《The Lady builds her castle: A guide to a peaceful new life》


 Prologue

    Ophelia was tired.


    Waking up at 6 for work six days a week would do that to someone. Wearing a smile when waiting to cry in frustration would also do that to someone. Being thousands of pounds in debt was the icing on the cake.


    Ophelia was a people pleaser. This started from a young age. She wasn¡¯t abused by mummy or daddy, but she had always found it hard to say no when a request was made. Of course, that made her their golden child, always listening to mum and dad but that also led the way for abuse by others. Uncles and aunties taking more than she could make.


    It started off small with things like borrowing items that turned into money and then they took her identity putting her name down for deposits. Used her information and made her grantors for things she¡¯d never heard of opening companies in her name. By the time she was 21 on top of her student loan, she was drowning in debt.


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    It that one misfortune followed another as her parent''s death came with another price attached to it. However, through the morning there was light as when her inheritance came what would have set her up for a good few years went toward the loans chaining her down and allowing her some time for freedom the vital breath between drowning and surviving.


    Whilst her classmate travelled Ophelia found work straight out of uni. Working as a data analyst for some London firm paid well and that¡¯s what she needed. Was it that her dream job of course not but only a few ever got to do what they loved. Working in the capital meant Ophelia learnt independence and how to trust her own judgement as she became accustomed to taking care of herself.


    Overall, it was a freeing experience to be away from toxic family members and venture out into the world. Unfortunately, Ophelia had no idea that this freedom was only the being of her journey for her time in this world would be coming to an end.

 Volume 1: Chapter 1

    Ophelia groaned and rolled over in bed, still enveloped in the dreams only to be woken by the harsh ring of her alarm, signalling the start of another bustling day in London.


    As the morning sun filtered through her window, she stretched and let out a contented sigh. Today was an important day at work, and she wanted to be at her best.


    Ophelia made her way to her wardrobe. She carefully selected her attire for the day, opting for a sleek navy suit that exuded professionalism while maintaining a touch of her style she felt confident and ready for the interview.


    Not without a quick breakfast, Ophelia left and dashed to the tube, joining the throngs of people embarking on their daily journeys. The platform was abuzz with the sounds of conversations, the screech of arriving trains, and the occasional overhead announcement. A little bit too busy. For a Wednesday morning, there were many more people than usual was there an event or another festival going on?


    This would be her first job out of Uni that related to her degree, some analytical biochemist role, biochemistry was the way to go though she couldn¡¯t say she enjoyed it though labs were fun they drained her energy. Her dream was to possibly work her way up, leave then build a start-up and hopefully sell that for a few million and live in a castle in the countryside and live off the land and possibly have a Bulter because who doesn''t want an Alfred in their life and children. Though that was wishful thinking and Ophelia knew that.


    The interview went well in her opinion the lead interview was from her uni, so it was more a conversation than an interview, hopefully, this made her more likely to get the post. Ophelia had been hopeful lately, with most of the debt paid off and the money saved in investments from the left-over inheritance this year was looking promising.


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    Last year was full of working 60-hour weeks and so much hassling Ophelia ended up in the hospital from overworking. It was an eye opener she had to take care of herself more, not to mention her uni friends made her take a week of annual leave as they staged a vacation intervention, which they said was much needed. It was fun and being able to talk about everything stressing her was a breath of fresh air, the help in realising it was okay to say no was more exhilarating than that time she had those brownies, if you know you know. This led to her meeting her aunts and uncle in the family court and a few restraining orders later her greedy relative would never be able to bother her again.


    The city was alive with the symphony of car horns and hurried footsteps, the towering buildings casting elongated shadows in the fading daylight. As she weaved through people, her thoughts danced between the day''s events and the comfort of her cosy apartment awaiting her.


    Lost in her head, Ophelia turned down a dimly lit alley, hoping for a shortcut to reach her home faster. But fate had a different plan. Midway through the alley, a shadow emerged from the darkness¡ªa figure cloaked in the anonymity of night.


    Before Ophelia could react, they had already been pushing the figure demanding her belongings with an ominous glint in their eye. Fear gripped her heart as she fumbled to comply, but a surge of resistance ignited within her. She hesitated, and that fleeting moment was enough for chaos to unfold.


    In a whirlwind of events, the figure lunged forward, a glint of metal in their hand. Pain seared through Ophelia''s body as she felt the blade pierce her skin. Darkness enveloped her, and the cacophony of the city faded into an eerie silence.


    Being a Christian, this wasn¡¯t how she imagined heaven to be, a little more green and blue like the garden of Eden maybe, but she not complaining because she could have landed in the fiery pits or lakes of flames.

 Volume 1: Chapter 2

    Blinking her eyes open, she began to take in her unfamiliar surroundings. Where was she? The room was small and sparsely furnished, with only a bed and a desk. On the wall hung a large mirror, covered by a thin sheet. And then she noticed something strange ¡ª she felt weaker. Ophelia sat up in shock, feeling the unfamiliar arms and legs too small to be her own, and a face that was hers yet not. It held the same shape, yet different colours as brown was swapped for green and blond now was Black.


    Tentatively, she dragged herself off the bed. Peering behind the sheet, she gasped in disbelief as she finally got her first glimpse of the person she had become.


    But how had this happened? How had Ophelia ended up in this strange body, in this strange place? She had no idea. Though looking at the body of the child she was now she was young definitely under sixteen.


    She had wished for more time to work out her circumstances, but the sun had risen high, and she could hear the feet of what she assumed were servants.


