Chương 33: The Measure of a Man.

The first step to dealing with Dalwin was understanding him. That had worked well enough with the others. She had managed to get along with Celene by learning how the woman thought, what she valued, and what she expected. Marga was similarly understood; by ignoring her sharp tongue and only judging her by her actions, Lira found her to be a kind woman. Avoiding Hesta had been just as intentional, recognizing that there was no benefit in engaging with someone who thrived on confrontation. But Dalwin…

Dalwin had always been outside her purview. Berem too, but she doubted she would need the stables anytime soon. So she decided to focus on Dalwin for now. Her only real interaction with him had been unpleasant. He had scolded her during her first days in the castle, lecturing her about using too much water while she cleaned the marble floors. Lira did not like the man. He reminded her too much of her uncle.

The same self-important tone when dealing with those he deemed beneath him, while having an obsequious politeness, bordering on boot licking, when speaking to nobles or wealthy merchants. It left a bad taste in her mouth. Still, she forced herself to pause. That was her bias speaking. She could have caught him on a bad day. She doubted it, but one interaction and a few passing observations alone were not enough to base her decision on. If she wanted something from him, she needed to be certain.

So she decided to observe him. It did not take long to find him. Dalwin stood in the garden near the gate that led to the inner bailey, a transitional space between the outer grounds and the more refined garden that stretched toward the main hall. This space was more practical than ornamental, with trimmed hedges and orderly flowerbeds lining a stone path that guided visitors inward.

It was still beautiful and carried the care expected of a royal castle, but it also lacked the decadent grandeur of the inner garden beyond. Dalwin's presence was impossible to miss. The man was large, his frame heavy with weight that strained slightly against his clothes. He dressed far more colorfully than the footmen he oversaw, with rich fabrics layered in a way that made him look more like a valet than a steward of labor.

Bright tones clashed subtly under the sunlight, drawing attention to him whether he intended it or not. Combined with his posture, chest puffed, and chin lifted, it gave the impression of someone trying very hard to appear more important than his station demanded. His voice carried clearly across the hedges as he addressed two gardeners, both standing stiffly under his scrutiny. If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

"I heard from Lord Amone that Count Vesuvius has winter bloom planted in his garden," Dalwin said, lifting his chin slightly, his tone laced with disdain.

"We cannot have a mere count's manor outshine the royal castle. That is simply unfathomable." One of the gardeners shifted uncomfortably.

"But sir, winter bloom sprout poisonous berries by spring," the man replied carefully.

"There is too much foot traffic here, including children. It would be dangerous to plant them." Lira stepped closer, just within earshot.

"Pika. Selan. Tureth."

"Pika. Velar. Syneth." The shift came immediately. Her thoughts sharpened, settling into a focused clarity as the world around her gained definition. Details that would have slipped past her now stood out with stark precision. Dalwin's posture was rigid, his shoulders pulled back in an exaggerated display of strength. His voice rose slightly at the end of his sentences, as if volume alone could give him more authority. His expression tightened as the gardener spoke, lips thinning, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Dismissal… he was not listening. The gardener's words were barely processed, only to be rejected out of hand.

"I have already been assured it is safe," Dalwin snapped, cutting the man off before he could continue.

"This is the current fashion. You would do well to keep up rather than question those who know better." The second gardener lowered his gaze, saying nothing. The first one just nodded stiffly. Lira watched the exchange unfold, her enhanced perception piecing together the pattern beneath the surface. He had authority without competence, confidence without understanding, and a need to assert control, especially when challenged by those he deemed beneath him. This was not a man who responded well to reason.

This was a man who only responded to status. Her conclusion settled quickly. Speaking to him directly would be useless. It was clear and undeniable that he would not listen. Not to her. She let the spells fade. The clarity receded, replaced by the rhythm of her normal thoughts. Without the steadying effect of meditation, a flicker of unease followed in its wake. Had anyone noticed her magic? The spells were internal, subtle, but that did not mean they were invisible.

She had grown too comfortable casting them within the safety of the library. Out here, in the open, it felt different. Exposed. Her gaze shifted briefly across the garden, scanning for any sign of attention. A passing servant, a distant guard, no one looking her way, but that did little to ease the tension. It had been reckless. Even if no one had seen anything, that did not mean it was safe. She turned away, moving at a steady pace, resisting the urge to rush.

Drawing attention now would be worse than lingering too long. As she left the garden behind, her thoughts turned inward. Could magic be detected from a distance? She did not know. The library tower was isolated from most of the castle, so it felt safe using magic there. But here, among others, the uncertainty gnawed at her. Better to assume the worst. She adjusted her path slightly, avoiding direct routes back.

Instead, she passed through more populated areas, the laundry yard first, where the sound of scrubbing and conversation filled the air, then the kitchens, thick with heat and the scent of cooking food. If there was anything lingering, any trace of magic that could somehow be followed, it would be lost in the noise of daily activity. Or so she hoped. She was honestly out of her depth, and treating magic detection like a scent being tracked by dogs was the best she could come up with.

Plus, she knew for a fact that some nobles like to cast small cantrips all the time. She should be fine. By the time she returned to the library, the tension in her shoulders had eased slightly, though her thoughts remained sharp. Dalwin would not be easy to deal with. If reason would not work, then she would need something else. Leverage, perhaps, or someone he would actually listen to. Lira paused at the entrance of the library, her gaze drifting briefly toward the growing piles of work still waiting to be done.

Then she stepped inside. If she wanted his cooperation, she would need a better plan than simply asking.