“This is your room Miss, do you have any questions?”

The room was as large as our house in Barre. It had a big bed, a big closet, and a big mirror set over the big desk. Long blond hair and puffy purple eyes. I had gotten used to seeing this face whenever a shiny surface reflected it, however today it looked completely bizarre. How much did I cry?

The garden sat outside the big window situated on the third floor. Patches of grass were beginning to turn to life turning the lawn green. In between the square and circle bushes, some flowers were looking up at me. I dragged the curtains across the window. The flowy curtains did a fine job of blocking them off.

I turned to the maid. “I can use everything in here?”

She had her hands folded above her apron-dress. Black and white, it was pretty. “That’s right.”

“Even the clothes?” Swiping my finger across the table surface, not a single speck of dust stuck to my glove.

“Those may be a bit large for you.”

“I see.” It was cold. Even with the countless rays of sun lighting up this huge room big enough to fit four of my old rooms, it was cold.

“Can you remove these flowers for me?”

The maid attending to me paused for a second. “Of course, miss.” With a swift hand, the flowers on the table in the middle of my room were removed, vase and all.

“Thank you, that’ll be all.” She excused herself and left me alone in the huge room.

Continuing to draw the other curtains made it dimmer. Dim enough for me to rest in. At least the bed here felt comfortable enough, making my body sink down in the mattress as the soft duvet wrapped around me. “Ha…” A sigh found itself escaping.

My parents had a room for themselves on the left wing of the Estate, mine was on the right. I wonder how my mom was doing, maybe I could try to cheer her up? But willing my body to move was futile. It didn’t budge an inch, merely staying still in the prison that was the bed, chaining me to sleep.

The next day at the dining table, spread in front of me were several knives, forks and spoons. All in different sizes and shapes. One knife had a blunt edge, effective for spreading soft things like the butter placed in front of me. While another knife had a serrated edge, whose small teeth would work well cutting up pieces of flesh. The utensils glistened as the embroidery caught the chandelier light above.

At the head of the table sat my grandfather, Duke Nikodemus. To his right, my father and mom. I sat opposite of her, making the seat between the Duke and I, empty.

Servants and maids stationed by the wall began setting our food. A steaming bowl of red soup stared into me, its pleasant aroma tickling my hungry nose. My spoon stopped shy of approaching the soup when a cough came from my mom. Ah, the Duke hadn’t started eating yet.

A new dish replaced my now empty bowl of soup. Amazing. You get to eat twice in one sitting? Soup had been easy enough to choose an utensil for. Only a single spoon had been placed among the numerous utensils after all, but this new dish was a steak.

Which fork should I use? The one with three tips, four tips or the rare five-tipped fork? I picked up the one my mom was pointing to.

Rub, rub. The thick piece of meat sitting on my plate slid around in the sauce, painting the whole plate brown. Cutting into it was no problem, but my left hand. It couldn’t anchor the steak properly. I couldn’t press my fork down hard enough.

Rub, rub, it slid each time I moved my knife. Rub, rub, rub– My plate disappeared. A new one with an already cut up piece of meat presented itself to me. My father had swapped our plates.

“Tsk, she doesn’t even know how to use a fork and knife? What have you been teaching her?”

“We have been teaching her the more important things in life,” my father replied.

“And knowing how to eat like a civilized person is not one of those important things?”

He put down his utensils with enough force to make the porcelain ring. “So what? And knowing how to use a fork in a lofty way makes one civilized?"

“Hah! Keep spoiling her like that and regret is all you will get. And what’s up with those gloves of hers.” Mom looked at me with a sad expression at his words. “Never have I ever seen such rude table manners.”

After dinner, I went around to explore the estate. Like a museum, several paintings hung on the walls in the halls, in the rooms that weren’t locked, and even in the bathrooms. There was one particular painting that took my attention, rooting me on the spot.

A grotesque figure, with a hunched back and gray wild hair, was taking a bite out of another person. A soft red color streamed down from the bitten body and instead of a satisfied expression, the grotesque being was painted to be horrified and disgusted instead. Its eyes stared into my own.

“An interesting painting isn’t it?” The sudden question made my shoulders jump a little. It was the Duke speaking beside me. “A personal friend of mine painted this.”

“Are there other paintings here made by them?” I wanted to see more works by that friend.

“No, this is the only one he left me with.”

My grandfather was neatly dressed in a suit standing with a straight posture. Whether it was the lighting or not, his sunken eyes made him look tired. Neither smiling nor frowning, he stared at the painting I had admired.

Oh, I forgot to greet him. The peculiar atmosphere, a result of me missing my timing, made me hold my silence.

I had always wondered why the monks at the temple liked to hang up these kinds of paintings. They looked similar to each other, paintings of demons and the like. Seeing this painting opposite of the giant doors to his office, an answer reared itself in my mind. An epiphany. It was a mirror, a painting of yourself.

“Why do you think I had this painting hung up in front of my office?” He asked.

“As a reminder, your Grace.”

He paused. “Interesting. I haven’t heard that answer before.” He turned to leave. “Make time for tomorrow, your clothes look too shabby.”

