Dismays and illnesses

*RUMBLE!*

"Wow, it's really become a storm out there," Aveline remarked as a bolt of lightning split the distant horizon. The momentary flash lit up the otherwise dim skies. As a few seconds passed, a resounding clap of thunder shook the windows she stood in front of.

She turned slightly, her eyes drifting to her sister. Ophelia's silhouette was unmistakable from where Aveline stood, the contours of her busty figure accentuated by the dress she wore, its high neckline failing to conceal much of her cleavage. The braid of silver hair cascading down her back did little to obscure her exposed skin or the gentle curve of her posture.

"..." Ophelia didn't answer, her gaze fixed at some point in the distance with an almost empty intent.

'Tough audience.' Aveline mused inwardly, a hand rising to her hip. Finally, with the unpleasant weather, she had an excuse to drop the dress, instead dressing into an attire that suited her toned physique better. The dark hem of her fitted trousers merged almost seamlessly with the long, bright shirt that hung loosely over her figure.

"Sheesh, what happened to you? I rarely see you with a face that long," Aveline let out a soft chuckle, her elbow nudging Ophelia’s shoulder with a playful insistence, attempting to draw her sister out of her sullen reverie.

"...it's nothing," the silver-haired woman murmured after a few seconds.

'Who are you trying to fool, Ophee...' Aveline frowned lightly. However, she restrained herself from reacting beyond that.

"Did you learn anything about Princess Seraphina?" the older turned to the younger. The genuine question in her gaze appeared to layer over something. Still, the emotion was a mystery to her taller sibling.

"A bit," Aveline shrugged, her blonde hair shifting slightly with the motion. "In essence, try not to carry yourself too high around her and she'll open up to you. Not much more to say beyond that."

"..." Ophelia slowly turned to the window. In the barely visible reflection, Aveline noticed that some part of her response stirred a reaction within her blue-eyed sibling.

"Haven't you met her after lunch?"

"...she left not long after it started. Mentioned needing to visit the bathroom but took an eternity to return. By the time she did, our conversation was all but over. After that, she went to her room and requested to not be disturbed until later," Ophelia scoffed, letting out a faint sigh. "I can’t shake the feeling that she doesn’t like us."

'Can you really blame her…?' Aveline thought to herself, the unspoken question lingering in her mind, tinged with a sense of helplessness. 'It’s not your fault, Ophee,' she added inwardly, her heart aching slightly. With a short yawn, Aveline took the silver strands of her hair and moved them slightly back.

"So, what now? Got any plans?" she inquired, turning to face Ophelia completely.

Ophelia shrugged, the casual movement causing her chest to rise and fall slightly. "Do you?"

"I was thinking about asking Lis'te for a spar. Turns out, he's a Spearman at mid-Rook rank," Aveline smirked.

Ophelia could practically see the spark of exhilaration in her sister’s eyes, understanding how the prospect of facing a strong opponent thrilled her. She knew little of how ranking for non-Mage classes worked, but she did hear a few terms being thrown about now and again. From her memories, she recalled Rook-rank to be the second highest, overshadowed by King and Queen ranks. As for how it compared to the circles of magic, she decided it wasn't worth puzzling over.

"Do you know if Lucas is around?" Ophelia asked, her gaze shifting as if searching for something within the dim corridor.

"I don't know. He probably won't return until evening," the Magic Swordsman shrugged. With a lazy motion, she swiped some hair from her front to her back. "Why?"

"...no reason in particular."

"*Sigh* Ophee, I know you didn't get your weekly session with him this time around, but give him a break," Aveline almost snorted, but it was unclear whether it was with scorn or defeat. "He just started the Academy, and he has your boyfriend to deal with. If you’re **** to spar, I'm available."

"Why do you assume that’s why I want to see him?" Ophelia raised an eyebrow, a flicker of irritation in her gaze.

Aveline shot her a knowing look that clearly read, ‘Are you really trying this with me?’. The silent exchange lingered for a moment, Ophelia feeling herself deflate slightly under her sister’s perceptive stare. She sighed softly, her hand moving instinctively to adjust her dress.

"...I wanted to ask him if we have any books in Mins. I asked Miri to call for Nimue, but she was not available. She seems to be sick today."

"Sick?" 'Nimue sick...? But she was perfectly fine this morning.' Aveline tried to mask the surprise that stirred her mind at the thought. "Well, but I'm sure anyone could tell if a book is not in Siles, no?"