    Upon further inspection, she noticed the unfamiliar garments laid out on a nearby chair. A simple linen shift, green woollen dress, and leather shoes were all far removed from the modern attire she was accustomed to. Before she could make sense of her situation, the door creaked open, and two servants entered, their faces obscured by the flickering shadows.


    "Good morrow, milady," one of them said with a bow, though her voice seemed to carry a note of perplexity.


    Ophelia''s heart raced as she struggled to comprehend what was happening when a name entered her head. ¡°Ellen, Hilary, good morrow, I pray you have broken your fast." she stammered, her voice betraying her fear as she hoped it was the right thing to say.


    By the servants still preparing the bowl of water to wash her face and them picking up her thrown sheets it seemed like nothing was amiss, yet Ophelia still felt the lack of memories and so was afraid to make any movement.


    With trembling hands, Ophelia allowed them to help her dress in the unfamiliar garments, her mind still reeling from the inexplicable turn of events. As they fastened the laces of her dress and arranged her hair into a simple braid, she couldn''t shake the feeling of displacement, of being an intruder in a world not her own.


    Once she was deemed presentable, the servants led her through the corridors of the castle, the stone walls echoing with the sounds of morning activity. They descended a spiral staircase and entered the great hall, where a long wooden table stretched out before them, laden with bread, cheese, and bowls of steaming porridge.


    At the head of the table sat a man dressed in fine garments, his stern visage softened by a hint of paternal warmth as he caught sight of Ophelia. "Ah, there she is, you made us wait girl, again, is it so hard to wake up in the morrow, mayhap I ought to punish yer again," he said with a smile. "Time to break bread."


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    Ophelia approached tentatively, taking her seat at the end of the table Lord Higburgh, though the title felt foreign on her tongue. As she ate their morning meal in silence, she struggled to reconcile the image of the imposing nobleman before her with the father she knew from her own time.


    Throughout the meal, Ophelia''s mind raced with questions, but she dared not voice them aloud for fear of revealing her identity. Instead, she listened intently as her Lord father discussed matters of the estate with his advisors, her thoughts consumed by the mystery of her inexplicable journey to medieval times. The taste of stale oats and oily cheeses with hard bread was not what she thought nobility would eat, making a note that she would have to go to the kitchen later tonight to eat some filling food.


    As the morning wore on, Ophelia found herself caught up in the rhythms of castle life, attending lessons with the children from her Lord father''s neglected concubines while grappling with the overwhelming sense of displacement that plagued her every waking moment. And as she retired to her chamber once more, her mind swirling with unanswered questions, though throughout the day more memories were appearing in her head, thank the Lord, however, she could only wonder what fate had in store for her in this strange new world.


    As Ophelia made her way through the dimly lit corridor, her thoughts still consumed by the bewildering circumstances of her arrival in medieval times, she was startled by the sudden appearance of a woman, regal and imposing, with a gaze that bore into her very soul.


    "Child," the woman said, her voice cold and cutting. "I trust you are aware of the impropriety of your presence in this castle."


    Ophelia''s heart sank as she recognized the woman before her¡ªthe first wife of her Lord father, Lady Margery. Though she had never met her in her own time, the disdain in Lady Margery''s eyes made it abundantly clear that her arrival had not gone unnoticed.


    Before Ophelia could respond, she was surrounded by a group of ladies-in-waiting, their faces twisted in scorn as they whispered amongst themselves. "Illegitimate wretch," one of them hissed, her words like venom. "How dare she show her face in our presence?"


    Ophelia felt her cheeks burn with shame as the cruel words washed over her. She was keenly aware of her status as her Lord father''s illegitimate daughter, an open secret she was, hidden away from the prying eyes of society. The only reason she was still within the walls was due to her beauty, her Lord Father loved beautiful things that¡¯s why he had 5 wives and 30 concubines the maximum number in the Empire.


    But here, in this unfamiliar time and place, she was defenceless against the scorn of Lady Margery and her ladies-in-waiting. Try as she might to maintain her composure, the weight of their judgment bore down upon her, threatening to crush her spirit.


    With a steely resolve, Ophelia lifted her chin and met Lady Margery''s gaze head-on. "I may be of humble birth, but I am still my Lord Father''s daughter," she declared, her voice trembling with defiance.


    For a fleeting moment, there was a flicker of surprise in Lady Margery''s eyes, quickly replaced by a mask of icy indifference. "Very well, Child," she said, her tone dripping with disdain. "But remember your place in this household. You may be blood, but you will never be kin."


    With that final barb, Lady Margery swept past Ophelia, her ladies-in-waiting following in her wake like a pack of wolves. Left alone in the corridor, Ophelia felt the weight of their scorn bearing down upon her once more, but she refused to be cowed. She may not like her Lord Father, but no way would she let some old woman bully her, God give her strength cause this life just got a lot more interesting. With a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and continued on her journey, her spirit unbroken in the face of adversity.

 Volume 1: Chapter 3

    With the memory of Lady Margery''s scorn still fresh in her mind, Ophelia sought solace in the familiarity of the castle''s kitchen. It was nothing like her previous life, but the kitchen was always warm and sent of spices or burnt sugar.


    To her surprise, the kitchen was deserted and smelt like sweat. Undeterred, Ophelia rolled up her sleeves and set to work. The place was filthy, and she could imagine her mother- from her first life, shouting at her to clean it.


