“Don’t ever trust someone who likes plants too much. There’s a reason so many people fear fungi —and don’t get me wrong, they freak me out too— but it's always the seemingly innocent plant lovers that catch you off guard. You weren’t around back then, but I’m sure you’ve heard stories; The Mother of Moss was lovely enough, she even came across genuinely kind in the few peace talks she attended, but all of that meant nothing when she single handedly suffocated an entire regiment without so much as raising an alarm.”

  -Burkhard ‘Sun Eater’ Fleischer, retired marshal of the Dwergaz Republic’s Kallistan front

  With her lessons over and the girl trying to put as much distance as she could between herself and the practice room, Dahlia found herself naturally gravitating towards the back of the estate. Slowly the tension she’d been feeling fell away, replaced with a lethargy that she was becoming far too accustomed to. Her days as a child had been longer, forced to study from before dawn until after dusk, and yet in some ways she still yearned for those days. Things were simpler then: even if her parents worked her to the bone she at least had hopes that they might have accepted her one day, but now?

  She let out a sigh and sped up her pace. Thinking about the past rarely helped and yet she couldn’t stop her thoughts from gravitating back to it time and time again. Even still, despite how much she hated them, the girl couldn’t deny that she wished there was a way she could still make her parents proud. Even for just a moment, for just one thing, she craved it and hated herself all the more for it. She knew how desperate she was —how unhealthy it all was— but she couldn’t help it because if not them then who?

  Her eyes flickered to a pair of maids and she acted as though she didn’t notice their glares or how they avoided her like the plague, just as she always did, and took a left to head towards the estate’s rear. The two maids certainly reinforced her point though: no one on the Liontáriou estate would ever offer her an ounce of comfort, so all she had left to turn to were her own abusers as she hoped for even the slightest crumb of support or praise.

  “It’s pathetic.” She mumbled it under her breath but it felt good, at times, to lay on a bit of self loathing. Not too much though; she used to be far worse but eventually found ways of nipping that in the bud. Distractions, as it turned out, were excellent for that and Dahlia had long since discovered the beauty of hobbies. The distractions were good —healthy even— and as her own mandatory studies were reduced due to her no longer being expected to inherit, Dahlia had found that maintaining her own personal studies in her free time was relaxing in its own way.

  Oh, she loved learning and piecing things together —that much was never in doubt— but she couldn’t deny that there was also a huge appeal of pushing herself to focus on something and not let her mind wander for hours on end. Being left alone with her thoughts had always been a fast track to slowly spiralling into a turbid pool of doubts and regrets after all.

  Again the girl caught herself, clicking her tongue in annoyance at letting her focus slip so easily. The halls of the mansion tended to do this to her; there were just too many eyes watching and too many people judging every movement as she passed. If it weren’t so frustrating, she'd almost be fascinated by the little cliques they all made but, as it was, she just wanted them all to leave. At the very least, she was thankful that her parents prevented their staff from committing any physical abuse: her father believed that servants raising their hand against her would only make her more of an embarrassment, but the girl would take whatever small victories she could get.

  She pushed her way through the mansion's back door, pointedly ignoring a guard’s stare and headed directly to her actual destination: her greenhouse. Letting her eyes flicker over the rest of the garden, she repressed a wince. The wealth of the Liontáriou Barony was… the girl hesitated to admit quite how bad their prospects were but she couldn’t deny that they were hanging on by a thread financially. Having an inexpensive garden wasn’t what pained her though — if anything, it was the opposite.

  Dahlia couldn’t quite remember when it started, but she suspected it was right around the time her candidacy as an heir came to an end that her parents had fully realised that their wealth was on course to crumble into nothing, and that led to some rather excessive habits. The girl glared at the latest set of Kuyūthi protea flowers, knowing that they would just die off within the month. There was no care. There was no love. They just threw together whatever flashy flower they could find to match whatever the current trend was, and it was all just to disguise how horrific their budget had become.

  Before her mood plummeted even further, she moved on and it didn’t take long until Dahlia found herself in one of the garden’s more secluded corners. There a smile finally began to creep onto her face as the greenhouse came into view. It was, for all intents and purposes, one of the only things that she felt comfortable calling hers and, without hesitating, she stepped in and breathed deep as she took in the humidity, warmth, and scent of peat and loam.

