For about two weeks now, the atmosphere in the manor had become sullen. It was almost unbearable for fifteen-year-old Arabella. Her life was supposed to revolve around tea parties and flowers, at least as far as she was concerned.

Of course, her mother had told her time and again that she had to grow up and seize opportunities, but the truth was that she was much better at that than her mother anyway.

She tossed and turned on a sofa in her bedroom, looking at a row of beautiful dolls set with shiny gems. There was nothing to do in her room but lie there and feel stuffy.

"If only Prince Cedric were here," she lamented in a sorrowful voice, and one of her maids, Nina, coughed inconspicuously. The Crown Prince often came here to talk to her older sister, Rowena, as he was expected to marry her in the near future.

But her recent outburst in the temple had put an end to those talks, and now she was grounded until their father returned from the front in a distant forest in the western part of the Empire.

So, of course, his highness wouldn't be coming here anymore. But to her understanding, Arabella had had some nice conversations with him every time he came to the manor, so why shouldn't he come for her instead of her sister? It just didn't seem right to her.

Annoyed, she stood up and sighed. "Can you make some tea in the garden? I want to sit in the pavilion."

Nina, who was ready to do her lady's bidding, had to think. "I believe there may be a problem with the pavilion."

"What? It's our family's garden, what could possibly pose a problem?"

Nina shook her head and rephrased: "Maybe not a problem, more so that it's already being used?"

"By whom?" Her mother was at a noble gathering, having used the time to clear up bad rumors about her older sister and, if possible, turn them in Arabella's favor.

"I hear Lady Rowena has been using the gazebo for tea every day this week."

Nina couldn't possibly tell her mistress that she couldn't go, but of course she was aware of the fact that Rowena had been abusive to her. She couldn't let them sit in the same space, even if Lady Arabella was willing to overlook it.

She had such a pure heart, even if her behavior towards the Crown Prince was indeed a bit reckless. It was due to her naivety, so she couldn't help it.

Arabella finally sat up straight in shock, after lounging on the sofa for an hour, when she heard those words. "She's outside? Without anyone forcing her?"

"She even went out with two of her maids. And a renowned designer is due to arrive next week to present her with some new dresses."

Arabella couldn't believe what she had just heard. There was no way the Rowena she knew would ever go out on her own, especially with servants. She hated people following her around, so she was always left alone unless she really needed help.

'And what about the designer? She didn't like wearing elaborate gowns, and where would she even wear it when she never went on any outings?' On top of that, Arabella was waiting for her mother to bring in a designer, when all she said was that her wardrobe was already full and that she didn't need anything right now.

Intrigued, she jumped off the sofa and hopped in the direction of the gazebo in the garden. Sure enough, in the distance she could see wavy lavender hair on a pale head. But there was something odd about her shape, something she couldn't put her finger on.

As she got closer, however, it dawned on her. While her cheeks were still somewhat hollow, her overall complexion had changed considerably. Her pale skin was now as white as snow, with none of that dreadful gray tinge to it. Her hair had also regained a shine she hadn't seen in years. Was it a wig, perhaps?

Overall, she didn't look as sickly as before. 'Just what happened in two weeks?'

But it didn't take long for their interaction to grow stale. As she sat down and looked at her "older" sister, the petite little girl she would outgrow in no time, she wondered. 'What made her change so much?'

Rowena, on the other side of the table, was already eyeing the sandwiches and fruit, trying to decide which would have to be sacrificed to her Mana path first. She felt a tingling sensation, like a limb coming back to life after going numb.

It hurt in bits and was uncomfortable to her, but it wasn't something she had to worry about, as it was simply a side effect of her trying to constantly maintain her Mana.

First of all, because it would help her body to get better, breathing new life into even the dead cells of her body, like the hair that had hung thin until a few days ago.

The body would also become stronger, less susceptible to light damage, and her pathways would strengthen and widen to provide better support. Since she was constantly using Mana and gathering it through meditation, her core was also growing, giving her a larger pot to draw from, though it still wasn't very large.

Her advantage was the fact that this body was supposed to use magic in the first place. There was no other way to put it. And when she remembered, even though she didn't know much about the members of the Duchy, that the Grand Duke was a Paladin, it made sense.

A Paladin was, according to the book, basically the same as an Executor in her old world. Unless she was mistaken, his partner was Number 107. 'That's pretty close to being a Primeordial.'

When it came to the strongest Numbered overall, it could be said that the longer they existed, the better. So the most valuable were those Numbered from one to one hundred – the first one hundred Numbered ever marked.

