changelingcharm

  They got inside and Ariadne took a long hot bath as she stewed over the events of the day. She looked down at the obscene mark on her skin, and surprisingly it made her smile. She had something of her own, even if it was in a pce she would rather it not be. She retired early that night with a pot of tea and her watercolors. She wasn’t the best painter in the world, but she had invested a good deal of time into the hobby. Most of her paintings were of clothes, real or imagined, although she also did ndscapes and still-lifes here and there as well.

  The next day and several after that were spent researching more about witchcraft, spirits, and magic in general. There weren’t too many more books on witchcraft itself in the library, one on the history of it and another that was a treatise against it. It wasn’t a harmful practice, but some would always object to peddling with demons, the church chief among them, although even the church took a rather passive stance. It would go against the goddess’s teaching to restrict other’s freedoms, after all.

  She did succeed in finding a lexicon of spirits though which was quite helpful. It described their nature and although it was very technical, she managed to parse it enough to estimate the type of impact a natural treasure would have on a given spirit based on rank and element which would be very important in the coming days. She needed to know how valuable the thing she was holding was to properly bargain. She also delved a bit into researching mana throughput, she knew that using it generally increased both the capacity and the throughput, but had to do quite a bit of research to confirm whether or not a pact like the one she had made counted as “using it”. Luckily for her it seemed that it did improve things, although it wouldn’t be as effective as if she was a sorcerer.

  Mirabel was more successful in her hunt, scrounging up multiple beat up books on the subject. There were lists and lists of magics a spirit could grant and she grinned at having such a complete list. Although there were more types of spirit than there were stars in the sky, so she supposed even this was not complete. Still, it was certainly a good start. There were even some more niche applications, like fortune telling. She had no idea how that worked, but the book said that a witch needed a certain level of “contractual weight” before they could do it so she supposed that was a problem for ter.

  It took only those few days for the lily to arrive along with something else. An invitation. Marchioness Rialta was hosting a ball, and for some reason had decided to invite Ariadne. She had interacted with the woman before, she had interacted with most noblewomen before, but she was several years her senior and so hadn’t spent too much time with her and her children were too young for her to be friendly with them either, so she was at a loss as to why she would invite high society’s biggest pariah. There was only one reason she could think of to invite her, which was as a joke.

  Ariadne went to throw the letter away, but her hand didn’t let go of it and Mirabel’s words echoed through her mind.

  “Someone they’ll regret losing.”

  “If they want to make a show of me, then who am I to stop them.” She murmured.

  She started writing an RSVP.

  “It’s in three months.” She reasoned with herself aloud. “My hair will be a bit longer by then. I’ll get a new dress, something they would never wear.”

  She could almost smile.

  “And then, I will show them.”

  She had it sent off and immediately regretted it as the adrenaline faded. She knew she would fret for weeks over this, but she was a woman of principles and pride so she wouldn’t ever back down now that she had confirmed her attendance. It wasn’t the only letter she had received that day though.

  Ariadne took a deep breath before looking at the next letter, she knew already who it was and she wasn’t looking forward to reading it. It was from Penelope.

  “Dear Ariadne,

  I feel I owe you many apologies. I was not aware of what the prince was pnning to do that night, assuming there was a pn at all. As you know I am still unfamiliar with how noble society operates, but it seemed cruel and unusual and I’m very sorry it happened to you. I’m also sorry for how father is treating you, I can’t say I understand his actions and any attempt to speak about them is met with silence. I wish to see you, if possible. If I may visit please tell me a good day and time. I pray for your happines

  Your sister, Penelope."

  Ariadne tore the letter in half. That was her least favorite part about Penelope, she was so damn nice. No nice wasn’t the word for her, perhaps understanding or magnanimous even. Saint-like, really. Ariadne had bullied the girl for the better part of a year and had accomplished little through it, not due to the unproductiveness of such a venture, but because the girl was completely unfazed by her attempts. She got annoyed here and there, maybe a little sad, but she was anything but the whimpering little wallflower her brothers thought she was. She was stubborn and unyielding in her kindness, and it infuriated her.