"I'm looking for a specific title. Some of the books about the Western Sweep."

"Those? We have those in Siles, you know?"

"...I just want to give Princess Seraphina something to help her pass the time if she doesn't want to spend time with us."

Aveline stared at her sister, her expression a mixture of puzzlement and exasperation. "Books about war and bloodshed, during a time when her country is at war? What a choice," she said, but her tone seemed to carry an edge of scorn.

Ophelia remained silent, her eyes drifting back to the window. The only sound that broke the ensuing stillness was the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the glass, punctuated by the distant rumble of thunder. It became increasingly clear to Aveline that her sister’s actions were impulsive, lacking a proper explanation. Or... perhaps they were not her own idea...

Aveline decided to cut the moment short. "Well, do as you please. I’ll see you at dinner," she said, turning away and making her way down the corridor, her footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor.

Ophelia watched her sister’s athletic form retreat, her gait easy and unhurried as she rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Alone again, Ophelia turned her gaze back to the rain-soaked window. Her reflection stared back at her, and she found herself lingering on her own eyes. There was something about them - something almost… familiar, but elusive.

Her thoughts drifted back to her earlier exchange with Aveline, and she felt a tiny pang in her chest. It felt like some invisible hand plucked at the strings tying her heart. It was an almost imperceptible sensation when she thought about their white-haired brother. Inept failure as he was, he did know Mins, which was one point he had above both his sisters. That, however, wasn't the entire reason Ophelia wanted to see him. Deep in her mind, somewhere she could not locate, resonated a quiet reassurance, like a subconscious guide. It was a thought that, at the end of the day, she could talk with her brother honestly. It was nothing strange or dangerous.

-Meanwhile-

Lucas exhaled shallowly. The underground corridor under his home, despite being below the ground level, was completely dry, no doubt thanks to the design. His hand traced along the length of the sturdy wall, feeling the cold stone. A good amount of processing went into the design to make it smooth. As a result, the light from sparsely-placed manalamps was, surprisingly, bouncing off enough surfaces to justify the distances.

He glanced down at his academy robe, the material still damp from the earlier rain. The runestone that Alisha had given him had lasted almost until he reached the manor's front gate but had broken unexpectedly just short of his destination. He felt the cracked stone's texture as it lay in his pocket, lifeless and fragile. It was no longer imbued with mana, reduced to nothing more than a crumbling relic threatening to disintegrate at the slightest pressure. Still, Lucas couldn't bring himself to discard it. In a way, it was a souvenir - a memory of his first assembly. He didn't want to dispose of it, not now at least.

"Phew," he sighed, but soon a smile spread across his face. All things considered, he was in high spirits. Today had been kind to him. Yesterday's tension was resolved early morning, the lectures were not demanding of him, and the assembly he had been worried about turned out to be a trifling concern, at least for now.

As he reached his room, Lucas quickly changed out of his academy robe, swapping it for the plain attire typical of commoners. A dark beige shirt draped loosely over his chest, complementing his simple black trousers. He held no prejudice against clothes like these; in fact, he found comfort in their simplicity which cared not for stares of others. It was a stylistic choice that had grown on him over the years. He knew Ophelia would rather sever ties with her wardrobe than don anything remotely similar, and his mother shared that disdain. Aveline, though, was the one exception - she might even applaud his modest attire.

'She had always been the type to wear pants over dresses. She probably used the weather as an excuse to wear some again.'

He almost chuckled, exiting his room. Making a quick turn, Lucas strode in the kitchen's direction. The storm raging outside seemed a distant concern, the calm atmosphere and dry air of the manor making it easy to forget. Lucas pushed open the doors to the kitchen, his eyes immediately seeking out the elderly woman within.

"Hey, Ina," he called to her whilst looking around the room.

"Young master, welcome," Ina greeted him warmly, her smile reaching her gray eyes.

"What's for dinner?"

"Roasted beef with beans," came the reply, the woman swiftly plating a portion for him.

Wasting no time, Lucas settled into the nearest chair, glancing around the otherwise empty kitchen as he began eating. An internal sigh followed. Usually, they'd eat in a group. Nimue was present at almost every meal he attended (her schedule worked really well with his). Floyd joined from time to time, and occasionally, other maids like Miri, the head maid, made an appearance. However, that changed when he started attending the Academy. The predictability of those meetings waned into obscurity.