  The place was a jungle, filled to the brim with gorgeous vibrant green and speckles of the occasional bloom; compared to the near-clinical modernism outside, it embraced the chaotic wonder that vegetation could bring and Dahlia adored it. Closing the door behind her with a soft click, suddenly the girl’s smile grew even wider and, for the first time in the day, she felt like she could actually breathe.

  “How is everyone doing today, hmm? Enough nutrients? Enough water?” Her tone was playful as she gently ran a finger over a nearby fern. “You’re looking lovely today by the way. Very green. It’s a good look.”

  A silly little grin was plastered on her face as she began talking to her plants. These plants… they weren’t magical. They had no intelligence and gave no response. Other than some rare varieties, there was nothing special or peculiar about them in any way. The only unique thing they had to offer was loyalty. For Dahlia though, that was enough.

  Other than studying, the girl initially hadn’t taken to hobbies despite her best efforts. Each thing she tried to fill her free time always ended with her dissatisfied or having her thoughts roaming; neither of which were particularly desirable. Even gardening, despite her love for it now, had been just another hobby she expected to give up after a brief attempt, and yet—

  “Catina, you absolute glutton!” The girl laughed as she rushed over to one of the smaller fruiting trees, its branch sagging beneath the weight of a single oversized apple. “You’re going to hurt yourself, you know that? Here, just—” She plucked the fruit, patting the branch that was just freed and smiled. “You tried really hard, I’m proud of you.”

  This was her haven. She had never expected to enjoy gardening, but once she started? There was just something so comforting with it all. Oh, the process was slow and sometimes left her more time alone with her thoughts than she preferred, but it was the realisation that she could raise, love, and pamper plants and they wouldn’t be cruel or be taken away by her parents that had her fall in love with gardening. She loved them, finding a connection with them that she lacked with anyone else and, as a result, these cute little plants were raised with more care than most parents raised their own children. In exchange, they became Dahlia’s mindless, silent companions and she cherished every moment.

  “You know, today mom was off on another one of her fun little rants.” As she went about pampering each plant she chatted with them, though now in a hushed conspiratorial tone.

  “Ever since the idea of the debutante came up again she’s gotten worse. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she hasn’t struck me as often and even the way she talks has gotten better, but… the topics are starting to wear on me more.”

  She glanced at a nearby orchid as if it just said something preposterous. It didn’t.

  “Well excuse me! Looking a gift horse in the mouth might be a nice idiom, but it doesn’t apply here. Rather, according to my mother, I’ll be the gift if anything.”

  Just thinking about it made her feel defeated and it was as if she could feel a weight returning to her shoulders. Letting out a sigh, her gaze shifted to a different plant: a giant succulent with big bulbous blue leaves. Seeing it, her eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t go trying to paint this all like a good thing. I mean, obviously getting my aspect awakened will be amazing but everything else? No. Even if mom is less intense than usual and dad hasn’t called me to his office recently, I refuse to see it all as a good thing. I know they don’t care about me and just want me gone. Besides, what they want is…”

  She cut off what she was saying with a shudder and just for a moment her eyes were wide and wild like a cornered rabbit. That was a mistake. Talking helped, she did it for a reason after all, but some topics? Some were better to just repress rather than dredge up to the front of her mind. It was only after a few shaky breaths that Dahlia finally turned her attention back towards a lush vine just about ready to bear ripe fruit and immediately her eyes softened.

  “Maybe it’s true that once upon a time I wished for someone to come and save me. Some kind noble boy or even a commoner to show up and sweep me off my feet. Someone that I could love and trust like all of you, but…” She chewed her lip as she mulled over her thoughts, “Over the years I’ve found it less and less desirable. Back when I had those dreams I was… what? Fourteen? And even then, the fantasy never truly felt like it was what I wanted. Sure, I wanted to be free and safe, and I still want to feel loved, but the other details? Even back then they didn’t resonate, and now? Maybe it’s just the company my parents keep, but every man who has walked into this estate has either ignored me, treated me cruelly, or looked at me in the most disgusting way.”

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  Not even bothering to restrain her grimace this time, Dahlia continued to talk while pampering the fruiting plant as if it were pregnant.

  “So no. Marriage is off the table, even if it would mean my parents might be a bit happier. I’ll find a different way. One that doesn’t involve selling myself off. Really, assuming I get a nice aspect, I still genuinely think I have a chance to redeem myself as an heir.”

  There was another pause before the girl snorted, glancing briefly at one of her prickliest little bushes with a smirk.

