Restored Life

An unfamiliar voice called out to Sophia in a soft, but commanding manner. It was almost reminiscent of her mother. Though she hadn’t heard such a tone in years. Especially now that she was staying at the Academy more often than her home. Maybe it was a student and she collapsed in the hall during a late reading session.

Sophia stirred a little hearing the voice more insistent than before. “Cathie? I’m sorry…”

“Miss Sophia, my name is Ophelia, not Cathie.”

“Cathie? Why did you change your name?”

“I didn’t, Miss Sophia. You’re half asleep.”

“That is true. I was up late reading after I fell asleep reading. After that scary King said all those things. And the chilly beautiful Prince threatened me.”

“Miss Sophia, I suggest you wake up before you regret anything more you’ve said.”

“But it’s true Cathie. It was awful. Only the books calmed me down.” Then she suddenly jumped up from the bed. The sheets fell away from her as she looked around frantically, while ignoring her wild bed hair. She scrambled over finding the table and pulled over a book clutching it against her chest. A happy sigh came out of her. “It was such a wonderful read about the Reformation of House Isthel.”

A throat clearing cough came from behind her. “Cathie you sound really deep, are you feeling sick?” Then Sophia turned around to see a maid standing at the side of her bed. And then she saw that her bed was too large for her bed. The room lacked all of her shelves. And the view didn’t have the bakery. “Ust! Hui! Feur! Y-you’re not Cathie. This isn’t my home!”

“No, Miss Sophia. You’re in the Saint’s quarters and I’m your personal maid Ophelia.” The maid sounded stern, but still warm. It was a confusing mix for Sophia.

“I don’t have a personal maid.”

“As of today you do. And you need to be ready soon.”

“Ready? For what?”

“Your lessons, Miss Sophia.” She paused upon hearing lessons. Part of her started to get a little excited thinking of the Academy. But the rational part of her recovered fast enough to know that wouldn’t be what they were giving her.

Once the excitement of books cleared out after they removed the fog of sleep, Sophia finally looked properly at the maid. Or as Miss Ophelia declared, her personal maid. ‘A maid? Why do I have a maid? I’m just a Saint. I can take care of myself.’ The only person that ever looked after her was her mother and Cathie when she fell asleep in class or read a book while the professor called on her.

The maid had a stern expression. One that was used to dealing with trying masters and having to carry infinite patience. And she seemed to know that the bottomless well the maid carried was going to be tested with Sophia.

Ophelia was far older than Sophia with partially graying hair. She likely wasn’t around when the last Saint was so this probably wasn’t a normal assignment for her. Short cut hair and a formal, yet rigid posture carried years of experience in her trade. She was a small woman with a large presence. One that Sophia didn’t feel she could continue ignoring. Even with her politeness.

She slowly pulled herself over the bed while still holding the book with both hands as though the maid was going to steal like a thief at market. It made her have to wiggle and worm off the bed working with her legs to move unaided. She only got silence from Ophelia, even if it felt like she was judging her stealthfully behind those eyes.

Once her feet could hit the floor, she stood up still holding the book like it was a doll. “Do you know what the lessons are, Miss Ophelia?”

“No more than you can guess, I’m afraid. There hasn’t been a new Saint in years, so I’m unfamiliar with what might be involved. I’m just here to have you ready.”

“I’m awake and have a book. I’m ready.”

A sigh followed by a small cough came from the maid. “You are not ready. Mr. Tolen tells me that you haven't eaten since you were brought to your room. Or that he heard anything from you all night.”

She looked over to the table. ‘Did I eat? Pretty sure I did. I’m not hungry.’ Sophia looked down at her book. She proudly showed it off to the woman. “Yes, I did! See?”

“That is a book, not food. Unless you consume paper, you need meat and vegetables.”

“Those do sound good. But…my book…”

“Miss Sophia.”

“I know.” She started to walk over to the closed door, but the maid didn't move. Looking over her shoulder to the woman, she still had something else in mind. “Miss Ophelia?”

“You’re not leaving this room looking like that. The young Prince would think I didn’t know how to do my job.”

“Job?” She roughly understood a maid’s purpose, but caught in the moment her mind went completely blank. Left with no reaction, she became a doll that Ophelia dragged around without trouble. It was carried out in almost practiced familiarity. ‘Who else did she serve? This is the royal family’s home. Did they give me their personal maid? I don’t deserve that! What do I do? I should tell them to give me someone else. But then I would be rejecting their good will. What do I do?’