    Finding a bucket and a cloth took more time than she would have liked. Unlike the main Kitchen, the one for her two was only staffed by 2 kitchen maids who also doubled as her handmaid2. That was a lot of work for two people as it meant that her tower was hugely understaffed. Even though the two maids she currently has don¡¯t belong to her, they were on loan until she became 12.


    The reason she only had two maids was that she was the only resident of her tower. It wasn¡¯t a tower more of a small three-story home that was attached to a tower. The top floor housed her room and a small living area along with a little washroom. The kitchen was on the second floor along with an eating table, a little book room and an empty room for a guard. She was expected to know how to read and write and do small math sums. The servant quarter was a small basement level that also held the laundry room.


    The reason she was getting another with a guard was due to her officially becoming a woman. In this society, you are deemed a woman at 12 as that is the age your father can give you away. It was also the age you would be blessed by the church and given your magic nature. Only nobles have a magic nature that also includes illegitimate children, though not all, some have blood that is ¡®too dirty¡¯.


    Even though Nobles can have illegitimate children, no noble genuinely has more than 20 children at once. As most children join the Royal household and maids or guards if they have an offensive magic nature. They were charged to take care of their children until they left or inherited the household once a child became the legal age that wasn¡¯t from a legal wife were often married or sent off.


    Ophelia was lucky her father only had 14 children not courting herself 8 from his five legal wives, 4 from his 30 concubines and 2 illegitimate children. And from those he only had 4 daughters so it was likely Ophelia wouldn¡¯t be sent off for a random marriage. Unfortunately, she was the only girl that was legitimate, but she was the youngest. The nest sister was already 13 and already betrothed to the second son of a neighbouring lord.


    Unlike the fantasy books she used to read in this world, Illegitimate children had to be claimed by the Parent in a marriage or with a higher status would be heavily fined if found out. This was to both take accountability due to King Harrod, who sat on the throne 300 years ago had over 50 children and only 3 were legitimate from his only wife. As to be expected it led to a fight of succession once he died. None of his legitimate children won even though their mother was the daughter of a Duke. There were just too many children fighting all with different nobility backing them. The Lines of Now Kings came from a Son also called Harrod known as King Harrod II.


    To cut the story short he introduced the child Fine, which by having illegitimate children not registered would introduce a fine that would grow every year as an incentive to claim the child. After him his Son introduced a Law allowing for men to marry multiple women but not the other way around. The law stated that a Man could have 5 legal Wives he had to support though that left a place for Concubines in a family. After many years of arguing and wars the number of concubines was capped at 30. Though Ophelia¡¯s mother was neither just a handmaid that the Lord had bedded.


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    With the new laws came a change in the Kingdom''s architecture. Now castles had to be filled with numerous towers for all the different partners. The Keeps had to be expanded to accommodate 5 families plus guests and there was a reduction. With an expansion in the inner wall, more towers were fitted for the Concubines and illegitimate children.


    The great hall and chapel were only seen in the grandest of Castles as more space was taken to create more room for large families.


    Illegitimate children, though recorded in the family register didn¡¯t have the same station as the legitimate children, it was all based on the idea of blue blood. All nobles are of a higher calling than the freeman and serf and definitely above the slaves.


    Life in a medieval society was hard on girls but at least she had the protection of being an illegitimate noble. From the memories she had gained her mother was from a family of Freeman so they would be able to move if needed, unlike serfs, they were not tied to the lord of the land.


    Though enough about history, All she wanted was to finish cleaning the kitchen. She was lucky the memories of this life were coming back to her; how could she forget that Ellen and Hilary were only nice during the morning when she had to attend family meals?


    Her Lord Father only wanted to eat with his children in the morning and after that, they were expected to go about their lessons and the rest of the day and eat at their tables with their household.


    Ellen and Hilary were only good in the morning from the look of her body they weren¡¯t good cooks as they always under or overcooked the vegetables and any meat they roasted was raw or burnt. They only stayed to get paid as they also knew they would be back working in the main keep after Ophelia turned 12.


    ---


    Once the kitchen was cleaned, Ophelia only had half a barrel of vinegar left. She had disinfected most of the thing as she could see the mould and bacteria growth.


    She located a sturdy wooden bowl and a rough-hewn wooden spoon, the implements well-worn from years of use. With practised hands, she measured out flour, water, oil and yeast with a pinch of salt for taste. Kneading the dough until it was smooth and elastic beneath her fingertips.


    As the dough rose by the warmth of the hearth, Ophelia turned her attention to the task of preparing scrambled eggs. She found a cast-iron skillet hanging from a hook above the fire, its surface seasoned with age and use. Crackling eggs into a clay bowl, she whisked them with a fork, seasoning them with a pinch of salt. Also, she took the iron teapot and boiled the water before adding the leaves to sit and infuse properly.


    With the skillet placed directly on the coals of the hearth, Ophelia poured the beaten eggs into the sizzling pan, stirring them gently with a wooden spatula. The eggs began to take on a velvety texture, the edges just beginning to set as she continued to stir.


    As the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, mingling with the savoury scent of cooking eggs, Ophelia couldn''t help but feel a sense of satisfaction wash over her. Even though she was in a new world nothing beats a good tea with bread and scrambled eggs.


    Finally, the loaf of bread emerged from the oven, golden brown and fragrant, while the scrambled eggs were piled onto a rustic wooden plate. With a sense of anticipation, Ophelia carried her makeshift breakfast to the long wooden table in the centre of the kitchen, where she sat down to enjoy the fruits of her labour. It had taken over two hours to cook the meal, but every bite was worth it.