  “No darling, I’m not even planning to use magic to coerce them. It’s just… dad can’t get it up, right? I mean, it’s more than that, but that’s the gist at least. Mom could go for as many rounds as she wanted but she’s got that weaker griffon bloodline in her so it wouldn’t matter. At the end of the day, I’m the only kid dad will ever have and that means something. Even if I don’t have the Burning Lion bloodline, there’s a good chance it’s just recessive in me for some reason. All it’ll take is a particularly good aspect and I bet it wouldn’t even be that hard to be accepted as heir.”

  Almost like a ritual, this continued as the conversation shifted from one topic to the next, and always the plants remained perfect conversationalists. First it was her relaying her desire to have a light attributed aspect and, if she was being greedy, perhaps even a passable bloodline one day, if not the Burning Lion. The poor plants have heard that topic far more than they deserved, but they remained good listeners all the same. Next, the topic moved on to magic theory and, once again, it was something that the entire garden had heard countless times. Despite that though, Dahlia still approached the topic with an excited fervour. Being far from scholars, Dahlia suspected that most of her plants didn’t truly appreciate her insights, however that didn’t stop her from looking towards one particularly elegant flower tucked away in a ceramic pot.

  “Ok Mister Lily, we’re going to go over the basics again, got it? You have to listen closely!”

  The girl wasn’t so far gone that she thought these plants could actually think, but treating them this way always improved her mood, which was clearly seen by the mischievous grin she had the whole time. Said grin had grown even wider since she began to lecture ‘Mister Lily.’

  “Ok, so last time we left off talking about aspects, right? I did that whole rant about how an aspect's name is typically related to the elements it could manipulate?” She paused, looking intently toward the plant but, seeing a faint breeze cause Mister Lily to ‘shake its head’, the girl’s smile twitched. “Right, for fuck’s sake, I guess I’ll do some quick review…”

  Taking a moment to think, Dahlia slowly nodded her head. “Alright, let’s start here: most people eventually develop their magical organs, right? Mana channels and such, I’m not going to worry about the biology for now though. All you need to know is that only two percent of humans fail to magically develop, and that minority largely originates from commoners rather than nobles. Assuming someone does awaken their magic though, what they’re able to do with it is mostly determined by their aspect.

  “Out of everyone, roughly three quarters of people develop what’s considered a common or simple aspect. These are things like ‘dewdrops,’ ‘grass,’ and ‘breeze.’ Now, while someone who’s well educated or was born with a potent bloodline could take these lacklustre aspects and turn them into something grand, they still won’t be respected by the elite. They’re too simple. Too weak. They typically possess only one element and their restricted versatility tends to make them shameful blots on a noble’s otherwise spotless career. Combined with many noble families showing favouritism to certain elemental attributes, you can only imagine how thrilled a fire-loving noble house would be when they discover their child’s aspect is ‘soil.’”

  The girl paused and grinned at the flower, “Oh, I’m sure you’d absolutely love that aspect, so maybe I gave a bad example. Just trust me when I say noble’s usually aren’t huge fans of dirt. Now, other than the cultural divide between plants and human nobility, are we good to go on? Excellent! I’ll try to speed up though, just for you.

  “After the common aspects we already mentioned, another twenty percent of individuals achieve uncommon aspects while the remainder develop rare, or even unique aspects. Honestly, it’s hard to overstate just how much variety there can be to aspects. An uncommon ‘waterfall’ aspect would contain both water and gravity elements, while a unique aspect that occurred eight decades ago was named ‘cherry blossoms in an endless storm’ which possessed air, nature, water, and electricity, as well as the concept of perpetuity which is fucking crazy to think about. Needless to say, rare or unique aspects are the kind of things the higher echelons of nobility thirst for, each hoping to attain a higher pedigree within their lineage.”

  Again Dahlia smiled at Mister Lily, though this time it was somewhat apologetic. “You don’t give a shit about any of this political stuff, do you? Alright, we’ll move on then, sorry for rambling. Honestly, I’d rather be talking about schemas anyway; that’s where my real passion lies.” Giving herself a big stretch, the girl repositioned, leaning in with hardly contained excitement.

  “Ok so, sorry in advance but I might get a little carried away. I know schema are a complex topic and you can be… a little slow, but for now we’ll just stick to the basics of the basics. On the most fundamental level, a schema is the method or ideology someone uses when casting their magic. It determines almost everything when manipulating mana and can completely redefine how someone’s aspect and bloodline might behave.”

