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"Who the hell was that man?"

My uncle gazed back at me with a mixture of annoyance and intrigue after Mikhail escorted me to him. As I began to respond, I suddenly realized that Mikhail had been wearing regular attire for young men partaking within the season --- no military uniform, and certainly none of the cut-and-dry order to his civilian attire that normally distinguishes an officer.

What I meant by that, to use simpler terms, was that Mikhail wore his civilian clothes very untidily. His choice of color was far more stylish and sleek than Alexei: a black coat, with white dress shirt, red tie, red vest, and black trousers. However, his hair was a bit ruffled, his tie loosened, and his shirt beginning to un-tuck itself.

Far too sloppy for my uncle to believe, when I told him that Mikhail was apparently a Lieutenant.

"Really now, and where did you hear that?"

"From Alexei himself," I mentioned. My uncle's annoyance could be seen fading, as the intrigue took over.

"And what did you say his name was again?"

"Mikhail".

"Mikhail what, exactly?"

"Uncle, I don't know. He wasn't exactly up to social decorum either".

"Well, boy seems a bit mad," my uncle laughed. "If he's dressed as a civilian, he can't be on duty, yet if he's dressed like that, I'm unsure how he expects to find himself a wife!"

I thought to myself for a moment before answering, "he did mention to Alexei earlier that he had a post..."

"Out of uniform? Interesting," my uncle noted.

His cold, blue eyes turned from my face to the rose within my hand.

"Who gave you that?"

"Oh, this?" I said, holding up the rose for my uncle to inspect. "This was Alexei's doing. He conjured it for me".

"Why is the rose white?"

"Because we were talking about my parents, and he gave me that immediately as a token of condolence. He said next time he saw me that he hoped to give me a red one, if that means something to you".

My uncle smiled, hearing this. "Ah, go for the red roses. That's a sign of a man's sincere interest in you".

He handed the white rose back to me, "and this is a fair start, all things considering. I'm a bit pleased with you, Viktorya".

I smiled. "May I go for the night, Uncle? I'm getting tired".

"There's still so much to do!" My uncle quipped. "You've made good progress with Alexei, from what I see, but there's also Gunther Romanov. I hear he's another candidate to succeed. He's quite hard-headed though. I hear he has interests already. And then there's---"

"After Alexei gave me that rose, most of the men started to avoid me," I said quickly, in hopes of deterring my uncle from going any further.

It was true, after all.

"How many other women did Alexei talk to besides you?"

"That I saw?" I mentioned, "only one or two others, I think..."

"Also not a bad start," my uncle sighed, a bit of relief in his voice. "For your first season, these are rather impressive beginnings. Now as a woman, you won't have as many opportunities to keep coming back, so I suggest you make finding a respectable suitor quickly a priority. Love can be secondary to securing a good future for you".

I frowned a bit. "Can't I just stay with you, Uncle?"

"As a child, that was most comforting," my uncle said, "but you're a young lady now. You have social duties to look after...and you're far better off marrying into money than living off of the modest estate of your parents. Think of this as a chance to get ahead in life".

He smiled. "It's been a wonderful few years, but you're 17 now. You can't just expect to be my ward forever. I don't wish the life of a spinster for my niece --- even if you're a moderately wealthy spinster".

I yawned a bit. "I'm sorry Uncle. I will do my best to keep your words in mind. That being said, I really am quite tired..."

His glance turned from intrigue to a bit of pity. "Very well. Wait here, let me tell some of the other families you feel a bit too weary at the moment. The season lasts for two months. I'll have some faith that tonight's rest will help you through it".

---

My parents's names were Anastacia and Maximillian Ivanov. They came from a very powerful family, quite close to the royals.

My father was the third son, however, and thus only received a modest inheritance.

I shouldn't say "modest". Compared to stories I hear about the commoners, what my father received was still very much a large sum, but it wasn't as much as that of his elder brothers, Stanislav and Dmitri.

My father and the eldest brother, Stanislav, were always at ends. Uncle Stanislav was also several years older than both Uncle Dmitri and my father, so Uncle Stanislav is quite distant to us. He also currently manages his own estate, in the heart of the country.

My uncle Dmitri spent many years exploring and gaining a name for himself in travel. My father settled out in Naltiv to use his inheritance to fund booming industries. The only time he returned to the capital was to court. After two seasons, he fell in love with my mother, and my life was made both possible and comfortable.

Uncle Dmitri used to visit us all the time. After I was born, my parents discovered my mother couldn't bear any more children, so I was showered with affection.

The day my parents died, I was supposed to go with them on a trip to a nearby merchant's house. My father had some sort of business meeting. Instead of getting on the carriage, however, I spent all day reading books and listening to all of Uncle Dmitri's sensational stories about his time at sea in the navy.

I should mention that Uncle Dmitri never married. He failed three times at season, and decided not to waste the effort any further.

Someone came to the house to announce, a bit later, that the carriage my parents were in had been in an accident. For a while afterwards, I remember very little. At some point I believe I stopped eating.

My consciousness returned to me at one, swift point, much later. I was fifteen, in Uncle Dmitri's study. I woke up to see Uncle Dmitri reading a book, sitting over at my bedside.

"You fell," he said softly. "I wish you'd take better care".

I had apparently gone into a frenzy and somehow fallen in the process, striking my head. Uncle Dmitri's fears of having me committed, however, were soon abated by the fact that the fall had apparently served to revive my sanity, rather than injure it further. Whenever the incident is brought up, he calls it "the Grace of the Lord".

I still bear the scar from where I cut my head, but for my sanity, I suppose it's a small cost.

