022 Winter Bath

As winter descended, St. Albert Academy seemed to enter a social season. The course load was reduced by more than half compared to the other three seasons, and most of the time was replaced by a plethora of social teas, concerts, balls, and so forth. One should not underestimate these social gatherings, for they were considered St. Albert's practical courses: how to organize a tea party (or concert, or ball) that delights both host and guest; how to conduct oneself appropriately in different social settings and with different status; how to evaluate a social event... Such matters were all compulsory studies at St. Albert Academy.

Yet this year’s “social season” was almost a holiday for Theresa. Still in mourning, she was insulated from the majority of social activities. She was pleased with this outcome, for it allowed her more time to study alchemy.

☆☆☆

Warm sunlight streamed in through the half-shuttered glass window, filling the room with gentle brightness. In the modest alchemy chamber stood five people: an elder and four youths—two boys and two girls—aged between ten and fifteen or sixteen. Each child occupied a corner of the room, busy with a task in hand, while the elder circulated among them, pausing occasionally to observe their progress.

This was Carol and his four apprentices. As one of the four, Theresa naturally held her own place. She focused intently on the table, sorting through a jumble of herbs and minerals, swiftly categorizing and separating them, then picking out those with practical uses for preliminary processing. These were the most common alchemical ingredients; identifying and preparing them was the essential first lesson for any apprentice, and a task Theresa was well accustomed to from her time in the old house. The materials before her were more varied and numerous, but they posed no real challenge—she finished the task quickly and neatly.

Having completed Carol’s assignment, she glanced around, feeling a touch of boredom as the others had not yet finished. The four apprentices had entered at different times, each with their own level of skill, so their assessments varied. Among them, sixteen-year-old Zoe Wade was the most advanced, already a mid-level third-grade alchemist—a remarkable feat for his age.

Surveying the room again and seeing no end in sight for the others, Theresa quietly signaled Carol that she was done. He had been watching her, and upon her sign, he came over, scrutinizing her work with satisfaction. In a low, approving voice he said, “Excellent. Clearly you haven’t been idle. For the next stage, you may begin basic alchemical experiments—extracting basic magical elements and plant essences. Come back in half a month and show me your progress.”

Theresa’s eyes sparkled—this meant her foundational studies were complete, and she could begin real alchemy! She nodded so vigorously it seemed she feared any delay might cause Carol to send her back to the basics.

Carol, amused by her enthusiasm, rolled up a thin sheet of paper and tapped her lightly on the head, half-warning, “Though you’ve finished the groundwork, you mustn’t forget these basics. I’ll still test you from time to time, understood?”

“Yes, yes,” Theresa nodded emphatically. “Teacher, may I leave for today, then?”

Carol waved her off cheerfully. “Go on, do whatever you like.”

Theresa grinned, tiptoed carefully to avoid disturbing the others, and slipped out of the warm alchemy chamber—unaware that, for those watching, her departure was still conspicuous, no matter how discreet.

Though it was early winter, the city of Cervantes, not far from the cold northwestern ice fields, already felt the chill of the season. The wind, sharp as bone, numbed the face within moments. Despite the discomfort, Theresa preferred riding her horse to sitting warmly in a carriage—because the view was finer, and the freedom greater.

On the main road back to the city, Sweet Beet moved at a leisurely pace, almost as if performing dressage—sometimes stepping lightly, sometimes breaking into a trot, sometimes pausing to nibble at dried roots by the roadside. Theresa didn’t rush her, holding a notebook and reviewing her recent study progress, making subtle adjustments to her schedule according to Carol’s new learning plan.

She was absorbed in her thoughts when a shout came from ahead. Looking up, she saw Benita riding toward her on a chestnut horse, her fiery riding attire bringing warmth to the bleak winter. Theresa’s face lit with a radiant smile.

“Hey, Nini, what brings you out of the city? Where are you headed?” Theresa asked curiously.

“To find you,” Benita replied, matching her smile. Her delicate features became even more dazzling with such a smile, prompting Theresa to marvel at her beauty.

