Rh3
Priscilla nodded with imperial dignity, but the mark on her wrist glowed with pleased warmth at the genuine appreciation of her contribution. As she prepared to depart, completing her morning service, she hesitated briefly at the door.
"The crimson formal robe suits you well," she noted with proprietary assessment. "You should wear it more frequently."
The comment—delivered as imperial decree rather than servile suggestion—demonstrated her continued pride even within the context of magical binding. Yet the fact that she cared enough to offer the observation revealed subtle evolution in her attitude. Not mere compliance with obligation but emerging investment in their shared presentation.
"I'll take your imperial expertise under advisement," Aurelius replied with the hint of a smile, the formal acknowledgment carrying a note of genuine appreciation that brought a flicker of satisfaction to Priscilla's expression before she departed with characteristic regal bearing.
---
Afternoon found Emilia in the manor's extensive library, surrounded by ancient texts regarding magical barriers and historical anomalies similar to those observed in the northern province. Her silver hair caught the sunlight streaming through tall windows as she bent over a particularly challenging elven manuscript, her brow furrowed in concentration.
According to the schedule, this was her appointed service period—reading to Aurelius in the garden. Given the urgency of the northern situation, however, she had expected the garden setting to be replaced with practical research. What she hadn't anticipated was Aurelius's approach to combining magical necessity with practical need.
"The eastern garden alcove has been prepared," Reinharda informed her, appearing with characteristic silent efficiency beside Emilia's research table. "Lord Aurelius suggested bringing whichever texts you find most relevant."
The garden alcove proved to be transformed—comfortable seating arranged to capture optimal natural light, with small tables positioned for reference materials and refreshments already prepared. The setting balanced aesthetic pleasure with practical functionality, creating space for both the scheduled reading service and substantive research.
Aurelius awaited her, dressed more casually than during the morning's council preparations, though still with the inherent elegance that seemed natural to him. He rose as she approached, gesturing toward the accumulated texts she carried.
"You've found promising sources," he observed, taking some of the heavier volumes from her arms.
"Several potential connections to the northern phenomena," Emilia confirmed, setting down the remaining books. "Particularly in these elven historical records regarding the original barrier establishment."
What began as formal research discussion gradually transformed as they settled into the comfortable seating arrangement. Without conscious planning, Emilia found herself seated beside Aurelius, the ancient texts spread across their laps as they compared passages and discussed implications. The proximity felt natural rather than forced—practical for shared reading rather than artificially maintained for magical satisfaction.
As they worked through particularly complex elven descriptions of barrier resonance patterns, Emilia found herself growing frustrated with a passage of unusually archaic dialect.
"The phrasing suggests cyclical disruption rather than linear degradation," she attempted to explain, "but the specific terminology uses metaphorical constructs that don't translate directly into modern concepts."
"Perhaps reading it aloud might help," Aurelius suggested. "Sometimes auditory processing reveals patterns visual examination misses."
The suggestion made practical sense, yet as Emilia began reading the ancient elven text aloud, she became aware of the binding on her wrist pulsing with expectant energy. This was, after all, the scheduled service—reading to Aurelius in the garden. The magical constraint seemed to recognize the activity despite its practical research purpose.
As if sensing her awareness, Aurelius shifted slightly. "The traditional form for elven scholarly reading was more... proximate... than modern practice," he noted casually. "Historical accounts describe teacher and student in closer physical arrangement to facilitate energy resonance during magical text transmission."
The observation was factually accurate—elven magical education did indeed involve closer proximity than human traditions—yet Emilia recognized the implicit suggestion within it. The binding required physical proximity along with mental engagement; the traditional elven reading arrangement would satisfy that requirement while maintaining their research productivity.
"Yes," she acknowledged, a slight flush coloring her cheeks despite the scholarly framing. "Energy resonance was considered essential for proper understanding of magical texts."
After a moment's consideration, she made her decision, moving with deliberate casualness to sit beside Aurelius on the garden chaise. The binding immediately emanated pleased warmth rather than expectant pressure, apparently satisfied with the adjustment.
As they continued working through the ancient texts, their physical arrangement evolved naturally—Emilia shifting closer as they examined particularly difficult passages, Aurelius adjusting to accommodate their shared reading. Without conscious decision, she eventually found herself seated across his lap, the position providing optimal angle for them both to view the complex diagrams while she read the accompanying descriptions aloud.
The arrangement felt simultaneously intimate and scholarly—physical closeness serving practical purpose rather than merely satisfying magical requirement. Aurelius maintained respectful boundaries despite their proximity, his attention clearly focused on the texts rather than exploiting their position for inappropriate advantage.
When his hand came to rest lightly on her abdomen, the gesture seemed almost unconscious—a natural stabilizing contact as they leaned together to examine a particularly detailed illustration of energy flow patterns. Yet Emilia found herself unexpectedly aware of the warmth of his palm through the light fabric of her dress, the gentle pressure neither possessive nor presumptuous but simply... present.
"This pattern," she said, focusing determinedly on the text despite her heightened awareness of their position. "It describes how barrier magic responds to cyclical testing—initially strengthening against minor probes before showing vulnerability patterns if the probing continues beyond certain thresholds."
"Which aligns with what we're observing in the northern province," Aurelius noted, his voice close to her ear as they both studied the illustration. "Initial localized energy discharges that seemed to strengthen the barrier, followed by concerning destabilization as the pattern repeats."
Their discussion continued in this manner—serious scholarly exchange conducted in unexpectedly intimate physical proximity. The binding on Emilia's wrist glowed with satisfied warmth, apparently recognizing both the formal service (reading aloud in the garden) and the genuine engagement (substantive research collaboration) occurring simultaneously.
Most surprising to Emilia was how quickly she adjusted to the arrangement. After initial self-consciousness, the physical proximity faded from active awareness as their intellectual engagement deepened, his hand on her abdomen becoming familiar background sensation rather than distracting novelty.
When Reinharda appeared with afternoon refreshments, Emilia realized with mild embarrassment that she had been comfortably seated on Aurelius's lap for nearly an hour, engrossed in their research to the point of forgetting the unusual nature of their position. Yet the maid-knight's expression revealed neither surprise nor judgment—merely serene acceptance of their arrangement as she set the refreshment tray within convenient reach.
"The Council of Elders has forwarded additional historical records from the royal archives," Reinharda reported, her formal tone making no reference to their physical proximity. "They await your review in the main study when convenient."