Deciding to stop his silent ponders, the man quickly ate. Ina was already busy with preparations for the evening's feast upstairs. He watched her for a moment, noticing how focused she was, her practiced hands working swiftly over the ingredients. The aromas were enticing, making him almost want some of them despite already finishing his full portion.

Putting the dishes aside, the man stood up and came slightly closer to the cook. He watched briefly as she expertly made work of some ingredients.

"They're eating well upstairs tonight," he commented with a faint snicker. "You've worked hard, Ina."

"Lady Ophelia requested multiple Inallel-styled dishes," the gray-eyed woman sighed with a bit of resignation. "It's been absolutely hectic here today. Regis and Tessa are helping me full-on."

"Hmm?" Lucas's brow raised as he looked around. "Where are they?"

"I sent Regis for some supplies. Tessa should be still peeling garlic, I think?"

Lucas's eyes shot toward the door to the storage room. Stepping closer, he pressed the handle and looked inside.

A sharp scent of garlic hit him immediately, the potent aroma stinging his nose and making his eyes water. Blinking through the burn, he called out, "Hey, Tessa."

"Hello, young master~," a cheerful, melodic voice responded from between the shelves of supplies.

Sitting on a small barrel was quite a charming woman. Even sitting, it was apparent that she was taller than average. Her hair was a shade of a bright red rose, glimmering almost stunningly as its ends fell against her shoulders. Her rather plump lips were of enticingly pink color, curved in a happy smile. Her body was as lithe as her face showed, a sleek yet defined figure hidden underneath her maid outfit. Her eyes were focused on the man, a smile dancing within. However, her hands swiftly worked on a garlic head, peeling its skin effortlessly. It was almost like she didn't need to see it.

'Tessa is quite skilled at peeling those. Didn't she say last month her Dexterity stat reached 30?' thought Lucas as he nodded with a smile. Dexterity was a stat allowing much finer control of one's body. It extended not just to overall coordination but was also visible when performing small tasks. Tessa was the most dexterous person in the manor by a long shot - she had been doing precise work like this for as long as she'd been living here. That stat, in particular, snowballed with her, much like the resistances soared with Lucas.

"How are you doing, Tessa?" he asked, smiling.

"Just fine~," she replied before popping a large clove of garlic into her mouth, her nonchalant expression never faltering.

'She really doesn’t understand what 'spicy' means,' Lucas thought with a hint of amusement.

"I hope you're not eating those cloves," Ina's voice sounded.

Tessa's cheeks flushed instantly as she hastily covered her mouth, trying to hide her garlic-scented breath.

"Of course not!" she protested, her demeanor shifting from playful to embarrassed.

Lucas laughed at the sight. "Keep at it, Tessa," he said warmly before closing the door.

"*Sigh* I swear, half of our onions and garlic end up in that girl's stomach," Ina muttered, her tone a mix of annoyance and amusement. She appeared to share thoughts with Lucas on the matter.

Lucas shrugged, releasing a brief chuckle as well. Then, his hand went through his hair. "Well, do you need some help? I have nothing but time on my hands right now."

"Actually, no, not here," the cook shook her head. "Most of the work has already been handled, we're just finishing preparations for the dinner."

"I see," Lucas said, stealing a glance at the dishes again. "Did you prepare a honey and chestnut salad, by any chance?"

"No. We have seven dishes from Inallel in total, but none using chestnuts or honey. I can make it if you want to eat it, though."

"It's alright, I don't want to eat that," Lucas shook his head. 'So, Ophelia is going for a blind-strike approach. Seems like she couldn't get to talk with Seraphina.' he thought. In the very corner of his mind, he could sense the strange presence almost smiling at the news. Why it did that was beyond him. "But I think, if anyone, our guests might appreciate it."

Ina gave the man a laugh. "I've heard the Princess upstairs refused to touch anything I made. If she's that uptight, I hope at least those will soothe her mood."

Lucas smiled, nodding, but her words sparked a thought. "Who’s delivering the food upstairs, with our guests here?"

"The same as usual, young master," Ina shrugged without stopping her motions. "Lilia, Tessa, whoever is around. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering. I thought Miri would call everyone available to help."

"She called Nimue once or twice, but as far as I know, it was to assist Lady Ophelia," Ina explained.

Lucas nodded silently, mulling over her words.

"Speaking of," Ina paused, turning to face him. "Could I trouble you with something about Nimue, young master?"

