Chapter 5 – Small Days in the North (Part 1)

Winter always arrives earlier in the North. Even before the leaves fully fall, the morning dew already turns into white crystals on the windows. For most people, winter means hardship. But for me, winter is a tranquil time. A time when the whole world slows down, and I can hear the heartbeat of the Argwager family's life.

My small days in the north were never grand like in the stories of nobles. But behind the gray stone walls, there was a warm life. In the dining hall, in the reading room, in the snow-covered backyard—all were parts of home. And home meant interaction, laughter, minor misunderstandings, and also warmth.

Every morning, I was woken by the sound of a door slowly opening. "Alex... wake up. You need to drink your warm honey before it gets cold." That voice belonged to Aurelia. She never delegated the task of waking me up to a maid. For some reason, even though she knew I wasn't a baby anymore, she considered this morning ritual important. Sometimes she would just sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for me to open my eyes. "You were talking in your sleep again. Last night you said, 'don't let my maid marry a dragon.'" I could only roll my eyes and shake my head gently. "That... means nothing." "It's fine," she said, then handed me a small cup that was still steaming. "I'd rather you talk in your sleep about dragons than girls."

One thing I learned in my early years in this world: small habits form closeness. Like how Aurelia always adjusted my scarf so it wasn't crooked, or how she would add sweet beans to my bread, knowing I liked them since I was five.

Mornings in the dining hall were filled with the aroma of toast, cinnamon, and the soft chatter of passing servants. Father usually hadn't come down at that hour. He was more often in the planning room or hunting in the cold air to "clear his mind," he'd say. But mother was always present. Lady Celestria sat gracefully at the end of the long table, wearing a soft wool dress and a deep blue veil. She was a graceful mother, in both word and deed. Her background as an ordinary citizen did not give her a stain on her life's background, but with her own hands, she turned it into the greatest opportunity one could imagine. She was the most famous singer, writer, and designer in the Empire, Lady Celestria Argwager.

"Alex, you're tilting that history book again. Reading position is important for eye strength and posture." "Sorry, Mother." "And Aurelia, don't correct Alex's chewing." Aurelia—who was just about to open her mouth to comment—closed it tightly, giving me a quick glance that seemed to say, 'you're lucky Mother is here.' I suppressed a laugh.

After breakfast, we usually had free time before lessons began. This was when the most genuine interactions happened. Sometimes Aurelia and I would sit in a corner of the reading room, reading different books but in the same room. Not much talk. But that presence felt sufficient. "What are you reading, sis?" "About the history of naval warfare in the south. Lots of betrayal, politics, and drama playing out, but also some tragic love stories." I nodded. "You like love stories?" "Only if one of them is a tough general." I chuckled softly. "Then, what if the general prefers studying strategy over falling in love?" She looked at me sharply, but her eyes were soft. "Then I'll make sure he can't run forever."

Such conversations never turned into debates. Never into conflict. Just... layer upon layer of closeness that slowly enveloped us as a family. Day by day.

Every week, there was an unwritten tradition: archery practice in the backyard. Father would come, wearing a thick cloak and carrying two longbows. One for him, one for Aurelia. I... was still learning. "Focus on your breath, Alex. Not on the target," he'd say. "But isn't the goal to hit the target?" "If you don't control your breath, your arrow will only convey your nervousness." I sighed and tried again. Failed. But father didn't laugh. He just patted my shoulder. "You're learning. And that's enough." Aurelia? She always hit the target. But every time I failed, she would miss slightly. She'd say, "If you're too perfect, you won't have the motivation to win."

Evenings were family time. We would gather in the central room filled with candles and a fireplace. Mother played a string instrument while singing softly. Aurelia brushed my hair like a personal ritual, and father... told his old stories of adventuring in the north. "Once I had to pretend to be a farmer so I wouldn't be recognized by enemy troops. Do you know what that feels like? Hauling potatoes in the snow is no joke." Aurelia and I laughed. Father smiled, then said, "But from that, I learned: being a leader doesn't mean always being at the front. Sometimes you have to go down into the mud to see the world through the eyes of your people." I wrote those words down that night, in my personal journal.

Those days... weren't extraordinary. But they were very meaningful. Because it was precisely from those small things that I came to know family. To know love. To know the interactions that shaped me. And slowly, I formed a plan: If one day I build my own home, I want there to be a reading room like this. A dining hall that is always lively. A snowy yard for archery. And people who love me unconditionally.