"That's it for today, Lucy."
Anasthasia stood with grace, peering down at Lucy, who propped herself up in all fours. Beads of sweat trickled, drip by drip, as she panted.
"I can—still do it…"
"Please, stop being stubborn. We have all the time in the world."
'She's still far from the decent progress; this is still the first day of training. I'll be sure to guide her.'
Reflecting on her thoughts, she twisted her heel and beckoned Liam. He only stood from the sidelines, clenching his fists. Unable to bear as a witness on the struggles of Lucy.
"Ahh! Yes, Ana."
"Lucy needs to rest."
Liam asserted her claims and gladly came to Lucy's side. He bent his knees while he cooed her, "Lucy, it's getting late. Shall we?"
Her sniffs resounded the silent room that stopped their movement. Anasthasia had to look back and saw how she trembled, resisting her tears. Liam only caressed her back, and Levi also came by her side.
Michael, in his usual position by the window, his rueful gaze fixed at her. Anasthasia slowly closed her eyes and turned for good.
Anasthasia sauntered, much in sloppy pace, until she headed upstairs. Reaching by her door, she opened and saw how Freidmirth shot up. His tail wagged as joyous as his beating wings.
"Did you get some spoils of war today—?"
Decisively, she cut him off. "I don't have food."
Freidmirth waved off his arm. "Not that I needed it. Lucy gave me so much for today."
"I'd laugh if you'd lie it to my face because your stomach says otherwise."
His eyes widened and had him leer down and noticed the large sphere encrusted by his bejeweled icy stones. His nose flared, which caused him to throw a fit, "You! How dare you—"
"You need to take a chill." Anasthasia closed the door and went to the closet. She took her time picking up clothes for the rest of the night. Eyes shimmered from the white satin nightgown paired with a robe of the same style.
After which, her eyes glossed over to the nightstand—placed 'Seraphine,' pristine gemstone, and a heap of the paper contract along with the towering books.
"Whatever, you seem so busy these days, and I'm so bored here." Freidmirth rolled back and forth on the warm quilt.
"It's not like I noticed it." She rolled her eyes, clearly, with a sarcastic tone. "I'd like to think I am doing fine." She undid her hair bun and shook her hair. She then undressed and took her time to wear the outfit of the night.
Anasthasia sat by the edge of the bed, crossing her ankles as she thought about what she knew.
'Is it safe to assume the magicians back in a day had shifted and settled themselves to what the technology currently has to offer?'
Anasthasia hummed in a gentle tone as she reminisced about the glory of the past.
Back then, the magicians primarily relied solely on their memories. Even with the handful of items that ranged from magic tools to divine artifacts, a human body could only do so much. She couldn't fathom how many methods and tricks up on everyone's sleeves to always rearm and replenish themselves with knowledge, lest they continued to suffer deterioration with the test of time.
More often than not, magicians tended to obtain the useful spells of both offensive and defensive purposes from their primordial affinities.
'It's safe to say that it's not rare to see a lot of magicians to have more than half of the primordial affinities.'
"Fried." She glanced at Freidmirth, leisurely on the bed, who had propped his palm on his cheek while the other scratched his back.
"What is it now, Anasthasia."
"Come here, let me cuddle you." Seeing how she beckoned, his snout scrunched up.
"What do you think of me, your plush toy—?"
"I'll give you a treat tomorrow—a special ingot of gold—"
"Now we're talking!" He jolted up from his position, wagging his tail. "You better keep your word!" His nostrils fumed a puff of smoke.
Anasthasia giggled and reached out to him, embracing in her arms. Her hands grazed over his head with his dragon horns, leaning more to the cuteness than its regality.
Once again, she found herself in a serene state.
'The best pools of magicians came from the geniuses, which could learn as much as they can. No matter how rare they were, they make a difference compared to a group of subpar abilities of the magicians.'
In her prime, she established the right balance between technology and magic. Her beliefs remained solid as both could rely on one another.
'However, with the technological advancement as of today, it granted both convenience and dependence for the modern magicians to apply magic in daily life.' Anasthasia looked at her ankles, giving a casual shake.
'I was hopeful, when the time came, that the only thing that would gravely be affected were spellcraft. There might be a lot of them out there either perished, lost, or adapted over time.'
But as just as what she had gist, not even the methodologies, classifications, and whatnot weren't spared.
'There are at least ten general classifications—that's the majority, and there are a lot more—but only five of them thrived today. No wonder Brenov and Blake had a hard time with such indicators.
She remembered the towering books as her head craved for more information, but then the gemstone glinted, reflecting off the light from the ceiling. The gemstone itself harbored a shackle of her past.
Edward's words resonated in her mind.
'Survive, Anasthasia…'
When her vision came to a turbid, she arched her neck and controlled her tears.
'Was it the right thing to do? I've had my adventure, and I don't need something new at this point.'
She rose from her seat and strode towards the nightstand, grazing over the gemstone. Her throat was so dry, but she could only hold it for a while.
'I'm sure, at this time, Sir Edward wouldn't want to see me cry. I'm sure the rest of them would be here for me.'
Freidmirth gaped; noticed her lamentations. "Anasthasia?"
"What is it?"
"I can feel the wetness in my head…"
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Anasthasia flickered her eyes as she brushed her cheeks in frantic.
"You're so lost in your trail of thoughts, tell me."
She then grabbed the gemstone, scouring over the crack. "It's a long one, but I have reached the point that I have mixed feelings. I was shocked to see a descendant from a good old friend of mine."
"What do you mean by that?"
Anasthasia gulped inaudibly and dropped her tone to a whisper, "I don't know, I feel betrayed. What on earth happened the moment I ruled the empire? Why I didn't come to know all of these things."
"You did tell me that you once ran the empire, though I never came to know it."
She started to pat his head. "I gave you lots of chances to escape, lest you're bored in this place, but you never did."
"I wouldn't. In fact, I'd really want to know, just by the stories I have heard, how the humans trampled every monster and race with their strength and wisdom."
"That's somehow true."
"Although your power and style were different from what was then. I'm pretty sure you're one of those people in the past. I don't mind bowing down to you as I only recognize the strong and not the weak!" Freidmirth crossed his arms, huffing out.
"You're so adorable!" She began to cuddle Freidmirth so tight that he turned pale and struggled for air to breathe.
Moments later, a few knocks heard from the door, which piqued her curiosity. Looking at her outfit and the time, she prowled and hit behind the door. She slowly opened and peeked out only to find Michael, who stood upright.
"My, for a Crown Prince like you to stay in someone's abode, do you feel any inconveniences?"
"Why not—"
"You should go back to the royal palace." Anasthasia shooed him away, clicking her tongue.
Michael was taken aback. He averted his gaze while he scratched his nape. "It's late already."
"I know that well. What brings you here then?"
"I sincerely apologize for what I did hours ago. My actions weren't worthy of a noble."
Anasthasia pulled away as she kneaded her forehead. 'Goodness, he had to remind me how that happened. He didn't have to dwell on it as I understood.'
"Rest assured; I bear no ill will."
Michael nodded, beaming a curt smile on his face. "I shall get going now." He turned around, but eyes darted on her one last time.
"You're crying."
"Am I—?"
He jammed his hand in his pocket and retrieved a white handkerchief. "Here, you needed this. Your got puffy eyes."
Anasthasia accepted his handkerchief, but before she could utter, he left so soon.
'He reminds me of Edward.'