  Ariadne began to pen a reply. She felt like she deserved that much despite her inner rage. Ariadne knew with the entirety of her logical mind that Penelope was a good person, better than almost any noble could be. When she saw her however her heart filled with rage. She represented everything Ariadne could never be, and everything she lost, she didn’t trust herself around her. It took two hours for her to pen something that was neither upsetting nor threatening to the girl.

  “Dear Penelope Espestrierre,

  I thank you for your kind words, and I’m appreciative that you were not involved in the manner with which Prince Liam revoked the engagement. You do not owe me any apologies, we can only control our own actions. I however owe you many apologies, I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you, I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before I left. I’m sorry for the things I’ve said to you, the possessions I’ve ruined, and of course for my violence against you during the spring festival. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m not sure if seeing me is the best of ideas right now, but I wish you well.

  Ariadne Espestrierre."

  It hurt her pride surprisingly little to apologize through letter. It still pained her but it was easier to be sorry when she didn’t have her father gring daggers into her the entire time. She had that letter sent as well and took a deep breath.

  “What have you been up to my dy?” Mirabel asked.

  “Writing letters.”

  “Still? It’s been three hours since I gave you them, how many were you writing?”

  “Two.” Ariadne said sheepishly.

  “How long were they?”

  “An RSVP and one page for Lady Penelope.” She said. She could never stomach calling Penelope her sister, but it felt far less pointed now that she refused to call any other Espestrierre her family either.

  “How on earth did that take three hours?”

  “It was difficult.” She said. “It took me a few drafts she said motioning to the desk in the room behind her. Papers were scattered everywhere and some of them looked like she had dug into them with her quill like a knife.

  “Understandable.”

  “Did you get what I asked for?”

  “Yes my dy. You’re going to start worrying people if you keep having me get random animal’s blood.”

  “I’m already worrying people.” She said. “What’s another issue?”

  “Well said.” She replied with a sigh.

  It was a few days ter when she receive an unexpected visitor.

  “My dy.” Mirabel said gravely. “Lord Arnaud is here.”

  “Wh-why?”

  “He didn’t say, just that he wants to speak to you.”

  “Have someone make some tea, I’ll see him in the parlor I suppose.” She said. She touched up her makeup quickly and took a deep breath. She focused the shroud of Dantalion on her face and walked down the stairs and into the parlor.

  “Lord Arnaud, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She asked taking a seat opposite him. He was Duke Espestrierre’s heir, and five years her senior. He was a rge man, 6’3, which was only bolstered by the muscles he had acquired as a royal knight. He was an aura practitioner, someone who had become so one with a weapon or tool that it resonated with their mana, and it showed in the way he carried himself. Still he looked puzzled by the form of address.

  “Father sent me to see how you’re doing.” He said in monotone. He was never an expressive man.

  “I’m fine.” She said simply, unable to keep the venom off her tongue. “Was there something else I could help you with.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “Well I am. Was there something else I could help you with?” She repeated herself.

  Arnaud sighed heavily in exasperation.

  “Why don’t you want to see Penelope?”

  Now it was her turn to sigh.

  “So that’s what this is about.” She said with a grin.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The barest hint of anger rising in his voice.

  “Nothing at all.” She said shaking her head and deciding to just be truthful for once. “I don’t want to see her because I’m liable to lose my temper and say something unkind to her. She’s had enough of that from me for a lifetime. Don’t you think?”

  “Why is it so hard for you to be pleasant to her?” He asked with frustration.

  Ariadne’s hands began to shake at that. She didn’t know what emotion was taking over, something between absolute rage and soul destroying despair. She wrapped her arms around herself and took a long breath in.

  “I…” She began before shaking her head and pstering on a smile. “Too many reasons to say.”

  Arnaud looked at her strangely before speaking again.

  “Well father says she’s visiting you in two weeks time, so what day works for you?”

  Ariadne stilled and felt it all bubble up inside her, but the outburst she expected was not the one she got.

  “Sunday.” She said as she looked down at her p. Her voice shook as she said it.

  “Did you just say that because it’s the furth-” He stopped for a moment. “Are you crying?”

  “Sunday.” She repeated. “Was there anything else you need Lord Arnaud.”

  The man hesitated as tears fell into her p. She wouldn’t look up at him.

  “No.” He sighed. “There isn’t, I’ll take my leave. Take care of yourself.”