"Of course, what is it?" Lucas asked, vigilant at the mention of the elf maid.

"Can you bring her a bowl of stock? She was feeling under the weather, so I made some, but I can't leave the kitchen yet."

The concern on Lucas's face was immediate. The memory of Nimue from this morning flashed in his mind. Despite the tension between them, she seemed perfectly fine. Hearing that she was suddenly unwell stirred an uneasy feeling in his chest, like a flutter of anxiety that wouldn't be quelled easily. He could sense the presence in his mind growing... confused.

Noticing his change in demeanor, Ina gave him a compassionate expression. "It's nothing serious, young master. Josephine said it's just a cold."

Lucas’s brow furrowed at the mention of Josephine, the house's Healer, who rarely made appearances. The fact that she had been called meant the illness might have seemed more serious than Ina let on.

"Well, if Josephine says it's just a cold," he sighed, deciding not to overthink. "Alright, I’ll take it to her."

Ina handed him a small bowl of steaming stock, the golden liquid glistening with drops of fat. She must have prepared it while he was lost in thought, as the bowl was still cool to the touch.

Barely taking the time to thank her, Lucas turned and left the kitchen. Ina watched him rush off, shaking her head with a knowing smile.

'Children, both of them.'

-Meanwhile-

Lucas's steps were quick yet stable, his rhythm steady as he moved down the narrow corridor. The gentle sway of his motions made the stock in the bowl threaten to spill several times, but he paid it little mind. Was this urgency coming from deep within his heart, or was it the subtle urging of that voice at the back of his mind? Whichever the case, the only reason he did not break into a run was that he held an item that was supposed to help the woman whom he was about to visit.

He cast a glance down the length of the underground passage, a habit he’d developed whenever he walked this way. As always, he confirmed he was alone. The corridor’s dim lighting flickered faintly, and the chill of the stones seemed to press in from all sides.

His steps slowed down as he saw a door in the distance. He recognized the wooden surface, aged yet still standing strong. To anyone, it'd be just another door in the corridor. To him, however, who knew the entire manor's layout inside and out, it was his destination.

Raising his free hand, Lucas adjusted his attire, smoothing the creases as he felt a pang of uncertainty. A shiver traced his spine, but he ignored it, letting his knuckles gently knock against the door.

"Nimue?"

Only silence answered. Lucas repeated the motion, this time with a little more determination.

"Nimue? Are you awake?"

"...young master?"

The elf's voice came muffled from behind the door. Listening to it intensely for a moment, Lucas could tell that she spoke far more languidly than usual like she was just pulled from a deep slumber.

His hand crept on the door in tandem with his heart throbbing.

"I've brought you some stock. May I enter?"

"...w-wait a minute, please."

Her words were sluggish, but they reassured him enough to release a shallow breath of relief. For a few seconds, faint rustling sounds came from the chik just below the door, sounding almost like some cloth being dragged and a click that he could only ever attribute to something hard - a chair, perhaps - being set on the ground properly.

Eventually, as the sounds quieted down, he heard a faint click of Nimue's boots, followed by the click of the lock turning. She opened the door just slightly, allowing their gazes to meet.

Nimue's green eyes, typically vivid and focused, were now clouded and weary. Her face seemed normal in color, save for the redness of her nose and ears, and her dainty fingers rested on the door's edge, their pallor suggesting the blood had abandoned them.

"Y-Young master," she said with a stammer. Her eyes looked down at the man's hands. "Thank you..." she reached out to accept the bowl of stock.

However, seeing how her hands trembled, Lucas interjected her intention. "Can I enter?"

Visible hesitation crossed Nimue's features. Focusing on him briefly, she seemed to ponder on her answer before her hand clutched further and flexed, opening the door in full. Taking the invitation, Lucas stepped inside before she closed it.

Immediately, he noticed the somewhat messy nature of the space. The bed was just barely halfway made, with the cover haphazardly sprawled atop it and the pillow holding for its dear life to the bed's corner. The cold floor seemed stained with something dark, but the nature of the liquid was a mystery to the man. Perhaps tea, he figured. Its faint smell, intermingling with the room's ambient scent - a mix of Nimue's perfumes, the aged wood, and the woman herself - was almost impossible to distinguish. Another scent, barely noticeable, seemed out of place, but he dismissed it.

The other half of the room was more orderly, save for the wardrobe mirror, which was covered with a dress, obscuring its reflective surface. Lucas approached the table and set down the bowl, finally turning to face Nimue.