  She briefly glanced down at the flower, squinting as if trying to tell if it was really following along.

  “Let’s say we have three different people, each with the same aspect. Let’s call it ‘inferno’ because that sounds cool but is relatively simple to imagine. The first person might have a draconic bloodline, so their schema could call on that and fuse their inferno aspect with their bloodline, making them closer to a real fiery dragon. The second person might channel natural spirits with their schema, using them to reshape mana and infuse the local area with their aspect, creating a region of flames. And the final person might have a schema dedicated to rune-crafting, where they infuse objects with the inferno they control, crafting incendiary weapons or fire resistant structures. That was just three really simplified examples but already you can see the possibilities, right?”

  Dahlia couldn’t stop herself from doing a little spin, as if putting on a show and hoping to somehow amaze her audience. The more she talked about it all, the more excited and animated she got.

  “You see it right? Just how limitless the possibilities could be? And there are literally thousands of schemas published and available to choose from, let alone their endless permutations or the ability to design a brand new schema from scratch. And the best part?” She could tell her voice was rising but she couldn’t bring herself to care; surely her audience could handle a bit of her excitement. “The best part is that schemas are the one part of magic that someone actually gets to choose. Your bloodline? Pfft, no. Your aspect? You wish! But while those two are determined from birth, your schema can be anything, which can mean the world for a clever lil caster-to-be like myself!”

  She puffed her chest out a bit at that, clearly hoping to impress her flower disciple but, after a moment, some of that pride started to be lost, replaced with a hint of uncertainty.

  “Of course, the schema’s efficacy totally relies on how well it pairs with a person’s aspect and sometimes even their bloodline, so… I guess talking about it like it can achieve the impossible may be just a little too extreme. It’s not like me creating a brilliant schema is going to change a water aspect to a light one, or my worthless muddy bloodline into the Burning Lion.”

  With each word she deflated further, finally ending with a dejected sigh and mumbling.

  “Honestly, in the last five years I developed a schema I’m truly proud of. I’ll tell you about it later, —I promise— but no matter how perfect my design is, it’s never going to help me if I can’t at least get a light aspect. Without that, sure, I may still have an amazing schema but it’s not like mom or dad will care.”

  This was a running theme with her train of thought. It always led back to the light aspect that she craved. She had no control in the matter. No sway in the outcome. Yet she obsessed over it endlessly. It wasn’t that her hopes were entirely unfounded; aspects that shared attributes were often inherited, especially if the parents had compatible bloodlines in the way hers did. It was often the case that noble families had political marriages purely to improve the odds of siring heirs with both bloodline purity and compatible aspects, but to say it was guaranteed…

  Dahlia knew she was trying to delude herself but she knew there was no certainty to it all. Genetics definitely played a role, but so did environmental factors, recessive inherited traits, mana contamination, and gods knew what else. So no, despite how much she wished for the alternative, Dahlia knew she wasn’t guaranteed a light attribute. She just prayed for it.

  Now that her aspect’s awakening ceremony was slated to be within the sennight, her reality had begun to sink in once again. Currently, everything she was using to hold on and not lose hope was directly tied to a gamble and —no matter how much she tried to deflect— that terrified her. With so many thoughts swirling in her head, she had fallen quiet, not even having the energy to properly wrap up her lecture.

  The excited girl full of smiles now stood still. She never took any frustrations out on the plants, but sometimes her train of thought dragged her to places where even the garden couldn’t maintain her smile. And now, alone in a silent greenhouse, trapped with her fears and uncertainties, Dahlia slowly returned to going through the motions of taking care of her little green babies, trying to nurse them as well as her own mood.

  It was under this heavier atmosphere that a maid opened the glass door behind her and Dahlia felt her heart sink. None of the estate’s employees were supposed to interact with her, so there was only one thing this could really mean. Looking at the woman who arrived, she confirmed her worst fears: this wasn’t one of her mother’s.

  “The master has called you to his office. He said he wishes to discuss some matters with you and ensure that there won’t be any mishaps.”

  The maid spoke in a clipped tone, all while seeming to look straight through her. It was as if the air behind Dahlia was more interesting than she was. Having delivered her message though, the woman didn’t wait for a response, instead turning and walking away as quickly as possible, as if uncomfortable in the mere presence of the girl

  For her part, Dahlia simply frowned with a heavy crease on her brow before letting out a long, despondent sigh.

  “Alright, and here I was hoping to avoid this conversation.”

  here.

  here.