  He got up and promptly left leaving Ariadne alone in the parlor. The second the door shut the dam burst and what was once a few tears were now a flood. It was just anger at first, anger she was used to, this though this was… powerlessness. That’s what was upsetting, the fact that she didn’t have a choice whether or not she spoke to Penelope, the fact that her former brother could just walk in and tell her what to do. She was just… so tired of it all. She sobbed for a good long while before finally letting up enough to move to her room instead. Mirabel drew a bath for her without even asking. She cried in there too.

  She nguished a bit for a few days afterwards. She didn’t feel like getting out of bed in the slightest despite Maribel’s poking and prodding. It was a habit she had when she was upset. She often wondered if she learned this behavior from the duchess, it almost made her smile to be like the woman she considered her mother, but she knew it shouldn’t.

  As one would predict it was Maribel who finally got her to get up.

  “My dy, you’ll need to buy your dress for Marchioness Rialta’s ball if you want to get it on time. Ariadne was a force to be reckoned with when she was in a mood, but there were few things she enjoyed more than getting a new dress.

  “Ughhh.” She groaned getting out of bed. “Tell Mr. Webber to ready the carriage in an hour.”

  “I already did.” She smiled.

  “You really know me too well, Mirabel.” She sighed.

  “It’s my job, my dy.”

  Ariadne just smiled at that and started getting ready. Mirabel helped her put on a lic dress as she did her own makeup, with Mirabel giving the finishing touches. She sprayed on some perfume and they were ready just on time. The nearest city wasn’t the capital but Trybek, a fairly rge seaside town that she had only been to once or twice before. On the ride there she thumbed through her financial statements to see how much money she had.

  The duke had given her her own account when she began needing to make her own purchases and had a stipend added every month. She had assumed he would stop sending money, if only because her mind catastrophized, but she was pleasantly surprised to see that he hadn’t. There was quite a bit in her account, a ludicrous amount to some people. Enough that she could get many dresses and still afford this and that for her pns. She was gd she brought her paintings.

  They found themselves in town soon enough, outside The Silken Spool. When they got inside there were few customers, which made sense as they had chosen the nicest looking seamstress shop that they could. When they entered they were greeted by an older woman with dark brown hair, in a fine velvet gown that looked high quality.

  “Welcome, my name Elizabeth Driar.” The woman said with a smile. Ariadne was familiar with this song and dance, she was trying to get her name to know how to react.

  “Thank you, my name is Ariadne Espestrierre.”

  She reacted immediately curtsying, deeply.

  “And this is my maid, Mirabel.”

  “Well it’s a pleasure to have you both, how can I help you today?”

  “I’m attending Marchioness Rialta’s ball in a little over a month and I wanted a new dress for it.” She started. “However I want something a bit… different. I have some designs.”

  Ariadne handed the woman the first painting which was what she intended for the ball. A completely bck dress that fred out at the waist as most dresses in fashion did, with a petticoat. It was a bit shorter than usual, falling at the knee, with short sleeves, and finished with bck ce trim. The length was ever so slightly scandalous, whereas the color was more than strange for a party.

  “M-my dy I’m so sorry, I’m not sure I could make these. I could try to do something simir with the sleeves if you wanted to choose a different color…”

  Ariadne had been expecting this.

  “That’s alright, I can find someone else.” The woman’s face dropped. “Thank you for your time.” She didn’t hold it against the woman, she was trying to save her from herself after all. Ariadne just didn’t want to be saved.

  “I see, my dy. I wish you luck.”

  Ariadne turned her head as she walked out.

  “Thank you.” Ariadne murmured as she turned and walked away.

  Ten minutes ter she and Mirabel found themselves at the Iron Raiment, a rather pedestrian shop headed by a young woman with light brown hair and gsses, she wore a structured garment in an argyle pattern that was half apron half dress, fairly short, although commoners tended to wear shorter hemlines. She was already waiting on a few people, handing off finished garments. Ariadne and Mirabel waited patiently until the woman noticed them, as they were starting to get stared at by the other customers.

  “Hello my dy, welcome to the Iron Raiment.” She curtsied a bit ungracefully if only because she was flustered. “What can I do for you today?”

  “I’m interested in commissioning a dress. Is there somewhere more private to speak?” She asked a bit tired of being gawked at.

