The ride home was silent save for the sound of horseshoes beating against the ground in front. When they returned to the estate Irwin was waiting in the foyer, pacing back-and-forth. When the doors opened he looked up to the entrance to see his mother, Aris, and Sae.

"There you guys are," Irwin said, sounding relieved. "I was about to send out a search party."

"I didn't know you care so much about your own mother, son," the marchioness said mockingly. “You never have when you sneak out in the middle of the night.” 

"You know I do, mother," Irwin replied, letting out a sigh at being reminded of his antics.

Pleased with his response, the marchioness proceeded up the stairs followed by two maids.

He stepped closer to Aris and Sae. "How was shopping with my mother?"

“She’s the fastest shopper I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen Sae in several different candy stores.”

A small giggle let her know that her sister was proud of that skill.

The marquess smiled. “Of course she is. She knows what she looks good in. If you haven’t noticed already, she’s very decisive.”

“So it would seem.” Aris patted Sae on the back. “Why don’t you go find Leta? I’m sure she would love to hear about your day.” 

Her sister was giddy at the thought, quickly rushing to the kitchens as her first stop. Sae was not stupid. She knew that this was another one of those times when her older sister had to have a private conversation with Sir Irwin for which she was deemed 'too young.' She was glad to play the part of the innocent child.

"Let's walk to the study," Irwin suggested. “I have some news.”

________________________

When they arrived at the study, Aris noticed that a certain painting hung on the wall above the fireplace that she hadn't seen before. It was of Sir Verin. He had been the youngest Captain in Vemalla’s history when he inherited the title of Marquess. 

Irwin’s desk was now cleaner with all of the stacks of paper missing. She walked around the office examining the decorations and the books on the wall of shelves. She picked a book from the bookshelf titled The Secret Histories of Celestial Beasts and began flipping through the pages. The marquess pulled out some papers from the bottom drawer of his desk and unceremoniously dropped them on his desk with a ‘bang.’ Aris put the book back in its place at the sound and picked them up.

"The first few papers are profiles of prisoners who've been arrested in the past couple of days by the Archduke’s knights. The last papers are any prisoner transfers that have been ordered or already occurred within the last week,” Irwin said, crossing his arms.

The girl flipped through the stack of papers trying to look for the name ‘Lincoln Ashton.’

There was nothing.

"He's not in here.”

He sighed and sat down in his chair. "I know. In fact, there's no arrest record of anyone with his initials."

"But I saw him get arrested," Aris insisted, walking around to the front of his desk. “At least, I saw that they took him.”

“This might be completely unrelated, but…” he trailed off. “There’s a rumor going around that the archduke’s son has returned.” 

“What does that have to do with Lincoln?”

“Lycan von Sane has been missing for around nine years. To suddenly reemerge at the same time Lincoln gets taken by Nereys knights?”

“No,” Aris insisted. “There’s no way. This is Lincoln you’re talking about. He trips over air, for crying out loud. He’s not exactly nobleman-material.”

“You won’t even consider it a possibility?”

Irwin wouldn’t say something so outrageous without considerable evidence. She didn’t want to admit that she was already considering his words. Looking back on it, Lincoln wasn’t even technically arrested. They allowed him to leave without being handcuffed or any other restraints. But the idea of the doctor being the heir to the only archduchy in the kingdom would cause…issues in the future.

Aris didn’t like that she felt so conflicted over this. She wasn’t entirely forthcoming to Lincoln either. At least he had confided in her– no matter how drunk he had been. Even tipsy she was sure not to let anything slip. But what if the Lincoln she knew was a fake? What if he was exactly like those other manipulative nobles, pretending to be poor for entertainment? Was he only her friend to see how gullible she could be? 

“As far as I’m concerned, Lincoln’s being held there against his will. He wouldn’t hurt a fly and I refuse to leave him there waiting for the executioner’s axe.” She would continue to have faith in her friend despite everything. It was the only thing she could do right now.

"He could be dead for all you know.” Irwin frowned.

A worried expression swept over Aris's face. "Or he could be waiting for someone to rescue him,” she countered. “Shouldn’t we at least try?”