Miss Ophelia finished a hot bath by brushing her hair. She hadn’t had this much attention provided to her since she was six. It wasn’t unwelcome, though jarring. Uncomfortable flashes of memories came to her during it. Ones that she tried to not dwell. Memories were still raw. Miss Ophelia finished her work off having her dressed in something worth far more than her life and even less comfortable to be in. ‘This looks too nice. And doesn’t move well. I miss the Academy uniform. Can’t believe I’m saying that.’ Long thick dresses were not what she was used to wearing. The layers and added decorative flourishes made it distracting.

But Sophia didn’t have a lot of choice. The maid wasn’t accepting anything other than compliance. ‘It hurts a little, but I don’t think she would listen to my complaining. Is this my life now?’ It wasn’t quite choking on her, even if it was more restrictive than she was used to. To Sophia’s relief, the maid didn’t seem to be trying to fit her into something that would shape her. For that she had to thank her. Sophia read enough to know what it was like for high society women and she never wanted any of that. But being the Saint now, what did that make her?

That became a heavier question than Sophia originally considered. ‘A Saint. It doesn’t feel real. I still don’t like what it implies. But everyone looks up to the Saint. They save and aid everybody living in the kingdom. Can I really do that? Can I be like Saint Sicila?’

Miss Ophelia opened the door of her room now allowing her to leave. Unchanged as though they never left was Mister Tolen and Noan. They turned around to see her. The young Tolen jolted a little when he looked at her. “M-miss Sophia!”

“Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, ma’am!”

Noan smirked, giving him a little side glance. “Kid’s not used to seeing a beautiful woman.”

“Sir…”

Sophia looked away from both of them. There was a mirror in the room, but since Miss Ophelia handled it all she hadn’t looked closely at the work. What few times she had seen her face, she knew what it looked like. Seeing again didn’t seem that important.

‘What do I look like? No one’s ever reacted that way before.’ But if the knights were reacting that way, maybe she should know. She bolted over to the mirror to look. Almost immediately she yelped. “There’s a stranger in the mirror, Miss Ophelia!”

“Miss Sophia, really…”

Sophia checked again, not used to seeing so much care and attention given to her appearance. The weariness from her eyes was gone and even the subtle freckles as well. ‘This is so strange to see. I guess I can sort of find myself under it all. My hair, this dress, even make up! I look like a noble.’ She looked back to the maid with a bit of an awkward smile. “I look like this?”

“When you put a little care into your presentation.”

“A little? This feels like a lot.” Sophia turned her head trying to see it from different angles. ‘Mother never did this much work. But I wasn’t that old and only thought of books and the Saint.’ The most she did was braid her hair. Which Miss Ophelia did beautifully. Sophia just tied it back and went to class. It didn’t look complicated, but the shape and freshness of her face had completely changed. It was like she lost five years. Or maybe having noses in books and fingers in ink put five years on her. But that would be an insult to books and she couldn’t conscious that. “Am I really supposed to be like this?”

“Yes, Miss Sophia. But that’s why I’ll be attending to you. You’re going to be the Saint. You’ll need to look the part.”

Examining herself fully down to the dress. The paintings that she had seen of the Saints always had an elaborate, but humble presentation about them. A balance between being blessed, but still someone that the commoners could be comfortable with. “Maybe I’m remembering it differently.”

“Miss Sophia?”

“Sorry, I spoke aloud.” She turned away from the mirror. She delayed them. They were kind to wait, but she couldn’t keep them waiting. Especially if the First Prince was to be her destination later. There would be no amount of words that could apologize for insulting royalty.

Following with them, she tried to take in the surroundings a little more. If she was to stay here even for a short period of time, she needed to understand it. Each hall or door looked the same. And the knights would likely always be able to help and guide her, that shouldn’t be the case. But with mostly bare stone walls and clean floors. It didn’t make much of an impression. It all looked nearly identical even trying to find uniqueness. ‘How do they find anything here? Is it just because it’s all they know?’

They stopped at a door that she could have mistaken for the one to her room. It didn’t even look important, yet when Mister Tolen opened it, she found a grand table with a dozen chairs. At the far end was the First Prince Henri along with a gentleman that she hadn’t seen before. Seeing him again, she immediately started to feel her body shaking. Ust. Hui. Feur. The throne room and King all returned to her. “I’m not ready for this!”