It might seem strange how I treated Mirelle, considering her position as a Duke's daughter, but there is an extremely good reason for it. The Lillaccuria clan has known the Astervanes for a long time, I could even say they have been friends since this body was born, two hundred years ago.
The reason comes more from Aubrey's memories, since I myself don't remember details from the game. Supposedly, one patriarch was a great friend of one of the clan's Grand Masters, helping them retaliate against hunters and invaders of their territory. As a reward, the Grand Masters offered a magic sword bathed in the power of the spirits, and since then, the Astervane house has kept both the weapon and the symbol of a blade on its coat of arms.
Mirelle, being part of this family, knows the story by heart, while I, being the daughter of this influential clan, had contact with this girl since a tender age. I could perhaps be called an older sister in our relationship, but she and Aubrey are not as intimate as it implies, on the contrary, it would be better to describe this connection as a "formality".
There are very few reasons for them to like each other, besides the occasional barbs from Aubrey about Mirelle needing to be more mature constantly affecting the dynamic of this veiled friendship. I don't have much power in this, but I know that being on the good side of the nobles is an advantage both for the peaceful life I want here and for clan matters, so I will stay on the middle ground and control this elf's tongue to avoid any atrocities.
As soon as I enter the refectory, I immediately notice the weight of the other students' stares. It's always like this when a Lillaccuria shares space with an Astervane, where their feelings diverge into respect, curiosity, fear, or even admiration.
Mirelle walks beside me with that impeccable posture that irritates and impresses at the same time, as if the tiles were obliged to shine just because she passed by.
We sit in the elevated area reserved for the nobility, and the confused sound of the refectory seems to echo louder than it should. I smell fresh bread mixed with mismatched spices, a classic human delicacy that I have yet to adapt to in this body.
Perhaps I would be more patient if I still had yesterday's monstrous erection to distract me, but no, now I only have my mind and this inevitable conversation with the Duke's daughter.
I pick up the cutlery and fiddle with the food to avoid staring at Mirelle directly. She does the same, with that elegance that gives me a slight urge to scoff. I take a deep breath. If I'm going to maintain good relations with nobles, I need to start with her.
"Mirelle..." I call out, in a tone that comes out softer than I expected. "How is your mother?"
Her movement stops. It's almost imperceptible, but I've known this girl for too long not to notice. When she lifts her eyes, there is worry hidden behind the well-composed smile.
"Better. The doctors say the fever has stabilized. She still tires quickly, but... she's not getting worse."
I nod slowly.
"I'm relieved. She was always determined."
"Too determined." Mirelle laughs quietly, but it's a slightly tired sound. "She forbade me from returning home until the end of the season. She said if I showed up in the infirmary wing, she'd drag me out by the hair."
"That perfectly matches her."
We have a pleasant moment of silence, where I can focus purely on this food that is more vegan than any meal I had in the other life. Finally, Mirelle leans back in her chair and stares at me as if evaluating a rare piece.
"And you, Aubrey? How are you adapting to the Institute?"
"The Institute is noisy, full of people desperate to prove something, and professors who talk too much. For someone who was born with magical affinity... it's a waste of time."
"I totally agree. My father also put me here for politics. 'Strengthen alliances', 'socialize with other prestigious families'... He forgets that this means dealing with teenagers who think basic spells make them suitable for any field of magic. I appreciate being able to talk honestly with you, Miss."
"So we are here for the same reason: idiotic tradition from old people."
She smiles.
"Exactly."
I finish my meal without dwelling too much on the subject, but my eyes don't stop analyzing Mirelle. She has the delicate appearance of a noble girl, with blonde curls falling over her shoulders and delicate, thin hands, almost an antithesis to Lysette's femininity mixed with strength.
She is very attractive, no wonder she becomes one of the romanceable characters in a future arc of Magistra's Oath. I still remember seeing her on screen, showing a tearful smile in a white wedding dress. I think that is one of the most memorable scenes of the game and one that illustrates the realization of this girl's dream...
"Mirelle."
"Yes?"
"We've known each other since you were a child. You trust me, don't you?"
"I trust everything you say, moreover, I have never received wrong or malicious advice from you. You have always helped me."
"That's good."
Yes, that really is good, because I know you will kill me in the future. You are the one who stabs me in the back, after Aubrey had converted to the shadows and become a dark elf. It doesn't matter if I'm someone trustworthy, or that you have affection for me, it's impossible to forget seeing the possibility of a death that will happen.
The first thing I thought about was assassinating you, but I changed my mind the moment I realized there is no immediate danger. Mirelle is still young, even though she has that viper-like demeanor and speaks ill of everyone, she is just as complex as anyone, and that's why I can't hate her or plot a plan to destroy her life.
It's sad, but I have to settle for a more feasible solution. The bell chimes with an annoying clarity, echoing through the refectory and cutting our conversation in half.
Mirelle straightens her gloves with that impeccable composure she displays whenever she wants to remind the world that she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.
"It seems our break is over."
"Unfortunately" I reply, storing my own thoughts in a corner where they can't suffocate me.
We walk side by side down the corridor, past students who are still talking loudly, with no sense of posture. Mirelle shoots disdainful glances at some of them but represses any comment. Even so, her demeanor gives everything away.
When we turn the last corner, she softens her tone:
"We can talk more later... if you want."
"Of course."
She smiles, discreet and dangerously gentle, before opening the classroom door. The familiar atmosphere of the lesson returns, and we take our rightful places like two pieces carefully returned to the chessboard. I never liked chess, since I always lost any game I played.