He let out a small sigh and nodded. “I’ll find a good reason to set up a meeting with Archduke von Sane. Be warned, though, he’s been unstable since his wife and son died a few months ago.”

“...I can be unstable too.” 

________________________

Aris quickly withdrew her hands from the book as a cane slammed down on the pages. 

“No. No! The expression is ‘dancing with goblin socks.’ Not ‘twirling with goblin socks’.”

“Respectfully, Professor, what does that even mean…?” She tried not to show her frustration, that was quickly boiling over.. 

Uturi expressions were a force to be reckoned with. And so was Professor Gorek Owlan. Born and raised in Shanri, the capital of Dailora and the heart of all knowledge on the mainland, Aris was finally understanding what the dowager marchioness meant by his ‘attitude.’ His vacation to the Isle of Vemalla was cut short by a letter from Dowager Marchioness Basileus who implored him to use his ‘keen intellect and unparalleled skills’ to teach a guest of hers. Her eloquence must be unparalleled if he had agreed so easily. The scholar was an older man who exuded a regal presence matching nobility despite Dailora being a parliamentary democracy. When he arrived, she thought his deep-set eyes held the secrets of some untouched, ancient knowledge.

“Obviously,” he began, emphasizing the word with his thick accent. “It refers to the act of engaging in something unusual unusual or nonsensical— much like my decision to agree to teach you.…” he grumbled the last part.

Turns out he was just an old, condescending man with a superiority complex.

“Obviously…” she mumbled in return. Aris silently blessed the patience of Marchioness Basileus for putting up with him long enough to get him to agree to this.

“Again, from the beginning.” The professor returned to his unrelenting stance and tapped his cane. “And remember, enunciate the ‘da’ or it will come out as ‘tw.’”

How she wished she could just throw her textbook out the window– followed by the professor. She couldn’t, however, since that would put a slight strain on her relationship with the marchioness. It was only the third day into her daily lessons, but they were enough to have her questioning her goals, even just a little bit. 

“‘Dancing with goblin sock.’” She tried again.

“Socks.”

“...socks.” 

Professor Owlan shrugged. “It’s passing. You’re still a twitch away from ‘tw,’ however.” 

Maybe she could gift the marchioness a bottle of wine after she launched this man out the window. 

Just today, she reminded herself. And then it’s sweet freedom tomorrow.

“You are absolutely correct profe-”

“Of course I am.”

An eye twitch. “I will be sure to review the textbook more thoroughly for next week’s lessons.”

The loud, continuous chimes from the grandfather clock in the library prevented the professor from giving a snarky response. He checked his pocket watch, as if not trusting that the marquessate’s clocks were worthy of telling the time, and mumbled something incoherent. Before leaving, he gave Aris one last glance over and turned to the door. The sound of his accompanying cane faded as well as the large and fake smile she had on her face.

________________________

One could say that etiquette lessons were going better than the Uturi lessons, but the standard was never that high to begin with. During this time, she would play the clueless Dailoran scholar looking to make a lasting impression on Vemalla’s nobility during her stay. The countess talked more about her daughter, her “poor, unfortunate unmarried daughter” she stresses, than proper etiquette in social situations. Or at least, that’s what it seemed like to Aris. There was nothing particularly hard about the basics of etiquette and most was learned from experience. The major taboos, such as direct criticism of fellow nobles or failure to participate in toasts, were easy enough to remember. The real reason the lessons often went over the allotted time was because she would be forced to stay back and comfort the older woman as she gently weeps about, shockingly, her daughter’s marriage prospects.

“-more effort into her talents, there would be lines of suitors lined up at the estate!” Countess Holden cried, sniffling a little. “She has such lovely hands for the piano, too!”

“I don’t doubt she does.” Aris rubbed her shoulder reassuringly, slightly uncomfortable at the third outburst this session. “Maybe she just wants to fall in love-”

“Love!” She suddenly exclaimed, standing up. “There are many dashing young gentlemen to fall in love with, such as Duke Wenrook’s son or Marquess Basi-”

She turned and looked at her student with a face of mock-horror. 

“Oh, my! I’ve spoken completely out of turn!”

Ah, so that’s why she agreed to do this. Aris concluded in her mind, her face showing a self-satisfied grin. Maybe I should play along a little.