    As she savoured each mouthful of warm, freshly baked bread soft and white, unlike the hard rye bread she had this morning. The scheduling for food was still new for her yet the body she processed was used to it. She was busy in classes so lunch was more of a snack, biscuits and tea though Ophelia would have to do something because the tea she had consumed was more like piss water than anything else, probably some low-quality shit. The tea she was having now was even more like piss water than early. She certainly needed to find some good tea leaves. How can she be a Brit a not love tea?


    Returning to her room was a bittersweet thing as it was her room yet not, it missed all the technological advances of modern society, she had to light the place for warmth before she slipped out of her medieval attire and into her nightgown, she couldn''t shake the feeling of disorientation that had plagued her since her arrival in this strange new world. Her mind was still reeling from the encounter with Lady Margery, a grown woman who felt the need to pick on a child to deal with her obvious insecurities.

 Volume 1: Chapter 4

    As Ophelia lay in her modest bed, her thoughts swirled like leaves caught in a gust of wind. The world she now inhabited was so unlike her previous life, yet familiar memories blended uneasily with the strange customs and challenges of her new existence. Her body ached from the hours spent cleaning, and though her belly was full, the solitude of her small tower pressed heavily upon her.


    The faint flicker of candlelight cast dancing shadows across the stone walls. Ophelia allowed herself a rare moment of vulnerability, clutching the thin blanket closer as the chilly night air seeped through the cracks in the walls. It had been over a month since she found herself in this world¡ªthis life¡ªbut the unease had not faded.


    The sound of footsteps on the stairs startled her. She sat up abruptly, her heart pounding as the door to her room creaked open. It was Hilary, one of her maids, carrying a tray with what appeared to be a bowl of broth and a hunk of hard cheese.


    "Lady Ophelia," Hilary said, her tone neutral but not unkind. "I thought you might be hungry later, so I brought this."


    Ophelia blinked in surprise. She had not expected either of the maids to offer her such consideration, especially not in the evening when they were often too tired to do more than the bare minimum.


    "Thank you, Hilary," Ophelia replied, trying to keep the astonishment from her voice.


    Hilary set the tray on the small table by the bed, hesitating as though she wanted to say more but thought better of it. After a moment, she curtseyed and left the room, leaving Ophelia alone once more. The broth smelled faintly of herbs, but the taste was bland, a stark reminder of the meagre resources available to her.


    As she ate, her thoughts turned to the idea of magic¡ªthe essence that defined nobility in this world. In 12 months, she would turn twelve and be presented to the church for the ritual that would reveal her magic nature. Anxiety churned in her stomach as she pondered what that would mean. Her father¡¯s lukewarm attitude toward her suggested he had little hope for her potential. She set the empty bowl aside and stared at her hands, wondering if they would ever channel the power she¡¯d heard whispered about. Nobles with strong magic were prized assets, their abilities ranging from combat prowess to rare skills like healing or farseeing. Illegitimate children were rarely gifted with significant power, but Ophelia couldn¡¯t shake the nagging feeling that she might be different.


    The candle burned lower as her exhaustion grew. She extinguished it with a careful puff, plunging the room into darkness. Nestling beneath the blanket, she stared up at the ceiling, her mind racing. If she was going to survive in this world, she would need to be more than a forgotten daughter relegated to the fringes of her family.


    Morning came too soon, announced by the soft clanging of the bell in the keep. Ophelia dressed quickly, determined to make the most of the hours ahead. Today, she planned to visit the small book room on the second floor. It was one of the few places in her tower that truly felt like a sanctuary.


    She entered the room and ran her fingers over the spines of the leather-bound tomes. Most of the books were dusty, their covers faded with age. Pulling one from the shelf, she flipped it open to reveal cramped handwriting detailing the basics of magic theory.


    If magic truly is in my blood, then I¡¯ll start here, she thought, settling into the worn chair by the window. Ophelia leaned back in the chair, the sunlight streaming through the narrow window warming her face. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, she felt a flicker of hope.


    With Ophelia in the library, poring over a book about the geography of the Qeorene Empire. It was an expansive kingdom, stretching from the northern tundra to the temperate southern coasts, dotted with rolling hills and sprawling estates ruled by lords and ladies. The text was dry, but Ophelia devoured it. Every detail she learned about her new home gave her a sense of control in a world where so much was uncertain.


    The empire¡¯s structure fascinated her. The nobility held power over vast swaths of land, and the common folk¡ªfreemen, serfs, and slaves¡ªsupported their lords through labour and taxes. The book detailed the fortified cities that protected trade routes and the intricate networks of alliances and rivalries that defined noble politics. Each noble house was bound by loyalty to the Crown but often pursued its own ambitions, leading to a precarious balance of power.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    A soft knock interrupted her reading. She turned to see Ellen entering the book room, her usual look of disdain replaced with something approaching amusement.


    ¡°Lady Margery has sent gifts for you, my lady,¡± Ellen said, her tone flat though she was radiating a smug look. ¡°You are to receive a new handmaid and a personal knight.¡±


    Ophelia raised an eyebrow, setting the book aside. Gifts from Lady Margery? It didn¡¯t sound like generosity; it felt more like a test.


    ¡°Bring them in,¡± she said, keeping her voice calm.


    Ellen curtsied and disappeared down the hall. Moments later, she returned with two figures in tow.


    The first was a girl who couldn¡¯t have been more than fifteen, with auburn hair tied neatly back and a freckled face that radiated nervous energy. She wore a simple gray dress, slightly too large for her, and clutched a satchel in her hands.


