A Day in Motion (iii)

Micheal turned around to leave, when the grand library's hushed ambiance seemed to grow even quieter as Micheal froze mid-step, his heart sinking.

Standing near the entrance, bathed in soft afternoon light, was Magda. She exuded her usual composed elegance, her calm crimson eyes taking in the scene before her: Ethan, the stack of books, and Micheal, still recovering from his undignified journey up the stairs.

"Lady Magda," Ethan greeted warmly, bowing with the practiced politeness befitting his station. "A pleasant surprise to see you here."

Magda inclined her head in acknowledgment, her expression as measured as always. "Lord Ethan. I didn't expect to find you at the library."

Ethan let out a deep chuckle, his tone amused. "Duty called, my lady. Micheal needed a bit of… assistance with returning his overdue books before the library closed for lunch."

Magda's gaze shifted to Micheal, who was awkwardly pretending to examine the spines of a nearby shelf, his ears turning an unmistakable shade of red. "I see," she said, her voice carrying a faint edge of amusement. "You've done an admirable job, as always."

Ethan grinned, the mischievous spark in his eyes betraying his otherwise stoic demeanor. "He's lucky to have me, no doubt. Though, I think I've gone above and beyond my brotherly duties today."

Magda's lips curved faintly at his jest, her expression softening ever so slightly. "And Micheal would say the same about you."

Ethan glanced back at Micheal, his teasing grin replaced by something more earnest. "He has potential, you know. More than even he realizes."

Magda's gaze lingered on Micheal for a moment longer, her features unreadable but her tone assured. "I know."

Micheal, feeling the weight of their shared attention, finally turned around with exaggerated nonchalance, attempting to mask his earlier embarrassment.

"Ah, Magda! Fancy meeting you here," he said, his voice pitched higher than usual. "Ethan was just helping me with some... logistical issues."

Magda raised an eyebrow, her expression composed. This was the second time he had initiated a conversation with her.

She couldn't resist pushing the boundaries a little. "Logistical issues? Is that what we're calling it now?"

Micheal rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, you know, a bit of this and that. Important intellectual pursuits."

Ethan stifled a laugh, crossing his arms. "If by intellectual pursuits, you mean forgetting the return deadlines for an entire library shelf's worth of books, then yes."

Magda's gaze flicked to the towering stack of books Ethan had carried in earlier.

"Impressive," she said softly. "It seems I'm in the presence of the Empire's most dedicated scholar."

Micheal's eyes darted nervously between her and Ethan, searching for a witty retort.

"I'm simply ahead of my time, that's all," he quipped. "Pioneers are often misunderstood."

Ethan laughed outright at that. "Misunderstood is one way to put it."

Magda gave a small sigh, though the hint of a smile on her lips betrayed her fondness. "Well, I suppose every genius needs their moments of chaos."

As the trio exited the library, Micheal trudged between Magda and Ethan, his head lowered like a scolded child. Ethan, ever the generous elder brother, decided to lend a hand with Micheal's relationship troubles.

Ethan glanced at his carriage, parked neatly by the side.

"Unfortunately, I won't be able to stay. Duty calls at the barracks." He turned to Micheal, handing over the book receipt with a smirk. "You'll have to manage your way back."

"What?" Micheal blinked, a bit too loudly. "You're abandoning me?"

Ethan grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. Magda has you covered."

Magda's calm voice interrupted before Micheal could respond. "You can join me in my carriage, Micheal. It would be… efficient."

Micheal froze, his heart's reluctance warring with practicality. "I—uh, I wouldn't want to trouble you…"

"It's no trouble," Magda said firmly, her tone brooking no argument. "Come along."

Ethan patted Micheal on the shoulder, his grin wider than ever. "Good luck, little brother."

Before Micheal could protest further, Ethan climbed into his carriage and rode off, leaving him standing awkwardly beside Magda.

