also hinted that she would encourage her father to move his business to the Lehman’s bank, soothing some of the ruffled feathers and further sealing Sajan’s fate.
With a flourish, she signed her name at the bottom of the letter and pressed the “borrowed” seal—her father’s signet ring—into hot wax. The finality of that imprint filled her with quiet satisfaction. She handed the rolled missive to a waiting servant, slipping the lad a whole copper piece to ensure its swift delivery by the Royal Post.
So much was left to do before her formal presentation at Court in a few days. The capital of Aran stretched out before her like an orchard weighted with ripe fruit, each opportunity begging to be plucked. Business ventures, political machinations, whispered alliances—she could almost taste the sweetness of power on her tongue.
She leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms overhead, and felt the heaviness in her shoulders. Was it the burden of responsibility pressing down, or something more personal? Glancing downward, she acknowledged the twin problems. Was it something that she was eating? No, that was not it. Her limbs were still lithe and slender, her waist narrow. Her figure, it seemed, was following the familial pattern—traits inherited from her mother, Anaselena, who had also matured into a figure of lush curves. Blessings, after all, often carried the subtle flavor of curses.
With a resigned sigh, Seraphina recognized she had neglected something crucial amid the whirlwind of responsibilities. Her daily yoga routine, a ritual that granted her a rare moment of calm and clarity, had fallen by the wayside. Determined to restore her center, she stripped down to her undergarments and closed her eyes.
Seraphina moved to the bear fur near the fireplace, the rug offering only a modicum of comfort against the inn’s uneven floorboards. The fire crackled and popped, its gentle warmth reaching her toes as she lowered herself into her first pose. It was no replacement for a true hot yoga room, but it would have to do. She began simply, curling into Child’s Pose, forehead resting lightly on her forearms. Her muscles, tense from hours of planning and plotting, eased beneath this act of surrender.
Rising onto her hands and knees, she shifted her weight back, lifting her hips into Downward-Facing Dog. Her limbs formed a strong, stable peak, breath flowing steadily as she pressed her heels toward the floor, stretching tight calves and hamstrings. With a slow, deliberate inhalation, she stepped her right foot forward into a low lunge, then swept her arms overhead, unfurling into Warrior I. Nothing mattered, not this room, not this world.
Nothing.
The only important thing was the fluidity in her body, the soft hum of the fireplace’s warmth, and the rhythm of her breath. She moved through one pose after another, each transition a seamless dance. From Warrior II to Triangle, from Chair to Tree, she embraced the gentle flow, shedding the world’s weight if only for a few quiet, precious minutes.
Seraphina’s hard-won tranquility shattered as the door swung open without so much as a courteous knock. She froze in mid-stretch, her body poised in the One-Arm Compass position, clad only in her undergarments. Standing before her, wide-eyed and now pink-cheeked, was Ibn, her new page—a mere boy of about twelve years who looked as if he’d walked in on a dragon mid-yawn.
“L–L–Lady Seraphina,” he stuttered, voice caught somewhere between awe, embarrassment, and terror.
She fixed him with a glare, her posture steady despite the intrusion. “What is it now, Ibn? And have you forgotten the concept of knocking?”
The boy’s face burned hotter than the fireplace. “N–no, my lady. It’s just… Milly… I mean Ms. Bottlesworth has returned from Lehman’s. You told me to report to you as soon as she arrived.”
Seraphina arched an eyebrow and slowly lowered her arm as she shifted into the next form. “Hmm, indeed I did. And where is she now?”
“In her room, sleeping. She looked exhausted,” he managed to answer, eyes darting nervously. She caught the lingering way he watched her every movement, as if mesmerized by the graceful contortions of her body. A thought drifted into her mind: perhaps this young boy was interested in yoga. It would be good exercise for him, she thought.
“Exhausted, is she?” Seraphina mused, shifting her weight fluidly into the Flying Crow. “Since Kellan’s absence, you’ve been run ragged doing chores for the knights and Sergeant Frest. It’s about time I taught you something that will strengthen you up. You may join me.”
“M–me?” Ibn squeaked.
She rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile curling at the corners of her lips. “I see no one else here, you dolt. Watch closely. This is one of the easiest forms,” she said demonstrating the Crescent Lunge. “Yoga—it is an ancient art to unite mind, body, and spirit. For now, that’s all you need to know. Just follow me.”
To her mild surprise, the boy complied with steady determination. His training with Kellan and natural talent had granted him a measure of physical prowess, and he mimicked her poses with earnest concentration. From Warrior I to Tree Pose, from Bridge to Crow, each form tested their limbs and concentration. Red stained his sweat-sheened features, clear for all to see despite his olive complexion. Maybe she was pushing him too hard? Seraphina considered for a micro-second before dismissing the idle thought.
By the time they finished, Ibn’s breath was coming in ragged gasps. Seraphina, for her part, felt the strain too—her newly altered body and top-heavy center of balance made some poses more challenging than she had expected. Twice, irritating system notifications had popped into her vision, informing her of small but welcome gains in Dexterity and Wisdom. She could only guess at what improvements the boy might have made.
It was time to finish.
She straightened, standing up and rolling her shoulders. “Ibn, bathe at once. Once you are presentable, wake that lazy bones Miriam and send her to me.”
The page bowed his head, struggling to meet her gaze, remaining silent.
“Must I repeat myself?” she warned, voice low and dangerous.
“No, Lady Seraphina!” he squeaked, then scurried toward the door.
Just before he left, she called after him, an almost predatory smile on her lips. “Ibn, I’ll expect you again tomorrow. We’ll see about strengthening you up properly.”
“Yes, milady!” he replied merrily, the unexpected eagerness in his tone catching her off guard.
