"We don't have the budget to get you a tea-dress, but I'll work something out."

  Erika turned me in front of the mirror, looking down at this or that thing before making minor adjustments to various bits of lace.

  "The kitchen staff didn't seem to notice or care that I was working there despite already being your servant. With that money, and the generous stipend we received from the Duke Printemps, I'll try to at least make a tea dress by reusing from one of Agnes' old things."

  Having made her final adjustments, she hid behind me to admire us in front of the mirror.

  "Wait, a stipend? We got a stipend from Father?"

  Erika simply smiled back at me through the mirror's reflection, and did not answer.

  "At some point I'll need to figure out what Erika does all day..."

  ---

  "Lady Printemps. You need to change your mindset; this is not simple arithmetic. I am asking you to think realistically about these outcomes, not just produce a number on the slate. One day, the future of your house will depend on your ability to adequately manage the budget."

  Lady Ayda passed back my slate, having marked up my work with a large number of corrections.

  "I believe that I'll have to spend some more time with you outside of regular lessons if you're going to pass this class. I would like two evenings a week of your time. Is that amenable?"

  I slowly nodded, still staring down at my slate and without looking her in the eye.

  Lady Ayda's hand reached out to cover mine. It felt a bit cold, but that was oddly reassuring.

  "Please review your mistakes and then continue the exercises on page 13. Take your time until your answers feel right. Despite the urgency, this isn't a race that you can win in one day."

  She then stood up, walking away from me to give some personal attention to Lady Charlotte, the only other girl still waiting in the class to have her slate marked.

  ---

  I decided to wait outside the classroom for Charlotte, as she had done for me the day before.

  Other students were passing by, almost none of them wearing the black and gold uniform of the main academy. These remedial classes did not constitute membership to the main academy, despite sharing a campus. Here and there I could spot students wearing gold trimmed coats or dresses that indicated that they were regular students, but their faces were downcast and loath to make eye contact with anyone else.

  This was not a place of honor. Any student here was practically advertising that they had fallen behind the Guldenfel standard. It was their last stop before being told to leave.

  Their situation felt very similar to ours. For me and the other girls of class B it was custom that, had we shown any aptitude beforehand, we would have had in-house tutors or else be sent to the regular academy at a much younger age. Our presence here was proof that our education was left to the last moment, and so the other remedial students had the same downcast look as the academy students.

  I started imagining what everyone might be here for. There went a boy, perhaps he was the last living heir after the death of an older brother, learning far too late the weight he would bear. A girl, not in our marriage candidate classes, passed by. She might be a fallen noble spending her last coin on learning the skills needed to become a merchant before losing her title.

  The door to the classroom opened, and Charlotte came bounding out of it, all smiles and laughter as she latched onto my arm. "She might be the only person here who laughs like that."

  "Do you mind if we eat our lunch outside? You'll miss another chance at meeting class A, but I managed to get a message to Jerem yesterday to meet up by the training yards."

  She had my immediate attention. "Training yards? Does the academy train knights?"

  "Oh, of course! Most knights are the children of nobles, didn't you know? Fifth or Sixth sons, or promising candidates from the branch family. Even with such a low status, it wouldn't do for them to be taught by just anyone."

  Charlotte was already leading me towards the building's exit as she spoke, her voice in high spirits. I didn't resist her direction, and this she took as assent enough that we were going to go meet Jerem together.

  "So is Jerem being taught how to be a knight?"

  At this, Charlotte laughed harder than ever before. "Jerem? A knight? Heavens, you wouldn't say that if you saw him. No, no. No. But he likes to watch them."

  Something in her voice told me that I was missing something, but I supposed that I didn't have the full context. "Maybe it'll make sense once I meet him."

  ---

  I knew that the training yard would be bigger than the one at home, but actually seeing it in person was quite different.

  The practices were being held in a large, rectangular field of soft dirt. Deep circular grooves marked out personal practice areas. Some of them were next to wooden human-shaped dummies, and others were large enough to act as sparring spaces. There were some dozen or so prospective knights training in those circles, and two of them were even sparring in a deep circular pit of sand that bogged down their footwork.

  "They must be pretty dedicated to be spending their lunch break on extra practice."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  An older boy with a mop of bronze hair and thick glasses sat on the ground along the sidelines, leaning at a low angle with his back against a raised bench. His gold-trimmed coat was a bit shabby and dirty and in his hands he held a thick sketchpad that he was drawing in rather passionately, quickly flipping page after page.

  Charlotte didn't waste any time. She approached him with long steps that ended with using her foot to jostle him to the side, causing him to yelp in surprise and drop his pencil. His sketchbook was held tight to his chest, hiding his work, and he looked up at her with glasses askew before his panic settled into a smile.

  "Oh, hey there Char. Is this Sophia?"

  He stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants before setting the sketchbook aside to reach his hand out to me. I carefully held out my hand palm down, expecting a cordial kiss on the back of, but he grabbed it and awkwardly shook it instead. "I'm Jeremy Livius, but everyone just calls me Jerem."

  "It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Jere-"

  "Please, just Jeremy or Jerem. You're friends with Char, right? It'll get annoying if we have to be formal all the time. Takes forever to talk formally."

  I gave Charlotte a rather startled look, seeking help, but she just shrugged. "Sorry Sophia, Jerem's just like that."

  "It's inefficient! We're going to be friends anyways, what's the point of being all proper for however long it takes to decide it's okay to stop."

