The senior maids stood in a loose circle in the training pavilion's observation gallery, their usual crisp formations abandoned for something far more telling—casual discussion.
"He dodged the festival volley." The one with the scarred lip—Senior Maid Viola—folded her arms. "Not just dodged. He redirected three bolts into the sand traps."
A younger maid, her fingers still smudged with crossbow grease, shook her head. "No Level 1 moves like that. Not even our Level 1s."
Mistress Elaina's presence silenced them before the debate could continue. She set a single sheet of parchment on the table—Regulus' status, updated mere hours ago.
"Numquam Itineris," she said, tapping the skill's name. "'You know what to do.'"
The maids exchanged glances.
"That's not a description," Viola muttered. "That's a taunt."
Elaina's veil shifted with something like amusement. "And yet, watch."
She nodded toward the courtyard below, where Regulus was—against all logic—demonstrating proper tea service techniques to a group of junior maids.
"He adapts," Elaina observed. "Not just to crossbows, but to us. Our patterns. Our tells." Her gaze sharpened. "As if he's encountered Hebe Familia before."
A beat of silence.
Then, from the shadows near the window, a voice dripped like ink:
"Or he simply knows."
Nyx materialized beside the status sheet, her violet eyes gleaming. "Tell me, mortals—have you ever met someone who walks into a storm and recognizes the wind?"
The senior maids stiffened. Nyx ignored them, her finger tracing the edge of Regulus' skill listing.
"That boy doesn't just react." Her smile showed too many teeth. "He remembers."
"So... he can learn anything, then?" The youngest maid—barely sixteen, her hands still bearing fresh calluses—blurted out before catching herself.
Nyx's laughter was a blade drawn slowly across silk. "Oh, sweet thing. He doesn't learn." She flicked the status sheet, making it ripple like a living thing. "The skill corrects."
Mistress Elaina's teacup paused midway to her lips. "Explain."
"If he holds a knife," Nyx purred, her shadow stretching toward the window where Regulus was now demonstrating a perfect vegetable julienne to wide-eyed juniors, "Numquam Itineris whispers how to cut flawlessly. If he breathes—" Her own breath hitched theatrically, "—it optimizes each inhale."
A stunned silence.
Viola, the scarred senior maid, narrowed her eyes. "That's not a skill. That's... cheating."
Nyx's grin widened. "And yet your goddess allies with the cheater's Familia. How deliciously hypocritical."
Below, Regulus glanced up abruptly, as if sensing their scrutiny. His fingers tightened around the knife—just once—before resuming their effortless, impossible precision.
Elaina set her teacup down with deliberate precision, the porcelain clink cutting through Nyx's lingering smirk. "If that is the case," she said, her voice smooth as honed steel, "then we shall adjust his training regimen accordingly." She inclined her head—just slightly, just enough to be polite without bowing. "We thank you, Lady Nyx, for trusting us with the details of his status."
Nyx's shadow coiled around the chair beside her, tendrils creeping toward the uneaten biscuits on the tea tray. "Oh, spare me the gratitude," she drawled. "He's already been leaked thanks to that meddlesome king of yours."
A flicker of tension passed through the senior maids. Viola's hand twitched toward the dagger hidden in her sash.
Elaina's response was glacial. "Though not our king, we sympathize with your predicament." She straightened, her veil casting a faint shadow over the table. "And again, we promise that only our goddess Hebe, the Head Maid, and the senior maids in charge of his training will be privy to his status."
Nyx studied her for a long moment, then plucked a biscuit from the tray. "See that they do," she said, biting into it with pointed casualness. "Or I'll start leaking your secrets next."
The threat hung in the air, sweet as sugar and twice as poisonous.
Below in the courtyard, Regulus' knife flashed—once, twice—slicing a perfect spiral of apple peel into the waiting bowl.
Unseen.
Unasked.
Perfect.
The youngest maid—her calloused hands now clenched at her sides—stepped forward before Nyx could vanish into shadow. "It won't happen again, Lady Nyx." Her voice didn't waver, though her knuckles whitened around her apron. "Hebe Familia keeps its promises."
Nyx's violet eyes gleamed as she leaned down, close enough that her breath stirred the girl's fringe. "Oh, I know, little bird. That's why your goddess still has both her eyes."
A beat of silence. Then the maid bowed sharply and turned on her heel, her boots clicking against the stairs as she descended to the courtyard.
Regulus glanced up as she approached, his knife pausing mid-spiral. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
She snatched the apple from his hands and bit into it with deliberate calm. "Just a goddess." Her gaze flicked to his hands—where the perfectly peeled fruit lay between his fingers. "Again. From the top."
Above them, the observation gallery stood empty. But the air still hummed with the weight of words unsaid.
Nyx watched the youngest maid descend the stairs, her shadow stretching unnaturally along the wall. "She seems eager to get closer to my little moth."
Elaina's veil fluttered as she gathered the status sheets. "It is likely she believes she can use his skill to improve herself."
A slow smile spread across Nyx's face, revealing too-perfect teeth. "Well, she is free to do so." She plucked another biscuit from the tray, crushing it to dust between her fingers. "I do owe my dear little Hebe a great favor, after all."
The crumbs scattered across the table like fallen stars.
Below in the courtyard, the young maid demonstrated a knife technique to Regulus—her form flawless, her eyes never leaving his hands.
Nyx's laughter lingered in the air long after she vanished into shadow.