What piqued Lucas's attention, however, was the chill that lingered in the air. The underground corridors and rooms definitely weren't that warm in the first place, but Nimue's room seemed almost unnaturally cold.

However, the thought was thrown away as he placed the bowl of stock on the table and turned to face the woman.

"How do you feel?" he asked, his concern palpable.

"I’m alright, young master," Nimue replied, managing a weak smile. "It’s just a small cold. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow," her voice, though warm, lacked its usual vitality, and her weary eyes contradicted her reassurances.

Lucas frowned, his gaze searching her expression. "It doesn’t look like it to me. I know you recover quickly, but don’t push yourself too much."

Nimue nodded and shuffled over to sit down in a chair, moving with deliberate care. Her oversized gray shirt hung loosely, revealing glimpses of the shape beneath, while her thick shorts reached her knees. The woman took hold of her hair briefly, shifting the black mass to her side. She seemed to want to say something as she glanced at Lucas, but **** herself not to, her hand instead going for the spoon he brought.

Lucas sat in the other chair, just the table between them.

"I'll be alright, young master," Nimue repeated, her hand shaky as she started eating. "I'm just-- ah," she gasped briefly, the spoon dropping from her hand with a clatter. A stain appeared on her chest, which she immediately attempted to swipe away. With a heavy sigh, she leaned down to grab the utensil. "=Damn it.="

Before her fingers could reach it, she felt Lucas’s hand brush against hers. She looked up, startled. He had already wiped the spoon clean with his shirt, holding it out for her.

"T-Thank you, young master," she said, her cheeks flushing faintly.

Lucas hardly reacted, his gaze still filled with concern. Nimue felt her heart falter with uncertainty, the warmth from it spreading through her chill-ridden limbs. Her fingers kept on shaking as she wrapped the spoon in her palm again.

She could feel Lucas's soft stare on her as she resumed eating. His gaze focused on no spot in particular, drinking in her entire figure as though he tried to anticipate when something wrong would happen. Another flush appeared, coming from the bottom of her heart. Normally, she'd be the one in his position. A glint of embarrassment flashed inside her mind as she was aware of her unsightly look. However, that sensation was drowned out by how nice it felt to be cared for.

"How was the Academy, young master?" she decided to break the silence partway through her meal.

"It was alright. The assembly went smoothly, too," Lucas replied. His eyes appeared to shimmer as though Nimue's question invoked some good memories.

"I'm glad to hear that," Nimue smiled. "But I heard your assembly is until 20? Did I sleep that long?"

"Oh, that's just the time frame. We can meet at any time between 14 and 20 on Tuesdays," Lucas explained. "The assembly itself took just a little while. The next one will probably take longer."

The black-haired maid nodded. "The next one is the day after tomorrow, is it not?"

"Yeah. I wonder if it'll be a little better. Our group leader asked me to meet her in the library so that we could begin searching for some theory to supply ourselves with."

Nimue nodded, the gesture serving as the only response while she ate. Still, her eyes were diligently focused on the white-haired man across the table. Unbeknownst to her, a gentle smile appeared on her lips.

"Nimue... I had a question," Lucas said, his voice tinted faintly by uncertainty. "What language do you think in?"

"?" Nimue's motion stopped before she gave the man a slightly strange, if not confused, look. "Why do you ask?"

"I just wondered," he shrugged. "I met someone who speaks in Sinel, and I wondered how it works with someone who knows two distinct languages. I know I think in Siles, but that's my primary language, and I haven't known Mins for that long. But how does it work with you, I wondered?" his brow raised.

Nimue frowned, her gaze escaping his briefly. She appeared to dissect his question, almost as though it never became apparent to her. After a couple of seconds, she hummed, a hand going to her chin.

"I... don't really know," Nimue answered slowly, visibly still in thought. "I think it's more of a mix than a single one...?" her emerald eyes looked at the white-haired man. "It's hard for me to say, but it does feel that way. Some words from Siles I supply with Mins, even though I know what they are. But it's definitely Siles primarily. I've rarely used pure Mins since I've come here, young master," she finished her ponder, resuming her eating.

"I see."

A moment of silence ensued. Lucas pondered as Nimue continued her meal.