Now tomorrow, I stood in front of a mirror double my size. Did it really have to be that tall? It made my already average height look much shorter than it really was. My mom was with me, standing behind me a whole head taller. I wonder if there will be steak tomorrow too.

A seamstress flitted around me, taking my dimensions with a string as she made me spin around and around while lifting my arms up and down. I was a doll for today, standing in front of the mirror. Excited chatter filled the room as her assistant took note of my numbers.

“Golden hair and amethystine purple eyes, I think this design fits her the best.” She held a drawing of a dress in her hand. The skirt bloomed outwards stopping a bit below the knees. A design intended for young ladies like me, she said. It looked pretty.

“But what about this one?” Her assistant showed another drawing. This one had more frills and a longer skirt, stopping at the ankles. It also looked pretty.

“Assistant! What should we do?” She picked up the dozen drawings littered on the table. “Everything fits her perfectly!”

Why did it feel like she was more enthusiastic about this than me? It was getting noisy as the two of them debated on which drawing was the best. More bouncing ribbons, less flowy frills. It all looked pretty, no?

“Which one do you like the most, sweetie?” Mom had also gotten a makeover, sporting a new elegant dress. She looked in her element as it flowed nicely on her tall figure.

“I think this one would look cute on you!” She picked the one with the knee-length skirt and ribbons.

“Ah! Lady Victoria!” My mother’s hands were seized.

“W-what is it?”

“That’s right! How could we forget! Assistant, pick out all the cutest ones!”

My new dress bounced up and down whenever I kicked my legs, creating soft ripples across the light-pink fabric. Ripple, ripple, the frills frilled this way and that way. The seamstress also gave me a new pair of gloves which fit snugly like a glove, or like the stockings I currently wore.

A plate of cookies was served to me as I sat with my mom in the garden gazebo. She had fallen into a nap while still holding unto a cookie in her hands. Even as the sounds of clashes and roars shook the otherwise calm afternoon, she didn’t drop it.

Going on an investigation on where the sounds were coming from, I found myself looking on at a dozen knights training with their shirts off. The glistening sweat dripping from their toned muscles flew off each time they yelled and swung their cold hard steel swords. Surrounding the training area were several tribunes, making it easy to hide myself between the seats.

“Look over there man, there’s some kid watching us.”

“Kid? There’s no kid in the estate, just focus on your breathing.” The young man sitting on the ground pointed in my area.

“Over there, she’s just crouching there.” They had sharper eyesight than I thought.

The other man went up and with the raised tribunes, made him have to look up at me. It felt weird not having to crane my neck to look at someone’s face.

“Little lady? What are you doing here?” His green hair reminded me of Finn.

“She’s obviously here to cheer us on! Isn’t that right?” The other one had brown-orange hair and freckles.

I pointed to the sword on his hip. “How heavy is that?”

“Do you want to try to holding it?” Freckles said.

“Hey, what are you saying to her?”

“Here grab the hilt, be careful not to fall over the wall.”

It was surprisingly light. His comment about falling had made me expect something else, but with a single hand I effortlessly managed to point the tip towards the sky. Swoosh, swoosh, I did some overhead swings like they had done earlier.

“Hmm, surprisingly good form.” Green hair said.

“Now try to do this!” Freckles showed me a move with his empty hands. Like this? The sword flew through the air with a crisp cut. “Haha! You got talent for this little miss!”

A man went up to them. “What are you two fools fooling around here for?”

“Commander, look how this little lady is swinging the sword!”

“What nonsense, why should I—” I showed him the same move.

The man rubbed his mustache. It twirled above his mouth in two neat circles. “Hmm… not bad.”

“However,” he said, “who in the hell had the thought to give such a young lady a real sword!” The commander gave the two of them a swift kick to their behind. “Get back to your posts!” Rubbing their butts, the two of them staggered back to the middle of the training grounds.

He gave me a neat bow. “My apologies for my men behaving towards you in this way, they are eager to learn but still young.”

“Why are you being so respectful to me?”

“You are lady Esther are you not?” I liked the sound of that. “It’s hard to find someone with such brilliant hair in the duchy after all. Makes me remember the times when I trained your father.”

I tilted my head. “You trained him?”

“Hah! We were practically brothers in arms back in the day.”

I tilted my head to the other side. “Really?”

“He hasn’t told you?” He looked a bit sad.

“My father doesn’t talk much about his past.”

The commander rubbed his mustache again. “I see, considering what happened… No, never mind. May I ask what you are doing over here?”

“I heard something interesting. And loud.”

He guffawed. “Loudness is the primary source of our energy after all!” I wonder if I could be that loud after some training. The drops of sweat forming on my forehead and the clammy feeling in my gloves made me think otherwise.

The commander gave me another bow and went to stand in front of his men again.

“One hundred more swings!” He ordered.

“Yes sir!” And a hundred swings they did.

I observed them do them all until a servant came and fetched me. I waddled after them and saw my parents sitting together in the gazebo, relaxing for the first time in a while.

And then they said, “We have decided to let you have a personal maid.”