"Thank you, Reinharda," Aurelius acknowledged. "We've made significant progress with the elven texts. Lady Emilia has identified several pattern correspondences that may explain the northern phenomena."
The simple inclusion—"we" rather than claiming the research insights himself—granted Emilia equal credit for their shared work. It was a small gesture but meaningful in how it recognized her contribution despite her technically subordinate position in their magical arrangement.
As Reinharda departed with perfect discretion, Emilia found herself studying the enigmatic maid-knight with renewed curiosity. There had been no surprise in those violet-blue eyes at finding her seated on Aurelius's lap, suggesting such arrangements were perhaps not unprecedented in the household.
"Reinharda has been with you for some time?" Emilia asked, the intimate setting somehow making the personal question possible as she accepted a cup of tea from Aurelius, neither of them apparently inclined to adjust their comfortable position despite the serving interruption.
"Since Volcanica's breath bound her to me," Aurelius confirmed, his tone matter-of-fact though his eyes held something more complex as he glanced toward the door through which Reinharda had departed. "The day after the dragon's proclamation in the royal hall."
"Her binding seems... different... from ours," Emilia observed carefully, sipping her tea while still seated comfortably across his lap, the ancient texts spread around them momentarily forgotten.
"It is," Aurelius acknowledged, his hand still resting lightly on her abdomen in a gesture that now felt almost natural despite its intimate nature. "More complete, more permanent. Where your binding requires daily service with specific parameters, hers is constant and comprehensive."
"And she accepts this without resistance?" Emilia couldn't help asking, genuinely curious about the serene maid-knight who showed no sign of chafing against her magical constraints.
Something like thoughtful consideration crossed Aurelius's features. "Reinharda understands purpose beyond mere freedom," he finally said. "Her binding provides clarity where others face uncertainty."
The phrasing echoed what Reinharda herself had told Emilia, suggesting shared philosophy rather than imposed perspective. Before she could pursue this line of questioning further, however, Aurelius returned their attention to the research at hand.
"This passage about resonance degradation," he noted, indicating a section they had yet to examine thoroughly. "Could it relate to the cycling pattern we're observing?"
The scholarly discussion resumed, their physical proximity continuing without comment or adjustment. Emilia found herself gradually relaxing more fully against him as the afternoon progressed, her initial self-consciousness replaced by comfortable familiarity as they worked through complex magical theory together.
When the scheduled service period eventually concluded, she felt an unexpected reluctance to end their productive session. The research had yielded valuable insights, their collaborative approach proving more effective than either might have accomplished alone. Yet beneath the intellectual satisfaction lay something more personal—recognition that the physical proximity required by magical binding had evolved from awkward obligation to comfortable connection.
As she gathered the texts they had referenced, preparing to continue research independently, Aurelius's hand briefly covered hers in a gesture neither possessive nor presuming—simply acknowledging their shared work.
"Your insights regarding elven barrier theory are invaluable," he said, genuine appreciation evident in his tone. "Few scholars in Lugunica possess your depth of understanding in these matters."
The compliment—specific to her knowledge rather than generic flattery—brought unexpected warmth to Emilia's cheeks. "Thank you," she replied simply. "The research is... important. Not just academically but practically, given what's happening in the north."
"Indeed," he agreed, rising as she did and helping organize the reference materials. "Would you be willing to present your findings to the Council of Elders tomorrow? Your perspective offers context their traditional advisors lack."
The request—treating her as scholarly equal rather than magical subordinate—further reinforced the evolving nature of their interaction. Not master commanding service but colleagues sharing expertise, despite the binding that technically defined their relationship as hierarchical.
"I would," Emilia agreed, suddenly aware that she was actually looking forward to tomorrow's interaction rather than merely accepting magical necessity. The realization was mildly disturbing in its implications about her gradual adjustment to their arrangement, yet undeniably true.
As she departed the garden alcove, Emilia caught sight of Reinharda watching from a discreet distance, those violet-blue eyes observing with that same complex expression—not jealousy but something more nuanced, perhaps assessment, perhaps approval, perhaps understanding of paths traveled before.
The silent acknowledgment between them raised new questions about the nature of all their bindings, and about the household they were gradually forming at Draconis Manor—not traditional master and servants but something more complex, with boundaries both clearly defined and increasingly nuanced as days passed.
---
Evening found the manor's occupants gathered for dinner in the grand hall, the formal meal providing opportunity for information sharing after a day of separate activities. Crusch reported on military preparations along the northern border, her afternoon service having involved strategic planning with Aurelius following her regular duties with the Royal Guard. Anastasia shared intelligence gathered through her merchant networks about similar phenomena in neighboring kingdoms. Priscilla contributed historical context from imperial archives she had consulted following her morning service. Felt, though maintaining her habitual air of indifference, added practical insights about how northern communities were responding to the strange occurrences.
Throughout the dinner conversation, Emilia found herself increasingly aware of subtle shifts in household dynamics. The initial tension and resentment that had characterized their first days at Draconis Manor had gradually transformed into something more collaborative, despite the binding that technically rendered them subordinate to Aurelius.
Most notable was how each candidate increasingly engaged with her area of natural expertise, contributing substantively to kingdom governance rather than merely fulfilling magical obligation. The service remained, technically satisfying the binding's requirements, yet the form had evolved from symbolic submission to genuine participation according to each woman's unique strengths.
As Aurelius guided their discussion with the same skill he had demonstrated during the northern province crisis—facilitating rather than dominating, synthesizing diverse perspectives rather than imposing singular view—Emilia found herself studying him with new assessment. This was not the arrogant, exploitative master she had initially feared when Volcanica's proclamation had bound them to him. Nor was he the fortunate beneficiary of divine intervention without purpose or plan.
Something more deliberate, more carefully designed, seemed to be unfolding in their unusual household arrangement. The question was whether that design originated solely with Aurelius, or whether the dragon itself had orchestrated their binding with specific purpose beyond mere succession politics.
Her contemplation was interrupted by Reinharda's quiet approach. The maid-knight bent gracefully to whisper something in Aurelius's ear, her proximity to him carrying the easy familiarity of long association. He nodded in acknowledgment, his hand briefly covering hers on his shoulder in a gesture that contained both gratitude and something more personal—momentary connection beyond mere master and servant.