Description
"Who the hell was that man?"

My uncle gazed back at me with a mixture of annoyance and intrigue after Mikhail escorted me to him. As I began to respond, I suddenly realized that Mikhail had been wearing regular attire for young men partaking within the season --- no military uniform, and certainly none of the cut-and-dry order to his civilian attire that normally distinguishes an officer.

What I meant by that, to use simpler terms, was that Mikhail wore his civilian clothes very untidily. His choice of color was far more stylish and sleek than Alexei: a black coat, with white dress shirt, red tie, red vest, and black trousers. However, his hair was a bit ruffled, his tie loosened, and his shirt beginning to un-tuck itself.

Far too sloppy for my uncle to believe, when I told him that Mikhail was apparently a Lieutenant.

"Really now, and where did you hear that?"

"From Alexei himself," I mentioned. My uncle's annoyance could be seen fading, as the intrigue took over.

"And what did you say his name was again?"

"Mikhail".

"Mikhail what, exactly?"

"Uncle, I don't know. He wasn't exactly up to social decorum either".

"Well, boy seems a bit mad," my uncle laughed. "If he's dressed as a civilian, he can't be on duty, yet if he's dressed like that, I'm unsure how he expects to find himself a wife!"

I thought to myself for a moment before answering, "he did mention to Alexei earlier that he had a post..."

"Out of uniform? Interesting," my uncle noted.

His cold, blue eyes turned from my face to the rose within my hand.

"Who gave you that?"

"Oh, this?" I said, holding up the rose for my uncle to inspect. "This was Alexei's doing. He conjured it for me".

"Why is the rose white?"

"Because we were talking about my parents, and he gave me that immediately as a token of condolence. He said next time he saw me that he hoped to give me a red one, if that means something to you".

My uncle smiled, hearing this. "Ah, go for the red roses. That's a sign of a man's sincere interest in you".

He handed the white rose back to me, "and this is a fair start, all things considering. I'm a bit pleased with you, Viktorya".

I smiled. "May I go for the night, Uncle? I'm getting tired".

"There's still so much to do!" My uncle quipped. "You've made good progress with Alexei, from what I see, but there's also Gunther Romanov. I hear he's another candidate to succeed. He's quite hard-headed though. I hear he has interests already. And then there's---"

"After Alexei gave me that rose, most of the men started to avoid me," I said quickly, in hopes of deterring my uncle from going any further.

It was true, after all.

"How many other women did Alexei talk to besides you?"

"That I saw?" I mentioned, "only one or two others, I think..."

"Also not a bad start," my uncle sighed, a bit of relief in his voice. "For your first season, these are rather impressive beginnings. Now as a woman, you won't have as many opportunities to keep coming back, so I suggest you make finding a respectable suitor quickly a priority. Love can be secondary to securing a good future for you".

I frowned a bit. "Can't I just stay with you, Uncle?"

"As a child, that was most comforting," my uncle said, "but you're a young lady now. You have social duties to look after...and you're far better off marrying into money than living off of the modest estate of your parents. Think of this as a chance to get ahead in life".

He smiled. "It's been a wonderful few years, but you're 17 now. You can't just expect to be my ward forever. I don't wish the life of a spinster for my niece --- even if you're a moderately wealthy spinster".

I yawned a bit. "I'm sorry Uncle. I will do my best to keep your words in mind. That being said, I really am quite tired..."

His glance turned from intrigue to a bit of pity. "Very well. Wait here, let me tell some of the other families you feel a bit too weary at the moment. The season lasts for two months. I'll have some faith that tonight's rest will help you through it".

---

My parents's names were Anastacia and Maximillian Ivanov. They came from a very powerful family, quite close to the royals.

My father was the third son, however, and thus only received a modest inheritance.

I shouldn't say "modest". Compared to stories I hear about the commoners, what my father received was still very much a large sum, but it wasn't as much as that of his elder brothers, Stanislav and Dmitri.

My father and the eldest brother, Stanislav, were always at ends. Uncle Stanislav was also several years older than both Uncle Dmitri and my father, so Uncle Stanislav is quite distant to us. He also currently manages his own estate, in the heart of the country.

My uncle Dmitri spent many years exploring and gaining a name for himself in travel. My father settled out in Naltiv to use his inheritance to fund booming industries. The only time he returned to the capital was to court. After two seasons, he fell in love with my mother, and my life was made both possible and comfortable.

Uncle Dmitri used to visit us all the time. After I was born, my parents discovered my mother couldn't bear any more children, so I was showered with affection.

The day my parents died, I was supposed to go with them on a trip to a nearby merchant's house. My father had some sort of business meeting. Instead of getting on the carriage, however, I spent all day reading books and listening to all of Uncle Dmitri's sensational stories about his time at sea in the navy.

I should mention that Uncle Dmitri never married. He failed three times at season, and decided not to waste the effort any further.

Someone came to the house to announce, a bit later, that the carriage my parents were in had been in an accident. For a while afterwards, I remember very little. At some point I believe I stopped eating.

My consciousness returned to me at one, swift point, much later. I was fifteen, in Uncle Dmitri's study. I woke up to see Uncle Dmitri reading a book, sitting over at my bedside.

"You fell," he said softly. "I wish you'd take better care".

I had apparently gone into a frenzy and somehow fallen in the process, striking my head. Uncle Dmitri's fears of having me committed, however, were soon abated by the fact that the fall had apparently served to revive my sanity, rather than injure it further. Whenever the incident is brought up, he calls it "the Grace of the Lord".

I still bear the scar from where I cut my head, but for my sanity, I suppose it's a small cost.