'Come to think of it, I know very little about Nimue's past.' he thought, stealing a glance at the alluring maid. Despite her casual clothing, he could not help but attribute a very natural, sexy look to her. She looked far better like this than in her working outfit, he thought. 'She was never the type to talk about herself much. All I really know is that grandfather Iwo took her in about 40 years ago. Other than that... I don't even know if she has a family, or why she came to live with us.' he frowned slightly at the realization. The presence in the back of his mind appeared to faintly nod, devoid of any particular reaction.

"Young master?" Nimue's voice brought him out of his spell. "Is something the matter?"

Slowly, he shook his head, clearing his head of his ponders. "It's nothing much. Have you finished?"

"Oh, yes," the maid nodded.

"Then, I won't be disturbing your rest," Lucas slowly stood up. He grabbed the bowl lightly. "Please rest well. If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out."

Lucas could almost see the maid become increasingly flustered. Some ideas seemed to cross her mind in an instant, painting her white skin with a bit of pink, which at least partly made her look healthier.

"...c-can I ask f-for something?" she asked, standing up. Lucas noticed that her motion appeared very slightly wobbly.

He followed her motion, looking downward at her. "Of course, what is it?"

Nimue's answer was condensed to her action. Before Lucas could react, she was already hugging him, her head on his chest as her arms wrapped around his back. Her hold was light and uncertain, awaiting his reaction, which he immediately provided.

They stood like that for several seconds. Lucas could feel his mind and heart alike explode with a plethora of feelings in tandem with his heartbeat skyrocketing. He could almost sense that the same happened to Nimue smushed against him. From warmth and closeness to the maid to a sensation of almost intimate affection that grew within his heart. Perhaps...

*KNOCK KNOCK!*

The sound cut his thoughts off. They instantly snapped away like children caught red-handed, their bashfulness overtaking the intimacy of the moment. Their heads snapped toward the door.

Surprisingly, the voice that entered their ears was Aveline's.

"Nimue?" Lucas's sister called out, her voice muffled by the wood. "Are you sleeping? Can I come in?"

Nimue looked at Lucas, who seemingly sensed it, reciprocating. A question stirred in her orbs, silent yet evident. He shrugged in response, giving her a free hand.

"I'm here, Mistress Aveline," the elf spoke loudly. Now, her voice sounded far more lively than when she welcomed Lucas here, no doubt thanks to what just happened. "Is there something you need?"

"I just wanted to check on you. Can I come in or should I wait for you to get dressed?"

'She won't take a 'no' for an answer.' realized Lucas, very faintly sensing a tone of urgency in Aveline's tone.

Nimue appeared to also feel it as she spoke bluntly, "Yes, please come in."

Lucas was given not a moment to even think about Nimue's words as the door opened, and his sister walked in.

Aveline's gaze turned surprised as she recognized her brother.

"Well, fancy meeting you here, Lucas," she said, a tiny smirk on her face. "What are you doing in here?"

Lucas frowned faintly. "What, am I not allowed to visit someone ill?"

"I didn't say that. I just thought you'd still be at the Academy. Didn't you have a research group meeting today?"

"It finished early," he replied shortly. Then, his gaze ventured to Nimue. "Well, I should be going. Please rest well, Nimue," he added before getting a hold of her empty bowl and leaving the room. With the sound of the door closing, Aveline was left alone with Nimue.

...

"I interrupted you two, didn't I?"

"W-What?" Nimue's eyes widened. "Interrupted what?"

"I don't know, what were you two doing? You both look like fresh beets," Aveline remarked with a teasing smirk.

"..." Nimue's gaze skittered, her mouth unable to voice a word of explanation.

"Well, that aside," Aveline shrugged. "How are you feeling?" Aveline's expression turned softer, a hearable glint of concern mixing with her usual tone. Her blue eyes scrutinized Nimue's form as they sat down slowly.

"I'm alright," the maid nodded. "I'll be fine by tomorrow. It's just a cold."

"Right. 'You' having just a 'cold'," Aveline squinted. The blue of her eyes dimmed faintly.

Nimue's gaze skittered sideways, knowing that the story was useless. It could've worked on anyone - Lucas included - but only as long as they didn't know what only a few have been allowed to know.

"I won't be nagging you too long, Nimue. You know why I'm here."

Nimue felt her heart skip a beat or two. She knew well. However, her nervousness didn't stem from that fact. She knew that Aveline Stormrider was understanding of her position, just like her father and grandfather were. The apprehension eating at her heart originated from the grim realization of what she'd have to spill.

---

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