The interaction was brief, proper by any reasonable standard, yet it revealed depths to their relationship that transcended formal roles. Emilia wasn't the only one who noticed; she caught Priscilla watching the exchange with narrowed eyes, imperial assessment cataloging unspoken dynamics with shrewd perception.
"Ladies," Aurelius addressed them as the meal concluded, "I appreciate your contributions today. The northern situation requires precisely the diverse perspectives you've provided—magical, military, economic, imperial, and practical ground-level understanding. Together, we're developing a more comprehensive response than traditional governance structures would allow."
The simple acknowledgment—recognizing their valuable input rather than merely commanding their service—reflected the gradually evolving nature of their unusual household. Not five women magically compelled to serve one master, but six individuals with unique strengths bound together by magical necessity yet increasingly engaged through genuine purpose.
As they dispersed to evening activities, Emilia found herself wondering how the other candidates were experiencing their own service periods. Did Crusch's military planning sessions involve similar evolution from formal compliance to genuine engagement? Did Anastasia's economic consultations include physical proximity as naturally intimate as Emilia's afternoon research had become? Did Priscilla's imperial protocols with Aurelius contain moments of connection beyond ceremonial attendance? As they dispersed to evening activities, Emilia found herself wondering how the other candidates were experiencing their own service periods. Did Crusch's military planning sessions involve similar evolution from formal compliance to genuine engagement? Did Anastasia's economic consultations include physical proximity as naturally intimate as Emilia's afternoon research had become? Did Priscilla's imperial protocols with Aurelius contain moments of connection beyond ceremonial attendance?
The questions lingered in her mind as she returned to her quarters, the binding on her wrist a constant reminder of their unusual situation—yet that binding now carried different implications than it had just days earlier. What had begun as resented magical compulsion was gradually evolving into something more complex, with boundaries both clearly defined and increasingly nuanced as their household dynamic continued to develop.
## Chapter 8: Night Conversations
The manor settled into evening quiet, staff completing final duties before retiring, guards taking their night positions throughout the grounds. In his private study, Aurelius reviewed reports from the northern province, the latest data suggesting continued pattern development in the barrier disturbances. Reinharda moved with silent efficiency nearby, organizing documents and preparing communication crystals for morning correspondence.
A soft knock at the study door drew both their attention. Reinharda moved to answer it, revealing Felt standing awkwardly in the corridor, her usual defiant posture somewhat subdued despite her obvious attempt to project casual indifference.
"Lady Felt," Reinharda acknowledged with a formal bow. "Do you wish to speak with Lord Aurelius?"
"Just... checking something," Felt muttered, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "It's not important. Never mind."
As she turned to leave, Aurelius called from within the study, "Please, come in, Felt. I could use a break from these reports."
The young blonde hesitated, then shrugged with manufactured nonchalance and entered the study, her red eyes quickly scanning the room with the automatic assessment of someone accustomed to identifying exits and potential threats in any new environment.
"I'll prepare evening tea," Reinharda stated, departing with perfect discretion that somehow acknowledged the unspoken need for privacy without drawing explicit attention to it.
Alone with Aurelius, Felt remained near the door, uncharacteristically uncertain in her demeanor. "I was just walking around," she explained defensively. "Checking security like we talked about yesterday. Not actually looking for you or anything."
"Of course," Aurelius agreed, setting aside his work with an ease that suggested her interruption was welcome rather than intrusive. "Have you identified additional vulnerabilities in our security arrangements?"
The question—treating her nocturnal wandering as purposeful contribution rather than suspicious activity—visibly relaxed Felt's defensive posture. "A couple," she acknowledged, moving further into the room. "The west corridor guard rotation still has that three-minute gap we talked about. And the kitchen delivery entrance lacks proper verification protocols during night shift changes."
"Valid concerns," Aurelius nodded, gesturing toward a comfortable chair across from his desk. "Would you like to review the implementation plans for your previous recommendations? The security chief has incorporated most of your suggestions into the revised protocols."
Felt's surprise at having her input taken seriously showed briefly before she covered it with practiced nonchalance. "Yeah, whatever. Might as well make sure they didn't mess it up."
As they reviewed the security implementations, Felt gradually relaxed into genuine engagement, her natural strategic thinking emerging as she assessed the proposed changes. The defensive mask of indifference slipped as she became absorbed in substantive discussion, pointing out potential weaknesses in the new arrangements with the practical expertise of someone who had survived by identifying such vulnerabilities.
"The spiked caps on the southeast wall section are good," she noted, examining the implementation plans. "But they should extend further around the corner. There's a drainage pipe that creates a climbing route if you know what you're looking for."
Aurelius made careful note of her observation. "Excellent catch. That wouldn't be visible from standard security assessment angles."
"Most people don't think like thieves," Felt shrugged, though she couldn't entirely hide her pleasure at the acknowledgment. "They look for obvious approaches, not the weird angles and unlikely paths someone desperate enough would try."
"Which is precisely why your perspective is invaluable," Aurelius replied. "Conventional security experts miss unconventional threats."
Their conversation continued in this vein, transitioning naturally from security matters to broader discussion of how different social perspectives created blind spots in governance. Throughout, Aurelius treated Felt's street-bred insights with the same respect he might give professional advisors, neither condescending to her youth nor dismissing her unconventional background.
Reinharda returned with tea service, setting the tray on a small table near the comfortable seating area before departing again with silent efficiency. Felt eyed the elegant arrangement with habitual suspicion before accepting the cup Aurelius offered.
"This isn't part of my service thing, right?" she asked abruptly. "I already did that this afternoon. This is just... talking."
"Just talking," Aurelius confirmed, his tone neither patronizing nor dismissive of her concern. "The binding requires daily service, which you provided earlier. This is simply conversation between household members."
Felt nodded, seemingly satisfied with the clarification as she settled more comfortably in her chair, feet tucked beneath her in casual posture that revealed her gradual relaxation in his presence. "So what's actually going on with all this weird magic stuff? The others talk around me like I'm some kid who can't handle the real story."
The direct question—cutting through diplomatic phrasing to the core issue—was characteristic of Felt's straightforward approach. Rather than deflecting or softening his response, Aurelius matched her directness with equal honesty.
"Something appears to be testing the ancient barriers that separate our world from sealed threats dating back to the Witch era," he explained, treating her as capable of handling unvarnished truth. "The pattern suggests intelligent direction rather than natural phenomena—deliberate probing for weaknesses rather than random magical discharge."