"This is humiliating," Micheal muttered under his breath, earning a faint chuckle from Magda.

"I'd say it's practical," she replied smoothly, gesturing toward her carriage. "Shall we?"

Reluctantly, Micheal followed her lead, sliding into the plush interior.

As the carriage set off, he fidgeted with his sleeves, pointedly avoiding her gaze. Magda watched him out of the corner of her eye, her amusement hidden behind a serene expression.

Her father's letter lingered in her mind. The flower festival, the dancing, and his subtle suggestion that she should attend with Micheal weighed on her. Though she had always been more comfortable with magic formulas than pleasantries, she felt compelled to say something to lighten the mood.

After a moment's hesitation, she ventured, "You looked… cool."

Micheal froze mid-sulk, his mind racing to process the unexpected comment. "Cool?" he echoed, his voice a mix of disbelief and suspicion.

"Yes," Magda replied, her tone calm but slightly uncertain. "When you and Lord Ethan entered the library together, it… looked impressive."

The words hung in the air, and Magda immediately regretted them.

Micheal's wide-eyed expression made her realize she had unintentionally touched a nerve. To her dismay, her attempt at small talk had clearly backfired.

"Impressive," Micheal repeated, his voice thick with disbelief. "I looked like a sack of potatoes, and you're calling it impressive?"

Magda blinked, unsure how to salvage the situation. "I… didn't mean it that way."

Magda wasn't wrong; she always felt Micheal resembled an ethereal deity, and the idea of Ethan as an angel of war serving such a deity didn't seem so bad to her.

Micheal let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his seat. "This day just keeps getting better."

Magda's brows knitted together as she glanced out the window, berating herself internally. Social interactions were always tricky for her, and this was no exception. She decided to change the subject, reaching into her sleeve and pulling out a small glowing rune.

"I wanted to show you something," she said softly, holding the rune between her fingers.

Curiosity piqued, Micheal leaned forward slightly. "What is it?"

Magda placed the rune in her palm and whispered an incantation. The glowing symbol shimmered before vanishing in a swirl of light, leaving behind a small, delicate bag.

"This is a spatial magic rune," she explained, handing the bag to Micheal. "It allows me to distort space and store items far larger than the bag itself. This was the first rune I ever created—or rather, stumbled upon—at the Featherfield estate. Everything I've done since then started with this."

Micheal examined the bag with wide eyes, turning it over in his hands. "You created this? That's… incredible."

"Well," she said, "it wasn't intentional, but it became the foundation for my work."

Micheal's poker face slipped, a faint smile revealing his real thoughts.

"Full of surprises, aren't you?" he said lightly, unable to fully hide his admiration.

Magda tilted her head slightly, her expression thoughtful. "Since you mentioned we'd try to change things together, I thought we could start by sharing more about ourselves."

Feeling the sincerity in her words, Micheal straightened, emboldened to share something of his own. He began recounting the story of his first invention—a failed attempt at creating an automated crop harvester that scared birds better than it harvested grain.

The conversation was punctuated by Magda's giggles and Micheal's quiet chuckles, making the months of tension between them feel as though they had never existed.

By the time the carriage reached the Shelb estate, Micheal found himself wishing the road had been longer; he cherished the sound of her laughter, and the awkwardness had transformed into something more comfortable.

As Micheal stepped down from the carriage, Magda's voice stopped him.

"Micheal," she called, her tone hesitant yet firm.

He turned, puzzled by the rare hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"Do you have any plans for the flower festival?" she asked. "If not… would you accompany me?"

Micheal blinked, certain for a moment that he had misheard her. "Y-you want me to go with you?" he stammered, his face a mix of surprise and incredulity.

Magda nodded, her expression calm but earnest.

"Yes! Yes! Absolutely yes!" Micheal blurted, his enthusiasm spilling out before he could stop himself. Realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he quickly added, "I mean, yes, I'd be honored."