    ¡°This is Maerys, your new personal maid,¡± Ellen announced.


    Maerys curtsied awkwardly. ¡°It¡¯s an honour, my lady,¡± she said, her voice barely above a whisper.


    The second figure was a boy no older than sixteen, dressed in ill-fitting armour that clinked as he moved. His dark hair was cropped short, and his brown eyes darted nervously around the room. He carried a sword at his side, but the hilt was polished and unused.


    ¡°And this is Ser Colin, your knight,¡± Ellen said with a smirk, clearly enjoying the boy¡¯s unease.


    Ser Colin bowed stiffly. ¡°At your service, Lady Ophelia,¡± he said, his voice cracking slightly.


    Ophelia studied the pair, her expression unreadable. They were young, inexperienced, and clearly chosen by Lady Margery for their lack of polish. But Ophelia wasn¡¯t about to let the first wife¡¯s scheme rattle her. If anything, this was an opportunity.


    ¡°Thank you, Ellen,¡± Ophelia said. ¡°You may leave us now.¡±


    Ellen hesitated, clearly hoping to witness more awkwardness, but a sharp glance from Ophelia sent her scurrying out.


    Once the door closed, Ophelia rose from her chair, smoothing her dress. She stepped closer to Maerys and Colin, her gaze steady but not unkind.


    ¡°I am Ophelia Higburgh,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯ll be serving me from now on, so let¡¯s start with honesty. Maerys, have you been a handmaid before?¡±


    Maerys shook her head, her cheeks flushing. ¡°No, my lady. I was¡­ a scullery maid before this.¡±


    ¡°And you, Ser Colin? Are you a seasoned knight?¡±


    ¡°I trained with the guards at my father¡¯s estate,¡± Colin admitted. ¡°But this is my first official post.¡±


    Ophelia nodded, folding her hands in front of her. ¡°Good. Then we¡¯re all learning together. I¡¯ll expect both of you to do your best, and in return, I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re treated fairly. Does that sound reasonable?¡±


    The pair exchanged glances, clearly surprised by her tone. Maerys nodded eagerly, and Colin straightened his shoulders.


    ¡°Yes, my lady,¡± they said in unison.


    ¡°Good,¡± Ophelia said, allowing a small smile to grace her lips. ¡°Now, Maerys, I¡¯ll need your help organising this room later. For now, familiarise yourself with the layout of the tower. Colin, you¡¯ll begin by joining me in the courtyard for a tour of the grounds. I want to understand the defences of this place.¡±


    The boy¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Of course, my lady.¡±


    With her new attendants in tow, Ophelia felt a strange sense of determination. Lady Margery might have intended to humiliate her with these inexperienced servants, but Ophelia saw their potential. She had given her fresh bodies with no present influence from any of the wives. She could make them loyal to her and only her as from all the historical reading she has done she would need a strong personal household to get anywhere.


    Though she was waiting for the other foot to drop in this situation, no way would Lady Margery give her new help for no reason, they still had a good month before the next engagement. And that surprise came the very next day.


    Ophelia stood in the doorway of the servant''s hall, watching as Ellen and Hilary packed their things, their expressions a mix of relief and thinly veiled disdain. Their departure was swift, leaving behind an air of finality that Ophelia found oddly liberating. She had no illusions about their feelings toward her¡ªthey had always viewed their assignment as temporary drudgery, not true service.


    Lady Margery had made her intentions clear. By withdrawing the experienced staff and replacing them with the untested Maerys and Colin, she was setting Ophelia up to fail. The customary arrangement dictated that a child of Ophelia¡¯s status would keep their borrowed staff until their twelfth birthday and magical confirmation. But Lady Margery had found a way to skirt the norms, likely citing Ophelia¡¯s small household as justification and weak backing.


    As the door closed behind Ellen and Hilary, Maerys shifted nervously by the hearth, wringing her hands. Colin stood awkwardly near the entrance, his armour clinking faintly with each fidget.


    ¡°Well,¡± Ophelia said, breaking the silence, ¡°it seems we¡¯ll be relying on each other from now on.¡±


    Maerys nodded, though her wide eyes betrayed her uncertainty. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best, my lady.¡±


    ¡°Me as well,¡± Colin added.


    Ophelia managed a small smile, though inside she simmered. Lady Margery might think she¡¯d succeeded in making her life more difficult, but she had given the gurl a boon.

 Volume 1: Chapter 5

    The following days were an exercise in adaptation. With no kitchen maids, Maerys and Ophelia shared the burden of cooking and cleaning, while Colin took to organising the tower''s security. His enthusiasm was admirable, though Ophelia suspected he knew little more than she did about defending a household.


    To compensate, Ophelia began reading books on basic fortifications and defence, sharing what she learned with Colin in their bi-nightly meetings. Creating a detailed floor plan and identifying potential vulnerabilities. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was better than nothing.


    Meanwhile, Maerys surprised Ophelia with her willingness to learn. Though clumsy at first, the girl quickly picked up on how to manage the daily tasks, from preparing simple meals to maintaining the cleanliness of the small household. She was cheerful, too¡ªa trait Ophelia hadn¡¯t realized she needed.


    It wasn¡¯t an easy arrangement, but it was theirs.


    Weeks later, during their midday meal of barley soup and bread, Maerys broached the topic that had been lingering in the back of everyone¡¯s minds.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯ll have magic, my lady?¡± she asked, her voice hesitant but curious.