"Testing for a way in," Felt summarized bluntly. "And these aren't just stories to scare children, are they? The things beyond the barriers."
"No," Aurelius confirmed, his crimson eyes serious. "The threats sealed beyond the barriers are quite real, though their nature has been obscured by centuries of mythologizing and deliberate information control by previous administrations."
Felt absorbed this with remarkable composure, her street-hardened pragmatism accepting harsh reality without the disbelief or denial a more sheltered upbringing might have produced. "So that's why the dragon picked you," she said after a moment's consideration. "And why it bound us to you. Not just kingdom politics but actual threats coming."
The insight—cutting directly to implications others might have missed—demonstrated the perceptive intelligence that lay beneath Felt's defensive exterior. Aurelius studied her with new appreciation, noting how quickly she had connected seemingly disparate elements into coherent understanding.
"That's my working theory," he acknowledged. "Though Volcanica's specific intentions remain somewhat ambiguous."
"Dragons don't do ambiguous," Felt stated with surprising conviction. "Old Rom used to tell stories passed down from his grandfather about the dragon's appearances. Always said dragons act with purpose, even when humans don't understand it."
The reference to street-level oral history—knowledge preserved outside formal educational structures—captured Aurelius's full attention. "What else did Rom share about dragons?" he asked, genuine interest evident in his tone.
Felt hesitated, unaccustomed to having her secondhand knowledge treated as valuable information rather than dismissed as unreliable gossip. Aurelius's sincere attention, however, gradually drew forth childhood memories of an old man's stories told around sparse fires in the slums—fragments of wisdom preserved through generations of those society had forgotten, yet who had not forgotten their own history.
As she shared these unconventional perspectives on dragons, binding magic, and ancient threats, Felt unconsciously shifted closer, eventually moving from her chair to sit cross-legged on the edge of Aurelius's desk, her hands animating her narrative with expressive gestures. The position—informal, characteristic of her street upbringing rather than noble protocol—seemed to emerge naturally as her engagement in the conversation deepened.
"Rom said dragons see time differently," she explained, leaning forward with unconscious intensity. "Not just past and present but connections between events that humans can't perceive. So when a dragon does something that seems random to us, it's actually responding to patterns only it can see."
Aurelius listened with genuine fascination, neither correcting her informal delivery nor dismissing the unconventional wisdom as mere superstition. "That aligns with certain scholarly theories about draconic consciousness," he noted. "Though your street-level account contains nuances absent from academic texts."
The simple acknowledgment—treating her secondhand stories as valuable contribution rather than childish recollection—visibly affected Felt. Something in her habitual defensive posture softened further, revealing glimpses of the insightful young woman beneath the street-tough exterior.
Their conversation continued well into the evening, ranging from dragon lore to barrier magic to street-level perspectives on governance. Throughout, Aurelius maintained the same respectful engagement he might show a valued advisor rather than a magically bound subordinate, neither talking down to her youth nor dismissing her unconventional background.
When Reinharda eventually returned, gently noting the late hour, Felt seemed genuinely surprised by how much time had passed. "Whoa, it's that late? Didn't realize we'd been talking so long."
"Time passes differently during engaging conversation," Aurelius observed, rising to escort her to the door. "Thank you for sharing Rom's perspectives, Felt. They provide valuable context often missing from formal historical accounts."
The simple gratitude—acknowledging substantive contribution rather than treating their interaction as mere entertainment of a child's stories—brought a hint of pleased flush to Felt's cheeks despite her attempt to maintain casual indifference.
"Whatever," she shrugged, though without her usual defensive edge. "Just remembered some old stories. No big deal."
"Knowledge preserved through oral tradition often contains truths formal history overlooks," Aurelius replied, taking her dismissal at face value rather than drawing attention to her evident pleasure at being taken seriously. "Your unique perspective continues to provide valuable insights."
As Felt departed, Reinharda moved silently about the study, preparing it for the night. Her violet-blue eyes held thoughtful assessment as she observed Aurelius returning to his desk.
"She is gradually accepting her place here," Reinharda noted, her tone neutral yet somehow approving. "Though she would vehemently deny such acceptance if confronted directly."
"Felt's independent spirit is precisely what makes her perspective valuable," Aurelius replied, organizing the security documents they had reviewed. "Her resistance to authority ensures she sees angles others miss—especially those of us trained in more conventional frameworks."
"You have a gift for meeting each of them where they are," Reinharda observed quietly, the personal observation deviating slightly from her usual formal reporting. "Crusch through military precision, Anastasia through strategic partnership, Priscilla through imperial recognition, Emilia through scholarly respect, and Felt through genuine validation of her unconventional wisdom."
The assessment—perceptive and appreciative rather than jealous or concerned—revealed the complex understanding Reinharda possessed of their unusual household dynamic. Not merely eternal guardian but observant witness to the gradually evolving relationships between Aurelius and the five women bound to him by divine magic.
"They each bring essential perspectives," Aurelius acknowledged, his tone suggesting the comment extended beyond mere governance utility to personal recognition of their individual value. "Different ways of seeing create more complete vision."
Reinharda's expression softened momentarily, revealing glimpses of the woman beneath the perfect maid-knight exterior. "By the will of Volcanica, I serve only you," she stated, the ritual phrase flowing naturally yet somehow conveying personal meaning beyond formal declaration. "And I observe how each of them gradually discovers purpose within service, as I did."
The simple statement contained volumes of unspoken significance—acknowledgment of her own journey from initial binding to current understanding, recognition of similar paths unfolding for the royal candidates, and subtle approval of how Aurelius facilitated that evolution without forcing or rushing its natural development.
"Their journeys will follow their own courses," Aurelius replied, the exchange clearly continuing a long-established conversation between them. "As yours did."
Reinharda nodded, her composed features reflecting serene acceptance of their shared understanding. Without further comment, she completed her evening duties, extinguishing excess lights and ensuring the study was properly arranged for morning work.
As she prepared to depart for her own quarters—chambers adjacent to his own, as befitted her role as eternal guardian—Reinharda paused briefly at the door. "Rest well, my lord," she said, the formal address somehow containing personal warmth beneath its proper surface.
"And you, Reinharda," Aurelius replied, his tone conveying similar depth beneath simple courtesy.
