After Arian’s unsettling breakfast, the servants stayed to attend to them getting ready for the day. She was given items that were fully adjustable since she was taller, wider, and more well-endowed than Gwen.

Arian looked a bit like a schoolmarm with her plaited black hair, long grey skirt, and loose white blouse. The waist of the dress could be cinched so the flowy clothing gave her the illusion of a lady-like hourglass figure.

Gwen’s uncle, whose name was Gerald, had summoned them to his study before they left for the day. When Arian learned his name, she had couldn't stop herself from grinning, thinking of the dummy in her apartment.

Remembering Marquess Gerald Hartfield’s name was going to be easy for her. Not laughing as she recalled punching her silent foam Gerald in between frustrating bouts of studying would be challenging though. Marquess Hartfield was adopting her, so there would be no slapping him around.

As proper as she could be made with the tools at hand, they left to see the marquess. His study was filled with dark wood and smelled of the scent of old books. When they came into the room, a pudgy but well-dressed man was sitting with Gerald at a polished wooden desk.

Beside the desk was an item of great interest to Arian, a globe. She would casually make her way over to it and hopefully gain some critical clues about her situation from it.

“Ah Gwen, Arian, there you are."

Both men stood to greet them, as gentlemen do. Gwen curtsied gracefully at the marquess and his companion. Arian mimicked the movement, appearing adequately dignified, her years of movement training a boon in this situation.

“This is Lord Bellingham, a man of law. He has drawn up the paperwork to formally adopt Arian into the Hartfield house and bestow upon her the rights of the noble class. There are just a few things needed before sending the document to his majesty.”

“The king must approve such a matter?” Gwen asked, her perplexed tone matching a confused face.

“Only in matters of adopting a foreigner into the noble class,” the pudgy lawyer interjected.

Arian nodded. Depending on the perks of nobility, foreigners might pose a threat to come into the country and ascend in power. Gwen walked to the desk and reached for a pen and paper.

“I should like to send a letter along with the document, for Prince Walter, to explain Arian’s deeds on my behalf. This should justify the adoption as her reward for saving my life.”

During Gwen’s interruption, Arian had successfully migrated to the globe standing next to the desk. Looking at it she felt a mix of emotions. The continents across the globe were all familiar, which gave her great relief.

The world she was in seemed to be the same as the one she knew, but the names scrawled across them were unfamiliar. The same, but different, and that gave her anxiety.

Was this difference just historical ignorance on her part? Or was it something else? Either way, a simple boat ride would not take her to where she belonged.

“Which brings us to the first matter at hand," Lord Bellingham spoke, "we must list your home country.”

Placing her hand on the globe, she slowly turned it to a familiar landmass. Her finger tapped it gently but repeatedly, a small show of her anxiousness.

“This is my home country,” she stated softly, worried about the line of questions that might come.

Silence filled the room as both the marquess and the lawyer gaped at the location, astonishment plain in their eyes.

“My lady," Bellingham began nervously, "do you mean to tell me that you are from the forbidden continent on the other side of the endless sea?”

Arian smirked at the overly mysterious names. “Yes, I am.”

“How did you get here? There is no way to travel there.”

“Is that so? Then how do you have it on a map?”

“The only traveler that knew how to navigate the way was murdered by the Reaper immediately preceding the start of the war.”

Well, that sounds ominous, she thought, but also convenient.

People not knowing much about where she was from would make things simpler for her. She felt indebted to this reaper, but no one was given a name like that for being a Samaritan.

She felt the need to take a seat and listen to the story like a serial killer podcast but knew that it was irrelevant to the current task at hand. They were still waiting for her to respond to the question of how she managed to get here.

“I was taken,” she said vaguely, “I do not know how the traveling was accomplished, just that when I escaped that I was here.”

Uncomfortable with delving into a traumatic event, everyone seemed to pretend as if Arian had said that she thought the weather was lovely and they nodded politely.

“Please sign here, my lady,” Bellingham said, as he directed her to the appropriate space on the document.

She signed her name in the prettiest cursive she could manage, but the lawyer frowned at it.

“My lady, you must sign with Hartfield as your surname.”

For some reason that made Arian freeze. Dr. Arian Rhodes had been an identity she had been striving for ever since she graduated high school. The barest moment had been given to enjoy the success before she had to move to a new name.

Deep inside she felt sick, knowing that this change was a deviation from her true self. Her mind tried to quell the growing worry, asserting that this was a temporary situation. When she was back home, she could be herself again. Arian took a deep breath as she added the new surname.

Arian Rhodes Hartfield

Fear crept inside her heart looking at the name.  What if she couldn't figure out how to get back home?  Is this who she would become?