Before she could respond, Micheal turned and bolted toward the estate, leaving Magda staring after him with a mixture of amusement and bemusement.

As the carriage rolled away, Magda allowed herself a small smile. "Perhaps," she murmured to herself, "there's hope for us yet."

The soft rustle of the evening breeze caressed the curtains of Duchess Eleanor von Shelb's private sitting room. She stood by the grand arched window, her hands gently clasped as her sharp eyes surveyed the estate grounds below.

The familiar sight of her youngest son, Micheal, caught her attention.

He was sprinting—no, fleeing—from the direction of Magda's carriage, his disheveled form a clear indication of his hasty retreat.Trailing him at a more composed pace was Magda, stepping out of the carriage with her usual elegance.

The contrast between the two was stark: Micheal, a flurry of chaotic energy, and Magda, a serene figure of calm. The sight tugged at the corners of Eleanor's lips, her amusement breaking through her otherwise composed demeanor.

A soft chuckle escaped her as she turned to her trusted maid, Clara, who was diligently organizing the Duchess's embroidery supplies. "Clara," Eleanor began, her tone light with mirth, "have you ever seen two people so uniquely awkward with each other?"

Clara paused her work, glancing out the window to observe the scene below.

"Young Master Micheal does seem to be in quite the hurry," she remarked, a small smile playing on her lips. "And Lady Magda appears as composed as ever."

Eleanor sighed, though her smile remained. "None of my sons are particularly adept when it comes to women, are they? Ethan, for all his strength and leadership, treats marriage like a battlefield strategy. Adrian is so engrossed in his duties that I wonder if he even notices the existence of eligible ladies. And Micheal…" She trailed off, watching her youngest vanish into the estate with the urgency of a startled rabbit.

Clara let out a soft laugh. "Master Micheal has his own… charm, my lady. Though it does seem he and Lady Magda have a unique dynamic."

"Unique is a kind way of putting it," Eleanor said with a wry smile.

Her gaze drifted back to Magda, who had paused near the carriage, her crimson eyes following Micheal's retreat with a faintly bemused expression.

"They're so awkward, those two. It's almost endearing. But if left to their own devices, they might never figure each other out."

Clara tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you think they need a little… nudge?"

Eleanor tapped her chin, considering the idea. "Perhaps. Magda is an extraordinary young woman, and Micheal… well, he's full of potential, even if he hides it behind his eccentricities. They're a good match, if they'd only see it themselves."

Clara set down the embroidery supplies and joined Eleanor at the window. "What would you suggest, my lady?"

Eleanor's eyes sparkled with mischief, a rare but striking sight. "Perhaps something subtle. A shared activity, a reason to spend time together beyond polite conversation. The flower festival might provide an opportunity."

Clara raised an eyebrow. "Subtle, my lady? You are not known for subtlety."

Eleanor laughed, a rich, melodious sound that filled the room. "Fair point. But this is a delicate matter. Micheal's pride is fragile, and Magda isn't one to tolerate interference."

"Then it must be very delicate indeed," Clara teased, earning a playful swat from the Duchess.

Eleanor returned her gaze to the window, where Magda was now heading toward the estate at an unhurried pace.

"I just want to see him happy Clara," she murmured, her voice softening. Eleanor closed her eyes, "For all his quirks, Micheal has always been misunderstood and over shadowed he needs someone who understands him. And I suspect Magda, despite her aloof exterior, might just be the one to do so. Another misunderstood soul."

Clara smiled warmly. "You've always had a knack for matchmaking, my lady. If anyone can bring them closer, it's you."

Eleanor chuckled again, stepping away from the window and back into her sitting room. "We'll see, Clara. We'll see. For now, I'll let them stumble through their awkwardness a little longer. It's quite entertaining to watch."

With that, she returned to her embroidery, a faint smile still gracing her lips as she contemplated the gentle push her youngest son and his enigmatic wife might need to find their way toward each other.