The exchange, brief and outwardly unremarkable, nonetheless revealed intimate understanding built through shared experience rather than mere magical compulsion. It offered silent testament to how binding might evolve from initial constraint to meaningful connection when approached with mutual respect and genuine recognition of individual value.
As night settled fully over Draconis Manor, five women bound by dragon magic continued their own journeys of resistance, adaptation, and gradual transformation—each following unique paths toward understanding that perhaps had been traveled before by the serene maid-knight who watched over them all with violet-blue eyes that held both wisdom and acceptance of paths yet to unfold.
## Chapter 9: Morning Routines
Dawn broke over Draconis Manor, golden light gradually illuminating the estate as its occupants began their daily routines. In the main training yard, Crusch Karsten moved through complex sword forms with disciplined precision, warming up before her scheduled morning service with Aurelius. Her military background was evident in every movement—controlled, efficient, purpose-driven rather than merely decorative.
When Aurelius joined her, dressed in practical training attire, their greeting was brief but respectful—two warriors acknowledging each other's skill without unnecessary formality. They moved to the center of the training yard, drawing practice blades with practiced ease before settling into ready stances.
Without verbal signal, they began their dance of steel, blades meeting in precise arcs that demonstrated both technical mastery and intuitive understanding of each other's movements. Their sparring had evolved since their first session, developing from cautious assessment into genuine challenge—each pushing the other's skills without holding back, creating combat partnership rarely experienced by practitioners at their level.
"Your southern counter has improved," Crusch noted during a brief pause, both breathing hard but controlled after an intense exchange.
"I've been practicing the adjustment you suggested," Aurelius acknowledged, genuine appreciation in his tone. "The weight distribution makes more sense with the modified foot position."
They resumed their match, moving across the training yard in a deadly ballet that drew appreciative observation from guards and staff who paused in their morning duties to watch. The display represented not merely physical skill but evolving partnership—two exceptional fighters discovering genuine challenge and growth through their mandatory interaction.
When they concluded with a perfect mutual disarm that left both swords spinning away across the stone floor, they stood facing each other, breathing hard but composed, mutual respect visible in both their expressions. What had begun as reluctant magical obligation had transformed into valued professional exchange, each genuinely improving through their regular sessions. When they concluded with a perfect mutual disarm that left both swords spinning away across the stone floor, they stood facing each other, breathing hard but composed, mutual respect visible in both their expressions. What had begun as reluctant magical obligation had transformed into valued professional exchange, each genuinely improving through their regular sessions.
"Breakfast?" Aurelius suggested, retrieving both practice blades and returning them to the weapons rack.
"After proper cool-down," Crusch agreed with the disciplined mindset of a trained warrior.
They moved through cooling exercises in companionable silence, the physical exertion transitioning gradually into more controlled breathing and deliberate stretching. As they concluded these routines, Reinharda appeared with towels and water, her timing perfect as always.
"The breakfast room is prepared," she informed them, her violet-blue eyes taking in their condition with professional assessment. "And fresh attire has been laid out in the adjacent changing rooms."
After refreshing themselves, they proceeded to the small private breakfast room rather than the formal dining hall, continuing their morning routine in the more intimate setting established by their daily schedule. The second part of Crusch's morning service technically involved attending Aurelius during breakfast—traditionally implemented as silent kneeling beside his chair, an imperial custom adopted by Lugnician nobility that Crusch had initially found deeply objectionable.
The reality that had evolved, however, was considerably different. As servants presented the morning meal, Crusch took her place beside Aurelius—not kneeling in subservient position but seated at his right hand, analyzing military reports while they broke their fast together.
"The northern border reinforcements are proceeding according to schedule," she noted, reviewing dispatches that had arrived overnight. "Though the eastern flank deployment shows concerning gaps in magical counter-measures."
"Could we redistribute the mage corps to address those vulnerabilities?" Aurelius inquired, their discussion proceeding with the serious focus of military commanders rather than the ceremonial formality of lord and attendant.
The binding on Crusch's wrist glowed with steady warmth, apparently satisfied with this interpretation of service despite its deviation from traditional expectations. The magical requirement had not changed, but its implementation had evolved to respect her military dignity while still satisfying technical constraints.
As their strategic discussion continued, Crusch gradually relaxed into the familiar routine, her initial resistance to the entire arrangement having transformed into professional appreciation for a leader who genuinely valued her military expertise. The binding remained a constraint on her freedom, certainly, but within that constraint she had found unexpected space for meaningful contribution.
What neither acknowledged directly, though both were increasingly aware, was how their physical proximity during these morning sessions had gradually evolved as well. Initially maintaining formal distance despite their seated arrangement, they now worked in comfortable closeness, shoulders occasionally touching as they examined the same maps, heads bent together over concerning reports.
It was not the overt intimacy of Emilia's lap-sitting research sessions, but rather the natural physical ease of military colleagues who had developed trust through shared purpose. Crusch, typically reserved in physical proximity, found herself unconsciously leaning closer when highlighting particular concerns, her usual rigid formality softening in the context of professional engagement.
When their scheduled service period concluded, Crusch gathered her personal notes with military efficiency, preparing to depart for her regular duties with the Royal Guard. "I'll have updated deployment recommendations for your review this afternoon," she stated, rising from the table.
"Thank you, Crusch," Aurelius replied, the use of her name without title having become natural in their private interactions despite her continued formal address in public settings. "Your strategic assessment is invaluable."
As she turned to leave, he added with casual tone that belied the significance of the request, "Would you consider joining me for dinner in my private study this evening? There are long-term defense considerations I' As she turned to leave, he added with casual tone that belied the significance of the request, "Would you consider joining me for dinner in my private study this evening? There are long-term defense considerations I'd like to discuss outside formal settings."
Crusch paused, turning back with a hint of surprise in her emerald eyes. Private dining represented a level of personal interaction beyond their established professional routine—not technically required by the binding, but suggesting evolution toward more intimate association.
"For strategic purposes," she clarified, her military mind naturally seeking clear parameters.
"Primarily," Aurelius acknowledged with subtle emphasis that suggested potential for broader engagement beyond strictly professional matters.
Crusch considered the invitation with characteristic thoughtfulness, weighing implications rather than responding impulsively. "I'll arrange my evening schedule accordingly," she finally agreed, her formal tone belied by the slight flush coloring her cheeks.