“Do you mean to say Marquess Basileus?” She feigned a gasp. “My goodness, Countess Holden.”

As dramatic as Aris pretended to be, she could never amount to Countess Holden. 

“You’ve caught me!” The older woman pretended to collapse further into the upholstery. “It has been a deep secret of mine– to see His Grace and my dear Zira together. Don’t you believe they’d look perfect next to each other?”

Aris nodded fervently, despite never having seen this ‘Zira’ girl in her life. 

“If only he wasn’t so busy all of the time,” the countess continued to lament. “My poor husband has been trying to set up a meeting between them for so long but His Grace always gets called away for days every time one comes around.” 

Aris put a hand over her mouth seemingly to gasp but in reality to hide her laughter. She suddenly recalled a conversation with the marchioness prior to the beginning of today’s lessons. 

“Countess Povella Holden. She was the daughter of a baron who struck diamonds in his mine as a stroke of luck,” Marchioness Basileus began. “She and Count Holden have been married for almost twenty-three years. They have two children, their oldest daughter and younger son. Lady Zira and Lord Braxius.”

“She seems like a lovely lady,” Aris said, taking a bite of her scone. 

“She’s emotionally unstable.”

Aris started choking on her bread. Taking a sip of tea, she tried to recover.

The marchioness sighed and fiddled with her plate. “Every conversation I’ve ever had with her, even before she married, was the same routine. It would start with a talk about simple topics and end with her sobbing hideously on my shoulder while myself and the other ladies tried to comfort her.”

She sat there in disbelief.

“Which is why I’ve limited my contact with her over the years,” the older woman continued. “But I’m giving you a heads up. She may be emotionally and mentally taxing, but she spreads rumors faster than the press.”

“And that’s a good thing because…”

“In case you ever need someone with that skill, it’s nice to have Lady Holden in your corner,” she explained. “Besides, she also hears rumors just as fast.

A cruel idea popped into Aris’s head. 

“My Lady,” she started, getting the countess’s attention. “It pains me to see you and the count in such agony. May I be so bold as to propose something?”

That got the countess’s attention quickly. She stifled her sobs and gave Aris her full attention.

“I personally have a close relationship with His Grace, the Marquess, you see, from the dowager marchioness being my sponsor. And I believe that I cannot just sit idly by while two perfectly compatible people are right in front of me!” She was really laying it on as the concerned matchmaker. 

While the countess didn’t say anything, her eyes revealed her intrigue. 

“I must speak to the Marquess about this,” she continued. “It’s only for the best if they get together as soon as possible.” She made a move of standing up.

“No!” The countess yelled and grabbed her hands to stop her. “I would never be able to show my face in front of my children again if I were to be involved in something so scandalous.”

“But, Countess Holden, can’t you see I’m just trying to relieve you of your pain?”

“Yes, Miss Alin, and I’m forever grateful for it,” she squeezed Aris’s hands tighter. “But surely there must be another way you could approach it than to ask straight on?”

“Do you have a suggestion, my Lady?”

It was clear that the noblewoman was hesitant to divulge her idea to someone she barely knew. But she was desperate, Aris knew, and desperation would always win, especially since she was proposing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity with seemingly no ulterior motives.

“What if…” she took a breath to gather her courage. “...you could just mention my dear Zira here and there? And you could write to me about his weekly schedules? You know, just the little details.”

Even I’m not cruel enough to indulge in this stalking, Aris thought in her head. 

“My Lady, I don’t know if I’m comfortable revealing such personal information. After all, His Grace is still a close friend of mine.” She feigned reluctance.

Countess Holden grasped her hands tighter, if that were possible. “Oh Miss Alin, you’re right! I couldn’t ask you to do such a thing when we’ve only recently been acquainted.”

“But I cannot do nothing,” Aris said, giving her false hope. “I will try to give you details here and there in weekly correspondences. With that, I could help Lady Zira and not violate my own conscience.”

The woman embraced Aris as if she had just heard news of her daughter’s engagement. 

“I cannot thank you enough, Miss Alin! How can I ever repay your kindness?”

Aris smiled a smile that could only be described as devious… to everyone but the countess.