    Ophelia paused, the spoon halfway to her mouth. The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Magic was everything in Qeorene''s society. A noble child with strong magic could command respect and influence; without it, they were often treated as little more than an inconvenience.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Ophelia admitted. ¡°But we won¡¯t find out for another year, so there¡¯s no use worrying about it now.¡±


    Maerys nodded, though her expression suggested she didn¡¯t entirely agree. ¡°Still, you¡¯ve got the look of someone who might,¡± she said. ¡°My old mistress used to say you could tell by the eyes. You¡¯ve got sharp ones.¡±


    Ophelia chuckled softly, shaking her head. ¡°Let¡¯s hope she was right, then.¡±


    Colin, who had been quietly eating, finally spoke up. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me saying, my lady, even without magic, you¡¯ve got something¡­ different about you. The way you think things through. It¡¯s like you see more than what¡¯s right in front of you.¡±


    Ophelia glanced at him, surprised. It was the first time he¡¯d spoken so openly about his impressions of her. ¡°Thank you, Colin,¡± she said simply. ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a compliment.¡±


    The conversation moved on to lighter topics, but Ophelia couldn¡¯t shake the weight of their words. Both Maerys and Colin had placed their faith in her, despite her precarious position. Lady Margery might have expected her to falter, but Ophelia was determined to thrive.


    She still had a year before the church¡¯s ritual would reveal whether she had magic. Until then, she would use every moment to prepare herself. If she did have magic, she would wield it with purpose. And if she didn¡¯t, she would find another way to survive. For now, her focus was clear: strengthen her household and gain knowledge.


    The morning sun leaked golden light over the castle grounds as Ophelia stepped into her modest personal carriage. It was small, just large enough for herself and Maerys, who sat opposite her, fidgeting with excitement. The driver, an older servant named Thomlin, gave a polite nod before snapping the reins to set the horses in motion.


    Ophelia glanced out the window as the castle receded into the distance, replaced by the winding dirt roads that led to the town. This was the first time she was venturing into town with her small allowance, and the prospect of making her own purchases thrilled her. It was a rare moment of independence; one she intended to savour.


    The town of Highmarch bustled with activity as the carriage rolled to a stop near the central marketplace. The air was thick with the smells of freshly baked bread, roasting meat, and the sharp tang of tannery work. Merchants called out to passersby, hawking everything from fine silks to sturdy leather goods.


    As Thomlin opened the carriage door, Ophelia stepped down carefully, her soft leather shoes crunching against the cobblestones. Maerys followed, her eyes wide with wonder at the lively scene.


    ¡°Stay close, Maerys,¡± Ophelia said, straightening her modest yet elegant gown. ¡°Let¡¯s start with the fabrics.¡±Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    They made their way to a large stall draped in vibrant textiles. Rolls of fabric in every imaginable colour and texture were displayed, from simple wools to shimmering satins. Ophelia carefully examined the offerings, running her fingers over the materials. She selected a deep green velvet, a rich burgundy wool, and a soft cream linen¡ªenough to commission several new dresses suitable for her growing stature.


    The merchant, a jovial man with a keen eye for wealth, wrapped her purchases neatly. ¡°A fine selection, my lady,¡± he said, bowing as she handed over the coins.


    With the fabrics secured, Ophelia turned her attention to something more ambitious. She had noticed a small stable on the outskirts of the market and led Maerys there, curiosity gleaming in her eyes.


    The stable master, a grizzled man with a weathered face, greeted her with a polite nod. ¡°Looking for a horse, my lady?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Ophelia replied. ¡°Something gentle but spirited. I¡¯m new to riding, but I want a steed that can grow with me.¡±


    He nodded thoughtfully, leading her to a paddock where a handful of horses grazed. Among them was a sleek mare with a coat the colour of honey and a white blaze down her nose. She stood out immediately, her eyes bright and curious.


    ¡°This one¡¯s a fine choice,¡± the stable master said. ¡°She¡¯s young, but well-trained. Name¡¯s Ember.¡±


    Ophelia approached the mare slowly, her hand outstretched. Ember sniffed her palm before nuzzling it gently. A smile spread across Ophelia¡¯s face.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take her,¡± she said, the decision feeling instinctive.


    The stable master quickly fetched a simple saddle and bridle, including them in the price. Though it cost a significant portion of her allowance, Ophelia felt the purchase was worth it. Thomlin arranged for Ember to be led back to the castle while Ophelia and Maerys returned to their carriage.


    As the carriage rumbled back toward the castle, Maerys couldn¡¯t contain her excitement. ¡°That horse is beautiful, my lady! I can¡¯t wait to see you ride her.¡±


    Ophelia smiled, her thoughts already drifting to the future.


    <hr>


    The late afternoon sun streamed through the tall, narrow windows of Ophelia¡¯s modest sitting room, casting a golden glow on the stone walls. Seated on a low wooden stool with her long black hair falling like a waterfall around her shoulders, Ophelia handed Maerys a boar-bristle brush.