As she departed with military precision, Reinharda entered to clear the breakfast setting, her timing suggesting she had been waiting just beyond hearing range—present for protection yet allowing private conversation.
"Lady Karsten continues to adapt well to the arrangement," she observed, her tone neutral yet somehow approving.
"Professional respect creates foundation for genuine partnership," Aurelius replied, the simple statement containing layers of meaning beyond its surface simplicity.
Reinharda nodded, understanding extending beyond words as she efficiently prepared the space for his next appointments. Their silent coordination revealed long practice working together—guardian and guarded, yet something more complex than mere protective assignment.
---
Midday found Priscilla Barielle in the manor's luxurious bathhouse, overseeing preparations with imperial authority. Servants arranged scented oils and heated towels according to her precise instructions before being dismissed with imperious waves of her fan.
"Imperial bathing rituals require proper environment," she informed the final attendant. "Return in precisely ninety minutes—not before."
Alone in the steaming chamber, Priscilla adjusted silk screens and lighting to create the proper atmospheric balance of openness and seclusion. The large central pool gleamed with perfectly heated water, surface gently rippling with aromatic oils that filled the air with exotic fragrances reminiscent of imperial palaces.
When Aurelius arrived precisely on schedule, she acknowledged him with imperial dignity rather than servile greeting. "You're punctual," she observed, her fan moving in practiced patterns that conveyed both sophistication and assessment. "Appropriate for imperial rituals."
"I wouldn't wish to disrespect traditions by tardiness," he replied, understanding the cultural significance beneath superficial ceremony.
Priscilla's afternoon service—officially recorded in the schedule as "private performance in the bathhouse"—had evolved considerably since their first reluctant session. What had begun as minimal compliance with magical obligation had gradually transformed into genuine cultural exchange, with Priscilla sharing imperial traditions that few outside the Empire ever witnessed.
"Today's ritual honors the summer solstice," she explained, her tone suggesting she was bestowing great privilege through this knowledge. "Traditionally performed for imperial household members to ensure prosperity and vitality."
Aurelius listened with genuine interest as she outlined the ritual's significance, neither dismissing imperial customs as foreign extravagance nor treating them as mere exotic entertainment. His evident respect for the cultural traditions—recognizing their governance significance beyond ceremonial display—had gradually drawn Priscilla into more genuine engagement than her initial reluctant compliance.
"The ritual begins with purification," she instructed, gesturing toward the steaming pool with imperial authority. "Disrobe and enter the waters."
In their earlier sessions, such instruction had been accompanied by turned back or closed eyes—imperial dignity maintaining formal distance despite intimate setting. Today, however, Priscilla watched with open imperial assessment as Aurelius removed his robes and entered the heated pool, her gaze neither embarrassed nor lascivious but evaluating—as an imperial princess might assess a potential consort's physical worthiness.
"Acceptable," she declared, her fan briefly concealing the lower half of her face though her eyes revealed more approval than her casual tone suggested.
As Aurelius settled into the scented waters, Priscilla moved to the pool's edge, kneeling with imperial grace rather than servile posture. She had exchanged her formal attire for a ritual bathing robe of semi-translucent red silk—modest enough to maintain imperial dignity yet revealing enough to acknowledge the intimate nature of the ceremony.
"Imperial tradition dictates that the highest-ranking woman performs initial cleansing," she explained, removing ornate combs from her hair and allowing golden tresses to cascade down her shoulders—a display of beauty carefully presented as ritual requirement rather than personal offering. "To ensure proper energy alignment before the dance sequence."
Taking a ceremonial vessel, she began pouring scented water over his shoulders, her movements precise and elegant as she recited traditional imperial phrases in the ancient tongue. Her hands moved with practiced skill, applying cleansing oils in specific patterns that she explained represented imperial concepts of authority and protection.
"The circular motion symbolizes eternal sovereignty," she noted, her fingers tracing precise paths across his shoulders and back. "While the connecting lines represent the flow of imperial authority from divine source to earthly implementation."
Throughout the ritual cleansing, Priscilla maintained imperial narrative—presenting each increasingly intimate contact as cultural tradition rather than personal service. Yet beneath this dignified framing, subtle shifts revealed evolving comfort with their physical proximity: her touch lingering slightly longer than strict ceremony required, her position gradually moving closer than formal ritual demanded.
"Imperial bathing ceremonies incorporate philosophical governance concepts into physical experience," she explained, her voice taking on the cadence of formal instruction though her hands continued their increasingly thorough ministrations. "The body becomes metaphor for the empire itself—purified, strengthened, and ultimately elevated through proper ritual attention."
After completing the cleansing sequence, Priscilla rose with fluid grace, moving to a slightly elevated platform visible from the pool. "Observe now the Dance of Summer Authority," she instructed, assuming an opening position of imperial dignity. "Traditionally performed to demonstrate how strength and beauty combine in proper governance."
She shed her outer robe in a controlled, elegant motion, revealing a performance costume of layered silk in imperial colors. The garment was revealing in its suggestion rather than its exposure—hinting at the body's form while maintaining aristocratic dignity through precise draping and strategic opacity.
As she began to dance, her body transformed—no longer merely the imperial princess but the living embodiment of political philosophy expressed through precisely controlled motion. Each gesture carried multiple meanings: the curve of a wrist signifying clemency, the subtle shift of weight representing the transfer of power, the controlled turn demonstrating stability through change.
Unlike their first performance weeks earlier, when she had maintained maximum distance while explaining imperial traditions, today's dance gradually brought her closer to the pool's edge where Aurelius watched with genuine appreciation. The movements became increasingly personal rather than merely ceremonial—imperial display transforming subtly into something more directly offered despite being framed within cultural tradition.
"Summer authority requires balance between strength and benevolence," she explained, her movements flowing like liquid fire as she demonstrated this philosophical concept through physical expression. "Power displayed yet controlled, beauty revealed yet dignified."
As the dance reached its culmination, Priscilla extended her hand toward Aurelius in a gesture that imperial tradition reserved for acknowledged equals rather than ceremonial subjects. "The ritual concludes with mutual recognition," she stated, imperial pride evident in her bearing despite the increasingly personal nature of their interaction.
