The morning sun rose over Ravensdale Castle with a gentle warmth that felt almost hopeful. For the first time in years, the estate stirred with purposeful activity rather than decay. Coins from the successful soap trade and royal gratitude had finally begun to flow, and Aria was determined to put them to work.
She stood in her newly claimed dressing chamber, frowning at her reflection. The simple gown of soft grey wool felt stiff and confining compared to the flowing, scandalous silks she had worn in Vermillion. The high neckline, long sleeves, and heavy skirts made her feel trapped.
"System," she muttered, tugging at the bodice.
[Good morning, sunshine. Struggling with the local fashion again? You looked much happier running around half-naked in the desert.]
"These clothes are ridiculous. I can barely move. In Vermillion I could breathe. Here I feel like I'm wearing a tent made of regret."