“To find me?” Theresa raised an eyebrow. “Looking for another adventure, are you?”

It was unclear when the Pedya brothers and Benita had begun their alliance, but ever since Pedya started his military internship and Achille became swamped with practical courses, Benita had frequently appeared in Theresa’s life, disrupting her study plans under the pretext of outings. Usually, Benita would drag her out once or twice a week, and after a month, Theresa had grown used to Benita’s sudden “attacks.”

“It’s winter—of course we should find somewhere warm to play,” Benita said, snapping her fingers playfully. “Where do you think that might be?”

Warm? As soon as Theresa heard the word, her eyes lit up in delight. “You mean the hot springs?”

Cervantes was famous throughout the Empire’s north as a city of flowers, in large part due to its abundant hot springs. Even in autumn and winter, flowers could be cultivated, giving the city a natural advantage over importing blooms from the warm south.

Yet despite the plentiful hot springs, only a privileged few could truly enjoy them, as most sites were owned by nobles or wealthy merchants who built villas and gardens. Without connections or wealth, enjoying the hot springs of Cervantes was no easy feat.

The Aubrion family was a fallen noble house, only gaining some prominence with Amos’s branch. Neither Betty nor Amos were savvy managers, so despite their high status, they lacked the means to buy land with springs. Thus, Theresa had always longed for the city’s hot springs.

Seeing Theresa’s sparkling eyes, Benita grinned and snapped her fingers. “Smart girl! Yes, hot springs. An elder of mine owns a small cottage here, and I’ve arranged to stay there this winter. I visited yesterday—it’s small, but charming. If you’d like, we can go now.”

“Oh, yes! Let me go back and tell Aunt Betty,” Theresa was so delighted she nearly floated away at the thought, but her reason kept her anchored, wanting to inform her family first.

Benita reached out, stopping Theresa before she could gallop off, and wagged her finger. “Hold it! I already went to Maple Garden and spoke with Aunt Betty. We’ll stay at the cottage for three to five days, and she’ll send your luggage over. We can go straight there.”

Theresa rolled her eyes. “Quick talker! What if I don’t go—wouldn’t you have troubled everyone for nothing?”

Benita didn’t retort, just grinned at her with a look that said, “I know you too well, don’t pretend otherwise.” Theresa, exasperated, snapped her whip at Benita’s horse, startling it into a wild run and giving Benita a scare, which finally made Theresa laugh.

☆☆☆

Early in the morning, Mrs. Bitray and her daughter were basking in the sun in the warm hall, sorting through the day’s invitations. Winter in Cervantes brought a surge in social events, and the number of invitations skyrocketed. Each morning, they spent half an hour sorting them by the sender’s status and their relationship, deciding how to respond—whether to accept, decline, send a gift, or adjust their schedule. It was a busy time.

Though young, Nansy had learned from Mrs. Bitray since childhood and was skilled at this task. She sorted her own invitations first—mostly from new students expanding their social circles, which could be largely ignored. Suddenly, a red-gold, palm-sized, exquisite invitation caught her eye. She pulled it from the pile; it felt unusual, not paper but something like silk, smooth and luxurious. On its surface, delicate flower patterns were embossed in a subtle technique, beautiful yet understated.

Mrs. Bitray paused her work, frowning in displeasure. “The servants have been too careless lately—how could such an invitation be placed so inconspicuously?”

“Perhaps it was tucked among other cards, making it hard to find,” Nansy replied, her tone curious as she read the contents.

Mrs. Bitray took the card and, after a glance, exclaimed with delight, “This is a wonderful opportunity, Nansy! If you’re invited to the hot springs, it means you’ve entered the mainstream social circles! My darling, you’re amazing—just a few months, and you’ve achieved so much. Well done, Nansy dear.”

Nansy, praised by her mother, was less enthusiastic. “This is just the secondary invitation—the main invitation isn’t for me.”

In close social circles, when a host sends both a primary and a secondary invitation to a guest, it means the guest may bring another person to the event.

At this moment, Nansy was the plus-one, the recipient of the secondary invitation.