    ¡°You must start from the end,¡± Ophelia instructed, her voice gentle but firm. ¡°If you try to pull the brush through from the top, it¡¯ll snag and break the strands.¡±


    Maerys, seated on a cushion behind her, nodded earnestly. She took the brush and carefully followed Ophelia¡¯s guidance, working through the tangles in small sections. ¡°Your hair is so beautiful, my lady,¡± she said, awe evident in her voice. ¡°Like the silks in the market.¡±


    Ophelia chuckled softly. ¡°Thank you, Maerys. It does take work to keep it this way, though. That¡¯s why I¡¯m teaching you.¡±


    Once her hair was smooth and shining, Ophelia reached for a small pile of ribbons and pins she had gathered. ¡°Now, I¡¯m going to show you some braids. These are styles I remember from¡­ well, I¡¯ve seen them before.¡±


    She began with a simple three-strand braid, weaving her hair with practised ease while Maerys watched intently. ¡°This is the foundation for most styles,¡± Ophelia explained. ¡°Once you¡¯ve mastered it, you can make it more intricate.¡±


    Next, she demonstrated a rope braid, twisting two sections of hair together, and then moved on to a fishtail braid, which made Maerys gasp with delight. ¡°It¡¯s so delicate! Like lace,¡± Maerys marvelled.


    Ophelia smiled, pleased with her maid¡¯s enthusiasm. ¡°Now it¡¯s your turn. Practice on me.¡±


    Though Maerys¡¯s fingers were clumsy at first, she quickly grew more confident under Ophelia¡¯s patient instruction. By the time the lesson ended, she had managed a neat three-strand braid and a passable rope braid. Ophelia praised her progress, promising to teach her more in the coming days.


    Later that week, Ophelia brought out a small sewing kit she¡¯d retrieved from her wardrobe. It was modest, containing only a few needles, some thread, and scraps of fabric, but it would serve their purpose.


    ¡°Today, we¡¯re going to work on sewing and embroidery,¡± Ophelia said, seating herself at the table. ¡°Nothing too fancy, but enough to make you stand out.¡±


    Maerys leaned forward, eager to learn. ¡°I¡¯ve mended torn hems before, my lady, but nothing like embroidery.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a good start,¡± Ophelia said. ¡°Mending is an important skill. Embroidery is more about decoration, but it can make simple garments look elegant. Watch.¡±


    Taking a square of fabric, Ophelia demonstrated a simple running stitch, then showed Maerys how to make a neat hem into vines. Once Maerys had tried her hand at those, Ophelia moved on to basic embroidery, teaching her how to stitch small flowers and leaves. The designs were simple but charming, enough to impress anyone unfamiliar with the noble standard of embroidery.


    ¡°You¡¯re a quick learner,¡± Ophelia said as Maerys completed her first flower.


    Maerys beamed. ¡°It¡¯s thanks to you, my lady. No one¡¯s ever taken the time to teach me like this before.¡±


    As the days turned into weeks, their lessons became a cherished routine. Ophelia found joy in sharing the knowledge she remembered from her past life, and Maerys grew more confident with each new skill she acquired. Her ability to style hair and sew became a source of pride. She even had the girl make a few new dresses for later in the year.


    Ophelia, meanwhile, felt a growing sense of satisfaction. Lady Margery might have intended Maerys to be a liability, but Ophelia had turned her into an asset. One loyal completely to her.


    And in the quiet moments, as Maerys braided her hair or stitched a new pattern, Ophelia allowed herself a small, private smile. She might be isolated in her little tower, but she was building something strong¡ªsomething no one could take away from her.

 Volume 1: Chapter 6

    The garden was a peaceful haven in the late afternoon, its vibrant blossoms swaying gently in the breeze. Ophelia sat on a low stone bench near a flowering hedge, her embroidery hoop balanced delicately in her lap. She was working on a design of intertwined vines and blossoms, her stitches neat and precise. However, the moment''s tranquillity allowed her to forget the many tensions of her life briefly.


    Her focus broke when she heard the unmistakable sound of voices¡ªhigh, mocking tones that instantly made her stomach tighten. She glanced up to see two of her half-siblings approaching: Lord Percival, the eldest legitimate son, and Lady Evelyne, one of the daughters born to her father¡¯s fourth wife. Their fine clothes and superior airs made Ophelia feel immediately out of place, even though she had every right to be there.


    ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t our little tower-dweller,¡± Percival said, his smirk sharp as a blade. Evelyne giggled, covering her mouth with a gloved hand.


    ¡°What are you doing out here, little mouse?¡± Evelyne asked, her voice saccharine and cruel. ¡°Surely you should be in your little hovel, away from polite company?¡±


    Ophelia calmly continued her stitching, refusing to rise to their bait. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that enjoying the garden was restricted to cox-combs.¡±


    Percival¡¯s smile faded, replaced by a glint of annoyance. ¡°Little sister. It¡¯s about the air you¡¯re polluting with your¡­ presence.¡±


    Evelyne chimed in; her tone mockingly sweet. ¡°Why don¡¯t you run along now? We wouldn¡¯t want you to dirty the flowers, too.¡±


    The barbs stung, but Ophelia refused to give them the satisfaction of a reaction. Carefully, she gathered her embroidery and rose to her feet. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dream of disturbing you further,¡± she said coolly. ¡°Enjoy your time in the garden.¡±


    She walked away with her head held high, even as their laughter followed her. Inside, her blood simmered with anger and frustration. This was the world she had to navigate¡ªone where her legitimacy as a noble meant little to her siblings. It was hard being in a world where they still believed in the divine right and the notion of blue blood. Sometimes it Had Ophelia wanting to choke every sexist monologue the men around her spewed.


    Ophelia found Ser Colin polishing his sword near the small stable that housed her new horse, Ember. He looked up as she approached, concern flickering at her expression.