  “Of course my dy, follow me.” She said nervously, leading her into a back room that had a table and a few chairs with thread and needles lining the walls. “I apologize for the clutter.”

  “No apologies necessary.” Ariadne said simply. She doubted the woman often had to have meetings with her clientele. Especially not without preparation.

  “Well it’s a pleasure to have you, my name is Beatrix Saturna.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, my name is Ariadne Espestrierre.”

  The woman’s eyes widened, but she quickly schooled her expression.

  “And this is Mirabel.” She gestured toward the older girl. “Now I’ve come to you because I need a new dress for Marchioness Rialta’s ball, and I want a specific design.” She said handing over the painting.

  Beatrix looked at it for several seconds without speaking, all trace of anxiety vanishing, just taking in the image.

  “This is very interesting…” She muttered.

  “I’ve come to you because other seamstresses weren’t willing to make it, are you?”

  “Yes.” She said pinly. “Why wouldn’t the others make it?”

  “I’m sure you understand.” She replied giving the woman a knowing look.

  “Sure it’s out there.” She admitted. “But it’s not like it’s social suicide to wear a dress at the knees, especially if you’re pnning to wear tights like in this painting..”

  “I’m gd you said that.” Ariadne smiled. “I don’t mean to be rude, but are you used to working with luxury fabrics?”

  “Yes my dy. I don’t work with them often, but I’m certainly comfortable with them when my clients can afford them. How much were you looking to spend.”

  “Eight gold talents.” She said, almost making the woman’s eyes bug out. That was more than she made in two weeks, of course she’d have to take a great deal off for the materials, but still.

  “I see, I see.” She said trying to sound professional.

  “And if you’re willing, I have a few more designs that I’d like you to make.” She said ying out several more casual dresses, all in bck, some with a touch of white in the colr or ce. “I’m comfortable spending twenty five on these combined.”

  If Beatrix were in her right mind she would have been startled by that, but she was busy looking at the designs.

  “Did you make these yourself, my dy?”

  “Yes.” Ariadne said a bit embarrassed. “I like to do watercolors of clothes.”

  “Could I… could I buy one of your designs?” The second Beatrix heard what she had said she put her hand over her mouth. She was a shop primarily for commoners, the idea of selling a duke’s daughter’s design could be considered quite rude. “I’m so sorry, my dy, that must be an insulting proposition!”

  “No, no. It’s quite the compliment. Which were you interested in?” She asked curiously.

  She pointed to a shorter dress with fairly utilitarian straps and no sleeves, and a high waist that fred out.

  “If I simplified the design and made it out of heavier fabric then I know it would sell well with common woman, especially in the summer.”

  “I’m amenable to the idea, but I’d prefer royalties to selling the design outright.” She said.

  “Wh-what would your terms be?” She asked trying her hardest to not show her surprise at the direction of the conversation.

  “Would a split of five percent of the profit going to me, and ninety-five to you, be amenable?” Ariadne offered.

  “Yes.” The woman said quickly. It wasn’t a bad deal, and if it didn’t work out then she would likely be none the worse for it.

  “Then it’s a deal. I’ll have a contract drafted and sent to you tomorrow, the courier will return it when it’s signed. And here are the funds for making my dresses of course.” Ariadne said pcing a small bag clinking with coins.

  “Thank you for this opportunity my dy. When did you say you needed these by?”

  “The dress I need by the twenty first of July. The others are not time sensitive.”

  “That makes it easy then. The dress I will certainly be able to get done before then, and the other dresses should be done soon after since they have less detail. What materials were you thinking for the dress specifically.”

  “Velvet.” Ariadne said decisively. “Silk ribbons for the bows, and whatever type of bck ce you decide is best for the trim. There isn’t a lot of fabric on it to show off, so we need it to look expensive.”

  “That makes sense, any direction on the others.”

  “Perhaps I’ll send a few notes ter if I remember, but no, as long as they’re bck.”

  “Pardon me for asking my dy, but are you in mourning?” Beatrix asked sympathetically.

  “Not in the traditional sense.” Ariadne said. “It’s just suits me.”

  “I see.” The woman said in surprise and not knowing what else to say, spoke the first words to come to her, no matter how awkward they felt coming out of her mouth. “I myself like shades of brown.”