Aeliana exhaled sharply and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Sitting here—brooding—would accomplish nothing. It reminded her too much of those long days spent trapped in this very room, too weak to even stand, too fragile to even consider stepping beyond the suffocating walls of her chamber.
But she wasn't sick anymore.
She had her strength back. Her body was no longer a prison.
And she would enjoy that.
Her clothes were already appropriate for the occasion—after all, she had just returned from speaking with her father. No need to change. No need to delay. She rose from the bed, smoothing out the slight wrinkles in her gown before striding toward the door.
The hallway beyond was quiet, save for the soft rustling of fabric and the faint sound of a brush sweeping across polished marble. A maid knelt near the far end, diligently cleaning the floors. She hadn't seemed to notice Aeliana at first, too focused on her work, but the moment Aeliana stepped into the corridor, the girl's movements stilled.
A brief moment passed before the maid quickly righted herself, standing and smoothing out the folds of her uniform before offering a polite bow.
"My lady." Her voice was soft but careful, carrying the respectful hesitation of someone wary of overstepping. "Did you need something?"
Aeliana glanced at her briefly, then shook her head. "Nothing," she said simply. "I'm just going for a walk."
The maid hesitated. Just slightly. But Aeliana caught it.
Even now, they were still treating her as if she were fragile. As if she were moments away from collapsing again, despite the fact that she had recovered weeks ago. It was suffocating.
The girl's concern was evident, though she tried to mask it. "My lady," she started hesitantly, "are you sure? The Duke instructed us to—"
"There is no need for anything," Aeliana cut in, her tone firm but not unkind. "I am no longer sick, as you all know."
The maid still seemed uncertain, shifting slightly where she stood. "But—"
"I wish to be alone."
This time, her voice carried the weight of finality. A tone that left no room for argument.
The maid immediately lowered her head, murmuring a quiet, "Of course, my lady," before stepping aside, retreating back into her work.
Satisfied, Aeliana turned, striding away without another word.
She had spent far too long cooped up in that room. It was time to reclaim something of herself.
Aeliana walked at an unhurried pace, allowing the weight of the mansion to fall behind her with each step. The halls of the Thaddeus estate were vast, built with grandeur befitting one of the most powerful noble houses in the empire. The polished marble floors, the towering glass windows that stretched toward the high ceilings, the intricately woven tapestries that lined the corridors—all of it was meant to impress, to display strength, to remind those who walked these halls of the authority the Duke wielded.
But for Aeliana, these walls had often felt more like a cage than a home.
She continued down the long corridors, passing through the west wing until she reached a set of ornate double doors leading to the estate's backyard. The moment she pushed them open, a soft breeze greeted her, carrying the crisp scent of grass and the lingering fragrance of flowers still in bloom.
The backyard was vast, sprawling across the land with carefully maintained gardens, stone pathways that curved around elegant fountains, and a wide-open field beyond where the estate's training grounds lay in the distance. Even now, she could hear the distant clash of swords and the rhythmic shouts of soldiers training.
But it wasn't the training grounds that held her attention.
Her gaze swept over the gardens, and memories stirred.
Her mother had loved being outside.
The thought settled in her chest with a strange kind of weight.
Even now, she could recall it vividly—the way her mother would insist on taking morning walks, no matter the season, how she would always find an excuse to move, to do something. She had never been the kind of woman to sit idle within the walls of the estate, content with the comforts of nobility. No, she had been alive in a way that so many others were not.
Aeliana could still picture it. The way her mother would smile, eyes alight with something untamed as she would drag Aeliana by the hand, leading her through these very gardens, weaving between the flowers and trees with effortless ease.
"You spend too much time inside, little sparrow."
She could still hear her voice, clear as if it had been spoken just yesterday.
"Come now, let's see if you can keep up."
Her mother had always been physically active, always moving, always pushing. She had been a force of nature, someone who could never be contained.
Aeliana's fingers curled slightly at her sides.
Her mother would have hated seeing her confined to that bed for so long. She would have hated the way Aeliana had spent months trapped inside, withering away beneath heavy blankets and medicinal scents.
Aeliana inhaled deeply, tilting her head back to take in the open sky above.
She wasn't sick anymore.
She wouldn't let herself be confined again.
Without another thought, she stepped further into the garden, her feet following the familiar paths her mother had once walked.
Her footsteps were soft against the stone pathway as she wandered deeper into the gardens, letting the familiar scenery wash over her.
The colors of the flowers had not changed—vivid reds, deep blues, soft whites, all arranged with a careful precision that reflected the meticulous nature of the estate's upkeep. And tending to them, as always, was the gardener.
He was an older man, his back slightly bent with age, but his hands remained steady as they moved with practiced care, trimming the edges of the flowerbeds. Aeliana paused for a moment, watching in silence.
It had been a long time since she had last walked through here . But as she stood there, it was as if she could see the shadows of her past, flickering between the hedges and the trees—glimpses of herself as a child, laughter ringing through the air as she darted through the gardens, her mother's voice calling after her, warning her not to trample the flowerbeds.
A quiet, breathless sound left her lips, almost a scoff, almost a sigh.
She wasn't that girl anymore.
She had grown. She had refined herself into a proper lady, one who no longer held any use for such strength. She had left that part of herself behind, tucked away like a childhood memory that no longer fit into the life she now led.
With that thought, she turned her head away and continued walking.
The gardens gave way to the wider estate grounds, and soon, she found herself near the knights' headquarters.
The sounds of training reached her ears before she even saw them—sharp commands, the clash of steel, the unmistakable hum of mana thrumming through the air.
Aeliana's amber eyes flickered toward the source.
A group of knights were training in the courtyard. These weren't just any knights—there were many stationed across the vast territories of the Duchy, but these men were different. These were the elite, the ones who served directly under her father's command. The Thaddeus Duchy's personal knights.
Today, it seemed, was mana training.
Their blades gleamed under the sunlight, their movements precise, each swing of their swords enhanced with a steady flow of mana. Aeliana could feel it, even from a distance—the way the air vibrated with energy, the way their mana pulsed through their strikes with trained control.
She lingered for a moment, watching.
Feeling a small itch on her body….