When Aurelius accepted her extended hand, rising from the waters to join her final ritual sequence, Priscilla's imperial mask slipped momentarily—revealing genuine pleasure at his understanding of imperial traditions rather than mere compliance with her instructions. The binding on her wrist glowed with satisfied warmth, recognizing both the formal service (imperial ritual performance) and the increasingly personal engagement beneath its ceremonial surface.
"You demonstrate unexpected aptitude for imperial concepts," she acknowledged as they completed the final ritual positions together, her tone suggesting rare praise rather than mere observation.
"The Empire's traditions contain wisdom worth understanding," Aurelius replied, treating her cultural heritage with genuine respect rather than exotic curiosity. "Particularly in how they encode governance philosophy within physical ceremony."
The simple acknowledgment—recognizing depth beneath imperial display rather than dismissing it as foreign extravagance—brought a flash of genuine pleasure to Priscilla's expression before her imperial mask returned seamlessly to place.
"Naturally," she agreed with characteristic hauteur, though something warmer lingered in her eyes as she summoned servants to complete the ritual with formal drying and attiring ceremonies.
Throughout these concluding formalities, Priscilla maintained imperial narrative, presenting each action as traditional requirement rather than personal service. Yet something had undeniably shifted in their interaction—traditional ceremony gradually transforming into more genuine exchange, imperial distance softening into something more complex than mere magical compliance.
As their scheduled service period concluded with formal tea ceremony, Priscilla studied Aurelius over the rim of her ceremonial cup. "You've shown appropriate appreciation for imperial traditions," she observed, her fan moving in patterns that suggested assessment rather than dismissal. "Perhaps next week we might explore the autumn equinox rituals—traditionally reserved for imperial family and acknowledged... associates."
The phrasing—"associates" rather than "servants" or "subjects"—represented significant elevation in imperial terminology, suggesting recognition beyond mere magical obligation. Aurelius acknowledged this subtle distinction with appropriate gravity, understanding the cultural significance behind seemingly casual invitation.
"I would be honored," he replied, the simple acceptance conveying recognition of what remained unspoken between them.
Priscilla nodded with imperial satisfaction, her fan briefly concealing the slight smile that threatened to disrupt her regal composure. The binding had not changed, technically, yet its implementation had evolved considerably—service remaining yet transformed through mutual respect and genuine cultural exchange.
---
Evening descended on Draconis Manor, shadows lengthening across the gardens as day transitioned into night. In Aurelius's private chambers, Anastasia Hoshin and Felt arrived for their scheduled dual service—the final activity listed on Sunday's rotation as "bedtime ritual preparation."
"This is so stupid," Felt muttered as they entered the elegant sitting room that adjoined his bedroom. "Why do we have to do this together anyway?"
"Efficiency, perhaps," Anastasia suggested pragmatically, her familiar Echidna floating beside her with curious assessment of the arrangement. "The binding accepts joint service when properly coordinated."
Their dual appointment represented interesting contrast: the sophisticated merchant princess with her calculating mind and refined manners alongside the street-bred former thief with her blunt speech and defensive posture. Despite their differences, both approached the scheduled service with their own forms of wariness—Anastasia's concealed beneath business-like efficiency, Felt's displayed through open resentment.
Aurelius greeted them from his desk where he finished reviewing final correspondence for the day. "Thank you both for your punctuality," he acknowledged, setting aside his work with evident willingness to transition from governance duties to their scheduled interaction.
"Not like we had a choice," Felt pointed out, dropping into a comfortable chair with deliberate casualness that masked her continued discomfort with these intimate service requirements.
"The binding requires service, yes," Aurelius acknowledged, neither dismissing her resentment nor apologizing for the arrangement. "But how we implement that requirement remains flexible within certain parameters."
"Which is why we're here to establish an evening ritual," Anastasia noted practically, her business mind naturally focusing on clear definition of expectations. "The schedule indicates preparation for rest rather than specific activities."
"Indeed," Aurelius confirmed, moving from his desk to the more comfortable seating area where they waited. "Evening transitions serve both practical recovery needs and strategic reflection opportunities. I thought perhaps we might develop a routine that accomplishes both while satisfying the binding's requirements."
What followed was negotiation rather than command—Aurelius outlining general parameters while inviting their input on specific implementation. Anastasia approached the discussion like a business arrangement, analyzing options for maximum mutual benefit with characteristic pragmatism. Felt maintained skeptical distance, yet gradually contributed practical suggestions that reflected her unconventional perspective.
"Evening review of daily intelligence seems sensible," Anastasia proposed, her merchant's mind naturally organizing information into actionable patterns. "Consolidating observations from various household members before rest allows for subconscious processing during sleep cycles."
"And normal people need to actually relax, not just talk about boring reports until they pass out," Felt countered, her street-bred directness cutting through formal proposals. "Maybe something that isn't just more work disguised as rest."
Their different approaches—structured efficiency versus instinctive authenticity—created unexpected complementary balance rather than mere contradiction. Aurelius facilitated their discussion with genuine interest in both perspectives, neither imposing predetermined routine nor leaving implementation entirely undefined.
As they established framework for an evening ritual that incorporated both reflection and genuine relaxation, the initial awkwardness gradually dissolved into more comfortable interaction. Anastasia's business-like exterior softened slightly through practical problem-solving, while Felt's defensive hostility eased through having her input genuinely valued rather than dismissed as childish resistance.
"Implementation should begin immediately to establish proper routine," Anastasia concluded with characteristic efficiency once they had outlined the general framework. "The binding typically responds well to consistent patterns."
"Fine, whatever," Felt shrugged, though with less hostility than her initial reactions earlier in the evening. "So what do we actually do now?"
The question highlighted the unusual intimacy their "bedtime ritual" necessarily entailed despite its practical framing. Aurelius acknowledged this with straightforward honesty rather than evasion or exploitation.
"The binding appears to require physical proximity along with mental engagement," he observed, neither demanding specific arrangements nor ignoring practical reality. "Previous experience suggests comfortable seating that allows conversation while satisfying that requirement works effectively."
His chambers included a comfortable seating arrangement near the fireplace—a long chaise designed for relaxed conversation alongside comfortable armchairs positioned for either company or solitude as desired. The setting balanced intimacy with appropriate boundaries, creating space for their ritual without imposing excessive proximity.
Anastasia assessed the arrangement with practical efficiency, her calculating mind quickly determining optimal positioning. "This seems workable," she acknowledged, taking a seat at one end of the chaise in businesslike acceptance of necessity. "Felt?"