But the reality was that the strongest Numbered, who could only contract with one person until said contract was fulfilled, were those up to 500. Since they hadn't met many high-ranking Numbered, they could only guess at that part.

No wonder he was treated as one of the greatest heroes in the Empire. 'Obviously, just because you contract a high ranking Numbered, doesn't mean you're automatically great. You just do what you can for whatever it is that is important to you.'

She looked down at her slightly stinging skin, and a wave of phantom pain sobered her expression.

"Are you that unhappy?" Arabella made a dramatic pout and sent it her way.

"With what?" Confusion in her voice as she tried to assess the situation. "I'm afraid I wasn't listening, I was busy with something else. Would you mind saying it again?"

Her pout got even bigger. "What? Is food more important to you than me?"

'Um, yeah?' She sighed and put down the sandwich she had been about to inhale. Thinking about things that made her a little sad didn't mean she wouldn't listen to her body's calling. "What was it you were saying, Arabella? I will happily listen now."

She didn't seem ready to drop her act, but weighed her options and decided to talk instead. "I said that I heard a designer was coming to the annex. I want some new clothes too, so can't we go shopping together?"

For a minute there was nothing on Rowena's mind. "To be honest, I don't think he'll bring anything you'll like. He will come for me and we look quite different."

"That's not important," Arabella insisted, "we can just send a note to prepare for two!"

Norina, clearing her throat, placed a fresh napkin next to her hungry lady. "I think that might be a bit complicated, Lady Arabella," she said, not only because she would feel better if there was more distance between the two of them until her mistress finally overcame her bad reputation, "as we could only reserve a two-hour session and that will not be enough for twice as many dresses."

Rowena nodded her head and took the sandwich back into her hands and placing the fresh napkin on her plate. "As she said. I'm happy to do this with you any other time, so I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities for us to go "shopping" together."

The chair made a lot of noise when Arabella suddenly stood up with a hurt expression on her face. "You're so mean! You just don't want to spend time with me because you don't see me as your sister at all!"

With those words yelled in Rowena's face, the latter watched her stomp away in awe, sandwich already halfway down her throat, unsure of what she had just witnessed. 'Whatever, I just can't be asked.'

No one seemed to say anything and tea time passed quietly as usual, and another week went by without any further problems. As Rowena walked into her bedroom and over to her large desk, she looked at a small pile of documents and a chest on top of it.

The chest was about as long as her entire arm and almost a foot high. Inside the chest was a collection of something she didn't even know how to handle. It was the spoils of war that her father had brought back for his children every time he went somewhere to fight Visitors. While her father was a Paladin, her first brother was a Holy Knight and her second brother grew up to be a High Priest.

Of course, none of them had any real relationship with the Church of Aurora, praising "a new dawn" after every battle. Except that it was the main religion of the Empire and that they actually had a good relationship with the Holy Empire – the Aurora Empire.

But since magic was mainly used for combat and primarily helped to fend off Visitors, it was put on the same level as divine powers described in old myths. Thus, in this world, a Spellkeeper was a High Priest, and a simple Enforcer was called a Holy Knight. It didn't sit well with her, but that was the way it was.

She looked at the twenty or so Mana Stones in her possession before she closed her chest and locked it with a small key that she decided to keep very close to her from now on.

She had already used two of them to accelerate her physical build-up process, as she needed to make the most of these three weeks. But the rest would be a great foundation for when she found a suitable blacksmith to order a custom weapon for herself. Rowena already had a smithy in mind.

But before talking about that kind of armor, there was another type of armor she needed to get first. One that would protect her from the dirty looks of other nobles and become a weapon once she entered high society as a woman.

"I am honored to meet the young lady of Varnhagen," a very handsome young man said as she entered her salon with Norina and Liza by her side, "I am Silver Cain, the designer you asked to meet today."

His bluish black hair was long enough to be pulled into a loose ponytail that fell over his left shoulder. When he bowed slightly, you could even see it hanging loose for a second.

"That you are indeed." She could already see a lot of people in the room, women in very neat uniforms, but no maids. They must be his assistants.

"Please, sit down first," he said, clapping his gloved hands, "let's get the dresses in."

Silver didn't often visit nobles in their homes. But since the beauty of the late Duchess was a tale told by the people to this day, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to design a gown for the reclusive daughter who was said to resemble her mother to a T.

As Rowena sat down, unaware of any of this, she glanced at several racks that had been wheeled into the drawing room by the aforementioned assistants. "You're very confident."

"Of course I am, my lady," said the man, who would have lost interest if she hadn't managed to exceed his expectations on arrival, "I am an artist after all."