  Charlotte must have sensed that this was making me feel rather uncomfortable, as she changed the topic by pointing at Jerem's sketchbook. "What are you working on today?"

  Jerem's blush spread like a wildfire all the way from his cheeks to his ears. "Oh, you know. Just getting references for some more dynamic poses."

  As he reached to pick up the sketchbook, all I saw was a collection of basic shapes. Squares, cylinders, and hard lines were arranged into rough outlines of people rather than anything I recognized from the art back home.

  "What are these?" I asked, pointing my finger at one of the sketches on the latest page.

  "Oh. These are just quick references I'll be filling in later. I can't really draw the whole scene with them moving like that, so I put down just enough to remember later and get the positioning right."

  As he chattered away about his process, he seemed to relax a bit more. Charlotte cut in, "Why don't you show her one that you've finished?"

  His blush deepened, "Uhm. If you'd like, sure."

  He flipped his sketchbook back several pages, and what I saw astounded me. It was a lovingly rendered pencil drawing of a young man with sword in hand, his body low. His body weight was shifting, from back to front, and his sword was level with his chin, mid swing. The musculature was detailed, and the tension in the drawing made it look like he was ready to leap off the page and slice me in twain.

  It was a beautiful rendition of swordplay, frozen in time on the page. When Charlotte caught me staring, she giggled, and pointed her finger at the picture. "You really drew all the details, huh?"

  Her finger was pointing much lower than where my eyes had been drawn to, and I felt a bit uncomfortable with what I saw. Jerem closed the book with a tight snap. "It's what I saw, okay? I just drew what I saw."

  "Uh huh." Charlotte seemed more interested in my reaction than in Jerem's, inspecting my face closely. "What did you think, Sophia?"

  "Uhm. It was drawn rather faithfully, I suppose? I feel like the drawing might have been better with that omitted, though."

  Jerem and I both stewed awkwardly while Charlotte laughed. Her arm naturally found its way back around mine as she directed Jerem and I to a spot away from the training yard.

  Charlotte had packed us sandwiches. I couldn't quite identify the meat, but it was covered in a delicious smokey sauce and shredded. I enjoyed every bite of it, and despite making a bit of a mess of myself I wished that there were more. I felt Char's eyes on me the entire time.

  ---

  The tea dress that Erika had made for me was "a bit too cute, but socially acceptable for our age," according to her. I felt a bit silly, since the once-practical blue dress had been adorned with salvaged lace and ribbons, and it now looked more like something Agnes would wear than something I would ever choose to.

  As I walked to our afternoon classes, every step ruffled or slid something against something else. It was frustrating, and the noise made my skin crawl.

  Because of this, I was too busy ruminating over the dress to notice that I was being boxed in by several strange girls until it was far too late. I started to panic, but Lady Beatrice emerged from among them and slowly put her hand on my shoulder.

  "Good afternoon, Lady Sophia. Shall we talk for a bit?"

  I looked from her to the other girls in alarm and she slowly raised a gloved hand, causing them to hold fans over their faces and step back a few steps. "Don't worry about them. They're just a few of my ladies in waiting."

  Lady Beatrice's hand on my shoulder began to grip me tight enough that it hurt, and she pressed me into a slow walk towards the classroom.

  "Lady Sophia. As a lady of the vassal house of Dubois, I would like to offer my counsel. Would you be willing to listen?"

  I felt, judging by the loose circle of ladies around me, that I didn't have a choice but to be willing. When I nodded, Lady Beatrice smiled in the exact same manner she always did.

  "That's wonderful. We do need to speak about your... friend. Lady Laeta. I believe there is something about her you need to know before you consider continuing your association with her."

  I looked at her in confusion. "What could Char have anything to do with a display this threatening?"

  "You see, Lady Sophia, Lady Laeta is of the wrong sort. Drawing her into your circle won't do you, or the Lord Hiems, any favors. It's best if you stopped spending so much time with her, lest you bring disgrace to both House Printemps and its vassal houses."

  Her smile remained rigid and practiced throughout.

  "People might get the wrong idea."

  My head spun, unsure what she was talking about.

  "Wrong sort? You mean, the Laeta family? But they're..." I searched my mind for any relevant information, and barely caught onto the memory of something Erika had explained before Adrian's visit. "... a vassal house of Hiems. There shouldn't be any conflict of interest there, if I'm to wed Lord Hiems."

  Lady Beatrice shook her head with an exaggerated sigh, squeezing my shoulder again as we walked.

  "No, no, Lady Sophia. She's a freak."

  "Freak?"

  I had heard the word before, in various contexts. It wasn't often used, but in some of the older history books in the Printemps library it referred to the act of dancing. Something in her intonation, however, made it sound like she meant something vile, and it made my stomach turn.

  "Yes, Lady Sophia. A freak. A... homosexual. She wants to be with women. In the manner of how we want to be with men."

  Her words made my stomach turn a bit; but with what emotions, I couldn't quite unpack. All I could think about was how fast I wanted this conversation to be over, and how much I wanted to be somewhere, anywhere else.

  I felt myself slowly start slipping backwards in my mind. Further than the furthest point at the back of my head, past myself and nestling into that faraway corner.

  My body nodded along with Lady Beatrice and continued to walk towards the classroom with her. It feigned interest in her lecture on the proper way to comport itself as a lady, and tuned out all of the nasty things it was hearing about its friends.

  But the girl inside it felt conflicted.