The younger girl hesitated, natural resistance warring with magical necessity and grudging curiosity. "Still weird," she muttered, though she eventually settled at the opposite end of the chaise, maintaining maximum distance while technically sharing the same furniture.
Aurelius joined them with careful attention to their established boundaries, positioning himself between them with respectful space maintained on either side. "Perhaps we begin with review of day's observations?" he suggested, acknowledging Anastasia's proposed framework while ensuring Felt's perspective remained included. "Each sharing insights from our different vantage points."
What started as awkward compliance gradually evolved as their conversation developed naturally from formal review into more genuine exchange. Anastasia shared business intelligence gathered through her merchant networks, analyzing economic patterns with characteristic precision. Felt reluctantly contributed observations from her continued exploration of the manor grounds and surrounding village, her street-honed perceptiveness noting details others missed entirely.
Aurelius listened with genuine interest to both perspectives, validating their different approaches with equal attention. As conversation flowed more naturally, the binding on both their wrists emanated gentle warmth rather than pressure, apparently satisfied with their arrangement despite initial resistance.
The physical positioning on the shared chaise gradually shifted as their discussion deepened—Anastasia unconsciously moving closer during particularly detailed economic analysis, Felt's defensive posture slowly relaxing as her observations received genuine consideration rather than dismissal. Neither approached the overt intimacy of Emilia's lap-sitting research sessions, yet both found their initially rigid distance softening through engaged conversation.
As their discussion transitioned from formal review to more relaxed reflection, Aurelius suggested the final component of their established ritual: "The framework we discussed included transition from active review to restful contemplation before sleep," he reminded them. "Perhaps reading might serve that purpose effectively?"
The suggestion—intellectually engaging yet physically restful—represented compromise between Anastasia's structured efficiency and Felt's desire for actual relaxation. A servant had prepared a selection of materials ranging from fictional stories to historical accounts, allowing personal preference rather than imposing specific content.
"This economic history contains interesting perspectives," Anastasia noted, selecting a volume that aligned with her natural interests while settling more comfortably on the chaise.
"Boring," Felt declared, though her eyes lingered on a collection of adventure tales before she selected it with attempted nonchalance. "This one's probably least awful."
As they established themselves for the reading portion of their ritual, the physical arrangement evolved naturally—Anastasia positioning herself to share occasional observations from her selection, Felt gradually relaxing into more comfortable posture as she became absorbed in her chosen stories. The binding continued emanating satisfied warmth, apparently recognizing both the formal service (evening routine preparation) and the genuine engagement beneath its structured surface.
What none of them directly acknowledged, though all were increasingly aware, was how the final component of their scheduled service—"ending in him choosing which lap to rest on first"—loomed as unavoidable conclusion to their established ritual. The deliberately provocative phrasing in the schedule had initially caused both women considerable consternation, yet the gradual evolution of their evening interaction had somehow made the prospect less alarming than initially feared.
When Aurelius finally set aside his own reading and addressed this final requirement, he did so with straightforward honesty rather than either exploitation or evasion. "The binding appears to expect a conclusion to our evening ritual that includes more direct physical proximity," he acknowledged, neither demanding compliance nor ignoring reality. "Though as with all aspects of service, implementation remains flexible within certain parameters."
Anastasia, ever practical, assessed the situation with businesslike efficiency. "The schedule specifies a choice between alternatives," she noted, her analytical mind framing the intimate requirement in neutral terms. "Which suggests the binding accepts variability within general constraints."
"Still weird," Felt muttered, though with notably less vehemence than her initial reactions to such requirements. "But whatever. The binding gets cranky when we try to avoid the service stuff completely."
Their different approaches—pragmatic acceptance versus reluctant compliance—somehow combined to normalize what might otherwise have felt awkwardly intimate. Without excessive ceremony or discomfort, they positioned themselves according to the ritual's final requirement—Anastasia arranging herself with practical efficiency at one end of the chaise, Felt maintaining her position at the opposite end with attempted nonchalance despite the slight flush coloring her cheeks.
Aurelius acknowledged their accommodation with simple gratitude rather than exploitative satisfaction. "Thank you both for establishing this evening ritual," he said, his tone conveying genuine appreciation rather than mere politeness. "The combination of your perspectives provides valuable balance between structure and authenticity."
When he finally reclined, positioning his head across Anastasia's lap in fulfillment of the binding's specific requirement, the merchant princess maintained remarkable composure—treating the arrangement as business necessity rather than personal intimacy. Her small hands moved with practical efficiency, adjusting a cushion to ensure appropriate comfort for both parties while maintaining professional demeanor despite the unusual proximity.
"An efficient arrangement," she observed, her businesslike tone belied by the slight color in her cheeks as she completed the service requirement. Her familiar Echidna floated nearby, watching with curious assessment that occasionally prompted whispered observations in Anastasia's ear.
"I guess I'm next then?" Felt asked with manufactured indifference that didn't entirely mask her uncertainty about this most intimate aspect of their service obligation.
"The schedule indicates rotation rather than simultaneous arrangement," Aurelius confirmed, allowing her the dignity of choice rather than imposing immediate compliance. "Though timing remains flexible according to comfort levels."
The simple acknowledgment—respecting her boundaries while maintaining the ritual framework—seemed to ease Felt's tension slightly. She nodded with attempted casualness, returning her attention to her book with deliberate focus that nonetheless didn't hide her occasional glances toward the arrangement at the opposite end of the chaise.
As the evening ritual concluded in this carefully balanced intimacy—close enough to satisfy magical requirements yet respectful of individual boundaries—the binding on both women's wrists glowed with satisfied warmth. What had begun as reluctant compliance with provocative phrasing had evolved into something more nuanced—intimate yet dignified, personal yet appropriate within their unusual household arrangement.
When servants arrived with evening tea service, they found a scene both unusual and somehow harmonious: Aurelius resting comfortably across Anastasia's lap while engaged in quiet discussion of economic patterns observed in her selected reading, Felt maintaining independent position at the chaise's opposite end yet clearly part of their conversation, occasionally interjecting street-level perspectives that complemented Anastasia's more formal analysis.
The image represented their household's evolving dynamic in microcosm—hierarchical yet increasingly collaborative, intimate yet respectful, magical binding creating connections that gradually transcended mere obligation through genuine engagement with each candidate's unique value and perspective.