    ¡°Ser Colin,¡± she said firmly, ¡°saddle Ember. We¡¯re going for a ride.¡±


    Colin hesitated, his youthful face betraying his uncertainty. ¡°Outside the estate, my lady? Are you certain that¡¯s wise? I was instructed not to let you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Colin,¡± she interrupted, her voice sharp enough to cut through his excuses. ¡°I am not asking for your opinion. I need fresh air, and I will have it. Now, saddle the horse.¡± The young knight flushed but nodded, rising quickly to obey.


    Soon, Ember was saddled and ready. Ophelia mounted the mare with practised ease, her anger easing slightly as she felt the reins in her hands and the solid weight of the horse beneath her. Ser Colin mounted his steed, a sturdy gelding, and followed as she guided Ember through the estate gates.


    The road stretched before them, winding through rolling hills and meadows bursting with wildflowers. The fresh air filled her lungs, and the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the dirt soothed her frayed nerves. Ophelia urged Ember into a canter, the wind whipping her hair behind her like a dark banner.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Where are we heading, my lady?¡± Colin called, struggling to keep up.


    ¡°Anywhere,¡± she replied, her voice carried on the wind. ¡°Anywhere that isn¡¯t here.¡±


    They rode for what felt like hours, the estate shrinking in the distance. Eventually, they stopped near a quiet stream, the water sparkling under the sun. Ophelia dismounted and let Ember graze, sitting on the soft grass by the stream¡¯s edge. Colin remained nearby, his unease evident, but he said nothing.


    For the first time that day, Ophelia felt at peace. Here, away from the suffocating hierarchy of the castle, she could breathe. The gentle gurgle of the stream and the rustle of leaves in the breeze was a peaceful thing. She thought that soon these things would become a luxury. As her twelfth birthday approaches her use to her paternal family would be measured and from there, her future decided.


    ¡°Thank you, Ser Colin,¡± she said quietly, her voice soft but sincere. ¡°For coming with me.¡±


    The young knight inclined his head, his expression softening. ¡°Of course, my lady. Wherever you go, I¡¯ll follow.¡±


    Ophelia smiled faintly.


    As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the tranquil stream, Ophelia rested against the trunk of an old oak tree. Ser Colin stood nearby, tending to the horses, his movements efficient but tinged with an air of melancholy she hadn¡¯t noticed before.


    ¡°Colin,¡± Ophelia said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.


    He turned, brushing a hand through his sandy brown hair. ¡°Yes, my lady?¡±


    She gestured for him to sit beside her on the grass. After a moment¡¯s hesitation, he obliged, settling a short distance away, his posture respectful yet relaxed.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been quiet today,¡± she observed. ¡°I appreciate your company, but I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever really asked¡­ what brought you here? To my father¡¯s service, I mean.¡±


    Colin hesitated, his hand straying to the hilt of his sword as if seeking comfort. ¡°It¡¯s not much of a story, my lady,¡± he said with a self-deprecating smile. ¡°But if you wish to know¡­¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Ophelia encouraged. ¡°You¡¯re one of the few people I trust, Colin. I¡¯d like to know more about you.¡±


    He seemed surprised by her words, his blue eyes widening briefly before he nodded. ¡°Very well. I suppose it starts with my mother. She was a scullery maid in a lesser noble¡¯s household. The lord there¡­¡± He paused, his expression hardening. ¡°Well, let¡¯s just say he wasn¡¯t kind, nor was he particularly careful about where his children ended up. I was one of them.¡±


    Ophelia¡¯s heart sank at the implications. ¡°An illegitimate child, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Colin admitted, his tone matter of fact. ¡°No magic, no noble title¡ªjust a boy who was lucky enough to catch the attention of a retired knight who needed a squire. He saw potential in me, I suppose. Or maybe he just pitied me. Either way, he taught me how to fight, and that skill eventually earned me a place in your father¡¯s household.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a remarkable story,¡± Ophelia said, sincerity lacing her voice. ¡°You turned a difficult start into something worthwhile. Not many can say the same.¡±


    Colin shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s not as grand as you make it sound, my lady. I¡¯m just a man with a sword, doing what I can to survive.¡±


    Ophelia studied him for a moment, noting the way his gaze lingered on the horizon, as though searching for something far beyond their immediate surroundings. ¡°Do you ever dream of more than just survival?¡± she asked gently.


    He looked at her, startled by the question. ¡°Dreams?¡± he echoed, as though the concept were foreign. ¡°I suppose I haven¡¯t given it much thought. My life¡¯s always been about getting through the day.¡±


    ¡°But if you could dream,¡± she pressed, ¡°what would you want?¡±


    Colin was silent for a long time, his expression contemplative. Finally, he said, ¡°Peace, I think. A quiet place where I don¡¯t have to fight, where I don¡¯t have to prove my worth every moment of every day. A life where I¡¯m not judged for where I came from.¡±


    Ophelia smiled faintly, her heart aching with understanding. ¡°I feel the same,¡± she admitted. ¡°I¡¯m tired of the games, the cruelty, the constant battle to justify my existence. I just want a simple, peaceful life in a warm castle.¡±


    Colin regarded her with a newfound respect, his usual guardedness giving way to something warmer. ¡°It¡¯s strange,¡± he said after a pause. ¡°Hearing a noble speak like that. Most would think peace is beneath them.¡±


    ¡°Most have never had to fight for anything real,¡± Ophelia replied softly. ¡°They take their privilege for granted. But you and I¡­ we know better.¡±


    For a moment, the two of them simply sat there, the quiet of the countryside wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. Perhaps, she thought, she wasn¡¯t so alone after all.